Did you know this section has a character limit?
So, that's a second post up. Any critiques?
They do have medals for almost, and they're called silver!
As it happens, my Nomad would make a good choice for Elysium's leader. I mean, his concept is Good. Just as soon as I get that whole 'signing up' thing done...
edited 6th Sep '13 1:41:59 PM by Anura
A society grows great when old men plant trees whose shade they know they will never sit in.
Salute the freedom fairy! ._.7
What's the general description for your character, mate?
"Your Sig is now charmingly out of date" — Vox, 7/6/2016
Hoo boy... I'll just give the abridged version here; the story of the original one is just going to take up space.
To summarize, he's the sixth entity to bear the name "Plus"*; the name has a history of being on an eternal crusade to improve the multiverse. And I mean 'eternal'. None of them have ever stopped, rested, or even slept while there's still good to be done, and even a Nomad can't keep going like that without a break forever. Hence why there have been six of them.
Each of them has had their own way of doing the job, and as this latest one was a generic fantasy Paladin as a mortal, he kept up the job of hunting down and smiting evil. Exposure to a multiverse where things aren't always black and white has mellowed him out and made him a lot more forgiving, but he's showing signs of starting to crack like the others before him, like reverting to the 'black and white' mindset. He's hoping that the others will be able to keep him in check, and he picked his host for the same reason.
edited 6th Sep '13 5:30:36 PM by Anura
A society grows great when old men plant trees whose shade they know they will never sit in.
Salute the freedom fairy! ._.7
Sooo how elaborate are we allowed to get with our own personal world building? I have a fairly long anecdote prepared for my first couple of opening posts. Ciaran won't start a host, he'll be going on a stint that goes wrong — involving vicious dealers, smugglers, and a hapless off-duty cop — that ultimately ends in his 'death', with Sadhe coming to him to restore his fleeting life. Tis fairly OC NCP filled, which I've been planning on using for a beginning personal arc for Ciaran to run along side his life as a host, attempting to deal with his responsibilities (if he doesn't reject them) as an incarnate and his uprooted personal life at the same time.
It'll also be used to begin setting up connections within the city for himself, using some of the characters introduced as Chekhov's Gun's for later, as being a Spy-type will require him to use such things.
....Or not. Gah, now that I think about it I could literally take my character in any direction I chose to after his prologue is over. His death will pretty much be faked, but should I use that? Should he go completely underground afterwords? Should he reconnect with his family or have them rediscover him later? Should he go after his killers, leave them alone? Other details I'm not willing to spoil that cause similar questions? >.> Mayhaps I'll cross this bridge when I come to it.
All assuming the character isn't flat out rejected, of course. Not really worried about having to throw everything about him out, though.
edited 6th Sep '13 11:32:37 PM by tvtropesnoob
"Your Sig is now charmingly out of date" — Vox, 7/6/2016
As elaborate as you want. WORLDBUILDING IS GOOD
And I'll get to your signup in a minute. I also like your idea, Anura.
EDIT: Is anyone else in Midgard going to post? Because if not, I'll just throw out my second post.
edited 7th Sep '13 2:46:28 AM by troydenite
Not sure if I build up Ashley's world already. Basically it's just a Crapsack High School where the cliches are turned on its head. Mr. Sanichigo would be the Drill Sergeant Nasty Gym Teacher bumped up to eleven and almost the entire school is full of Sadist Teachers and a corrupt principal.
edited 7th Sep '13 4:55:22 AM by Psyga315
"Of course, Satsuki-sama."
Hmm... do need someone for Fiona and Kei to run into...
"Oh, dear. The toad, the monkey, and the dog have all screwed up."
Matthew isn't doing anything!
Did you know this section has a character limit?
I'd offer Johnathan and Yod to bump into Kei and Fiona, but my guys are in the downtown area, while Fiona and Kei seem to be somewhere more classy.
Anyway, I think the original Yod, the Pure Yod, would've hated Digamma for the "massive collateral damage" he caused during the war. Impure!Yod has probably never met him, but Pure!Yod would've definitely warned him away somewhat.
I also expect Impure!Yod not to know many Nomads, as he spent most of his millenia travelling the Multiverse and examining other species. He would defintely know the Elysium Nomads, and maybe a few outside of that.
Plus has been very busy over the millenia, and I wouldn't be surprised if most of the Nomads here have crossed paths with at least one of them. The current one is a bit short with people, but a good guy overall once you get through his exterior. Pretty much all of the others were much more open and friendly. Here's what I have regarding the Pluses:
- Plus One, The First. She was an active figure in Celestial politics, always arguing against interfering in the affairs of other races (and objecting to the term "lower" to describe them), trying to keep the species going in a generally good direction, and utterly failing to stop the war from happening (which she didn't take very well at all; it's basically what made her create Two, in the hope that someone else could succeed where she had failed).
- Plus Two, The Diplomat, was the Plus that most closely emulated One. Since the Nomads no longer had a central government, he would infiltrate the political structure of other worlds and use charm and charisma to, mostly, prevent or end huge wars. He'd generally root out corruption while he was at it.
- Plus Three, The Healer, took it upon herself to restore good that had been lost, whether to war, natural disaster, or simply being in the way of some Giant Space Flea from Nowhere. Sometimes this meant literal healing of wounds both physical and psychological, sometimes it meant restoring the fertility of tainted land or helping to rebuild cities... any form of restoration was her domain.
- Plus Four, The Builder, took that one step further. He would find primitive or falling civilizations and guide them into golden ages of peace and prosperity. His path through infinity could be seen by the trail of Crystal Spires and Togas he left behind him.
- Plus Five, The Teacher, took a much more subtle role in guiding civilizations onto the right path. She simply taught people to live well, often by example. Using philosophy, religion, or whatever means she deemed acceptable under the circumstances to spread her teachings to try and leave people acting better than they did when she arrived, before moving on.
- Plus Six, The Warrior, and the latest in the line. He's a paladin on a crusade against the great evils of the multiverse, and he has a tendency to turn mortals on worlds he finds into more paladins so that there will be still be defenders of justice after he's gone. Has a soft spot for Avalon, although he considers Elysium to have the right idea in the long term (creating a true home for the Nomads wasn't his idea, but he supports it).
There are basically two sides to how other Nomads would see him. The fact that they have been doing so much good everywhere they go would get the idealists to quickly rally around him. But new Pluses who haven't yet learned how pointless it is have a history of dropping into Game groups and politely insisting that they stop it because It Isn't Very Nice, rather souring Game-player's views of them.
edited 7th Sep '13 3:46:19 PM by Anura
A society grows great when old men plant trees whose shade they know they will never sit in.
Did you know this section has a character limit?
Hey, Aura, how long has Plus Six been around? I can imagine both Yods being friends with the various Pluses, though Impure!Yod could find Plus Six's methods distasteful if he knew Plus Five or Plus Four. (Impure!Yod is 4.5 millenia old.)
They do have medals for almost, and they're called silver!
This reminds me, I wrote up a small story pertaining to this game months ago; I'm gonna share it with you guys, posting it in small installments. It takes place long before the events of Divine Singularity, during Tet's seclusion; it should give you an idea of the power this guy used to wield.
The Enigma
The planet was like many of the worlds the explorer had been to. A terrestrial world, its surface an even mix of dry land and vast oceans, its atmosphere dappled with the ivory whorls of cloud cover and weather systems. Third from its sun and occupying the so-called Goldilocks Zone, it had the right conditions to support sapient life, though if any existed on it they weren’t yet advanced enough to send out radio signals of any sort.
All in all, it was a typical Class-M world, unremarkable in most respects.
Or at least, it should have been.
Frowning, the explorer flicked a finger against the display. Static danced across a screen for a moment before clearing up, but the image remained just as it had seconds ago.
“Gypsy, run self-diagnostic,” he murmured, taking his feet off the cutter’s dash. “I think there’s a problem with your systems.”
“No errors detected, sir,” the cutter’s A.I. replied in its usual clipped monotone. “Real-time display is functioning well within acceptable parameters.”
His frown deepened. “Well, that can’t possibly be right…”
“Why is that, sir?”
“Because if it is,” he said, hardly able to believe the words were coming out of his own mouth, “then that planet’s just… not moving.”
The world was still.
It did not rotate, did not revolve around its parent star. The clouds and weather systems that girded it hung motionless over the seas and continents, frozen in the middle of gathering into storms. Clouds of smoke rose from the caldera of a volcano in the southern hemisphere, like a pillar of grey salt. Waves broke along the coastlines, as still as the permafrost of a polar ice cap.
It was like staring at an old static photographic, instead of a real, living world.
It shouldn’t have been possible. In fact, the explorer’s mind was insisting quite firmly that it wasn’t possible.
And yet here it was, right before his eyes.
The explorer blew out a long sigh as he leaned back in his chair, resting his chin on the knuckles of one hand. He had seen a lot of strange and eerie things in all the years that he’d been charting the uncharted regions of the universe, but this just took the cake. Planets didn’t just stop moving like that…
He plucked a cigar from his pocket and lit it; the fumes wafted through the cutter’s cockpit as he weighed his options. On the one hand, this was completely unnatural; something must have happened here to cause this, and he was willing to bet it was something bad.
On the other hand, he needed the money; pickings had been slim recently, and if he didn’t find another world suitable for colonization soon, the Committee would revoke his license and he’d be out of a job. What would he do with himself then? Make a living piloting garbage tugs?
“Well, at least garbage tugs’d be safer than dealing with whatever happened here,” he muttered under his breath.
“What was that, sir?”
“Nothing.”
The explorer began to drum his fingers on the dash. To lose his job and his one source of income, or to take his life in his own hands. Safety, or reward… unemployment, or danger… boredom, or profit…
Finally he let out a sigh. It wasn’t really a choice at all, was it?
Feeling heavy with resignation, the explorer wrapped his hands around the yoke and charted a course that would take him in down the planet’s gravity well, to a spot in the lowlands of the biggest continent.
“Oh, well,” he muttered. “Nothing ventured, nothing gained…”
The Danse Macabre Codex
I'm leaving things like their ages vague. I see little point in setting them in stone. Especially considering that the amount of time between the war and the present is also vague (or I completely missed it).
Anyway, unlike the others, Six isn't the type to say hi to other Nomads he feels passing by. He's had a lot less contact with the rest of his race, and... Basically, any prior relationships are far likelier to have been with a previous Plus than Six.
A society grows great when old men plant trees whose shade they know they will never sit in.
The Landing
The cutter descended into the planet’s atmosphere, staying well clear of the cloud banks. The explorer didn’t know what would happen if his ship came into contact with them, and he had no intention of finding out; the last thing he needed was to wreck his ship by slamming into some kind of solid cloud and get himself killed or marooned here.
His landing zone came into view half a minute after beginning his descent, a low, broad hill in the middle of a vast grassy plain. Gypsy had outdone herself this time; the hill provided a clear field of view for miles in all directions, and if there was anything alive and hostile out there they’d see it coming long before it reached them.
The cutter switched from thrusters to repulsor jets, extended its landing gear and set down, rocking slightly with a hiss of hydraulics. The explorer powered down his ship’s engines with practiced ease, put out his cigar and began to suit up. In minutes he was clad in the hermetically-sealed rubber of his environment suit, with the helmet clamped in place and oxygen tanks filled to capacity.
“Gypsy, deploy probes,” he instructed, his voice tinny and muffled through the helmet’s speaker. “Standard sweep. I’m going to have a look around.”
The cutter’s artificial intelligence intoned its acknowledgement, and by the time he was through the airlock and climbing down the access ladder the probes were already away, the tiny spherical robots whining softly as they scattered like leaves on a spring wind. Already the beginnings of a map were taking shape in the top-right corner of his heads-up display; it would only grow bigger as the probes spread out and recorded more of the landscape with their topographical scanners.
He placed his hands on his hips and looked around, taking in the full expanse of the plains. It was an eerie, strangely desolate sight. A sea of blue-green grass stretched out as far as the eye could see, the tall stalks bent like they had been swaying in a breeze that he certainly didn’t feel; the undulations looked like nothing so much as zigzagging lines in the sand of a beach, rather than the waves of an ocean.
He looked down, frowning as he noticed something peculiar. The shoots of grass beneath his feet weren’t bending under his weight, even in the slightest. The explorer bent down, scrutinizing the blades, and tried to pluck one from the ground.
His fingers slid right off it like he was trying to squeeze a bar of soap.
Frown deepening, he opened his hand and brought it down on a small patch, trying to flatten it. Instead, he found himself wincing as his hand bounced off the grass, his palm smarting like he’d just slapped a brick wall. He glanced towards the nearest landing strut, and saw that the blades there were similarly unbent; somehow, they were actually supporting several hundred tons of spaceship a few inches above the actual ground.
“What the hell happened to this place?” he murmured.
Gypsy’s monotone voice interrupted his musings. “Sir, long-range sensors have detected an anomalous energy signature approximately one-hundred-fifty kilometres north-by-northwest of our current position.”
The explorer straightened up, looking off in that direction. “Clarify, Gypsy,” he said. “How is this signature anomalous?”
“The energy signature does not match any known wavelength; sensors cannot identify its exact properties. Whatever it is, the amount of power it generates is immense. Preliminary analysis suggests an output of approximately three-point-eight times ten to the thirty-third power ergs per second.”
Eyes widening, he let out a long, slow whistle. That was the same kind of juice a G-type main sequence star put out.
“And you only detected this now?”
“That is correct, sir,” said the artificial intelligence. “The energy signature was not picked up by orbital scans.”
The explorer said nothing for a long moment, staring off into the distance. This just got stranger and stranger.
Part of him wanted to turn back, but he brushed those thoughts aside. He was committed now, and the Committee didn’t pay for incomplete maps that didn’t even cover one percent of a planet’s surface.
He let out a long sigh. “I just know I’m going to regret this…”
The Danse Macabre Codex
Maybe Phi and Ashley?
The Hawk
The battered old speeder bike had a top speed of five hundred kilometres per hour, and could hover up to twenty-five meters above the ground. It was designed to be the kind of vehicle that could cross a continent from one coastline to the next in a single afternoon, and carried more than enough fuel to make the trip half a dozen times. By all rights getting to the source of those energy readings should have taken a matter of minutes.
Instead the explorer flew across the plains at just under a fifth of the bike’s top speed, keeping the bike just a few metres above the tall grass. With the steppes blurring by beneath him and the engine roaring loudly in his ears, it was almost enough to make him forget the profound impossibility of this place.
Almost.
Every now and then he’d notice something jutting from the terrain up ahead, a sudden break in the endless monotony of the blue-green fields. Whenever this happened he would slow down, coming almost to a complete stop, and let the engine idle as he got a good look at whatever it was. Sometimes it was a tree, its branches bent and its leaves tilted as if caught in a breeze. Other times it was an animal: long-necked, bipedal arthropods built like ostriches, frozen mid-stride; sinuous carnivores with reptilian scales and feline body structures, eternally slinking through the shoots; even large avians that hung suspended above the grass as if by invisible wires, wings flared and talons outstretched as they swooped down upon tiny vermin that would never know their deadly touch.
It was these last ones that spooked him the most.
The fifth time he’d happened upon one of these diving raptors, the explorer killed the motor and turned in his seat, staring pensively at the creature while resting his chin on his knuckles. In the absence of the bike’s constant roar, the silence that ensued was almost deafening.
At length he spoke. “Suit, begin audiovisual recording.”
A tiny red circle appeared in the corner of his HUD. Satisfied, he drew his service pistol from the holster at his hip, took the gun’s familiar weight in a secure, two-handed grip, and took deliberate aim at the animal.
He pulled the trigger, and it kicked in his grip with a roar.
The roar was drowned out moments later by an incredibly shrill, high-pitched noise, and a bright flash of light came into being as his bullet struck the raptor.
When the flash cleared, he could only stare dumbly.
Issued to all explorers, the service pistol was meant to protect them from just about any threats they could conceivably encounter. The rounds were armour-piercing, strong enough to punch through half a meter of solid steel and still have enough force to kill anything beyond that. An ordinary animal, especially one that size, should have been blown to bloody chunks.
The raptor was completely unharmed. Its feathers weren’t even ruffled. And of the bullet, there was no sign.
It took him a moment to find his voice. “End recording,” he said, sounding a bit shakier than he might have preferred. “Commence playback; maximum slow-motion.”
The scene of him firing replayed itself, in high fidelity video at several thousand frames per second. The explorer watched, completely silent, as his bullet left the muzzle in a burst of fire and light and streaked through the still air in slow-motion, crossing a distance it had taken less than the blink of an eye to cover in real life over the span of almost ten seconds.
Finally it struck the raptor, right between its eyes.
His own eyes widened as the bullet slowly deformed on impact and began to glow, the dull bronze shell turning first golden, then red, then white-hot and brilliant. And then, quite simply, it was gone.
It took him a few seconds to process what he’d just seen, and even when he did he could still scarcely believe it.
The bullet had been atomized.
A long moment passed, before the explorer shakily holstered his gun. Then he reoriented himself in the seat, reactivated the bike’s motor and sped away.
In seconds, the raptor was out of sight.
He did not slow down to look at the animals again.
The Danse Macabre Codex
You know, I'd rather not have psyga turn the local school into a crapsack world because my character is a student there.
I think Madoka would have definitely come in contact with Yod before and I think that she might actually get along with him, Kei meanwhile.....However, should Kei and her friend would kindly turn to Clear stream ave they may possibly discover Ein and Alice. I'll see to that in my next post.
There's plenty of schools, man. Just make one up. 
Did you know this section has a character limit?
A good sized city needs at least 9 Schools of Second level Education.
Sullen: So the Singularity wasn't as far reach all those years ago?
No, Tet has the whole damn world in Stasis. The Badass, this makes me want to right about how Madoka first met Ein.
Meanwhile, Elysium, to me if you would.
Did you know this section has a character limit?
Biomech, you forgot to say where we're meeting.
They do have medals for almost, and they're called silver!
Clear stream Ave. St Claire.
I went on google maps to find that...
Did you know this section has a character limit?
...St.Claire exists?
They do have medals for almost, and they're called silver!
Hmm....so it's between Sadhe and Ein. Oh grand.
I do know, at least, that if no one has done it by the time Ciaron gets himself possessed, then Sadhe will happily send out the call. Beyond that? We'll just have to see how the characters interact. Are the members perhaps efficient enough to where we don't really need an authority but could do through a more democratic method, with perhaps a peacekeeper for a 'leader'?
If no one else can, Sadhe will try to 'raise' one, putting someone through crap until they develop into someone Elysium could use. Or something. Try and subtly direct people, you know how spys work...actually she'll do that even if we DO have someone to fall under. Once again, though, we don't necessarily NEED one authority figure.
@Other's above me I was specifically meaning for Elysium, ya'll.
edited 6th Sep '13 12:08:55 PM by tvtropesnoob
"Your Sig is now charmingly out of date" — Vox, 7/6/2016