Scott Ruggels

The thing is, this kind of project doesn't presume style of setting, its just typical fantasy adventure concepts explained and made more readily usable for gamers, who can then adapt it to any sort of setting.

Not sure about reprints per se, but it seems likely they'll tie the comics universe into lockstep with the movies/streaming series.  They won't license;  there's no value *to them* to do so, and it seems unlikely they would want to relinquish ANY creative control any time soon, as they try to build the franchise.  No, not rebuild;  there isn't enough there, IMO.  They have to start from basically ground zero.
 
Cynical thought?  The gaming industry will probably get more of a boost from official Marvel or DC games, long as they're decent, than they'd ever get from Hero for DC.

Tolkien knew the tropes of myth and epic legend, and used them in constructing Middle-Earth. But he was also both a devout Catholic and a modern writer, so he was ready and willing to subvert those tropes. Deconstruction before deconstruction was a thing. 😉 So yes, the Great and the Wise (but Not Wise Enough) have ignored hobbits and never recorded their history because it wasn't a history of heroes and battles. But the standards of God confound the Wise and humble the Mighty.
 
Dean Shomshak

To me it’s just not Fantasy Hero without hit locations, sectional armor, and impairment and disabling. That said, magical healing is also necessary with these options. 

The complex under the Lucky Bones is decorated with images of Mahathallah, the Dowager of Illusions, and one of the few female entities to have achieved much recognition in Asmodeus’ grossly misogynist realm. It’s also not abandoned.
 
Mook 1: Got any Fours?
Mook 2: Go Fish!
 
At least they have the advantage of being attractive women, so Rajira doesn’t immediately stab them. The rest of us block the obvious exits while Rajira gets their attention with some hostage-taking. 
 
Rajira: Keep. Your weapons.  Sheathed.
The Women: *drop their cards and look surprised* Okay… and what are you doing here?
Rajira: I seek the twins Angus and Phennio Shellet.
The Women: You'll need to be quick then, for Mahathallah’s chosen will soon spill the blood of those twins on the altar, and the Whore Queen herself will descend upon you!
Terzo: Ah. Well, that answers one question anyway.
 
Unfortunately the combat doesn’t wake up the other guards. Unfortunately for them, that is, because after she’s finished off the first two Rajira can go room to room and cut their throats as they sleep. 
 
GM: For a party of non-murder-hobos, Rajira is exceptionally skilled at murder.
Civilla OoC: There’s nothing murder-hobo about her, she’s a murderer. An assassin.
Ayva OoC: And getting very well-paid for it.
Rajira OoC: No I’m not - it's one of the things I’m disgruntled about.
 
The devotees of Mahathallah certainly seem to like decorating with razor-sharp pieces of metal. Doesn’t seem to be doing the mood of the locals any good though - the Bearded Devil sitting behind the desk looks very bored. Rajira hurriedly signals for assistance.
 
Bearded Devil: More cutists... Whadya want? They’re not ready yet. Honestly, waiting for the cusp of adulthood to sacrifice a soul is a bloody waste of time! souls are souls regardless of how long they’ve been lodged in living flesh… Luculla Promised me the Thirteenth soul, what are we at now, five? 
Rajira: Can we at least check on them? The boss is getting antsy and she’s taking it out on us.
Bearded Devil: They’re over there.  I can’t believe I have to wait for eight more of these before I get mine.
Civilla: That hardly seems fair - you’re doing all the.. Work.
 
Two young men, both thin and disheveled, cower in the southeast corner of the otherwise bare chamber. Faces dirty and streaked with tears, both teens are bound hand and foot by manacles chained to a single ring set in the stone floor. Scratches on the stone walls from desperate fingers attest to the fact that these twins are not the first of this room’s recent prisoners.
 
Civilla: Well, there’s only five have come in through THIS office…
Bearded Devil: Are you implying… No, I know if Luculla was trying to stiff me. As you can see  they’re perfectly fine and will be alive for whatever you cultists have planned. And tell them to get some more, I want this to be OVER.
Rajira: I don’t have much interaction with the catch teams, but I’ll do what I can. Oh, but I do have something else to give you. It’s important. *STAB*
 
It’s not a one-stab-kill, but we do kill the devil and get the kids out. Will do find a set of iron doors, sealed and marked with a dire warning by the Order of the Torrent. Probably NOT worth opening. The temple we find next, decorated with images of a number of unpleasant entities, also has a few interior decorators who remain oblivious of Rajira and the celestial leopard until Too Late. The aforementioned Luculla, unfortunately for us, is alert enough to Summon a Giant Fiery Wasp from Heck. Unfortunately for her, Civilla can substitute any summoned monster with one of hers and replaces it with a Shadow Chicken. A very confused Shadow Chicken. 
 
Civilla’s player complains that the symbols for most of the Pathfinder gods are too complex.
 
Ayva’s player: I wouldn’t want to be a cleric of on of those religions - ‘Holy s*** a vampire - give me 20 minutes.’
 
Whilst the Order of the Torrent certainly sealed off part of the complex down here with assorted dire warnings, they appear to have missed a secret door down a pit.
 
GM: Rajira and Civilla go around the outside of the pit.
Civilla’s player: Two trailer park girls go round the outside, round the outside… sorry. 
 
GM: You find the hidden switch to disable the traps around the pit.
Ayva: Part of me wants to add a label - ‘ pull for light’.
Terzo: So, do you need me to stay up here as an anchor for the rope?
GM: I don’t think you want to try and jump the spike pit, Terzo.
Terzo: We COULD just drop all the tables, beds and mattresses down the hole. 
GM: …
Civilla OoC: We got everything we needed in the earlier rooms - oh my god it’s a reverse Gygax dungeon.
 
The rooms beyond are cold. Unnaturally, dead-of-winter cold. And it certainly sounds like there’s plenty of dead down here to go with the cold. And suspicious pale yellow fungus, which we set on fire from a cautious distance. We find ourselves not far from the doors the Order of the Torrent sealed.
 
Civilla: Yeah, real secure guys.
Rajira: Oh, be fair, they didn’t know about the secret door.
 
It’s just as well that Ayva has Deathsight, so we aren’t surprised by the ghost of the halfling woman we soon encounter. 
 
Ghost of the Gambling Halfling: A wager? A game? Oh, I’ve waited so long! These bones are lucky tonight! Care to wager part of yourselves, to earn my secrets?
Civilla: Can we specify which part?
Ghost: Just part of your lifeforce.
Civilla: Then no. 
Rajira: So, what’s the game?
 
She wants to play Odds or Evens, a very simple dice game of pure chance. 
 
Ayva: We’d better get to use our own dice.
Civilla: I should hope so, she’s certainly going to insist on using hers. 
 
Rajira wins the first round, and the ghost cheerfully answers her question about the other residents - we were right, there are quite a few other undead. Unfortunately, for the next round someone else has to roll, and Terzo can’t inspire his own skill in Sleight of Hand. Happily he doesn’t have to. 
 
Terzo: The Lady appears to be with me this evening, madam. You said yourself there are no other gamblers down here - is there any way we can help you go on to wherever you might find others of your proclivities? Hobby? Profession?
Ghost: You want to help me Move On! Such kindness from those I would have considered prey in life! I do miss the sunlight - you could see to it the dawn touches my bones. 
 
Ayva wins the next round too.
 
Civilla: I’m looking around for a hidden shrine to Desna (Goddess of Luck).
Ayva: I certainly owe her a big favour.
 
Ayva: Tell me all the secrets down here.
Ghost: That’s a touch broad - how about ‘A river runs beneath us, you know, and its dark currents have brought in new visitors below our feet…’ - there, that’s suitably vague. 
 
Civilla: Before I roll, there are things I need to know. What if you can’t answer?
Ghost: Well, I’m hardly omniscient - I was just the old Guildmaster. ‘I don’t know’ is a legitimate answer, Oh wait, I just told you something about myself! You’ll have to play twice. 
Civilla: I don’t think so. 
 
Civilla loses, but the ghost wasn’t cheating.
 
Ghost: I do try to play fair. Now hold still, this won’t hurt a bit. I just want some of your memories.
GM: Take 3 CON damage.
Civilla OoC: Oh thank god, I thought you were going to say 6 Negative Levels.
Ghost: Such wonderful memories!
Civilla OoC: Are you sure about that? Every night for a Changeling is nightmares, dreams and visions sent by our Hag mother.
 
So it might be a matter of some concern that a lot of the people that we’ve been killing down here are also probably Changelings.
 
Civilla: Dammit, I need to play another round - there’s an answer I NEED to know.
 
She loses again. And has to risk a third round.
 
Civilla: Those of us that wish to escape our pasts must do so on their own, as the Redeemer Queen did. Did the Changelings we killed here have the same mother?
Ghost: Indeed! And you killed her. 
Civilla OoC: Hmm. There’s a head I need to collect.
Terzo OoC: Am I going to regret asking?
Civilla OoC: Probably - there’s a magic item you can make from the shrunken heads of evil hags, used by witches who want a coven but don’t want to associate with evil hags.
Terzo OoC: I was right, I do regret asking.
Ayva OoC: The heads are still animated, incidentally. 
 
Terzo happens to know that the Redeemer Queen was the first succubus, but has become a goddess and rejected Chaotic Evil. Which has him looking at his student with an odd expression. The Guildmaster’s ghost hopes we’ll actually follow through on putting her to rest, but there’s still more of the complex to explore.  And Wretchghosts, which are what happens to very unfortunate addicts. And who can inflict the same addiction on the living. 
 
Terzo: Don’t let them touch you!!!
Wretchghost: Firssst Onnnne Freeeee!!!!
 
This is very, very bad for us - Civilla (already badly weakened by the ghost earlier) promptly succumbs, Ayva isn’t much better, and Rajira has nothing that can hurt them - apart from that intelligent Kukri which would be a move of utter desperation. Desperate retreat is in order, until they stop following us.

Licensing invites corporate oversight. This is not a good idea. So thank goodness it's too expensive for Hero to have a Licensing agreement with DC< especially with the Discovery Merger, D.C. may end up as strictly reprints, anyway.
 

I do prefer paper over PDFs, because I don't like electronics at the (Face to face) gaming table.

Maybe this is in the wrong subforum, because Ron speaks very directly against the idea of "verse" as such in Champions Now.  A licensed property would be antithetical to the things the game is trying to accomplish.

HORROR ON THE ORIENT EXPRESS - MILAN - Note For Note Pt.2
 
Jan 1923
 
IN WHICH THE INVESTIGATORS DISCUSS THE MEANING OF LIFE AND LIVE ORGAN TRANSPLANTS
 
While Lt. Huxley is off investigating the disappearance of opera diva Caterina Cavollaro, and accidentally stumbling across what appears to be an organlegging ring in 1920s Milan, Florence and her first-cousin-once-removed Alex are relaxing in the apartment at the Galleria. At least until Florence remembers that she’s supposed to be writing about her trip for her editor Edward Huntington-Smythe back at the Daily News London.
 
She probably can’t write about the horrifying death of Col. Herring in the Simplon Tunnel - as much as it’s highly newsworthy (at least for certain papers, like The Scoop) publicising it would make her persona non grata with the Compagnie Internationale des Wagons-Lits. And her Great-Uncle Henry and Great-Aunt Esther would be appalled when they find out the details.
 
On the other hand she can always write about the disappearance of the diva - the kidnapping of attractive young women is always newsworthy, as long as they’re rich, white, and famous. Get a few statements from members of the public, and suitably damning statements from the authorities, and you might even have enough for a special Sunday feature section. Florence can even get her own photos, although she’s initially reluctant to go to il Duomo and photograph the shrines and votive candles dedicated to the opera star. She and Alex are both firmly CoE, for one thing. 
 
GM: I mean if you’ll burst into flame stepping through the door, I’ll understand if you don’t.
Florence: Or the Archbishop of Canterbury suddenly sits bolt-upright and says ‘SOMETHING IS WRONG’.... It’s not like we went in there to see the artwork. It’s like they know.
 
Refreshments at Biffi’s, on the ground floor of the Galleria, first. Although actually getting the meal is delayed when la cameriera has an emotional breakdown before she’s even finished taking the order. Apparently the disappearance of the diva has left many of the Milanese in an overwrought state - God help the kidnappers if they are ever caught.
 
Waitress: La Scala is the heart of Milan, Signora - and the Diva is the heart of La Scala!
 
That’s not the only thing that the Milanese are overwrought about - a couple a few tables away have a blazing public row that culminates with the woman slapping her partner and storming out. 
 
Florence: Well, this is Italy.
GM: Apparently it was an argument about fashion.
Florence: Yep, Italy. Definitely going in the article. 
Alex: The volatile temperament of the Latin.
Florence: “Even in the midst of this city-wide tragedy, the passions of the people run hot”
 
It’s all a bit much. Although Father Angelico at the cathedral has a theory about why the Milanese have been so excessively emotional of late. He certainly disagrees about which building is the heart of Milan.
 
Father Angelico: We Milanese have lost much faith in the One True God. Our lack of animation stems from a soulless devotion to appearance instead of substance. In these dim days, we worship actors and singers. As attendance at Mass decline, attendance at la Scala increase! La Scala is the house of evil! *bewilderingly bursts into tears*
 
That might explain why he wasn’t entirely happy to have Florence photograph the shrines dedicated to Cavollaro’s safe return, but in return for a donation to the church roof fund, and a chance to practice his English, he’s happily to show Alex and Florence around the building, at least until he has to prepare for the evening service, and before he has the aforementioned outburst.
 
He’s not the last eccentric they encounter in il Duomo, either - there’s the older gentleman who has apparently misplaced his pet chameleon, but who hurried off when Alex and Flo offered to help. At least, it’s presumably his chameleon - the lizard certainly seems interested in the bottleful of dead moths the man dropped in his haste. Alex manages to catch the beast while Florence tries to track down the owner. For a reptile with conical eyes, it certainly manages an expression of withering contempt.
 
Alex: Yeah, I’m not that fond of you either, creature.
 
Eventually they leave the lizard and handful of dried bugs in the care of a baffled priest, in case the owner comes back for them. Why would you even bring your lizard to church anyway, wonders Florence. It’s not like it’s an orphan lamb that needs hourly feeding. Or even that possum her mother cared for that time. Or the kangaroos. In fact, in retrospect, it’s probably just surprising that the animal is a lizard.
 
Florence: I give him some money in case he has to look after the lizard, long-term. 
 
Huxley returns to the Galleria in time for supper - he’s a bit perturbed, to put it mildly. Lung transplants are completely impossible, and there is no reason at all why you’d transfer the diseased organs back into the ‘donor’, especially if you were just going to kill him anyway. 
 
Florence: The Great War has advanced medical technology in leaps and bounds?
 
Although this leap has taken the surgeons well past the Moral Event Horizon.
 
Huxley: The body of Ennio Spinola has been obviously tampered with by a person or persons with medical capabilities beyond anything in the published literature.
   The idea of replacing diseased or damaged body parts has been around for millennia. As early as 600 BC, the use of autogenous skin flaps to replace missing noses was conceived, and by the 16th century, Tagliacozzi and other pioneering plastic surgeons were successful with such procedures. And certainly we have made great strides in skin grafting in the aftermath of the Great War. But the transfer of entire internal organs from one person to another… human to human… and to do it so seamlessly… no one has ever succeeded!
    I mean, the base surgical techniques one would theoretically need for such a procedure are in their infancy. It’s been barely a decade since Alexis Carrel walked away with the Nobel Prize for the perfection of vascular suturing, his work is amazing!… let me think… there were technically successful kidney transplants in the early 1900s… not by Carrel… who was it?.... yes, Emerich Ullman… dog autotransplant and dog-to-goat xenografts… and then of course those abhorrent human renal transplants performed by Jaboulay and Unger using goat and monkey donors. But, none of those xenografts functioned for more than a few days and compared to… to THIS… it’s like comparing a crude Palaeolithic sculpture to a Michelangelo!
   How they did something…so… so exquisite is beyond me. To take a seemingly healthy man, cut him open, to remove his lungs and graft in a substitute pair and to do all so seamlessly and without stitches.
    And yet, the genius behind this must also be possessed with diabolical intent. The sacred duty of all medical practitioners is to do no harm. Why would someone go to the trouble of installing filthy disease-riddled lungs into the patient… the victim? Could the rampant tuberculosis be an unwanted side-effect of the procedure? Poor sterilization… not likely in an operation so meticulous. No… these are the lungs of a victim riddled with tuberculosis for years.
    I fear we are facing a medical genius whose intellect is marred by the most infernal depravity, a mind on par with Doyle’s Professor Moriarty.
 
But it's not until later in the evening as they’re preparing for bed (and Florence is developing her negatives in the bathroom in the portable dark room) that anything further happens to upset Huxley’s equilibrium. Because that’s when he hears singing - very familiar singing. It’s the Ritorna vincitor! aria from Aida. And it’s Caterina Cavollaro’s voice. 
 
Thankfully, the Lieutenant is not hallucinating - Alex can hear it too, although Florence is too busy with the negatives to come check. People and police are coming out onto the streets, too, but all the echoes from the tall buildings and cobbled roads make it impossible to locate the source before it falls into silence. And that silence is broken only by the sobs of distraught Milanese. 
 
Huxley starts putting the disjointed pieces of the puzzle together - the Torso of the Sedefkar Simulacrum was purchased by somebody from Teatro alla Scala. Flavio Contio, industrialist and patron of la Scala, has miraculously recovered from tuberculosis, at the same time a unionist miraculously acquired a pair of tuberculosis-riddled lungs and free extra stabbing. Caterina Cavollaro, star of Aida, has been kidnapped by somebody she probably knew from the opera house. And the Diva has apparently been turned into a lizard. Or was a were-chameleon the whole time. It would explain why that chameleon shows up again, in the last alley he heard the Diva’s voice in. 
 
GM: And of course, if there IS somebody in Milan collecting healthy lungs for transplant experiments, well, an opera diva would have to have pretty healthy lungs. 

Huxley: I’ve just had another horrible thought - was that even Cavollaro singing tonight? 
Alex: There can’t be that many people that can sing like that.
Huxley: That’s true.
 
Alex: It must be interesting to be inside your mind, Lt.
 
He persuades Alex that a late-night visit to Conti’s apartment is in order. There certainly seems to be somebody inside, although they’ve left all their upstairs windows open on a winter’s night. If Conti still has tuberculosis, he must be insane. Happily, he’s also left his door unlocked, so Huxley can go in and ask him in person. And why he has the same model Alfa Romeo RL Limousine the Diva was last seen getting into. Alex is reluctant to follow this lead (especially without Florence the steak-knife-wielding team bruiser along) but lets themselves be persuaded. 
 
Alex: Alright, let's go get ourselves arrested.
 
They can find weapons inside, surely.
 
Huxley OoC: I’ll grab the pokiest poker. +3 Vorpal Pokey.
 
Sneaking into the house, Huxley promptly knocks over a vase, and has to grab frantically to stop the crash. At least whoever is upstairs never heard the noise. 
 
GM: Although you’re getting the same look of withering contempt from Alex that Alex got from the lizard earlier.
 
Of course then the two of them knock the vase over together, and Alex tumbles down the cellar steps. THAT lures Conti out.
 
Flavio Conti: Chi è là?
Huxley: Mr. Conti? I need to ask you some questions about the disappearance of Caterina Cavollaro. 
 
Conti’s reaction is to freeze, then run away back to his room and slam the door. That’s enough evident guilt to fill Huxley with a righteous wrath. 
 
Huxley: I grow a single hair from my chest.
 
He can hear Conti yelling into the phone in his study (and at least one word is Polizia!) and bangs on the door. Time to test some other hypotheses.
 
Huxley: Cavollaro! Tuberculosis! Spinola!
 
Conti shoots him through the door. 
 
Fortunately the bullet only grazes his ribs, so he lies off to one side, banging with the poker and yelling more keywords until Conti runs out of bullets, then charges in and wrestles the old man to the ground. Now they have to interrogate him.
 
Alex: We should have brought Flo with us - she can get anybody to spill the beans. 
GM: It’s nearly 11PM, and they’re not back yet. Do you want to go see if anything happened to them?
Florence: They’re grown adults - I’m going to bed.
GM: So we’ll cut back to Conti’s apartment, where the two grown adults have just had a loud scuffle with multiple gunshots and all the windows open, and left the front door open. 
Italian Policeman at the door: Signore Conti?
 
Alex tries to distract him with her complete lack of Italian. Huxley starts inventing a plausible story to explain all the commotion, but doesn’t notice that Conti doesn’t yell for help now that rescue has apparently arrived. In fact, the moment that Huxley and the policeman are distracted, he leaps out the open window. Most unwise - even with fresh young lungs, the man is nearly 60, and it’s a second-storey window. By the time they get downstairs he’s bleeding out. At least he gets a few last words, staring at the blood flowing from his body. 
 
Conti: But… but.. The Brothers of the Skin. Cannot… die…
 
At least the police believe Alex and Huxley when they claim they only wanted to talk to Conti about the diva, but he went berserk the moment they mentioned her name. The language barrier actually helps, once they convince the British Consul of their innocence and get him to intervene on their behalf. Having all that money obviously proves they’re respectable people.
 
Detective: I hope this doesn’t ruin your opinion of Italy. You are perfectly safe here *glancing down at Huxley’s bloodstained shirt* under normal circumstances.
 
Of course, that’s the same reason a different police station uses to refuse the investigators a gun permit in the morning - Mussolini’s Italy is safe for law-abiding foreigners, and Mussolini is Always Right. 
 
That’s not the only thing that leaves Florence cranky - she had to go around to the police station in the middle of the night, with their passports, after an exhausting evening preparing the negatives and text for her news report.  
 
GM: Going to add anything about Conti to your article?
Florence: I’d only just finished writing it up before I got rudely woken up.
GM: You’re not going to rewrite it just because your friend got shot.
 
At least there’s some telegrams from Beddows and Prof. Smith waiting for them at the Telegraph Restant office - they report that the Professor is recovering well, and the records of the Teutonic Knights indicate they’ll need to find Sedefkar’s scrolls to finally destroy the Simulacrum. 
 
The police have finally declared Cavollaro’s disappearance a kidnapping, but they’re keeping their investigation of Conti’s involvement quiet for now. It doesn’t seem Conti was calling the police last night, because nobody shows up to arrest Huxley and Alex. None of that stops the papers being full of headlines like CAVOLLARO ABDUCTED, OPERA STAR MYSTERY, and GIVE AIDA BACK!. And the following - 
 
CAVOLLARO'S DISAPPEARANCE
Another tragedy?
 
Arturo Toscanini, director of La Scala, announced today that "Aida" would open tonight with understudy Maria Dimattina appearing in the title role. Original star Caterina Cavollaro is still missing.
Toscanini, in response to comments regarding the "ghost voice" of last night and other reputedly unnatural occurrences, said "There is no substance to these stories. They are mere gossip and old wives' tales."
Paolo Rischonti, props manager for the opera, told a different tale. "We thought our troubles were over," he said, "when the costumiers' curse ended with the preparations for Aida, but now the bad luck is on the set itself. People are being injured or falling ill, and props are disappearing. Where will this end?"
Tonight's performance is booked out, but the opera is scheduled over the next four weeks.

They still have to investigate the opera house, which is utter bedlam less than a day from curtain call. By the time they actually find somebody with answers, they’ve been injured by chariot wheels, had to pass off unexpected wooden heads, and the lieutenant has been recruited as an extra by the lead tenor, who Alex and Florence both notice is checking out Huxley’s ass. Huxley himself is oblivious. 
 
GM: Very affectionate people, the Italians. 
 
Paulo Rischonti, the props manager who purchased the Torso in Paris as part of a job lot, is not exactly happy that Alex and Flo want to buy it. Or at least, not happy that they want to buy it tonight, of all nights, when he has a hundred other things to do. He keeps his temper, barely, but develops an instant migraine.
 
Rischonti: You are clearly rich, eccentric British collectors, so of course I must drop everything to satisfy you. At least go and have a look at the thing first, but please, don’t come back here today. 
 
But when they find the costumier’s department, where the ancient evil artifact was being used as a dressmaker’s dummy, they discover it’s already gone. Apparently one of the younger stagehands collected it earlier. 
 
Ancient Seamstress: The one with the hair and the nose. 
Ancient Seamstress 2: Oh, his grandfather was so handsome.
 
That report leads to three different rumours - it’s been thrown out, sold to a collector, or accidentally dropped into the basement - but by then it’s so close to opening time they’re going to get chased out anyway. Alex and Florence track Huxley down to tell him the news, before going back to the Galleria to change into formal wear for the performance. The Lt. is half-dressed as an Egyptian soldier. Florence, of course, gets a photo. 
 
Florence: We need to go get changed for tonight.
Huxley: I seem to have roped into a non-speaking part.
Alex: We wouldn’t miss it for the world.
 
Huxley: I think I might be exactly where I need to be - the only reason these ‘Brothers of the Skin’ would be in Milan is if they know one of the pieces of the Simulacrum is here. And all these wild coincidences are coming together. 
GM: Welcome to the opera.
Huxley: If nothing happens this evening I’m going to be very very surprised. 
 
Florence gives their now superfluous front row ticket to that waitress from Biffi’s - she’s extremely excited.
 
Waitress: I will sing along with the aria tonight! I have so many things I would like to wish for!
 
Thousands of people are waiting to see the opera when they return but the mood is funereal. The understudy is certainly no patch on Cavollaro, but when she sings the aria the opera house thrums with sound. Hundreds of people are singing along tonight - so many desperate wishes and fervent desires. 
 
And one of them is singing is Cavollaro’s voice - the old man Alex and Florence saw at the cathedral, only a few seats away across the center aisle. He has a scarred throat above his collar, as does the aged, slack-mouthed woman with sagging skin beside him. On the stage Radames enters the Temple of Phtah to receive his armour, and as the priests lift it off the dressmaker’s dummy the Torso swims in the spotlight. The investigators recognise it by the sheen like opalescent marble, but Arturo Faccia, Brother of the Skin, recognises it by the leap in his greedy, obsessive heart. He screams in ecstasy, with the Diva’s stolen voice, even as the spotlight on the Sedefkar Simulacrum dies. 

A real name for a network of corrupt police in Australia in the 70s and 80s: The Joke.
 
If you were receiving payments, you were in on the joke.

I always thought Doom would have taken the larger view.  He would have understood why the Terrorists acted the way they did, he would have understood why the Americans would be so surprised, and I think he could have foreseen the many, many changes in US culture and foreign policy that were coming.  He was always a big picture kind of guy.  To him it would have been like watching a fight start two tables down from you at a restaurant.
He probably did lament the loss of life, and the loss of life that was coming.. but he wouldn't have been surprised.

Can't remember if I told this here before, so if this is a repeat, I apologize.
 
I was running a Champions campaign based in New York City when 9/11 happened.  My game world was very much real world history with supers added.  I thought long and hard about how I was going to handle 9/11.  I didn't want to be disrespectful of the first responders who gave their lives trying to save others, which I think would have been the case if the PC heroes just saved the day and stopped the planes from hitting the WTC.  I also thought it would be sucky of me to have the PCs' efforts all be for naught as they tried to prevent the disaster. 
 
So I decided they weren't there that day.  They were at Sanctuary (the pro-supers island in the south Pacific), with the NYC teleport portal being in the basement of the WTC North Tower.  And when the first plane hit the North Tower, it also shut down the portal, so the PC heroes couldn't just teleport back home and save the South Tower.
 
There was another (NPC) superhero team in NYC in my world: the Guardians.  I decided they were caught by surprise when the first plane hit the North Tower and were helping to evacuate the North Tower when the second airliner came in.  A few Guardians were outside and tried to stop the plane but were unable to do so.  In the end, all but one of the Guardians died either trying to stop the second plane, or were killed when the towers collapsed.  (In later game sessions, I had an adventure where the PC heroes helped that NPC hero get over his survivor's guilt, though to be honest I don't really recall the details of that.)
 
Meanwhile, on Sanctuary the heroes saw the news about the first plane hitting.  They couldn't teleport to NYC, but there was a teleport portal in LA, so they went there, and then started heading across the country to get back to New York to help out however they could.  Along with pretty much all the supers who were at Sanctuary at the time.  As they crossed the country, they were joined by other supers from cities across the country (both heroes and villains).  Old animosities were set aside for the greater good.  When they got to Manhattan, the supers did what they could to search for survivors, help the injured, and so on, alongside the police, firefighters, and other people.  
 
It may not have been the best possible way to handle it, but I think it was at least respectful of those who lost their lives and those who responded to the tragedy as best they could, without making the PCs be completely ineffective.

Well, Communism, so collective action.

Ah!
 
So the double-thread is so they can keep each other company?
 
 

Like bashing Nazis to help remember their evil, it never hurt to stomp on some commies to remember theirs as well.

Superman debuted in the 1930’s.  The Fantastic Four in the ‘60’s.  Origins get updated all the time     WHO CARES! ! !  This is not about write-ups.
      The original question I was trying to raise is....  
    Considering the current world situation, is using a team of Soviet “Bad Guys” to give players a way of working out any frustrations about what’s happening in the news in bad taste?

His reading of "Fifty Shades of Gray" had me in stitches. He also voiced Mr. Myxzpltlc for the DCAU, and really put all his frustration into that one. He is definitely going to be missed.

Reject Modernity, and embrace 4th Edition!

ALL HAIL THE BIG BLUE BOOK!!!   ONE BOOK TO RULE THEM ALL, AND IN THE DARKNESS BIND THEM!!!

Reject Modernity, and embrace 4th Edition!

Reject Modernity, and embrace 4th Edition!

Turkey was never forced to face the consequences of the Armenian genocide, like Germany after WW II, so denial of it has become ingrained in their culture. By now we've all seen how easy it is for human beings to simply refuse to acknowledge evidence of what they don't want to believe.
 
Morbius did pretty good box-office in its opening weekend, but its second-weekend earnings dropped 73%, second-biggest for a superhero movie since Shaquille O'Neal's Steel. IMHO Sony keeps making the same mistake with its Spider-properties as Warner did with DC: because superhero movies are hot, they think what people want is a whole bunch of superhero-ish action and imagery thrown on screen. Marvel Studios succeeded because they try to make the best movies they can first. Superheroes aren't the meat, they're only the sauce.

Apparently the writer of Ctrl-Alt-Delete is not a fan of Morbius.

Drhoz, you have become my weekly television drama. Play on!

I do prefer paper over PDFs, because I don't like electronics at the (Face to face) gaming table.