Lawnmower Boy

I'd pay a dollar to see that!

The coyote is technologically superior to the road runner and he always lost.
 
*mic drop* 

The first episode of Moon Knight shows promise.

Mutants and Masterminds seems to have been the market leading superhero RPG for a fair while.
 
While it is a highly modified D20 system, those are still its roots 

That's the author's fault for not putting in a second archer

I cannot say that I knew Scott well, or over a lifetime, but we were members of the University of British Columbia Wargamers Society together in our youth, and I was introduced to Champions by playing in his campaign. He graduated in timely fashion well before me in 1986, and I never saw him in the flesh again after leaving town for graduate studies. 
 
Let's talk about flesh. Scott suffered from some kind of congenital physical condition, about the specifics of which he was very private then, and, evidently, throughout his life. His symptoms, when I knew him, were for the most part not so obviously abnormal that one could not convince oneself that he was simply the victim of outrageously bad lifestyle or grooming choices. Because he did not advertise his condition, I am sure that he suffered ridicule and abuse during his earlier life. In later years, I suspect that they progressed to mobility impairments and other isolating lifestyle challenges, although I cannot speak to that from personal acquaintance. 
 
We have, as a society, persuaded ourselves that because caring about appearances is superficial, we should resolve never to do it consciously. I think that is a mistake, that we are human, and have a right to own the loss of simple physical attractiveness as a legitimate injury done by disease. It is okay to be bitter, to be conflicted, to be hurt, when illness makes us ugly, and victims have a claim on medical help! I say that in the light of world events yesterday, but also as a reflection on Scott's life. Scott suffered, and yet, and unlike many victims, sought a public life in teaching, and, later in life, preaching. (He was no proselytiser when I knew him.) He also was a creative game designer with a particular interest in the superhero genre, taking a puckish pleasure in writing about the adventures of his alter-ego, Thundrax. 
 
I cannot offer a eulogy of Scott Bennie here, but I can offer one for Thundrax.  Like all superhuman alter-egos, Thundrax represented the person that Scott fantasised about being. Scott was a good man, a patriot, a religious man, and a fan of the Champions system. So was Thundrax. But there is one more thing about Thundrax that is important here. Thundrax was a bit of a himbo. From which I take away that this was part of Scott's fantasy. Having known Scott, as I said, as a teacher, a creator, and a man of genuine insight into the human condition, I want to take this as Scott's last lesson. That kind of fantasy is okay. It is okay, acceptable --no, more than acceptable, normal-- to have fantasies about being more physically attractive! Elsewhere, we can talk about body dysphoria. Here, the issue is a particular kind of illness, the kind that deforms us physically just enough to limit our lives, and not quite enough to make us acceptable victims. We  need to accept that this kind of Illness is real, and acknowledge that the longing to be Thundrax is legitimate. 
 
RIP, Scott

This is something of a hot-button issue for me, so ... depending upon the age of the unseen character there ... with the given context of it being spring break ... exactly why does the mother's irrational need to micromanage her children override the other person's desire to sleep?

No but... NO   Stop dying!!
 
So many of my favorite books and most useful books from Hero Games were written by him.  I wanted him to redo some of this stuff
This is just his Hero Games output, excluding Adventurer's Club and Digital Hero:
 
"Villainy Unbound' (Villains Book, editor/contributor, 1987)
"Champions in 3D" (Adventure book, contributor, 1988)
"Classic Enemies" (Villains Book, Editor/contributor, 1989)
"Champions Universe" (sourcebook, contributor, 1991)
"Day of the Destroyer (adventure, writer, 1992)
"VIPER" (Sourcebook, co-author, 1993)
"VIPER: Coils of the Serpent, co-author, 2003)
"Villainy Amok" (adventure book, author, 2005)
"Champions of the North" (sourcebook, 2008)
 
He also wrote dozens of D&D, Marvel Superheroes, Mutants and Masterminds, and even the World of Warcraft RPG books as well as lots of video game content.
 
God be with his family and friends.

I cannot say that I knew Scott well, or over a lifetime, but we were members of the University of British Columbia Wargamers Society together in our youth, and I was introduced to Champions by playing in his campaign. He graduated in timely fashion well before me in 1986, and I never saw him in the flesh again after leaving town for graduate studies. 
 
Let's talk about flesh. Scott suffered from some kind of congenital physical condition, about the specifics of which he was very private then, and, evidently, throughout his life. His symptoms, when I knew him, were for the most part not so obviously abnormal that one could not convince oneself that he was simply the victim of outrageously bad lifestyle or grooming choices. Because he did not advertise his condition, I am sure that he suffered ridicule and abuse during his earlier life. In later years, I suspect that they progressed to mobility impairments and other isolating lifestyle challenges, although I cannot speak to that from personal acquaintance. 
 
We have, as a society, persuaded ourselves that because caring about appearances is superficial, we should resolve never to do it consciously. I think that is a mistake, that we are human, and have a right to own the loss of simple physical attractiveness as a legitimate injury done by disease. It is okay to be bitter, to be conflicted, to be hurt, when illness makes us ugly, and victims have a claim on medical help! I say that in the light of world events yesterday, but also as a reflection on Scott's life. Scott suffered, and yet, and unlike many victims, sought a public life in teaching, and, later in life, preaching. (He was no proselytiser when I knew him.) He also was a creative game designer with a particular interest in the superhero genre, taking a puckish pleasure in writing about the adventures of his alter-ego, Thundrax. 
 
I cannot offer a eulogy of Scott Bennie here, but I can offer one for Thundrax.  Like all superhuman alter-egos, Thundrax represented the person that Scott fantasised about being. Scott was a good man, a patriot, a religious man, and a fan of the Champions system. So was Thundrax. But there is one more thing about Thundrax that is important here. Thundrax was a bit of a himbo. From which I take away that this was part of Scott's fantasy. Having known Scott, as I said, as a teacher, a creator, and a man of genuine insight into the human condition, I want to take this as Scott's last lesson. That kind of fantasy is okay. It is okay, acceptable --no, more than acceptable, normal-- to have fantasies about being more physically attractive! Elsewhere, we can talk about body dysphoria. Here, the issue is a particular kind of illness, the kind that deforms us physically just enough to limit our lives, and not quite enough to make us acceptable victims. We  need to accept that this kind of Illness is real, and acknowledge that the longing to be Thundrax is legitimate. 
 
RIP, Scott

I cannot say that I knew Scott well, or over a lifetime, but we were members of the University of British Columbia Wargamers Society together in our youth, and I was introduced to Champions by playing in his campaign. He graduated in timely fashion well before me in 1986, and I never saw him in the flesh again after leaving town for graduate studies. 
 
Let's talk about flesh. Scott suffered from some kind of congenital physical condition, about the specifics of which he was very private then, and, evidently, throughout his life. His symptoms, when I knew him, were for the most part not so obviously abnormal that one could not convince oneself that he was simply the victim of outrageously bad lifestyle or grooming choices. Because he did not advertise his condition, I am sure that he suffered ridicule and abuse during his earlier life. In later years, I suspect that they progressed to mobility impairments and other isolating lifestyle challenges, although I cannot speak to that from personal acquaintance. 
 
We have, as a society, persuaded ourselves that because caring about appearances is superficial, we should resolve never to do it consciously. I think that is a mistake, that we are human, and have a right to own the loss of simple physical attractiveness as a legitimate injury done by disease. It is okay to be bitter, to be conflicted, to be hurt, when illness makes us ugly, and victims have a claim on medical help! I say that in the light of world events yesterday, but also as a reflection on Scott's life. Scott suffered, and yet, and unlike many victims, sought a public life in teaching, and, later in life, preaching. (He was no proselytiser when I knew him.) He also was a creative game designer with a particular interest in the superhero genre, taking a puckish pleasure in writing about the adventures of his alter-ego, Thundrax. 
 
I cannot offer a eulogy of Scott Bennie here, but I can offer one for Thundrax.  Like all superhuman alter-egos, Thundrax represented the person that Scott fantasised about being. Scott was a good man, a patriot, a religious man, and a fan of the Champions system. So was Thundrax. But there is one more thing about Thundrax that is important here. Thundrax was a bit of a himbo. From which I take away that this was part of Scott's fantasy. Having known Scott, as I said, as a teacher, a creator, and a man of genuine insight into the human condition, I want to take this as Scott's last lesson. That kind of fantasy is okay. It is okay, acceptable --no, more than acceptable, normal-- to have fantasies about being more physically attractive! Elsewhere, we can talk about body dysphoria. Here, the issue is a particular kind of illness, the kind that deforms us physically just enough to limit our lives, and not quite enough to make us acceptable victims. We  need to accept that this kind of Illness is real, and acknowledge that the longing to be Thundrax is legitimate. 
 
RIP, Scott

I cannot say that I knew Scott well, or over a lifetime, but we were members of the University of British Columbia Wargamers Society together in our youth, and I was introduced to Champions by playing in his campaign. He graduated in timely fashion well before me in 1986, and I never saw him in the flesh again after leaving town for graduate studies. 
 
Let's talk about flesh. Scott suffered from some kind of congenital physical condition, about the specifics of which he was very private then, and, evidently, throughout his life. His symptoms, when I knew him, were for the most part not so obviously abnormal that one could not convince oneself that he was simply the victim of outrageously bad lifestyle or grooming choices. Because he did not advertise his condition, I am sure that he suffered ridicule and abuse during his earlier life. In later years, I suspect that they progressed to mobility impairments and other isolating lifestyle challenges, although I cannot speak to that from personal acquaintance. 
 
We have, as a society, persuaded ourselves that because caring about appearances is superficial, we should resolve never to do it consciously. I think that is a mistake, that we are human, and have a right to own the loss of simple physical attractiveness as a legitimate injury done by disease. It is okay to be bitter, to be conflicted, to be hurt, when illness makes us ugly, and victims have a claim on medical help! I say that in the light of world events yesterday, but also as a reflection on Scott's life. Scott suffered, and yet, and unlike many victims, sought a public life in teaching, and, later in life, preaching. (He was no proselytiser when I knew him.) He also was a creative game designer with a particular interest in the superhero genre, taking a puckish pleasure in writing about the adventures of his alter-ego, Thundrax. 
 
I cannot offer a eulogy of Scott Bennie here, but I can offer one for Thundrax.  Like all superhuman alter-egos, Thundrax represented the person that Scott fantasised about being. Scott was a good man, a patriot, a religious man, and a fan of the Champions system. So was Thundrax. But there is one more thing about Thundrax that is important here. Thundrax was a bit of a himbo. From which I take away that this was part of Scott's fantasy. Having known Scott, as I said, as a teacher, a creator, and a man of genuine insight into the human condition, I want to take this as Scott's last lesson. That kind of fantasy is okay. It is okay, acceptable --no, more than acceptable, normal-- to have fantasies about being more physically attractive! Elsewhere, we can talk about body dysphoria. Here, the issue is a particular kind of illness, the kind that deforms us physically just enough to limit our lives, and not quite enough to make us acceptable victims. We  need to accept that this kind of Illness is real, and acknowledge that the longing to be Thundrax is legitimate. 
 
RIP, Scott

I cannot say that I knew Scott well, or over a lifetime, but we were members of the University of British Columbia Wargamers Society together in our youth, and I was introduced to Champions by playing in his campaign. He graduated in timely fashion well before me in 1986, and I never saw him in the flesh again after leaving town for graduate studies. 
 
Let's talk about flesh. Scott suffered from some kind of congenital physical condition, about the specifics of which he was very private then, and, evidently, throughout his life. His symptoms, when I knew him, were for the most part not so obviously abnormal that one could not convince oneself that he was simply the victim of outrageously bad lifestyle or grooming choices. Because he did not advertise his condition, I am sure that he suffered ridicule and abuse during his earlier life. In later years, I suspect that they progressed to mobility impairments and other isolating lifestyle challenges, although I cannot speak to that from personal acquaintance. 
 
We have, as a society, persuaded ourselves that because caring about appearances is superficial, we should resolve never to do it consciously. I think that is a mistake, that we are human, and have a right to own the loss of simple physical attractiveness as a legitimate injury done by disease. It is okay to be bitter, to be conflicted, to be hurt, when illness makes us ugly, and victims have a claim on medical help! I say that in the light of world events yesterday, but also as a reflection on Scott's life. Scott suffered, and yet, and unlike many victims, sought a public life in teaching, and, later in life, preaching. (He was no proselytiser when I knew him.) He also was a creative game designer with a particular interest in the superhero genre, taking a puckish pleasure in writing about the adventures of his alter-ego, Thundrax. 
 
I cannot offer a eulogy of Scott Bennie here, but I can offer one for Thundrax.  Like all superhuman alter-egos, Thundrax represented the person that Scott fantasised about being. Scott was a good man, a patriot, a religious man, and a fan of the Champions system. So was Thundrax. But there is one more thing about Thundrax that is important here. Thundrax was a bit of a himbo. From which I take away that this was part of Scott's fantasy. Having known Scott, as I said, as a teacher, a creator, and a man of genuine insight into the human condition, I want to take this as Scott's last lesson. That kind of fantasy is okay. It is okay, acceptable --no, more than acceptable, normal-- to have fantasies about being more physically attractive! Elsewhere, we can talk about body dysphoria. Here, the issue is a particular kind of illness, the kind that deforms us physically just enough to limit our lives, and not quite enough to make us acceptable victims. We  need to accept that this kind of Illness is real, and acknowledge that the longing to be Thundrax is legitimate. 
 
RIP, Scott

I cannot say that I knew Scott well, or over a lifetime, but we were members of the University of British Columbia Wargamers Society together in our youth, and I was introduced to Champions by playing in his campaign. He graduated in timely fashion well before me in 1986, and I never saw him in the flesh again after leaving town for graduate studies. 
 
Let's talk about flesh. Scott suffered from some kind of congenital physical condition, about the specifics of which he was very private then, and, evidently, throughout his life. His symptoms, when I knew him, were for the most part not so obviously abnormal that one could not convince oneself that he was simply the victim of outrageously bad lifestyle or grooming choices. Because he did not advertise his condition, I am sure that he suffered ridicule and abuse during his earlier life. In later years, I suspect that they progressed to mobility impairments and other isolating lifestyle challenges, although I cannot speak to that from personal acquaintance. 
 
We have, as a society, persuaded ourselves that because caring about appearances is superficial, we should resolve never to do it consciously. I think that is a mistake, that we are human, and have a right to own the loss of simple physical attractiveness as a legitimate injury done by disease. It is okay to be bitter, to be conflicted, to be hurt, when illness makes us ugly, and victims have a claim on medical help! I say that in the light of world events yesterday, but also as a reflection on Scott's life. Scott suffered, and yet, and unlike many victims, sought a public life in teaching, and, later in life, preaching. (He was no proselytiser when I knew him.) He also was a creative game designer with a particular interest in the superhero genre, taking a puckish pleasure in writing about the adventures of his alter-ego, Thundrax. 
 
I cannot offer a eulogy of Scott Bennie here, but I can offer one for Thundrax.  Like all superhuman alter-egos, Thundrax represented the person that Scott fantasised about being. Scott was a good man, a patriot, a religious man, and a fan of the Champions system. So was Thundrax. But there is one more thing about Thundrax that is important here. Thundrax was a bit of a himbo. From which I take away that this was part of Scott's fantasy. Having known Scott, as I said, as a teacher, a creator, and a man of genuine insight into the human condition, I want to take this as Scott's last lesson. That kind of fantasy is okay. It is okay, acceptable --no, more than acceptable, normal-- to have fantasies about being more physically attractive! Elsewhere, we can talk about body dysphoria. Here, the issue is a particular kind of illness, the kind that deforms us physically just enough to limit our lives, and not quite enough to make us acceptable victims. We  need to accept that this kind of Illness is real, and acknowledge that the longing to be Thundrax is legitimate. 
 
RIP, Scott

I cannot say that I knew Scott well, or over a lifetime, but we were members of the University of British Columbia Wargamers Society together in our youth, and I was introduced to Champions by playing in his campaign. He graduated in timely fashion well before me in 1986, and I never saw him in the flesh again after leaving town for graduate studies. 
 
Let's talk about flesh. Scott suffered from some kind of congenital physical condition, about the specifics of which he was very private then, and, evidently, throughout his life. His symptoms, when I knew him, were for the most part not so obviously abnormal that one could not convince oneself that he was simply the victim of outrageously bad lifestyle or grooming choices. Because he did not advertise his condition, I am sure that he suffered ridicule and abuse during his earlier life. In later years, I suspect that they progressed to mobility impairments and other isolating lifestyle challenges, although I cannot speak to that from personal acquaintance. 
 
We have, as a society, persuaded ourselves that because caring about appearances is superficial, we should resolve never to do it consciously. I think that is a mistake, that we are human, and have a right to own the loss of simple physical attractiveness as a legitimate injury done by disease. It is okay to be bitter, to be conflicted, to be hurt, when illness makes us ugly, and victims have a claim on medical help! I say that in the light of world events yesterday, but also as a reflection on Scott's life. Scott suffered, and yet, and unlike many victims, sought a public life in teaching, and, later in life, preaching. (He was no proselytiser when I knew him.) He also was a creative game designer with a particular interest in the superhero genre, taking a puckish pleasure in writing about the adventures of his alter-ego, Thundrax. 
 
I cannot offer a eulogy of Scott Bennie here, but I can offer one for Thundrax.  Like all superhuman alter-egos, Thundrax represented the person that Scott fantasised about being. Scott was a good man, a patriot, a religious man, and a fan of the Champions system. So was Thundrax. But there is one more thing about Thundrax that is important here. Thundrax was a bit of a himbo. From which I take away that this was part of Scott's fantasy. Having known Scott, as I said, as a teacher, a creator, and a man of genuine insight into the human condition, I want to take this as Scott's last lesson. That kind of fantasy is okay. It is okay, acceptable --no, more than acceptable, normal-- to have fantasies about being more physically attractive! Elsewhere, we can talk about body dysphoria. Here, the issue is a particular kind of illness, the kind that deforms us physically just enough to limit our lives, and not quite enough to make us acceptable victims. We  need to accept that this kind of Illness is real, and acknowledge that the longing to be Thundrax is legitimate. 
 
RIP, Scott

I cannot say that I knew Scott well, or over a lifetime, but we were members of the University of British Columbia Wargamers Society together in our youth, and I was introduced to Champions by playing in his campaign. He graduated in timely fashion well before me in 1986, and I never saw him in the flesh again after leaving town for graduate studies. 
 
Let's talk about flesh. Scott suffered from some kind of congenital physical condition, about the specifics of which he was very private then, and, evidently, throughout his life. His symptoms, when I knew him, were for the most part not so obviously abnormal that one could not convince oneself that he was simply the victim of outrageously bad lifestyle or grooming choices. Because he did not advertise his condition, I am sure that he suffered ridicule and abuse during his earlier life. In later years, I suspect that they progressed to mobility impairments and other isolating lifestyle challenges, although I cannot speak to that from personal acquaintance. 
 
We have, as a society, persuaded ourselves that because caring about appearances is superficial, we should resolve never to do it consciously. I think that is a mistake, that we are human, and have a right to own the loss of simple physical attractiveness as a legitimate injury done by disease. It is okay to be bitter, to be conflicted, to be hurt, when illness makes us ugly, and victims have a claim on medical help! I say that in the light of world events yesterday, but also as a reflection on Scott's life. Scott suffered, and yet, and unlike many victims, sought a public life in teaching, and, later in life, preaching. (He was no proselytiser when I knew him.) He also was a creative game designer with a particular interest in the superhero genre, taking a puckish pleasure in writing about the adventures of his alter-ego, Thundrax. 
 
I cannot offer a eulogy of Scott Bennie here, but I can offer one for Thundrax.  Like all superhuman alter-egos, Thundrax represented the person that Scott fantasised about being. Scott was a good man, a patriot, a religious man, and a fan of the Champions system. So was Thundrax. But there is one more thing about Thundrax that is important here. Thundrax was a bit of a himbo. From which I take away that this was part of Scott's fantasy. Having known Scott, as I said, as a teacher, a creator, and a man of genuine insight into the human condition, I want to take this as Scott's last lesson. That kind of fantasy is okay. It is okay, acceptable --no, more than acceptable, normal-- to have fantasies about being more physically attractive! Elsewhere, we can talk about body dysphoria. Here, the issue is a particular kind of illness, the kind that deforms us physically just enough to limit our lives, and not quite enough to make us acceptable victims. We  need to accept that this kind of Illness is real, and acknowledge that the longing to be Thundrax is legitimate. 
 
RIP, Scott

I cannot say that I knew Scott well, or over a lifetime, but we were members of the University of British Columbia Wargamers Society together in our youth, and I was introduced to Champions by playing in his campaign. He graduated in timely fashion well before me in 1986, and I never saw him in the flesh again after leaving town for graduate studies. 
 
Let's talk about flesh. Scott suffered from some kind of congenital physical condition, about the specifics of which he was very private then, and, evidently, throughout his life. His symptoms, when I knew him, were for the most part not so obviously abnormal that one could not convince oneself that he was simply the victim of outrageously bad lifestyle or grooming choices. Because he did not advertise his condition, I am sure that he suffered ridicule and abuse during his earlier life. In later years, I suspect that they progressed to mobility impairments and other isolating lifestyle challenges, although I cannot speak to that from personal acquaintance. 
 
We have, as a society, persuaded ourselves that because caring about appearances is superficial, we should resolve never to do it consciously. I think that is a mistake, that we are human, and have a right to own the loss of simple physical attractiveness as a legitimate injury done by disease. It is okay to be bitter, to be conflicted, to be hurt, when illness makes us ugly, and victims have a claim on medical help! I say that in the light of world events yesterday, but also as a reflection on Scott's life. Scott suffered, and yet, and unlike many victims, sought a public life in teaching, and, later in life, preaching. (He was no proselytiser when I knew him.) He also was a creative game designer with a particular interest in the superhero genre, taking a puckish pleasure in writing about the adventures of his alter-ego, Thundrax. 
 
I cannot offer a eulogy of Scott Bennie here, but I can offer one for Thundrax.  Like all superhuman alter-egos, Thundrax represented the person that Scott fantasised about being. Scott was a good man, a patriot, a religious man, and a fan of the Champions system. So was Thundrax. But there is one more thing about Thundrax that is important here. Thundrax was a bit of a himbo. From which I take away that this was part of Scott's fantasy. Having known Scott, as I said, as a teacher, a creator, and a man of genuine insight into the human condition, I want to take this as Scott's last lesson. That kind of fantasy is okay. It is okay, acceptable --no, more than acceptable, normal-- to have fantasies about being more physically attractive! Elsewhere, we can talk about body dysphoria. Here, the issue is a particular kind of illness, the kind that deforms us physically just enough to limit our lives, and not quite enough to make us acceptable victims. We  need to accept that this kind of Illness is real, and acknowledge that the longing to be Thundrax is legitimate. 
 
RIP, Scott

I've done that.