Amorkca

“Still planning on going with the blue and red?”
 
“Yes,” Trese said. “Or maybe sometimes going with red and blue. You know, how football teams wear different jerseys for home and away.”
 
Ash gave her a “get real” look. “No heels.”
 
“But Sparx wears heels,” Trese protested.
 
“Sparx also flies,” Warren pointed out. “Kris flies, no heels.”
 
“Dani flies,” Dani said. “Dani doesn't wear heels. Because Dani doesn't want to end up with two broken ankles if she lands wrong.” Trese stuck her tongue out at her.

Kaneda watched while Jason drove the screws into the crate holding the portrait of Marlene. “Mentor let me know you had returned.”
 
“A little while ago.”
 
“Did you find any answers?”
 
“I was told that I was chasing ghosts.” Jason paused, holding a screw in one hand and a power screwdriver in the other. “Which is pretty much how I described what I was doing before I met the man.” He lined the screw up with the last hole in the lid and drove it home. “Something on your mind?”
 
Kaneda held his weapon resting on both hands. “I am not worthy. I failed.”
 
Jason laid his hand on the sheathed blade. “I am not taking it back,” he stated, removing his hand. “We all failed her.”
 
“When the time comes,” Kaneda said, “I want in.”
 
Jason bowed his head in agreement.

Consciousness returning, Marlene stirred and realized the car wasn't moving. She pulled herself up in the seat. “Where are we?” She looked out the windows and realized they were in the mountains. The sun was up, flashing between the trees. The landscape looked familiar, but she couldn't place it.
 
She glanced at Jason. He was smiling at her. She reached out for his hand. He gave it to her. “Where are we?”
 
“Are you awake?”
 
Smiling back at him, she said, “Yes.”
 
“I need my hand back.” When she released it, Jason put the car in drive. He pressed the accelerator and the car rolled forward, a little faster than idle speed. Coming around an all-too-familiar curve, Marlene gasped.
 
It was bigger than the old cabin. Looking at the windows above it seemed there was an entire extra floor. “Jason...”
 
He pulled the car to the side and killed the engine. Marlene opened the door and stepped out. She walked slowly towards the cabin. The color of the wood was different from the old cabin. The porch was wider and wrapped around out of sight.
 
Marlene walked towards the building. She turned back to Jason. “Go ahead,” he nodded towards the door. She moved up the steps slowly, her gaze taking in little details. Eye bolts were mounted on several beams above the porch. The window glass had a prismatic glare when the light reflected off of it at an angle.
 
Double doors were closed. She reached for the handle and found it locked. She looked at Jason over her shoulder. He smiled. Marlene found her hand going to her necklace. The key came free easily at her touch. It slid just as easily into the lock. Marlene turned it.
 
In the center of the room was a fire pit. Above it was a wide smoke catcher. Four curved couches circled it. Turning her eyes to the side, there were two square tables with four chairs around each. Double doors on the inner wall were nearby. Above the tables were two paintings. Jason's work.
 
On the left, Sandy Wilson sat in a bay window. She was playing her guitar. On the right was a painting of herself that she had never seen before. She was also sitting in the same window, at the opposite end. If the paintings had been hung closer together she could imagine them being one piece, except the perspective on each focused on the women, and not in keeping the lines of the window panes straight.
 
Maybe she would suggest such a painting to Jason. Just for her.
 
She wiped the tears trailing down her face.
 
“What do you think?”
 
“I haven't seen all of it yet. When did you do the picture of me?”
 
Jason set the bags he was carrying down inside the doors. “I started it after you disappeared. As a means of keeping you. After I got back from...before Christmas, I put it away.”
 
“You never pull out unfinished work,” Marlene said.
 
“After you left I took it out with the intention of finishing it. For the same reason. To have you close. I wanted it hung up there. To have you and Sandy close together again. In the event that I would have you here to see it.”
 
“Why wouldn't you have me here?”

Mark is in the process of moving out of California. I will not say where he is going, but I know.  Check on him after the new Year, is all I can say.

Had numerous phone calls today (we didn't go anywhere, and all my friends and family out of town were made well aware eight weeks ago that traveling in from somewhere and coming up to my door was a great way to get hit with a brick and sent packing: my wife and daughter are both high-risk (asthma), and my age and heart problems aren't helping me too much these days, particularly with the drop in fitness by eight months of "go nowhere; do nothing." 
 
Anyway, during the phone calls from old friends, many memories and much celebration came out, including a bit of "group lingo" referring to things from games gone past.  One of those terms led me to this:
 
 
Martial Sneer:  3 pts --------+1/+2-----------Must Follow Presence Attack; Target falls.
 
I didn't really want to add the OCV, but there's a minimum cost of 3, so why not?   Turn an entire team of opponents into Fainting Goats.   
 
 
The term goes way back to a game just about the time 3e was being distributed: Jim had picked up both the boxed set and the perfect bound single-volume printings  (he was like that).  I hadn't picked them up yet (and, it turns out, wouldn't for roughy thirty years).  Anyway, we had a new guy who was what we used to call a Some Timer (not to be confused with a part timer, who was someone who, while not always available, could be counted on to show up when he said he would).  I honestly don't recall his name, but something in the back of my mind says it was Keith, and since it doesn't matter, that's what we're going to call him. 
 
Keith was excited for the game, for the social activity, and for the hoots and hollers of well-played sessions, but Keith was suffered from a chronic crippling shyness that we had spent several sessions working on (mostly me yelling at everyone else before Keith arrived, telling them "Look; he's got comfort problems being around us; we're relative strangers.  Whatever he does, you _love_ it, period.  Talk to him in character, out of character, whatever it takes."-- that sort of thing.
 
Because of his shyness, Keith wasn't really good at the descriptive part of the game, or the interactive part of the game, but he really did try, at least as best he was able.  The bad guy is before the team, Keith's Batman Clone is in the rafters, observing closely while the team moves in.  The boss smiles, laughs, and haughtily announces "you people have the worst timing.  Any other night, I wouldn't have been here, and you would have lived...."  looks back at his business and jerks an extended index finger toward the group, a signal that sends a dozen armed minions out of the shadows toward the team.
 
Keith:  Okay, uhm...  I wanna- can I jump down?  I wanna jump down.
 
Sure.  It's only eighteen feet or so, and you've got Superleap (2e, remember?), so sure; you won't have any problem with that.
 
Okay, I jump down-- ooh!  Can I jump like on one of the bad guys?
 
You can, but remember two things: you can totally kill a guy like that if you break his neck, or paralyze him if you damage his spine.  If you still want to try, I will let you, of course, but remember you're one of the good guys.  Also remember that such a move would technically be a move-through, and you'll take half the damage.
 
Okay....  uhm....   Can I....  Can I jump down, like right in front of one of the guys?
 
Sure.
 
Okay, I hit him!
 
You can't.  You're still in the rafters.
 
Wha--  oh, yeah, okay.  I jump down in front of a guy and hit him.  Like, really hard.
 
Which guy? I nod toward the impromptu map.
 
Okay, the so the big red round dice there...  that's the boss, right?
 
RIght.
 
And this pencil eraser here, that's a bad guy?
 
No; that's a pencil eraser.  Sorry about that.  Brent, pick that up and keep it out of the map!
 
Okay, these two dice on top of each other...?
 
That's a bad guy.  He's standing in front of the boss as a sort of ersatz bodyguard until the team is taken care of.  He's not likely to move from that position unless things go really, really badly for his guys.
 
Okay, that's the guy I want to drop in front of, and as soon as I land, I want to ...   I guess just hit him?
 
Sure.  How?  You've got weapons and your punches and kicks.  Which are you going to use?
 
The club thing-- the baton.  Wait!  Does he look tough?
 
He looks big and tough, and just like the other guys, he seems to be wearing a motorcycle helmet of some sort with a flaming eyeball painted along the crest of it.
 
Okay, I...  I _jump_!  I jump down and I hit this guy, like with the stick, as hard as I can!
 
We roll, the body guard goes down even before he registers what happened.  The boss looks up, shocked by the instant appearance of a hero right in front of him and the crumpling of his henchman.
 
Okay, Keith; you have the higher SPD and the boss is clearly shocked.  What do you do?
 
Okay, I get my club--
 
Someone butted in with "Presence Attack, Keith!  Perfect opportunity for a presence attack!"
 
Okay, yeah-- I do one of those!  Wait-- that's when you scare them, right?  And I can get extra dice if he's already scared, right?
 
Yep.  You've got the appeared-from-nowhere thing going on, the extremely violent action going on, and you dispatched his most capable henchman as if he were a mannequin.  [I tossed him four extra dice].  Add those; you've got eight dice now.  What sort of Presence Attack are you making?
 
??
 
What do you do? What do you say?
 
Oh, I uh..    Okay, I stand there looking cool; I don't even check the guy I just knocked out to be sure.  I turn my head and ....   I look at the boss.
 
You look at him?
 
Yeah. Like _hard_, you know?  I look at him like, really _hard_.
 
 
"Ah, yes!"  Chimes in Jeff, who, while an extremely amusing dry-witted type, had a really hard time remembering the "don't shake his confidence" sessions.  "Nothing more intimidating than a good sneer, really.  It's all the rage in gunfights nowadays...."
 
We all pointedly ignore it; Keith rolls his dice.  easily _half_ of them were sixes.  There was one three and one four.  No ones; no twos.
 
Jeff's eyes bugged for a moment.  "Oh; my bad!  I didn't realize you were using your Martial Sneer......
 
Anyway, Keith managed to get the boss shook up long enough to wrangle him with bolos and cuff him.
 
It was a hilarious moment for all of us, but a great one for Keith.  It also brought "Martial Sneer" into our lexicon.   
 
 
 
 

“Gah!”
 
“Are you okay?” a deep male voice asked.
 
Marla lifted the device that covered her head. “No! I feel like I swam in slimy.”
 
“Would it help if I said I'm sorry?” Dan Thomas asked.
 
“No.”
 
“Assessment. Can we use him?” the deep male voice asked.
 
Standing up, Marla said, “Yes. Give him to Challenger for target practice. Give him to Shadow as a knife rack. Alan, he is completely immoral. He has a superiority complex driven in part by his ability to persuade others to do what he wants them to do.
 
“As for whether or not we can use him, my answer is an unequivocal no. He's a rabid feral dog. He is safe so long as he is leashed and muzzled. If you remove the muzzle in order to make use of him he will turn on you. The last thing we need, sir, is someone like you being his sock puppet.”
 
“Noted,” Alan Baines said.
 
“Why am I always the one that has to get inside their heads? I really wish there was a way to use what I see as evidence.”
 
“I'm sorry, Dr. Pearson,” Dan said. “It's your gift.”
 
“Are you okay?” Huntress asked quietly.
 
Shaking her head, Marla said, “I need to take a shower and scrub myself clean. I need to get out of my skin so I can wash where he got underneath it. I need to take my brain out so I can bleach the filth from it. How did you catch him?”
 
“I saw him first,” Huntress stated.
 
“I thought you were blind,” Alan said. Huntress' lip curled into a small smile. “Recommendation?”
 
“Find someone that can make him do all the sick things he's made others do. Failing that, put a bullet in the bastard's head.”

The Persuader
 
Marla Pearson relaxed and settled back in the chair. She cleared her mind and shut out the noise. As she did, the room slowly grew darker. In front of her was a full-length mirror. She stared at her reflection choosing how best to present herself.
 
Starting at the bottom, her low heels became flats. The color of them lightened to a medium gray. The skirt she was wearing, Marla decided that it wouldn't do. It lengthened and then split into dark gray slacks.
 
Her blouse was white. She left it for the time being.
 
Ash-blond hair fell to her shoulders. She gathered that up into a tight bun. The intense blue of her eyes she muted until they were a dull gray. Her reflection put on black rimmed glasses. Marla gazed at her double and decided to go without makeup. It simply vanished from the reflection.
 
Her double put on a lab coat and picked up a thick pile of folders.
 
“The blouse,” she said to herself. It shifted from white to a pale green. She looked over her double to pick out any details that might stick out. Nothing did to her mind. “I'm ready,” she stated.
 
The mirror changed into a door, which she opened and stepped through.
 
The room beyond was white; the walls, the ceiling, the floor only broken by the joins of the tiles. One wall held a one-way mirror. Marla set her files on the table and took a seat.
 
Across from her was a man wearing an inmate jumper. His hands were shackled to the arms of his chair. Without looking, Marla knew that his ankles were likewise shackled to the chair. Done to keep a prisoner from attempting to up-heave the table onto the interviewer.
 
He had a few days growth on his face and his brown eyes were shadowed.
 
His hair was shorn with a light stubble of regrowth. He was collared. Leads from the collar were attached to his temples. At the back, Marla knew there were two more on either side of his spine, at the base of his skull.
 
She pulled the first file off the pile, opened it, and scanned the first few pages.
 
“Where the hell am I?”
 
“Mr. Greenwood. Hugh Greenwood. Obviously not a lumberjack.”
 
“I don't get it and where the hell am I?” he screamed at her.
 
“Hugh... Do you mind if I call you Hugh?”
 
“You can call me 'Sir'. Or 'Master' if you prefer. Which you'll learn when I get out of this.”
 
“Okay, Hughie.”
 
“Not that. Call me Persuader.”
 
“Sorry, Hughie, but you are going to have to persuade me not to. It says here that the first known occurrence of your powers you got one of your high school teachers to do a strip tease on her desk.”
 
Persuader smiled. “What can I say. I was hot for teacher. Why don't you get up on the table and do one for me?” He screamed in pain.
 
“No, Hughie, I will not strip for you. You seem to have covered up other uses of you abilities until you asked the head cheerleader, who also happened to be the prom queen and the quarterback's girlfriend out. In front of him.” Marla turned a page. “The girl, some time later, ended up in the mental ward of a hospital. The quarterback suicided after being the center...hmm...the center of a gang-bang of the coaches and the rest of the football team. All of whom later went through counseling.”
 
Persuader smiled. “It did help me expand my horizons. Be a dear and let me loose.” He screamed again. “What the f**king hell!”
 
“Every time you attempt to persuade me, Hughie, you are going to suffer that pain. Or it will end up burning your ability out of your brain.” She turned another page. “Petty larceny. Grand theft. Oh, bank robbery. You hit the big time there. Except where you were caught on camera with one of the bank's employees in the vault. It seems she also went through counseling for your little escapade.”
 
“What do you want?”
 
Marla ignored him. “You ended up with a perfect grade average in high school. The school records show that you spent a lot of time not doing your work. You have three doctorates from three different universities on three different subjects. And those schools have no records of you ever attending, Hughie.”
 
“I needed a little something to hang on my walls. I want to talk to my lawyer.”
 
Marla suppressed a smile. “Hughie, you don't have a lawyer.”
 
“Then I'm not saying another damned thing!”
 
Another page turned. “You moved into the suburbs. Rented a room from a middle-aged single woman. And turned her into a sex toy.” Persuader grinned. “Made friends, and I use that term extremely loosely, with neighbors. Once again with the quarterback scenario with the neighborhood men, while applying your abilities to the females. Females ranging in ages from fifteen to...” Another page turned. “Fifty-six.”
 
She turned her full attention on Hughie. “You are a real piece of work. What is it? Daddy issues? Is that why you have problems with authority figures? And the control over women. Is that due to an Oedipus Complex? I understand that your mother was immune to your ability.”
 
“Not saying anything, sweetheart.”

I ate a kid's meal at McDonald's today.
 
His mom got really angry.

"We cannot answer you on account no one is here to answer you."

I mostly use HeroClix and occasionally HorrorClix figures, along with Reaper miniatures for foes/minions. Since the Champions games I run are at conventions, players arrive and use the pre-generated characters for the scenario from the DC and Marvel Universe. At times I will also customize the figures by taking them apart and re-assembling with special modeling superglue, following by priming and then custom painting them.
 
Here are some villain figures I custom-created:

The discrete time issue is one of the two reasons I've never played a speedster. That and the area-of-effect problem.   Those two issues just offend my sense of verisimilitude too much. I came up with a solution I wanted to try at some point, but I never got around to playing a speedster once I thought of it.
 
25 Positional Uncertainty: Invisibility to Sight, Hearing, Smell/Taste and Radio Groups and Spatial Awareness , Reduced Endurance (1/2 END; +1/4) (50 Active Points); Linked (Running; -1/2), Does not conceal presence or features, only precise location (-1/2) 2  
The idea is that they're not actually invisible, just moving so fast that they can't easily be targeted, even with AOE attacks. By the time an opponent targets the hex where they see the speedster, the speedster isn't there any more. The effect on opponents OCV is a nice bonus.

There was something in Jason's eyes that startled her. Kris became acutely aware of how close the bed was. Jason pulled himself erect and closed his eyes. Kris watched as his hand formed a fist. He smiled and opened his eyes. Whatever Kris had seen was gone.
 
“I don't want dinner to burn,” he said, turning back to the hall.
 
“Are you okay?”
 
“I'm fine,” he said. Returning the kitchen, he began stirring.
 
Kris resumed her perch on a stool. There was a large portfolio laying on the counter next to her seat. “What's this?”
 
“Something I thought you might want to take a look at. Maybe give me your opinion on it.” Kris pulled it closer and opened the cover. The first image was of Jason's old cabin. She had seen enough of Jason's art over the years to recognize that he had drawn it.
 
She turned the page and was presented with interior design sketches. Kris flipped back to the external drawing, made some mental notes, and turned back to peruse the all the internal sketches. She started smiling. Glancing up at Jason, he gave her a questioning look. She grinned and continued to look through the drawings.
 
By the time she was finished and closed it, Jason was pulling the chicken out of the oven. “This isn't the old cabin,” Kris said, tapping the cover. Jason shook his head. “Then what is it?”
 
Jason set the pan with the chicken aside. He moved the portfolio down the counter and appeared another in front of Kris. She opened it up and after a moment she realized she was looking at a copy of the blueprints. “You aren't... These are...”
 
“Plans were finalized last week. It was fully approved. Construction begins on the old foundation in two weeks.”
 
“Awesome! What possessed you to rebuild after all this time?” Jason's head dropped. There was something in his look that made her think. “Marlene?”
 
Nodding, Jason said, “I want it at least started when we find her. She told me that in not rebuilding it that I had let the bad guy win. She also told me she had never gotten time in the cabin like Sandy and Leah did.”
 
Kris grinned. “Long vacation with no clothes?”
 
Jason grinned back. “Something like that. She also told me that it didn't just belong to me.”
 
“Smart girl. When are you going to tell everyone about it?”
 
“Not until after it is finished.”

Welcome back to the Silver age people.
 

Not that I'll remember when the time comes but many thanks!

Here is my very direct and honest reply to the above, with the caveat that funding will dictate the outcome to some degree. With that said, however...
 
I want damn fine city and area maps for SACoH2. I want maps that are large and detailed enough to print as a poster, because, well... I want to print some as posters! I want the maps designed as vector images to facilitate this. I also want maps that can be used as snazzy-looking, hyperlinked maps on our web site. Linked to what? To our disgustingly huge and detailed Wiki.
 
"Wait, Wiki?"
 
You read that right.

It's different with the new software. You have to highlight what you want to Spoiler, then click the icon that looks like an eye in the function bar above the text window.

Tina Turner and Hooch
"The dress! Not the dress! Don't eat the dress!"

You can sum up Herzog's critique as "not an argument". To claim that going to Mars is obscene because fascism and communism existed is completely bonkers. 
 
Besides, Elon Musk is destined to go to Mars, as the leader of Mars has been called "The Elon" since 1952. 

Here's the link to my write-ups for various DC Heroes for 6th Edition. They are in Excel format with supporting HDC files for the following characters: Aquaman, Batman, Blue Beetle, Booster Gold, Firestorm, Flash (Barry Allen), Green Lantern (Hal Jordan and Arisia Rrab), Maxima, Power Girl, Superman, and Wonder Woman.
 
Enjoy! 🙂
 
DC Heroes 6th Edition

“Come on, Leah. Answer the damn phone.” Shannon hung up when it went to Leah's voice mail. Again. “Okay, girlfriend, you want to play that way, I'll try an end-around.” She picked out another contact and hit “Call”.
 
“Hey, Kate. Where's your roommate?” Shannon glanced around while she listened. “No. She bugged out early. There's someone here looking for her. Tell her when she gets in that he was looking for her. Tell her that he is also the one that bought her dress.” Shannon smiled. “Jason Scott. Talk to you later.”
 
Shannon slipped her phone back into her clutch.
 
* * * * *
“I can't,” George said. “There are rules about these things. I could lose my job.”
 
“You dream of better things, George. You said you designed that dress?”
 
George looked at Jason and shrugged. “It was a one-time thing. I got lucky. They let me enter the one design.”
 
“And I bought it. I liked it. I was really hoping to see it on the model up close.”
 
George looked down. “Leah wanted to wear it to the Meet and Greet.”
 
“She was supposed to wear it,” Jason said, holding out his copy of the receipt for George to see. “Instead she didn't even stick around for it.”
 
George read the request Jason had written. He looked to the copy attached to the hanger. The bottom below the buyer's signature had been torn off. “I'm sorry. That wasn't on my copy.”
 
“Her name is Leah. Does she have a last name?”
 
“I can't.”
 
“George, give me a lead. Something I can work with. Maybe we can come to an agreement.”
 
“Now you're trying to bribe me.”
 
Jason held out a business card. “Tell you what. Take Leah off the table. If you decide you want to try on your own, you give me a call. I'm always looking for investment opportunities.” Slowly, George reached out and took the card. “And I will take my dress and be on my way.”
 
* * * * *
Turning into an alley, one moment he was in a tux with a dress slung over his shoulder, and the next he was in slacks and a jacket. Jason slipped his hands into his pockets. He wasn't sure where he was going. His general direction was towards home.
 
In time he passed by an ice cream parlor and glanced through the window. He smiled to himself. He couldn't see her face, but deep down he knew it was her. His eyes traced the line of her boots and fitted jeans. Her hair hung loose.
 
Jason pulled the door open, made his way to the counter, and sat on the stool beside her. “That's a big sundae.”
 
Glancing at him, Leah paused. “Jason?”
 
“Hello, Leah.”
 
“It's a comfort food.”
 
“Can I get you something?” the counter girl asked.
 
“Banana split,” he answered. “So, what happened to you today that you need that much comforting?”
 
“Well, I was working and took a few missteps where my boss was concerned. After work there was this party. I got all ready for it, but the dress I had picked out for it disappeared on me.” Leah turned to look at him. Jason smiled at her. Leah shivered.
 
“That wasn't from the ice cream,” Jason said quietly. “I feel it, too.”
 
“I looked for you...” they said in unison.
 
“You first,” Jason offered.
 
Leah smiled at looked back at her sundae. “I looked for you at the party.”
 
The counter girl set his ice cream in front of him. “Thank you.” He turned his attention to Leah. “I got called out for work. Emergency situation. When I went back you were gone. Celeste said you had a migraine and left.”
 
“Word of advice, don't believe much of what she tells you. I don't suffer migraines. Except for Celeste.”
 
“She struck me as a shark. Looking to take a bite.”
 
“Apt. She's looking to get set for life. On her back.”
 
Jason chuckled. “Funny thing is, she was pretty much pointed out to me three different times. She's very pretty. There was something about her that just left me cold.”
 
Fiddling with her spoon in her ice cream, Leah asked, “So, what do you do for a living? Besides sponsoring fashion shows?”
 
“My father is the sponsor. I just get to make the public appearances. I do...troubleshooting. CEO in training. For if my father ever decides to retire. Does modeling pay all your bills?”
 
Leah smiled at him. “No. I model part-time. I'm a college student. Pre-law. I work as a researcher. Legal assistant.”
* * * * *
Leah watched as they locked the door. “That's the first time I've ever been thrown out of an ice cream shop.”
 
“They do want to go home and we did keep them late. What now?”
 
Smiling, Leah looked down. “I... I don't want tonight to end just yet.”
 
Jason put his hand up and waved down a taxi. “Me either. I do know a quiet, intimate place that serves a great cup of coffee.” The taxi pulled up. “Or he can take us home.”
 
“Coffee sounds good,” Leah said, slipping in the back. Closing the door behind him, Jason gave the driver an address.

I'll ask Richard Dean Anderson about it next time I talk to him.

40 years after his electoral defeat by Ronald Reagan, a conservative Democrat returns to the White House.
 
Welcome Back, Carter

Auto-Lockpicks:  Lockpicking, OIF (-1/2), Extra Time (Extra Phase; -1/2)
 
I can't get it down to 1 point, but for 3 points, and courtesy of the 1960s Batman TV show, you could have...
Photonic Optical Waveform (POW) Generator:  Images to Sight Group, OIF (-1/2), No Range (-1/2), Set Effect ("POW!", "BAM!", "CRASH!", and the dreaded "WHIFF!", based on the character's attack and success or failure; -1)
Of course, you might have to steal it from Foxbat first.