Amorkca

Kris caught sight of Jason talking with Irish, Jordan, and Brie and changed her course.
 
“I can't believe you painted that as fast as you did,” Brie said. “What's it going to cost me to keep it out of sight?”
 
Pulling his phone out of a pocket, Jason scrolled through something. “I'm afraid I can't help, Brie,” Jason said. “Listing shows it was already bought.”
 
“And I think it will look great hanging in my workshop,” Jordan said.
 
“Da?” Brie tried not to whine. Jordan and Irish laughed.
 
“I'm sure the gallery and your chosen charity appreciate it, Jordan” Jason said.
 
“Hi, Kris,” Brie said. “You look lovely tonight.”
 
Locking eyes with Jason, Kris said, “Thank you. That's a lovely dress you're wearing, Brie. Hello, Irish, Jordan. Can we talk? Excuse us, please.” Kris took Jason's arm and began pulling him away.
 
“Excuse us,” Jason said. When they were a distance from anyone, Kris turned to him. “Something wrong?” Kris's eyebrow shot up. “Embarrassed you, did I?” Kris's wings surrounded them, muffling their talking.
 
“You've got Dani drooling all over it.”
 
Jason looked her in the eyes. “I'm sorry. I meant to show you it myself.”
 
“All the white shows off nicely against the black background. It's a lovely painting. Why did you paint me two stories tall?”
 
“Your wings. I wanted to keep the scaling right.”
 
Kris sighed. “What are you going to do with it. Emily said it isn't for sale.”
 
“It isn't. I'm hanging it in your apartment in the tower tomorrow.”
 
“Mine? Why?”
 
Jason smiled. “What did I tell you about yourself?”
 
“That I'm beautiful and sensual.”
 
“And if you look at that painting often enough you just may come to see yourself the way I see you.” Kris stepped closer and put her forehead against his chest. “You can add sexy to the list, too.” Kris made a fist and thumped him in the chest.
 
“You are a pain in my ass,” Kris said.
 
Laughing, Jason slipped an arm around her. When his fingers touched the bare skin of her back he pulled his hand away. Bastard. The entity in his head laughed.
 
“Something wrong?”
 
“Not sure,” he said.

Or neither!
 
Many years back, I saw an interview with Siskel and Ebert. One reporter asked if they really liked each other or really hated each other.
Simultaneously, one said "Neither" and the other said "Both."
 

The Hall of Champions rules expressly forbid this, but it would be intriguing if they did not. But Hero Games needs to publish material too and have some control over their IP.
 
Fortunately the Complete Series and Hero Basic Rules exist. They still don't quite carry the same weight as a standalone game complete with settings hard-wired in, but they do provide a significantly easier entry point than the 600+ pages of the Hero System Sixth Edition rulebooks.
 
That said, I do plan to write a few things fdor Hall of Champions -- I just need to get off my backside and write (which, ironically, requires me to get onto my backside for hours at a time).

Has anyone made or know about any Middle-earth racial or cultural package deals? I did a bunch of MERP conversions for 4th Edition way back when, but I lost my work a long time ago. I never shared my work because it wasn't finished, so it wouldn't show up on the search. I'm okay with any edition even though I prefer 5th Edition; I can convert as necessary. Thanks in advance.

Notice: access, not design or change.

“Hey, Sis!” Kari called out. “Come here! You have got to check this one out!”
 
Kris turned to where Kari had called from. Kari was animatedly beckoning her. Kris headed over. Ash, Dani, and Trese were clustered in front of a large painting. The angle was bad for her to see what it was.
 
Kari was grinning. “What do you think?” Kris looked up at the painting and her jaw dropped. The painting was done for a large space. Like over the fireplace in a room with a vaulted ceiling.
 
“I'm going to kill him,” she whispered.
 
Kris looked upon herself. Her wings were upraised in victory. She was kneeling in shallow water. Her fingers were running through her wet hair. The white body-stocking was wet and covered her with its nonexistence, leaving anything that wasn't shadowed on full display.
 
“I'm going to kill him,” she said.
 
“What? I thought he captured me well. Of course, he had to use your wings as a model,” Kari said grinning.
 
“You?”
 
“Of course me. Didn't you notice the tattoo?”
 
Kris looked again and saw the red bands encircling one upper arm. “It isn't you, Kari. It isn't exactly me either. Although I did model for it.”
 
“But the tattoo,” Kari argued.
 
“Is red.” Kris grabbed her twin's arm and lifted it. “Yours is blue. Jason pays attention to details like color. If it were meant to be you the tattoo would be blue. And more than likely there wouldn't be any wings. When was the last time you modeled for him?”
 
“Not in a long time,” Kari answered.
 
Kris noticed the black ribbon hanging from the brass tag that read “Winged Victory”. “Emily!” she called out, seeing the older woman passing by.
 
“Yes?”
 
“What does the black ribbon mean?”
 
“It means the painting is not for sale. Don't bother asking or submitting a bid on it,” Emily explained.
 
Kris closed her eyes. “Thank you,” she whispered.
 
“That one is to be removed after tonight's showing. Only the current guests get to see it. After that, I have no idea what Jason plans to do with it.”

Standing on the landing, Jason looked out over his guests. Had she been here, the first viewer would have been Marlene. His eyes lit on Leah. She was laughing and talking with Kate and Stacy. He tapped the bell.
 
“If I can have everyone's attention for a moment. I would like to thank Aunt Emily for dragging me out into the public eye tonight. She has been a lovely and gracious hostess. But if I don't get the show started she may just go ahead and do it without me. I'm going to go ahead and open the first gallery now. Those paintings are of two ladies very dear to my heart, and sadly, neither of them are here. Aunt Emily, if you would do the honors and escort the Palmers and Wilsons through it for me?” Emily smiled and nodded her assent.
 
“For the second gallery, that is filled with images of another lady who is very dear to me. Leah, may I have the honor of your company?” Jason descended the steps and held his hand out for Leah. Kate smiled and gave Leah a nudge. Leah walked, not slow, but purposeful. As if she were walking in a fashion show. Every other step her leg flashed from the confines of her dress. With every step Jason's heartbeat quickened.
 
Leah's hand slipped into Jason's and for a moment his heart, his breathing, his world suddenly stopped. She smiled and suddenly his world righted itself.
 
“So, what are you going to show me?”
 
“This way,” he said, tucking her arm under his. He led her up the stairs toward the first gallery. Jason reached out and touched the light panel. Glancing in, Leah saw paintings of Sandy and Marlene. A few steps further on and he touched the light panel for the second gallery. He ushered her in.
 
Leah's eyes danced from one painting to another, never really stopping to take anyone of them in. Each one of them brought up a memory. Closing her eyes, she said, “I... I need a moment.” Jason waited patiently, allowing her all the time she felt she needed.
 
“Okay,” she said finally. “Where do we start?”
 
Jason led her to a simple portrait of her. Leah was sitting with her legs drawn up, coffee cup held in her hands. A plain button-down men's shirt, bluejeans, and socks were her attire.
 
“That was the first night. From the sketch you did.”
 
“The night we met. The first night you slept in my bed. The first night for a lot of things,” he said.
 
“When did you paint it?”
 
“After... You'll find that there are pretty much in a timeline from then until the end,” he explained.
 
Since she was main subject, Leah saw a lot of portraits. Some paintings she and Jason had corroborated on. Others he just took the lead and painted. One picture was her in lingerie sitting at a vanity doing her makeup. The tag read “A Model's Life”.
 
Another painting was Leah in an evening gown reclining on a chaise lounge. “We were planning this one when...”
 
“Lots of photo references to fill in,” he said quietly. Leah wiped her face with the palm of her hand. “You're going to smear your makeup.”
 
“I don't care,” she said. Jason pulled the kerchief out of his suit coat and handed it to her. She took it gratefully.
 
The tour continued until they came to the last painting. The journey had many smiles and laughs from her. Jason was pleased.
 
The last painting Leah looked up at. “If you get me that outfit I would totally wear it for you,” she teased. More seriously, she said, “That's not me.” The brass plate below it read, “The Inquisitor”.
 
“It is and it isn't. And I hope it never comes to pass.”
 
Leah looked at him. There was pain there. “There's a story behind it.” Jason nodded. “Have you told anyone?” Jason looked down and nodded. “Does that mean I'm not going to get a hot bondage outfit this Christmas?” she teased, trying to lighten the mood.
 
Jason looked off to the side and nodded to Emily. She led a small group into Leah's gallery. Leah walked slowly to the railing. Jason watched her walk. At the railing, Leah's fingers started tapping on it. Jason walked over to her, his gaze down, lost in his own thoughts about his meeting with the Inquisitor.
 
Leah turned around. “Jason, look at me.”
 
Jason's head came up slowly, like he was fighting the weight of his thoughts. Starting at her shoes, “modeling shoes” Leah had called them when she first saw them, his gaze traveled up slowly. Leah had told him to look at her, so he did. The skirt had split, leaving one hosed leg exposed. The dress hugged her well. Jason had done the rough design and George Sanza had tweaked it and made improvements.
 
When his eyes reached hers and he felt the charge he often did when looking in her eyes, Leah smiled. It was that charge that often kept him from looking at her.
 
You should take her, the entity in his head told him with a laugh. She's practically begging you to subjugate her. Again.
 
F*** off! He snarled back at it, working hard not to display his anger at it to Leah.
 
Leah's tongue wet her lips briefly. “What happened to me, what happened to us wasn't your fault. It was Bauer's.” Jason noted the name and that she hadn't used his first name. A great improvement in his mind. “One of the things I always loved about you, knowing what my job entailed, you never got jealous. Never knowing what exactly I might have been doing for a photo shoot.”
 
“I got jealous,” he said. “But I realized it was part of your job and didn't want it coming between us.”
 
“Oh,” she said with some amusement. “But you got copies of all the photos per my contract.”
 
“I still do.” Leah gave him a questioning look. “I got a package from Renea's office last week.”
 
“I didn't realize she left that clause in.”
 
Jason smiled. “You signed a contract without reading it? I thought you knew better.”
 
Leah shrugged with a smile. “I was just happy she was resigning me and that I'd have work and money coming in. Anyway, what I wanted to say, I love you. I still do. I don't want to jump back into something with you. Not now. Not with everything going on. But if you need a friend, someone to talk to, someone to listen, I'm willing to be there. If you need me.”
 
“I appreciate it.”
 
“I should let you get on with your show.” She stepped closer, took hold of his tie, and pulled his cheek down to where she could kiss it. Jason watched her go, his kerchief still clutched in her hand.

I have a plot seed concerning Destroyer changing to a female:
 
The Doctor realizes the armor can longer sustain him, his body's DNA is becoming unstable and must use other methods to survive. Through research he finds a way to digitally download his brain to another body with similar physiology. The one he seems to find that is almost identical is an upcoming model/actress named Wendy Allen with no close family ties. He clones Wendy and transfers his memories into the new body.
 
He destroys both his original body and stores the "actress" memories on file in case of necessity like inquiring fans or paparazzi.
 
"Wendy Allen" is becoming a major superstar thanks to the use of digital suggestion (and natural beauty) to make him/her an icon in the acting world. The Doctor is using this a possible stepping stone for control of the entertainment industry and manipulate the minds of a new generation of movie goers to eventual global control.

Duplication copies yourself...  Ranged Duplication is not allowed because you're never going to be at range from yourself...

Actually, a slot costing 4 points (for the Flight) and a slot costing probably 3 points (for the Teleport, with limitation "Only Along Wires" (-1/2 according to Champions Powers)), to be precise.  So a savings of 5 points, and you can make the Teleport as Megascale.  Or have two Teleport slots (one Megascale, one not), and still save 2 points over the Flight Usable as Teleportation.
 
Personally, I'd spend the extra points on Fixed Locations scattered across the campaign city, so you don't have to guesstimate where you're going all the time and sometimes end up in an embarrassing or dangerous place.  (Hey, "Safe Blind Teleport" only keeps you from teleporting into something solid.  It doesn't stop you from accidentally teleporting into the women's bathroom at the grocery store or the mess hall in the local VIPER Nest.) 

That brings back some memories. A quick point: I cobbled this together a LONG time ago. Mid-90s actually. It was based on my home games using the 4th edition rules. I say this because 5th and 6th editions use a different initial expectation of what the numbers represent (there's even a table for it). My intent was to make sure that the Champions Universe characters compared if not favorably to Marvel Universe characters, that at least they wouldn't one and all look like wimps when held up against their published peers. At the time, most conversions I was reading on different forums had vastly overpowered Marvel characters ... even D-List MU stalwarts outclassed the best the CU had to offer. I reacted poorly to that.
 
Anyway, I hope you get some use out of the material. Best of luck with your games.

“Miss Asher, there is someone here to see you.”
 
Jen looked at the computer monitor showing the problem she had been working on. She put her pencil down, yawned and stretched. Muscles in her back and neck popped. “Mentor, when are you going to call me something other than 'Miss Asher'?”
 
“What would you prefer I call you?”
 
Making her way to the door, Jen said, “Jen or Jennie?” She opened the door to find her brother on the other side. “Warren!”
 
“Hey, you,” he said smiling.
 
“What are you doing here?”
 
“Brought you some things you might need. Like a batch of mom's chocolate chip cookies and a batch of Kate's chocolate chocolate chip cookies.” He handed a box to her. “That black eye looks fresh.”
 
Jen sighed. “It is. Mrs. Anderson caught me wrong.”
 
“You wearing gear?” he asked, stepping into the room.
 
“Always. Safety first.” She set the box on the desk. “Why'd you come out? You could have mailed the box.”
 
Warren looked at her. “Because I wanted to see you. I wanted to see that you're okay. Why didn't Jason take care of your eye.”
 
“I'm fine. Really,” she said smiling. “Mrs. Anderson wouldn't let him. Pain teaches best. I'm learning a lot. I'm slowly getting caught up in school. My teachers have been great about letting me make up stuff I missed.”
 
“Speaking of which,” Warren stepped back out in the hall and picked up a backpack from beside the door. “All your school stuff mom could find.”
 
“Thanks.”
 
“So, hard question time. Why did you run off?”
 
Jen sat back in her chair. “I was being bullied.”
 
“You could have said something.”
 
“And have Lightning deal with the problem? You've got more important things to deal with than me, Big Brother.”
 
Warren smiled at her. “No, I don't. The most important thing is family. Which is why Jason let you stay.”
 
Jen shrugged. “It was my problem, though. I needed to find a way to solve it.”
 
“So, you become a student in 'The Huntress's School of Self-Defense',” he said with a laugh.
 
Jen's eyes went wide. “The Huntress?”
 
“You didn't know?”
 
“Not a clue,” she said.
 
“Uh, Dani, the human barbecue is her daughter.”

Some supervillains take it personally when you misspell their names. You never know when there's going to be a cross-dimensional incursion so "better safe than sorry".

On a happier note, my fever seems to have broken and no new symptoms have arrived.

“Hi, mom,” Amanda said quietly.
 
With a nod of his head, Pulsar greeted her. “Mrs. Burns. We were talking about friendship and fixing things.”
 
“I wouldn't mind if she fixed her friendship with Jen Asher. Seems things went downhill after you stopped associating with her.”
 
“Mom...”
 
“Amanda, do you know what these are?” Pulsar asked pointing to the two cards on the table in front of her.
 
She shrugged. “I thought they were like business cards.”
 
He laughed. “Something like that. When we use them out in the field, when we're working, we'll leave one for the cops to let them know we will be in to make out statement. When we leave them with an individual it is a reminder of our interaction with them. So that they know that there are Guardians in the world looking out for them. And sometimes it is so they know there is someone who will listen to them.” With a crimson flash he laid his own card down. A golden background overlaid with a crimson starburst.
 
“If you scan one with a smart phone you will get a list of numbers in your area for people you can talk to about various things if you need to.” Without turning to the door, he said, “You're early.”
 
Dove came through the door, Doris behind her. “Yes. They threw me out while they discuss the matter further. I hope I didn't miss anything. Hello, Amanda, Mrs. Burns.”
 
“Oh, wow,” Amanda said quietly. “You look like an angel.”
 
“Yes, she does,” Pulsar agreed.
 
“Dove,” Mrs. Burns said.
 
Kris smiled. “Only sometimes. I'm Dr. Tyler.” She held out her hand to Sophia, who took it with a stunned look on her face.
 
“Amanda, where did the book come from?” Pulsar asked gently.
 
“Braden found it. Up in the Wiloughby place.”
 
“What were you doing up there? I told you to stay away from there!”

“I wasn't with him! I didn't go up there!”
 
“Mrs. Burns, may I speak to you for moment?” Kris asked. Sophia looked at her for a moment and then nodded her assent. Kris lead her into the hall.
 
“Who is this Wiloughby?”
 
Amanda lay her head back and closed her eyes. “An old crackpot. If he'd been rich he would have been labeled an eccentric. I didn't go up there. The place scared me.”
 
“It's okay,” he said. “I've gone places I shouldn't have. Sometimes being able to fly leads to a whole different level of temptation. So what kind of hobbies do you have? Art? Writing?”
 
“Pick fights with old friends and break my hand.”
 
“I was thinking anything creative.”
 
“Sometimes she does needlework,” Sophia said reentering the room. “She's really good at it, too.”
 
Kris stepped to the side of Amanda's bed. “May I?” she asked, pointing to the girl's wrapped hand. Amanda shrugged and lifted it. Gently, Kris began unwrapping it. Amanda's fingers we're wrapped individually. The back of her hand was crisscrossed with angry red marks. Kris touched the skin and Amanda winced. “I'm sorry.”
 
“Nothing to be done about it now,” Amanda said. More dejected than resigned.
 
“Doris, could you get one of those stools?” Pulsar asked. Doris nodded and left to get one. “Mrs. Burns, make a wish.”
 
She gave him a confused look before answering. “I wish Amanda had never gotten involved with those other kids. I wish she weren't laying there hurt.”
 
Doris rolled the stool in and Pulsar took control of it. “I can't do anything about the past, but maybe something can be done for the future.” He spun the seat the up until it stopped. He took a seat. “Are you ready?”
 
“Are you?” Kris asked back.
 
“No, but I was asking Amanda.”

“I guess so.”
 
“Your whole body hurts where you're marked like that?” He pointed at the back of her hand. She nodded. “Lovely. Okay, then. What I want you to do is lay your hand in mine. I don't want to hurt you at all, but I will need to touch you.” He put his hand palm up on her table.
 
“I think I'm getting used to the pain,” she said, trying to smile.
 
“Let's see if we can't make the pain all go away.” Amanda smiled then. His the fingers of his other hand gently touched the exposed flesh of hers. The power flowed.

I found write-ups from the Marvel and DC rpg's...
 
Here's the Marvel FASERIP write-up...
(From http://jackolanternsmshblog.blogspot.com/2013/11/eric-draven-from-crow-1994.html )
 
Eric Draven

F: In (40)
A: In (40)
S: Ex (20)
E: In (40)
R: Typ (06)
I: Am (50)
P: Rm (30)

Health: 120
Karma: 86
Popularity: (As a member of Hangman's Joke) 2, - 5 (Among Detroit's criminal element after his rising).
Resources: Fe (2) (He is legally dead)

Talents:
Musician
Firearms
Knowledge: Detroit Area
Knowledge: Streetwise - Detroit
Brawling

Powers:
The Risen Dead: Eric Draven was returned from the grave a year after his murder to avenge himself and his fiancée Shelly by supernatural means attributed to a crow. Draven was returned with supernatural abilities to carry out his specific goal. These abilities included:
Enhanced FASERIP: Eric Draven was far more agile, strong, and durable than he was in life, hence his increased FASE. Spiritual Connection: The Crow: Although apparently a regular crow, the particular Crow that returned Eric was far more than that. The Crow shared an empathic link with Draven, which explains his greater than normal Intution and Psyche. The crow was the anchor for Draven's power, and as such, anything seen, experienced, or felt by the crow was also experienced by Draven. Undead State: As Draven was essentially undead, he was immune to poisons, toxins, and disease. While the crow was alive, Draven did not need to make stun/kill result checks as he was already dead (Although he could still be slammed and would take 'damage'). Draven healed his End Rank of Damage each round, sealing up wounds within seconds. While Draven was not immune to the damage effects, he could make a simple Endurance FEAT to ignore their effects. Draven also 'regenerated' regardless if resting or in combat, and recovered Endurance Ranks 1 per Round. Draven did not need to eat or sleep after his return. Empath: Although not necessarily apparent, Draven was an empath, capable of sensing emotions ranging from deeply hidden trauma to current emotional states. Draven is able to transfer emotional trauma between himself and others, heal others of crippling injuries and addictions, and 'read' a person's intent or connections. The use of Draven's Empathy requires an Endurance FEAT, which Draven will spend Karma on if the situation warrants (such as completely curing Sarah's mother Darla of Morphine addiction or transferring Shelly's memories into Top Dollar). Draven could also 'read' an object similar to psychometry or postcognition by touch - Items with specific emotional connection to Shelly or Draven during life would be easiest to identify, but would require a Psyche FEAT as the flooding emotions would have a physical/psychic impact on Draven. As an aspect of his empathy, Draven also possessed a type of combat sense which would allow him to anticipate the actions of those around him, most notably seen when facing Tin-Tin. All of these effects are at Am (50) intensity. Hyper-Leaping: Draven could leap between Gd (10) and Ex (20) distances, covering blocks as necessary (and as shown in the police chase). Draven could make a simple Agility FEAT to land without damage or notice. Karma-Loss Immunity: Draven does not lose Karma for killing opponents, and actually gains Karma for killing those responsible for his murder. Draven will not kill indiscriminately, nor will he put innocents in danger. (See Limitations)
Contacts: Although Dead, Draven could rely on two individuals for help and assistance: Sgt. Albrecht (The lead investigator into Draven and Shelly's murder) and Sarah, a young girl that Draven had mentored and considered a friend. Theoretically while Draven was alive, he had connections within musicians circles as a member of Hangman's Joke.

Limitations:
Tied to the Crow: Draven's return was due to the Crow which he was empathically connected to. As Myca, Top-Dollar's Sister/Lover figured out, the crow was the source of all Draven's power. When wounded, it effectively removed the majority of Draven's powers, and made him 'normal'. Draven's FASERIP drops to the following:
F: Typ (06) A: Typ (06) S: Typ (06) E: Typ (06) I: Typ (06)* P: Typ (06). In addition, Draven can be hurt and will not regenerate from damage, nor will Draven be able to access his more combat oriented Empathic powers. As the crow was wounded and not killed, it is uncertain what would happen to Draven should the crow actually die.
Enemies: Draven has several enemies during the short time of his resurrection, including the man who greenlit his murder, Top Dollar, and the majority of the Detroit City Police Department.
Obsession/Purpose: Revenge: Draven is dedicated to finding those responsible for the murders of Shelly and himself, and will go to great lengths to avenge himself on them, even poetic. Draven will kill without remorse any who are responsible, but will go to great lengths to preserve the innocent.
Purpose Completed: Once Draven has completed his purpose, he will return to his rest. Draven will not remain in the land of the living once his goal has been reached, and will simply return to the graveyard in which he awoke.
 
--------------------------------
 
Here's the DC:
(From: https://www.writeups.org/the-crow-brandon-lee/ )
 
Game Stats — DC Heroes RPG 
The Crow
Dex: 09 Str: 05 Bod: 07 Motivation: Justice Int: 05 Wil: 09 Min: 07 Occupation: Avenger Inf: 08 Aur: 07 Spi: 07 Resources {or Wealth}: 000 Init: 026   HP: 050 Powers:
Jumping: 01, Regeneration (ML): 14, Invulnerability (ML): 14, Eye of the Cat: 10, Mind blast: 08, Mind Probe: 10
Bonuses and Limitations:
Jumping, Regeneration, Invulnerability, Eye of the Cat, Martial Artist, Acrobatics, and Weaponry can only be used when his Pet is healthy. Mind Probe and Mind Blast have No Range (-1). Skills:
Acrobatics*: 09, Artist (musician, actor): 03, Martial Artist*: 09, Thief (stealth)*: 09, Weaponry (melee, firearms, missile)*: 09
Advantages:
Area Knowledge (Detroit slums), Confined Headquarters (his old apartment), Life support (full), Pet (crow), Lightning Reflexes, Iron Nerves.
Connections:
Police (Low).
Drawbacks:
Catastrophic Irrational Attraction to punishing anyone involved with the murder of Eric and Shelly, MIA to poetic justice, Traumatic Flashback (the murder of Eric and Shelly).
Pet crow
Dex: 04 Str: 01 Bod: 02 Motivation: Justice Int: 02 Wil: 02 Min: 02 Occupation: Spirit Inf: 01 Aur: 01 Spi: 10 Resources {or Wealth}: 00 Init: 007   HP: 010 Powers:
Flight: 05, Invulnerability (ML): 05, Ultravision: 07
Skills:
Thief (Stealth): 09

I'm with you.  I regret giving it the one PC I made for another player. 
 
My big problem with it is that it's so variable.  I can't just say "Oh, Findo is going to have enemies at 1/2 DEF so he should be capped to 40 AP instead of 60 AP" and wash my hands of the matter. 
He might botch his first roll and be useless unless he has a 60 AP attack to fall back on.  He might slam out a success every round and be facing virtually zero DEF.  He might slam out a success every round but be targeting basic DEF when the opponent only had 6 base DEF and a truckload of Armor so the Find Weaknesses were wasted. 
If Find Weakness were just "Make roll, if successful target has 1/2 DEF against you" it'd be a lot easier to manage.  It's not. 
 
Though half my problem is that the player can't remember how Find Weakness works.  Or how to roll to-hit.  Or how to count BODY.  Or where on their sheet their CV is. 

So come up with "The Shaker".

Yeah I did a bunch of colored in images for Viper a while back, if anyone wants the full set I can bundle them up and load here

Marvin the Martian uses a Illudium Q-36 Space Modulator.
 
Probably explains why his voice sounds so funny.

“What do you know about it?” she screamed at him.
 
“Because I've crossed my own lines,” he said gently. “And I have friends that caught me, held me, and were able to pull me back. Like I said, I'm no hero. I'm a man like any other. I make mistakes.”
 
The cleaner beeped at his feet, indicating it had done its job. He knelt and picked it up. “Mind if I borrow your table for a moment?” He set the cleaner on it and opened the top. Pulsar lifted out a container holding bits of glass. He turned it so Amanda could see it. “What do you make of this?”
 
“It's broken.”
 
“Like you seem to think you are?” Amanda nodded slowly. He fished out two bigger pieces. “Well, what if I put these two pieces together like so? They see to fit together. Yes, very nicely.” He watched Amanda and smiled behind his mask. Crimson ran along the seam where the two pieces met. “And where there were two there is now one.”
 
“How did you do that?”
 
“Just a slight application of power.” He set the glass back in the container. “Now, I have no clue what that vase looked like before. So I'm going to have to trust you to tell me if I get it right.” With a crimson flash the entire container an its contents disappeared. With another flash, he brought the container back into being and set it back into the cleaner. “This is a prototype. It's being worked on for crime scene cleaning,” he explained.
 
“I don't understand. Where's the vase?”
 
Pulsar took the cleaner off the table and disappeared it. “You know, you screaming at me like that, I think you've taken a look down your own path and you aren't sure you should continue down it.” Amanda looked away. “It's okay, Amanda. Watch.” She turned back and he lifted his hand over the table. He lowered a finger, gauging distance between it and the surface. With another crimson flash the vase appeared under his finger, resting evenly on the table.
 
“It isn't as easy to fix a person. Who they are, their mind, they have to admit there is a problem. They have to want to be other than they are. It helps to have friends and family that care.”
 
“I thought I had friends. None of them have come here to see me.”
 
“No one?” he asked.
 
“My mom comes when she gets out of work. When I was in a coma there was a girl from school that would come and do her homework and talk to me about it all as she was doing it.”
 
“Something seems to be missing here,” Pulsar said. Another flash brought the liquid container from the cleaner to his hand. He released the stopper and poured the water into the vase. Empty, the container disappeared. The flowers he had been holding the entire time he slid into the vase. “Sorry. I'm not much for arranging flowers.” He moved the vase to the window.
 
“So, this girl that did homework, you don't consider her a friend?”
 
“She used to be,” Amanda said quietly. “I broke that, too.”
 
“If she was here doing her homework with you, don't you think that it could be fixed?”
 
“What's going on here?” Sophia Burns asked entering the room.