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Just For Fun / My Superhero Academy

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     Player Personality Quiz 

Just for fun, a few of the players gave their characters hypothetical answers to an online variant of a Myers-Briggs Test and came up with:

  • Alexandra, Pre-Omega: ENFP-Anote 
  • Alexandra/Omega: INFP-T note 
  • Hei Lin: ISFP-A note 
  • Lucy: INFJ-T note 
    • Inkwell: ISTJ-Anote 
  • Matten: ENTJ-A note 
  • Mikael: ISTP-A note 
  • Morgoth: ENTP-A note 
  • Rebecca: ENFP-T note 
  • Samuel: INFP-A note 
     Laurie's Logs 
Notes from the school therapist on the students of Class 1. Quoth the therapist herself:

I suppose I should start with introductions. My name is Laurie Loman, therapist at Saint Academy. I cover a wide variety of cases here at SA. Anywhere ranging from dealing with the loss of a loved one, to having to cope with being a naturally born non-human borne by formerly human parents, to being turned into the spawn of Cthulhu. However, there are some students who for one reason or another have not sought my services despite in my opinion quite desperately needing it. I will not force them to see me until they absolutely must, but I still feel it wouldn't hurt to to jot down my observations and musings whenever the mood strikes me. After all, one has to keep one's self entertained somehow.
  1. Matten note 
  2. Mikael note 
     NEW LAURIE'S LOGS 
Notes from the school therapist on the students of Class 1 (post-Harleyfication). Quoth the therapist herself:

Hey there, everyone! This is the new Laurie, and I am SO hyped to be doin' this! Oh, yeah. Basically, I tried to psychoanalyze some asshole student and she almost drove me fucking insane, so this is how I'm coping. And I am LOVING IT so far! That said, still got a job and I still LOVE my job! So. New Laurie, new Logs. Let's go!
  1. Lucy note 
  2. Samuel note 
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     Character Relations 
Class 1 is, at the time of this post, composed of 18 students, with varying screen time over the story. They associated in ways not fully representable on the chart, but its a good shorthand. The names are positioned based upon Heroism more like Saint/Superman on the right and not just in 'goodness' but in drive. (The apathetic are closer to the middle of the line). The positions up and down represent 'weight', that is, less what a character's bio says they can do than the character's impact on plots in the rp. A couple characters drop when they cease influencing the plot but still appear.
Season 1
The first season includes the Outdoor Pool and Lethal Legion arcs. Of course, the characters had just met each other. Still, one distinct group and a couple pairings formed immediately.
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Starting Line

Season 2
The second season includes the Tournament Arc and the expedition into the deep woods. The characters had just come off a dressing down from Saint over their first performances, changes in staff and classmates, and several people adapting to new powers. The second season had the richest character web before an entire bloc and others unfortunately chuck cunninghammed.
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A regular soap opera set-up.

Season 3
The Third Season includes Parents' Day and a Homeward Journey (from another dimension—several of them). The character web has been reduced to a small core of the class after an outbreak of chuck cunningham syndrome in Season 2. The remainder however, include those with the most focus and development, and who've consistently contributed to resolving seasonal arcs.
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Six and Two Man Band

Class 1 Omakes

     Omake #1: A Proposition (by Enirboreh) 

“Please understand, Mrs. Livingston – the details in question are highly classified. We're pushing our luck with what we're telling you as it is! So for the last time: all that occurred under official jurisdiction is–”

“Okay – look. Screw your 'official jurisdiction' – we're talking about my #$&%ing daughter. I haven't talked to her in days and you expect me to buy this crap?!”

“Listen, Mrs. Livingston, please – if you'd just consider–”

“It's 'Ms. Livingston', I'll have you know. And I'll consider. I will most definitely 'consider'.”

“Ma'am–”

The man was swiftly cut off from further interjection as the door was none-too-gently slammed in his face. At the very least he had snatched his tie out the way, Jane had idly thought. Despite her rage-fueled haze, she knew she couldn't afford paying for damages on a suit that expensive. It looked like he had unpackaged it straight from the car before he had knocked on the door with his profusely sweating accomplice. 'Authorities' her ass. She'd seen enough cop shows to recognize one when she saw one – and that pair weren't exactly subtle examples of the men-in-black archetype.

“Mom? Who were they?”

Jane snapped her head around at the quiet monotone addressing her from behind. Her son David was staring out at her from between the balustrade of the stairwell – a single, icy blue eye poking out from a mass of platinum blonde locks.

“Just... just salesmen, sweetheart. What's the matter? You look... off,” she asked in concern, having paused in her frantic construction of a sufficient-enough excuse upon sight of the teen's pursed lips and glazed stare – the latter of which promptly snapped back into awareness upon her question.

“Lucy's crying. I think she was listening. I heard the stairs creaking.”

Jane went quiet. “...And... you were listening too, right?”

He blinked. “It was rather difficult not to. You do tend to shout when you're irritated.”

Jane pursed her lips, avoiding her son's piercing gaze for a moment, before letting out a long sigh and gesturing vaguely in the direction of upstairs as she walked further down the hallway. “Go get your sister. She needs to have a say in this, god damn it – it's her own #$&%ing future we're...” she spat as she trailed off into vitriolic muttering, only to hiss and swiftly gather herself in order to correctly finish her sentence. “...in any case, you deserve to be a part too. You were there, after all. A simple fact that shouldn't be that hard to grasp even for a bunch of stuck-up–”

“Mom, what about Hannah?”

“Hm? Oh, we'll just have to tell her when she gets back. She's got enough on her plate as is...” she tiredly said, gesturing once more and with greater persuasion as David hesitantly slunk back up the staircase. She could hear the soft knock on her youngest daughter's door if she held her breath – and could imagine how she would stifle her sobs and manage to politely answer despite all odds...

She had to hold her breath and imagine, though. She couldn't exactly listen to what actually was happening. The house was old, large, and stifled all noise – and each of the children had in effect an entire floor to themselves. Even if they only contained a room or two each. Sometimes she felt as if it were purposeful that they were positioned that way. At least someone had to be gaining some sort of sick pleasure from all this, right?

Her idle, depressive thoughts were interrupted as she caught Lucy trying to discreetly sneak in – freezing up like a deer caught in the headlights as soon as she locked eyes with her mother. Jane could see the shadowed form of David just behind her – anxiety flitting freely across his face now that he thought himself to be unseen – but her attention was entirely drawn to the state her daughter was in.

Heavily bloodshot eyes, visible tear tracks despite her distance across the room, a spark of self-directed shame in her gaze – the girl looked defeated, to be frank. Her lips were parted, and her throat leapt occasionally – but only stifled beginnings of sounds came out, nevermind full words. As she wearily crept over to the seat opposite Jane, the latter couldn't help but think of a kicked puppy as the already vertically-challenged girl seemed to shrink down even further into a tight ball on the sofa – completely unable to look her mother in the eye.

The first discernible thought Jane had was 'how the hell do I work with this?!' But she wouldn't be defeated just by a look. Lucy was more than capable of getting through this. She didn't raise her to be otherwise.

...In her own, unconventional way, she would pull through. That was fact. Jane assured herself of this through pure determination more than drawing up reference. She would be fine. Lucy would be fine. She needed this.

Sometimes lying to oneself was just the boost of confidence one would need.

“Lucy...” she began, to which the distraught girl flicked her eyes upwards for but a fraction of a second. The older woman inwardly swallowed, shoving down the returning doubts with another mental mantra before continuing; “Lucy, those men at the door weren't salespeople...”

“Yeah, no shi–”

“David, please!” she snapped, gritting her teeth as she pushed aside the guilt brought about by Lucy's frightened flinch back at her outburst. “The point is – they were claiming to be 'authorities'. In cahoots with whom, I have no damn idea, so don't ask David – but they were very insistent on... well, on getting you help.”

She was about to perhaps continue off of this poorly improvised abridgement (and a grossly exaggerated one at that), but was halted by the almost palpable look on Lucy's face at her weak excuse.

“Wh-What kind of... 'help?'” she asked, voice hauntingly low and unidentifiable in tone. Jane swallowed. She was treading in dangerous waters now, and she knew it. One wrong word could send the entire situation spiralling out of control – and cause Lucy's already fragile state of mind to fracture even further.

“They... suggested help in terms of a... new school.”

Lucy's head raised up. She clearly wasn't expecting that answer – and the tentative look on her face was only dwarfed by the curiosity also expressed by her at the concept. “What... what kind of new school?”

There was a still silence, before Jane drew in a preparatory breath and took in the expressions of the two siblings. Lucy was as aforementioned nervous-yet-intrigued, and judging by the dread painted on David's face, he had already caught on to the answer. Of course.

She was getting too old to deal with this. Three kids, all fatherless, all isolated, all fending for themselves. It was an unhealthy household, to say the least – and she prayed to God that the faculty of the place could handle it better with Lucy than she had been.

Exhaling finally, she steeled her gaze and met the dismal grey of her daughter's eyes.

“Saint Academy.”

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