Amorkca

Classic Mystique

Having wrapped up our Pathfinder campaign I convinced the players to try a Pen and Paper play through of Pillars of Eternity I using HERO system and the Pillars of Eternity 2 class advancement schemes.
 
In our last campaign I hadn't restricted spells to per/day or per/long-rest casting and as a result - over time - the characters felt very much like Fantasy super-heroes instead of classic D&D characters.
 
This time we're using a House Rule of all spells and class special abilities being restricted with per-fight charges.  We've tossed Multipower to the wind as it was universally agreed (at our table of 5) that the discounting was too good and lead to characters having a host of spells since they could add new ones for just 2-3 points.
 
Each ability is bought separately, but we used the Hero Designer customer cost multiplier of 0.4.  Each major ability is now 5-6 points and everyone is pretty happy with that.
Spell caster abilities are build on 2 recoverable charges - per spell level - per combat and cast times from the game.  A spell that takes 3 seconds to cast leaves the caster immobile and vulnerable until 3 segments (on their DEX) after they started casting.
Martial types use class resources (Fury, Discipline, etc.) that are also recoverable charges - per combat - but have slightly larger numbers since they are not broken into ranks / levels.
 
Session 1 was largely character creation and then the Prologue Encampment.
 
Dropping from 350 point end-game heroes back to 125 point beginners took a few minutes to get used to.  No magic weapons, no invincible golden plate armor, no Staff of the Element Lords, etc.  Back to good old settlers looking for a free land deal in Gilded Vale to help repopulate the area after a recent civil war had decimated the population.
 
So far - so good!

Many years ago a friend (Luis) and I went to a small gaming convention on the other side of the state.  Luis had found out there was going to be a Car Wars game there, so he and I created a few cars, hoping the GM would okay one of them.  No dice (not really surprising, in retrospect -- I'd imagine some players would bring pretty abusive builds to try to slip past someone), and we had to choose from among the GM's selection of vehicles.  Not a problem, really, though IIRC they were pretty weak / dull creations.
 
Anyway, one of the players had never played Car Wars before, so Luis and I decided to take him under our wings - help him understand what he could and couldn't do, give him some advice, and generally avoided shooting at him so he's have a chance to have some fun.
 
The scenario was basically an arena battle, and was going okay... until the GM decided to roll out his *own* car.  A gas-powered high-speed rammer, that he proceeded to use to one-shot take out players' cars.  It was an extreme example of "GM-I-Wanna-Play".
 
As the GM smashed through car after car, Luis was jotting down numbers.  And then the GM finally got to the newbie's car - smashing right through it with an instant kill, like all the rest.  That's when Luis asked, rather innocently, "How much front armor does that thing have?"  The GM gleefully told him, so proud of his creation.  And Luis said, "Well, even with a ram plate on the front, by my calculation he should have take X points of damage, so this last ramming would have breached his front armor and damaged his engine pretty badly.  His gas-powered engine.  Isn't there a chance for it to explode?"  He pretty much forced the issue, and as luck (or karma) would have it, the GM's car did explode. 
 
All of the players decided that the newbie had effectively killed the big bad and was the winner of the event.  Lots of slapping him on the back and congratulations all around.  Luis managed to turn a potentially crappy experience into a good one for that player. 

IME ease of buying magic spells with character points, or obtaining magic items for free, has more to do with the tone and style of campaign you want to run than with balancing different types of characters, e.g. magic-rich "high fantasy" or grittier "low fantasy." For a lot of RPGs choosing one character "class" is about exclusivity; there are things only that class can do, and other things it explicitly can't do. In Hero such things are campaign ground rule choices rather than hard-wired into the game. If a thief character wants to learn a spell of silence, or a warrior wants to learn how to brew a potion of strength, or a wizard wants to learn the Fencing Martial Art, each GM in consultation with his/her players decides if that's appropriate to the campaign.
 
Personally I find monitoring the Active Points and Damage Classes in Powers built as magic, in relation to the abilities of non-magical characters, to be more useful to maintaining game balance than whether or not a CP divisor is employed. That said, the dividing-spell-costs approach makes it easier to build more rounded spell casters, as well as spread magic more liberally among different PCs. Depending on campaign objectives, and the expectations of your players, that may or may not be problematic.
 
My suggestion when trying a specific approach for the first time, is to let your players know that this is an experiment, and if it doesn't work out you'd like them to be on board with reworking their characters to better suit the game you want.

This is the introduction to a new world I am creating for a Supers Campaign. I have an extensive background because I am also using it for a setting for a few short stories. Let me know what you think or if you see any serious problems or even if you just think something would be "cooler". Anything constructive is appreciated. I do not have a name for the setting yet so its just world setting. I have some ideas but I am waiting for an Ah-Ha moment. So here it is:
 
The adventures will take place at a time of great upheaval. The Character’s lives will develop in the immediate aftermath of an immense and continuous bombardment of Earth by Extreme Energy Cosmic Rays originating from a Supermassive Blackhole in the Ursa Major Cluster.  
 
A blackhole with a mass 9 billion times that of our sun in the center of that galaxy, rotating at 85% the speed of light has been spraying Cosmic Rays towards the center of our own Milky Way galaxy for nearly a billion years like a colossal woodchipper launching a spray of hyper-accelerated, deionized nucleons instead of bits of wood.
.  
As our solar system gyrates around the galactic core as part of one of its spiral arms, we cross paths with these enormous waves of Cosmic Rays like driving around an enormous water sprinkler with the window down on an undulating road. 
 
These rays and their sub-particles bombard Earth through its magnetic barrier, the heliosphere, causing mutations and activating passive adaptations hidden in the DNA of nearly all forms of life on the planet from bacteria and virus floating in the upper limits of the atmosphere to strange life forms adapted to a life without light, leeching the energy to survive and replicate from the chemical vents in the deepest depths of the oceans. 
 
Plants and animals can exhibit traits from species far back in their genetic tree often regressing nearly entirely and other times only exhibiting a few minor throw-back traits. Other creatures blend genetics into strange hybrids, many familiar to us through legends and mythology. Monsters like dragons, giant apes, and even unicorns have their basis in Affected animals in bygone years during past Events. Often these traits are spread broadly or were spread by particularly successful species like humans.  
 
A few of these life forms can inter-breed with local life and completely new species often emerge in generations rather than millennia or ages.  On the other side of the coin, entire Genus and Families of creatures annihilated almost overnight as ancient mosses, algae and fungi alter local ecosystems often after wreaking havoc on local life or by creating new alpha predators that decimate local plant or animal populations. 
 
Previous Events have caused mass extinctions and a particularly long Event was responsible for the Cambrian Explosion 55 million years ago. The effects have also ensured that no animal has successfully evolved to use radio or higher frequency organs on Earth as the cyclical nature of The Events cuts their branch short before it ever has a chance to be useful. Until now... 
 
Humans, in their inexhaustible curiosity and exploration have altered the very climate of Earth in great part fueled by the advances in electronic and communications technology including the use of high frequency radio and the harnessing of sub-atomic particles.  
Our technology allows us to store knowledge and communicate information across the globe in microseconds. It is the technology behind intercontinental ballistic missiles and The Internet. It has allowed us to gain dominance over the entire planet as measured by sheer impact like no other species before. Except...  
 
Without our tools, we are not much more than very curious, very weak, little monkeys. The average medium sized domestic canine could very likely kill the average, unassisted and unarmed owner if they decided to turn against them fearlessly. Forget about the average 21st century human fighting off a predator of any size alone and unarmed. 
 
But we don’t lose access to all of our tools, our species has survived and clambered to the top of the food chain on a trail of blood and fire littered with the carcasses of the species that have caused us fear and even more of those plants and animals that are resources, food or labor.  
 
We are not a peaceful species and we will not go out without a fight. Another of our greatest assets as a species is our ability to adapt to the most hostile environments, we find a way to cling to life and eventually to dominate it at times against seemingly impossible odds.  
 
Even without radio, electricity or computers we are still far from declawed. Firearms, explosives, Kevlar, RPG’s, and napalm all still level the playing field in our favor against these Monsters, and we are going to need it because... 
 
This Event is different in more than one way.  For one, its duration will be measured in decades not years or weeks. As it continues the world will continue to evolve/devolve and chaos will start to play a part as permutations of permutations twists the world into something unrecognizable to those that live to see its effects. 
 
This event also differs in another important way. Amongst those Affected humans that exhibit strange god-like powers are some from previous ages. The eldest have lived millennia, immortals for all purposes and this time they have been waiting.  
 
Since time immemorial the Affected born fortunate enough to look Human have served “civilized” men until eventually and inevitably, they too are feared or envied and eventually killed. Our species only knows one cure for fear.  
 
From the besting of Enkidu by Gilgamesh to the theft and then blinding of Polyphemus by Odysseus, history repeated itself endlessly. The victors hailed as heroes for every creature slaughtered regardless of the threat it posed or how hard it tried to avoid contact with this xenophobic and genocidal primate.  
 
This time, the eldest and wisest, the survivors of these inevitable Monster Hunters and so-called Heroes have asked, “Why should a town of filthy, superstitious, ignorant fishmongers be granted more right to life than a unique and majestic Dragon that, if left alone, will live for millennia?” and the answer was, “They should not be.” They asked themselves, “What is the worth of a noble griffon in lives of men?” and the answer was, “A great many.” And when they asked, “Why should we let them hunt us one by one, alone, hiding in the deepest caves, in the most isolated corners and the furthest isles?” and the answer was, “We should not.” 
 
This time, they are prepared. Those able to infiltrate human society have gained positions and made fortunes. They have prepared supply lines and equipment that will not be affected by The Event. Their vision is a world where the leaders shepherd the planet instead of ravage it. That nature be allowed to run its course and that undesirable traits be restrained, trained or controlled by whatever means possible but that only in the direst cases are unique species to be destroyed.  
 
They wish to impose their will on the destructive humans like the days of old in Ancient Olympus, Ancient Sumer and Old India. Before this endlessly destructive Age of Man.  
 
But first they must bring man low. Shatter his pride and take his tools so that he will know his place at the feet of the gods.    
 
A war is coming which side are you on?  
 
 
 

I'll rewrite that.

I joined this group and have gotten some absolutely incredible maps including animated maps for people that play on screen tables. This is just one was one that I am going to use and fairly time/genre generic but there are hundreds of all types. The Reddit group is r/battlemaps/ 
 
I am not in any way associated with the Patreon or even know who they are. I just grabbed one of the maps I downloaded and liked to show an example.
 
Enjoy!
 
 

Scorsese is a great filmmaker, but I’m not sure any of his films made me outright cry in the theater like Endgame did. 

I have never tried it. However I would suggest that you try it with your group with a short one shot adventure to see how it goes. Experience is the best teacher.

Gnomes.  I blame house gnomes, its their idea of a joke.

I have a question.  Would people find this useful if this was "edited" a bit and produced as a PDF? Slap a cover image on it, and 

....maaaaaybe.....   
 
...rework the stats into (deep breath) 6th ed?
 
Curious.
 

<I like the pictures.  You provide the costumes.>

My group had so much fun plowing through Fantasy HERO converted War for the Crown (Pathfinder) that I've talked them into something that I've wanted to do for a long time.
 
Pillars of Eternity 1 as a Fantasy HERO campaign.
 
There's so much good Wikipedia information available for the game (spell lists, maps, lore, etc.) that I will be converting the game setting & mechanics to Fantasy HERO.
 
None of my players have gone through the PC game so there is a TON of great storytelling to be had.
 
Updates to follow.

It was the dinosaurs, wasn't it?     I mean, when I first saw it, I thought "meh.  random over-anatomized Barbie clone in spandex, posing in the water---
 
then I saw the dinosaurs.  That made it awesome!
 
 
 
Same.  My search-fu is weak, Dude.
 
 
 
Don't sweat it.  We have similar opinions on down voters, it seems.  I mean, I don't wish them ill, but I do wish them the spine to explain themselves.  And I promise you, I don't do it.
 
Now I have _never_ played this game before  (it's a time thing, usually), but the dinosaurs were so damned cool I wanted to take a shot at it.
 
Moving forward:
 
 
      "General Cribbs, that is the stupidest thing I've ever heard."
The words hit the general like a boot in the gut.  It's one thing to be randomly called out, but when the President of the United States stands up just so he can more cleanly point a finger directly at you in the middle of a locked-door planning session.... well, it's hard not to take that personally.  Cribbs took a moment to consider his next statement, and to make sure the humiliation he felt was securely locked and under control.  
   Finally, he spoke.  "Mr. President, it is with all due respect that I am going to go back over everything that was said here.  I want to make it perfectly clear to---"  he caught himself, and corrected almost completely without a hitch-- "everyone in this room  just why this is not just a vital proposal, but a necessary one."  He sat, unflinching, waiting to be shut down or allowed to continue.
   "All right, Cribbs," the President acquiesced, almost smugly, "let's hear just why we need yet another Flag Suit."  The most powerful man in the free world mistook the half-second of silence while the General framed his thoughts as a sign that perhaps the General himself had lost faith in the whole ridiculous plan:  "No; _please_, General! "he oozed sarcastic obsequiousness.  "You _have_ the floor."
   'One day,' Cribbs thought to himself, 'that little Ivy League snot is going to realize that not a single one of those halfwits that voted for him is going to lift a finger-- let alone a gun-- to defend him should we be overrun.  One day he will figure out that the people in this room-- the people he sits here and patronizes and insults before going on television to brag about our lack of need for a defense budget-- are the only people here willing to fight to keep his dumb ass alive.'  He sighed, wishing almost whole-heartedly that this was that day.  'No.  Not yet.  If this works-- God help us, if either he or Congress one signs off on this, then that day may never have to come.'  Finally, he spoke aloud:
 
    "Mr. President, as you know, our position in world politics is laughable, and has been since the War for American Independence.  Tradition blames this on our getting our start as a free nation by aligning ourselves with France.  I disagree, of course: without a wealthy European ally at that time, our independence would not have even been possible.   However, the United States of America has never really managed to rise to a place of prominence in the world political or economic theaters, and our prolonged policy of isolation has done nothing to improve our position."
    "Explain yourself, General!" snapped someone from behind him.
    "We have stayed out of every event that shaped the world from the time we gained independence.  It doesn't take a scholar to note that every single participant in World War 1 today banks on the fact that they rose to the occasion to stop war, to stop evil.  That today they all enjoy the technological and manufacturing principles developed under the strains of that war.   Then again in World War 2: we stayed out of it.  The Russians stopped the Nazis as they marched toward Asia, and they followed the German retreat all the way into the heart of Germany itself.  We ignored cries from our eldest and even our first ally, first as the Nazis tore down their infrastructures, then again when the Russians came through planting flags.    Mr. President, the United States of America, Australia, and in their own unique way Scotland-- once all under the rule of the mightiest empire ever to live, are today the last two-and-a-half nations on the globe that speak English."
   "That's not entirely true!"  the President smirked.  "I think if you'll check, the Canadians speak english--"
   "Yes; the border states of Canadia speak _some_ english!  And why is that?  Did anyone in the Free States of Canadia speak English before 1962?  No!  They did not.  They _learned_ English, en masse, in 1963, for the sole purpose of taunting and jeering at us until 1969, when we were forced to admit that empire building was not our forte, and that our prolonged sieged was going nowhere.  The last free people of Eastern France-- our first ally, for the love of all that's just-- sailed across an ocean just to _give_ weapons to Canadia as a retribution for our completely ignoring their pleas during not one, but THREE separate invasions!
   "And what did Canadia do with them?  Tell me!  What did Canadia do with the cutting-edge military hardware that was -given_ to them, without asking, by our former ally?  They made fools of us with them, that's what they did!"
   No one spoke.  Every face was looking down, protected against eye contact.  Everyone in this room was alive during the Expansionist Wars.  Everyone remembered how the Canadians, a people without even a military, at that time, had sent volunteers armed with beautiful and fascinating weapons, routed the Americans and their brass-and-wood cap-and-ball weaponry at every skirmish.  Canadia had no military, but had sent food stuffs and wealth and engineers to the allies in both World Wars, and had been invited to play on the world stage.  She gained new technologies and manufacturing techniques, became a world leader, and today dominates the western half of the globe.  Everyone in this room was powerful and wealthy, at least by American standards.  And every one one of them knew that when they left this meeting, they would ride to their homes in chauffeur-driven limousines of various Canadian makes.  No one of worth wanted to be caught in one of the open-wheeled,smoke belching, steam-driven American monstrosities.
   "No one?  No one at all?   They _THREW THEM AT US!  That's right; pretend you don't know!  Pretend you don't know that in 1968 the Prime Minister of Canadia decided that the United States of America was such a militaristic joke that he ordered the construction of over one thousand trebuchets, and on Christmas Day, 1968, began the Twelve Day Siege, throwing a million or more tons of technology-- weapons, assembly lines, massive computer banks, tanks, cars, even maglev train cars!-- on the camps of American soldiers, desperately trying to hold the territories they had captured during the war--"  his voice had crescendoed, and here it snapped; flattened.  He spat the next few words-- "All twelve thousand feet of it."
    They all knew it was true.  In years of siege, at the cost of nearly two million American lives, and almost seven hundred Canadian lives, the United States of America had managed to push their northern border less than seven miles into the nation of Canadia.
  "We are a joke, _gentlemen_"  he stressed hard on that last word, knowing that each of these assembled individuals lived as high and dandy aristocrats on nothing but the last of the wealth of the United States.  There was little left that wasn't silver or coal.  The Aztecs...
   Oh, the Aztecs....  Once, there was no serious trouble between the US and Azteka.  Once disputes were settled between men, as often as not with a revolver against an Aztec spear.  Those were glory days, then.  American superiority.  The Aztecs were welcome to use the river, but never to cross it.  Then the gold.  When the word got out that Gold had been discovered in California, well the Aztecs wanted it, too.  Upward they came, as an army-- even recruiting the Reds straight off the reservations, marrying them into tribe after tribe.....  The gold in California, the copper in Nevada...   America had been unable to defend even its own lands.
   The Atecs left, of course, but not until the metals were gone.  Some stayed, and their cities were dangerous places, the residents declaring them to be conquered trophies for the nation of Azteka.  No American would admit it, even though he knew it was true.  There never had been a reason for them to leave: with no wealth to draw American settlers westward and no American interests to defend-- and in the twentieth century the massive influx of commie Chinese trying to take land for who knows what reason-- and the only force fighting against these Asian invaders?  The stinking Aztec invaders!  Finally, tiring of Canadia's demand that they do something to stem the tide of Aztec migrants sneaking into Canadia through US soil, the government very quietly ceded everything west of the Rockies to Azteka.  It didn't stay quiet for long, though.
   "How about it, Gentlemen?  Can't say anything?  Then answer me this:  How many Americans does it take to change a light bulb?  Or this:  Did you hear about the American Submarine?  It's got screen doors!  Why does the new American Navy use glass bottom boats?!"  He began to froth, the muscles in his neck tightening to the point that his starched collar was restricting bloodflow from his purpling face.  "What the HELL is wrong with you?!  Why is this okay with you?!  We are the absolute most hated nation on the face of this earth!  Those that don't hate us just point and laugh at how ridiculous it is to see a third world county try so very hard to play on the international scene.  What do we do?  We try to _buy_ respect?!  With _what_?!  Our reparations to Canadia have cost us the oil reserves of Alaska!  The Aztecs have taken our precious metals!  We gave them a fifth of our continental holdings just because they were doing a better job defending it against people who had to come here in ships!  This is lunacy--"
 "And _your_ suggestion" interrupted the President, who had, amidst this shaming session, finally found both his voice and his arrogance, "is yet another Flag Suit?!  Are you just plain _daft_, Old Man?!"  he sneered, hungrily.  Someone would pay for making him feel shame, no matter how briefly it had been.  Tell me, _General_" the ice in his voice told Cribb with crystal clarity that when this meeting was over, he would be general no more "do you not remember the _stupidity_ of the Flag Suit Wars?  Every nation on earth was having super-powered individuals popping up all over the place-- everyone but _us_, here at home!  Suddenly, every nation had dozens or even hundreds of super beings, and to a country the various nations of the world selected the most powerful of their supers to be wrapped in a flag and trotted around like ponies!  Wars were almost a thing of the past-- disagreements were settled in the Warzone, on global television, Flag Suit against Flag Suit.  Suddenly, all you needed was a super-powered individual, and they could be found _anywhere_!  Anywhere, General, except right here in the United States of America.  You think you've heard all the American jokes?  You think we _haven't_?!  Remember this one?  That comedian back in the seventies, the Australian guy, whatever his name was-- Why don't Americans have super humans?  Too stupid to mutate!  Or the Scottish guy-- 'because you can't have an industrial accident when you don't have any industry!.  Yeah; we've heard them all.
   And what was the military's answer to the super deficit?  Flag Suits!  You idiots started training agents to _fake_ super powers!  You idiots built gadgets and clunky gizmos and machinery and painted flags on it and said "Look!  We have supers!  Hell, we have so many that we had to pick ten of them to wear flag suits!"  Then what did you do?  You put them into the goddamned Warzone, like you were betting on territories with poker chips--"
   "Bullspit!"  The general was livid.   "That was all _your_ doing!  Every last bit of --"
  "I was barely a kid, General; you have a lot of--"
  "You and others like you!  Spoiled little aristocratic dipshits who decided that these poor bastards-- meant do to nothing more than be displayed, or maybe filmed doing super things-- were suddenly commodities with which you could win land or wealth and you even got a bonus blood sport!  All you sick bastards did was make us more the laughing stock of the world, add another layer of failure to our legacy, and make sure the rest of the world branded us as sadistic slavers, never to be allowed back on the worlds stage.  Those people were willing to live their lives as frauds, separated from their families forever, just to try and get a small amount of respect for their countrymen.  You aristocratic children might just as well have murdered them."
  "So what?  What's your plan now, General?  Yet another Flag Suit?  No one wants to play with us anymore; don't you remember, Old Man?  You _just_ finished saying that, Grandpa."
Cribbs steadied himself.  He counted his breaths.  He searched consciously for a song in tempo with his pulse.  When he calmed down, he spoke again.  "We found one."
   "Found one _what_, General?"
  "We found a super human."
  "Oh _good_...  "the President rolled his eyes.  "What kind of sham gadgets have you built for this one?  Or will he just explode when you kick him?"
Rage.  Rage tore through Cribbs again-- jokes about people who were murdered as nothing more than gambling wagers.  His own son had been amongst the original Flag Suits.
  "This one " he modulated through clenched teeth "is real."
  "Great.  That doesn't help us, unless he wants to defect to the poorest county on earth, does it?"
More anger.  How could he speak so glibly about poverty while wearing a suit that cost more that Cribbs would earn in a lifetime?
  "THIS ONE " he caught himself-- "is _real_.  And from right here; born in Pickett, Virginia."
   A solid silence fell onto the room.  It seemed that even breathing had stopped.
   "Really?"  asked the President, earnestly.  "You found a real super, here in the US?"
   "We did.  Almost by accident."
   "What can he do?  Can he take the Warzone?  No one fights very hard for Cambodia these days---"
 
The painful ringing in his ears told Cribbs that his blood pressure had finally gone too high.  He was going to die.  
   When he didn't feel anything he thought might be a heart attack, he began to turn. There had been a noise-- a loud explosion.  He turned into a cloud of acrid gun smoke.  From the corner of his eye, he could see a shocked look growing across the President's face as he looked down at his chest, where a stain of red began to grow rapidly.  The Secret Service men flanking him leapt away, looking for any cover should the shooter have another round prepared.  Cribbs finished turning and saw a giant of a man calmly re-loading an empty chamber in his brass revolver.  The man was a Secret Service agent; one of two placed behind the Joint Chiefs to ensure the President's safety from his own advisors.  Cribbs stared, incredulously.
   The man shrugged, and reholstered his weapon.  "My father was a Flag.  He had a couple of gimmicks that would let him climb walls and leap really high.  Bullet proof costume.  The President at the time put him in the Warzone against a flying flamer.  He wasn't settling a dispute.  He was "negotiating" a vacation in Spain.  My father never had a chance.  I met the President, just before my father had the "honor" of "defending the US from our enemies."  He wasn't any different from this putz."  He nodded toward the not-quite dead President gasping on the floor.  "Hell, none of them nave been...."
  "They will kill you when we leave here" Cribbs stated flatly.
   "Can you restore my father's honor?  Can you make our country and our people something the rest of the world could  be inspired by?"
   "I believe so; yes."
   "Then it's worth it.  If it's okay, I'd like to hear your plan."
 
    Cribbs turned to the Joint Chiefs.  "Gentlemen, we have found the fist U.S. born super powered human. Not only that, but she is unique in all the world.  She is the first known superhuman who can travel through time.  We have been training and coaching here for seven years now-- since just before that ass" he jerked a thumb behind him " won the election.   We believe that she is now ready.  Our plan is complex, but we have the best historians, the best sociologists and the best  civil psychologists in this country working with her, and on the plan."
   "So what is it that she is meant to do?"
   "She can travel through time, and evidently as far as she wants to, in either direction.  She can stay as long as she wants as well.  This is tailor-made for our plan.  We have identified key moments in history that we, as a country, mismanaged.  Her mission is to correct as many of those moments as possible.  With any luck, she can place the United States of America in the position that we know it deserves:  We can make it a major power in the world; a safe haven for the weak and downtrodden.  We can make-- _she_ can make-- us into an industrial powerhouse with the wealth and the means to defend ourselves and others.  And she is committed to doing this.  She shares our dreams for this nation.  She will correct our mistakes, and guide us to become better people than we have ever been in the past.
  The plan becomes complex as every action will have an effect on the next action, requiring constant changes and updates to the plan.  After every mission, only she will remember the previous condition; only she will remember the plan.  She will have to track us all down after each change, and train _us_ in what the world was like before.  We will have to restudy the then-history, and plan again.  She claims that she is immortal, and has been doing this already for nearly six hundred subjective years.  I don't know; we have no way to prove that.  But gentlemen, I believe her.  I believe in her motivation, and I believe in her aspirations to make the United States into the same vision she learned from her father as a child."
  "How can you trust her?  What is her true motivation?  Why would we think her vision is any better than what we have now?"
  "Because," General Cribbs began, his voice soft, hard, and solemn "she learned it from her father, and he learned it from me."
  "Why would she want to do this for hundreds of years when any other country on earth would give her anything she ever wanted if she really is a time traveler?  Who the Hell is she, anyway?"  The questions poured in.
  The general looked away, over his audience, then his gaze wandered around the room."Her motivation is the desire to both create the society that her father hoped his own efforts might create.  Her desire is to right his senseless death, not through retribution, but through prevention.  Her father, she says, died in the Warzone when she was nine years old, and he died for absolutely no righteous reason.."  Behind him, an impossibly tall woman, nearly seven foot in her heeled boots, strode in proudly, wearing a costume that appeared to made of material salvaged from a flag--- closer inspection revealed it to be material salvaged from a Flag Suit.  A bodice covered her when the fabric ran short.
   "Her name," his voice cracked with emotion, "is Rebecca Leigh Cribbs.   But she prefers that we think of her as American Glory."
 
 

I don't.  They're required to be at least partially clothed, to meet Comics Code criteria.

Indoor skydiving has been around for a few years now, and look at what people have learned to do.
 
 

Raven
 
Val Char Cost
15 STR 5
20 DEX 30
18 CON 16
11 BODY 2
18 INT 8
14 EGO 8
20 PRE 10
18 COM 4
7 PD 4
7 ED 3
4 SPD 10
7 REC 0
36 END 0
28 STUN 0
Total Characteristics Cost: 100 Points
 
Cost Skills
3 Acrobatics 13-
3 Breakfall 13-
3 Criminology 13-
1 FB: Medical License
3 Interrogation 13-
3 Navigation [Air/Ground] 13-
3 Paramedic 13-
3 SS[INT]: Medicine 13-
3 Streetwise 13-
Total Skills Cost: 25 Points
 
Cost Powers
24 Armor +8 rPD +8 rED
50 Multipower (50 Points)
5 u) Darkness [Sight] AE 4"r, [12c/Duration 1 Turn] (+1/4)
5 u) Drain [STUN] 5d6, [16c] (-0)
5 u) EB 10d6, [16c] (-0)
5 u) Entangle 5d6 DEF 5, [16c] (-0)
5 u) Invisibility [Sight/Hearing/Radio], No Fringe, 1/2 END (+1/4)
3 u) Missile Deflection [All Ranged Attacks] +5
5 u) Multiform: 250 Points [Vehicle]
2 u) Running +5", 8x NCM
3 u) STR +30
2 u) Swinging 10", 8x NCM
5 ES: UV Sight 
6 Running +3"
Total Powers Cost: 125 Points
 
Total Cost: 250 Points
 
150+ Disadvantages
10 Hunted: Axis Spies (Less Powerful/NCI) 8-
10 Hunted: Crime Doctor (As Powerful) 8-
10 Hunted: The Underworld (Less Powerful/NCI) 8-
20 Normal Characteristics Maxima
20 PsyL: Code Versus Killing (Common/Total)
20 PsyL: Devoted To Justice (Very Common/Strong)
10 SocL: Secret Identity [Dr. Katherine Courtney Clark, M.D.] (Occasionally/Major)
Total Disadvantages Cost: 250 Points
 
Origin: Dr. Katherine Courtney Clark is a Medical Doctor and Criminologist who's built a career on solving a number of difficult crimes.  When the criminal seemed beyond the law Katherine went after then as the costumed crime fighter known as The Raven.
 
Appearance:  Katherine Clark is 5'10", 130 lbs, with a slender but well muscles build, black hair, and blue eyes.  As Raven she wears a black bodysuit, mask, weapons belt, gloves, boots, and cape.  She wears a black wig to help disguise her identity, which is armored with a metal mesh.  
 
Powers:  Raven is a weapons master with a variety of different weapons including throwing wings and bolas.  Her Drain is a sleep gas she sprays at close range that overwhelms the nervous system even if it's not breathed.  Her invisibility is her ability to sneak around and hide.  Her multiform is getting into her flying car, which changes her powers (see below).
 
 
Cost Powers
30 Armor +10 rPD +10 rED
15 EC [Vehicle]-15 Points
15 1) Density Increase: Mass 800kg, STR +15, KB -3", PD +3, ED +3, No END Persistent (+1)*
35 2) EB 10d6
15 3) Flight 10", 8x NCM
15 4) Growth: Length 2", Widge 2", BODY/STUN +3, DCV -2, PER +2, Reach +1", STR +15, KB -3", No END Persistent (+1)*
Total Powers Cost: 125 Points
 
*Density Increase/Growth Combined Mass 1600kg, KB -6"
 
 
Raven is an original character.
 

Raven is my latest version of a Weapons Master.  I came to the conclusion that the way Batman, Huntress, and Black Canary sneak around is because they have a form a Invisibility allowing them to move silently had conceal themselves until they are ready to pounce.  As the invisibility takes up all their multipower's points, they can only movie at 9" running, 5" in a half move.    The Drain is any kind of close range attack that doesn't to BODY damage such as a choke hold, sleep gas, stun gun, or chlororform.  This is Raven at the beginning of her career but she doesn't really change much over the years.  
 
The flying car is called a "Casey", named for it's inventors Alexandria King and Stephen Decatur Clark, the later being Katherine's twin Brother and the crime fighter known as The Nighthawk.

I have been working on a Workshop mod for the Hero System.
 
 
Here you can see the dice roller (with body counter) in action in TTS
 
 

I was trying to figure out how to simulate riding a bucking bronco and I came up with this system.  I'd like to test it some and see how well it works in real tests, though.
 
 
This seems like it would make for an entertaining, interesting contest in which a really skilled rider can still be thrown by a particularly clever or agile horse. Ain't no horse that can't be rode, ain't no rider that can't be throwed, as they say.
 
Edit: probably should work Animal Handler somehow into there, and maybe something that gives the rider a bonus if they have a higher speed than the horse, like a held phase can negate some of the horse's INT or DEX attempts.
 
Another thought: maybe allow a DEX roll complimentary to STR roll for the rider, and the reverse if they use DEX to hang on instead of STR.
And while most horses will only do one or the other (INT or DEX) some particularly clever or mean ones might be able to do both.

September 11, 2001 was when America reeled from a colossal event that shook everyone to their core. 
Hurricane Erin was hovering about five hundred miles East-Southeast of New York. This concerned some, but most believed the cooler waters would diminish it greatly and there were hopes it would curve back out to sea.
Terrorists attempted to seize planes to use as weapons against the Pentagon and the World Trade Center and would have succeeded if not for the quick action of a superhero team who managed to get each plane down safely. On any other day, the attempt would have made the front page of newspapers everywhere in the country. 
But then Atlantic City sank.
Video recordings of the event were not plentiful but there were enough about to verify the testimony of many Atlanticans (as they would be known) in the months to come. A storm manifested, violet and violent alike. Some thought it must be a fragment of Hurricane Erin, but this was no natural tempest. The rain came down hard, fast, and purple.
Indeed, the color was noticed soon enough as the water pooled faster than gutters could dispense. Those caught outside reported feeling very dry, as if they were remarkably thirsty. They began to change first. Their fingers and toes became slightly webbed, their pupils enlarged, and their skin took on various purple shades light and dark as if to match the odd storm and its torrent. Eventually, colorful fins (from wrist to elbow on the arms, and from knee cap to ankle on the legs) sprouted from their limbs. Eventually, gills appeared on their throats and they had trouble breathing the air.
That trouble wouldn't last long.
Atlantic City and many of its surrounding suburbs seemed to gain a new fault line and then slid into the sea. Even those who had gone into tall buildings had no escape from the submersion, and they too were changed. It was chaos, and many non-locals were in the city at the time, some because of the Miss America Beauty Pageant which would be coming in the next week meaning all the contestants of that year were transformed as well. When the city finally stopped sinking and settled in it's new underwater position a good deal of the population, naturally, tried to get to the surface. They swam expertly and quickly but upon reaching said surface, they soon learned that only a small minority could also breath air (A lucky 10%) the rest had to 'hold their breath' before going down under.
However those affected felt about it, scientists would latter dub the change 'benevolent' in many ways. For one thing, the changes had 'trimmed the fat' quite literally for many, in their adaptation to aquatic living,  many had become lean and muscular (One Biologist admitted surprise they didn't gain blubber instead). They didn't have scales, but their newly tinted flesh was more than cosmetically changed as they could resist colder temperatures.
The US Government was no more prepared for this than the people of the city themselves. Some speculated it was another terrorist attack. Others pondered mutagenic theories and worried bio-chemical rains might be not just a one time thing. There was a quarantine made of the area as "top men" examined the altered. The ACLU quickly jumped in to defend the people from being seen as threats or 'lab specimens', and , of course, the locals were still mostly New Jerseyians and true to stereotype didn't much care for a bunch of out of towners telling them what to do if they couldn't help anyway! 
 
Today, Atlantic City has been rebuilt (It's amazing how many buildings actually held together),  somewhat restored, and become a tourist attraction of a different sort. Whatever affected the people affected the local waters too, undoing over a century worth of water pollution for a radius of over five hundred miles. Now people come to scuba dive, take tours, and enjoy "Newshore" , the floating artificial island of hotels that some are calling the Venice of New Jersey. Gambling is still possible, of course, but most of that has moved to Mystic Connecticut and other alternatives. The new Colosseum is a surprise hit- apparently the world is just fascinated by Boxing, Wrestling, and Mixed Martial arts done under water! Indeed, some folks worry that the changes were more than physical, that the 'Atlanticans' seem pretty aggressive by nature, but again? Jersey. Technology has boomed here, particularly in the areas of structural engineering and green energy.  
 
Outside of their home, Atlanticans, even those who can breathe air, face a challenge. They need daily hydration at least, and there is a less than subtle prejudice from "normal" people who don't quite know what to make of them. The Atlanticans breed true, meaning their children are like them, but a few cases of intermingling with air breathers has shown they're still human, and a child has pretty even chances of being like either parent. In short, they're seen as exotic, maybe even a one night stand you can boast about, but you know, you might not want to have a family with one. If there is one benefit to this new challenge, it is that the altered no longer really let their own ethnic and racial differences divide or even define them. They're Atlantican- Americans now, and it's them against the world!
 
And yet, they still have many secrets, some even unknown to themselves.
 
 

"I have it and could make it available", and "I don't know but probably busily".

An idea that I posted a couple of years ago was a variation on the gas-filled deathtrap in which the PCs knocked themselves out.  Probably a little subtle for Doctor Destroyer's tastes, but does demonstrate that His wisdom sees far indeed.
 
The basic idea requires no one in the party to have self-contained breathing, Smell/Taste sense group with Discriminatory and Analyze, or some form of Detect Molecular Composition.  The PCs get trapped in a reinforced room that starts obviously filling with gas.  Being heroes, they all start holding their breath thinking it's some sort of knockout or poison gas while they try to punch or blast (or lockpick) their way out.  If the DEF of the room is designed correctly, all the PCs will pass out before they can escape.  The gimmick?  The gas is totally non-lethal or damaging in any way.

<I don't wanna be Team Leader> is a common conversation  battle cry in my games world.
 
Also, you could give him/her a high Presence score; he could do soliloquies to boost morale which has some in game effects too.

"A man is known by his enemies. My greatest foe was the superhero Dr. Stalwart. An intellectual giant among ungrateful dwarfs, he never took his full due from the bleating population he saved time and time again. His own studies in bio chemistry allowed him strength to match his intellect, a boost that lasted for days. I enjoyed our little contests of genius and power. The few times I had him at my mercy, and they were embarrassingly few,  I found myself either sparing him so I might gloat or else arranging a 'death trap' to test his resourcefulness. It was a test he always managed to pass. I see now that I savored the hunt more than the trophy, the contest more than the prize. Let puerile jokes about my mental state commence, but you will hear me out. Dr. Stalwart did not die by my hand. He did not die saving lives in some natural catastrophe. No, he was outed a facial recognition program for the government's new classification program funded by the government set up by a corporation and lastly, leaked by some greedy intern who sold the information to a shady news source. This forced him to retire last week for the good of friends and families... and under legal pressures. I am sure many of you delighted in your rush of dirty laundry. Last night, in the news, his death was finally reported. He was killed by two junkies hoping he still had access to his treatments thinking it would be a 'super high'. Killed in his sleep. Killed.In.His.Sleep."
 
The screen flickered, showing two figures scrambling through a large technomaze chased by winding mechanical arms with electrified tips.
 
"If either or both of these men survive, I will help them go cold turkey in a rehabilitation program under my tender care. I suspect it won't come to that. The government official who took the campaign money from the company that wanted the Facial Recognition program contract was in good health and did not last long. The lobbyist for the company and five of its stock holders died even quicker. And the reporter , well, I have something special planned for him. Don't misunderstand, each of these death traps has a way out. I made sure of that. But you'd need the intellect and courage of a man like Dr. Stalwart to find them. They won't. And I realize that worthy foes will be a vanishing breed soon, unless I do something. So? I have. By now, superheroes all over the country, and soon the world, will be receiving the schematics and samples of my Cryptomask Technology. The brilliant among them will be able to reverse engineer it. Others? Well, I did what I could to match their preferences. It's not a trap. It's not a trick. Consider it a sign of respect from a dragon to knights in a world full of grubby peasants. Why you care for them,  I will never know, but at least you will be spared the envious mobs torchlight shoved into your faces. Cryptomask will superimpose false faces on photographs, cameras, digital and otherwise. Thus rendering them all useless. You can set it to blank if you like, but currently, the device imposes the face of Frank Jeffries aka Dr. Stalwart, my enemy, my rival, and the only person on this planet I respected. I am retiring save to keep making sure the technology of anonymity outraces that of identification. Monsters are meant to fall to heroes and vice versa. It is only fitting that when the rabble try to peel back the helm they see the face of the man they murdered through their envy. Now, for your viewing pleasure, let's see if these two men surprise me."
 
Sounds of screams as one of the junkies clearly does not make it.
 
June 2013, all channels overridden by the villainous mastermind Master Apep