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Topic: City Fantastico Q&A: The Quest for Liquor and Shame
Subject: lol
lol... we should put him in the cooler... hehe
Posted on 2011-02-25 at 16:38:15.
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Topic: City Fantastico Q&A: The Quest for Liquor and Shame
Subject: Hehe
Cool update. 
In my next update I'll have Downhouser take one of the bodies by the ankle and swirl him around like a fan, in an attempt to extinguish the flames. 
Posted on 2011-02-24 at 18:27:19.
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Topic: City Fantastico Q&A: The Quest for Liquor and Shame
Subject: yes
yes, and chocolate dipping...
Posted on 2011-02-23 at 14:52:05.
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Topic: City Fantastico Q&A: The Quest for Liquor and Shame
Subject: Forgot to mention his actions
As an addition to my post:
(OOC: Gerald will walk with a calm pace towards the guy who did the talking. Meanwhile he’ll draw Big Gun #1 and aim it at the leader’s forehead. He’s sacrificing one awesome point to make the guy’s brain explode with the grey (white in this case from too much coke?) matter splattering into the other homies’ eyes. This will not only blind them but also make them absorb the drugs in his system rapidly so they become stoned as apes).
Is that too far-fetched?
If it is, he'll try to fold the leader into a ball and play some dodgeball with the other gangbangers.
Posted on 2011-02-22 at 20:42:05.
Edited on 2011-02-22 at 20:46:22 by Almerin
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Topic: Tales of City Fantastico
Subject: Gerald in cruise control
The ride between the rapidly devolving buildings was one Gerald had made before, on more than one occasion. He was conscious of the fact that he went where crime was, but he couldn’t get a grip on exactly how it worked. He figured it was a nature thing, like monkeys following the migration of banana flocks.
Or like broccoli… that was nature too, right?
He sat hunched in one of the seats of the ice cream truck as the conversations went on around him. He tried to keep up, but only caught pieces of it.
The guy who drove the ice cream truck was named God. No, it became Percy. Gerald liked that better. He had been through some tough encounters with religious fanatics in the past. It had been during his time as a personal bodyguard. He remembered a guy they called Priest, or Reverent; something in that style. That man hadn’t been associated with any kind of church at all, but had claimed to be. It turned out he had been a drug pusher and a child molester, with an eye on the niece of Gerald’s employer.
She had been only 7 years old when she was kidnapped by Priest Reverend.
Gerald had traced him, in his nature-thingy way, and had emptied Big Gun #2 into the man’s rectum.
The kid had been unharmed, luckily.
The big man absently rubbed the ear-piece that had become a part of his body. He looked around the truck. People were still making introductions. He thought a flash back like he had just had would’ve helped skip most of their conversation, but he had been wrong. One of them was looking at him. Somewhere it dawned on Gerald that the kid’s name was Vigaro, and he had just asked him something. Unsure of what to answer, the supercop just did what he did in most situations. He looked at the man with a mean stare that most people interpreted as variations on the ‘I’m on to you’ theme.
The kid continued:
"Now you say: 'To crush your enemies, see them driven before you... and to hear the lamentation of their women!' Trust me it will be HILARIOUS."
"Oh and drugs aren't bad by definition, beings they are inanimate objects and incapable of moral reasoning. Besides antibiotics are drugs, and so are vitamins. So I challenge that statement. Drugs are neither good nor bad, but simply tools in the hands of someone who knows what they are doing."
Gerald appeared impressed. He nodded softly with approvingly pursed lips.
“If you say so. I’m sure you are right. Just as long as you remember that drugs are bad for you. That’s all I’m saying.”
He looked into the street ahead. They had arrived at the West Side of town. Soon they would get into trouble. He could feel it.
He returned his gaze to Vigaro.
“Hey kid, why don’t you tell me about the street light now.”
Moments later the van stopped, and from the ruins of the city came a fat bass that penetrated the eerie jangle of the ice cream tunes. Gerald was on edge immediately.
He sniffed rap.
He stood up, bumped his head into the roof of the van hard, and returned to his seat. He grunted lowly, not from physical pain but from annoyance at the limitations vehicles always seemed to push on him.
Outside the van things were evolving quickly. The gang members had already thrown their first Molotov cocktail, and there was now no longer any question to what the purpose of this encounter was. There were some bones to snap.
Danyael was first out the van, and struck up a rather slick conversation with the thugs, than took aim at the boom box.
The reservations that Gerald had built up towards the man, after his initial behaviour aimed at Katie, disappeared in a heartbeat. Here was a man who knew his priorities.
Gerald pushed himself out of the van, his torso nearly sticking in the doorway. Straightening his leather jacket he took in the scene. The ring of fire was reflected in his dark shades, and amidst the flames he targeted the group of thugs. A smile spread across lips.
Those boys had nowhere to run!
(OOC: Gerald will walk with a calm pace towards the guy who did the talking. Meanwhile he’ll draw Big Gun #1 and aim it at the leader’s forehead. He’s sacrificing one awesome point to make the guy’s brain explode with the grey (white in this case from too much coke?) matter splattering into the other homies’ eyes. This will not only blind them but also make them absorb the drugs in his system rapidly so they become stoned as apes).
Posted on 2011-02-22 at 20:31:41.
Edited on 2011-02-22 at 20:51:45 by Almerin
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Topic: New Member Looking For A D&D Campaign
Subject: indeed
welcome to the inn! And as people stated before, there are lots of games starting up atm. Lately we've been seeing a bunch of non-d&d games, and those are just as much fun.
Good luck in finding something to your liking. 
Posted on 2011-02-19 at 14:30:22.
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Topic: Footprints Recruitment
Subject: heh
Don't be upset if your game doesn't get a lot of attention right away. You've got at least one interested player, and there are threads in the recruitment area where players are looking for games.
You could try advertising your game. If that doesn't work, you can always send invitations to people you would like to be a part of your game. Lobbying a bit helps sometimes.
Good luck!
Posted on 2011-02-19 at 14:26:42.
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Topic: City Fantastico Q&A: The Quest for Liquor and Shame
Subject: nah
nothing to add. I'm ready for an update, but I would still appreciate this being a once a week posting game. Can't commit to more, really.
Posted on 2011-02-18 at 10:24:42.
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Topic: City Fantastico Q&A: The Quest for Liquor and Shame
Subject: heh
the image was too good to ignore. 
Can't wait for an update.
Posted on 2011-02-17 at 22:42:38.
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Topic: City Fantastico Q&A: The Quest for Liquor and Shame
Subject: coolio
Post is in... you guys shouldn't go so fast... I had to update my post while I was writing it because people posted in between.
Good to see this is starting off nicely! Great characters all around, it seems. 
Posted on 2011-02-17 at 22:34:57.
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Topic: Tales of City Fantastico
Subject: post 1
Downtown City Fantastico wasn’t what it used to be. There was trash everywhere.
Gerald wanted to believe that people still cared, and that this grand scale littering was the doing of a minority of punk youngsters or young punksters who took pleasure in destroying what others had created. And if that creation was something called society or something as simple as a trashcan, he didn’t care. Mostly, he didn’t care because he didn’t understand the difference.
He knew, however, that he liked minorities of punk youngsters. He could beat them, and the problem would stop.
The golf cart he was driving through the concrete streets bumped over a crumpled can of Fantasticola. Gerald grunted as he was pressed into the plastic roof of his make shift police vehicle even more than he already was. Golf carts were designed to be spacious and airy. They were meant to make people comfortable as they leaned back and steered casually over fields of green.
Gerald took up the entire space inside the golf cart. Well, his chest did, mostly. He sat hulked inside the cart like a gorilla inside a shipping crate for a chimpanzee.
From under his brows he was barely able to peer at the road, but he didn’t really need to see where he was going. His path would lead him to crime no matter what.
He pulled over and parked the golf cart on the side of the street, next to a basketball court. With some effort he squeezed out of the vehicle and looked onto grey pavement where a few guys were playing five on five under the loud bass of a rap song.
Gerald put on his sunglasses and reached back to the golf cart. He had long ago traded the regular type police car for this new form of transportation. They simply didn’t fit. At first he had gone for the motorbike as an alternative, but they got stolen a lot as he left them to fight druglords, corrupt cops and pimps.
Nobody cared about golf carts.
He flicked a switch on the customized dashboard and a fragment of a siren erupted from a speaker on the roof. A magnetic flashing light spat red and blue bursts in every direction. The guys on the basketball court looked in his direction and froze. Their rap-track stopped. Their ball bounced into the distance and its echoing jolts reverberated in the silence.
Then the MP3 player skipped to the next song, and its fast beat set things in motion again.
One of the basketball players stepped forward. He was wearing a brackish white tank top and baggy jeans. His sneakers were too new for him not to be involved in crime, Gerald noted.
“Whadda you want, you white-ass gorilla?”
He had a black bandana on his head and when he spoke, a silver grill was revealed in his mouth. There were letters engraved in it, spelling the words U SUCK and BITCH. Gerald noted that bad taste was something he could not punish the boy for, but luckily the kid pulled a knife. Following their leader’s example, the other players overconfidently turned up the aggression and pulled their knives. Two of them even carried a gun, which they now pointed at Gerald in a defiant sideway grip. There was no discussion, these were some cool gangsters.
The leader paced at Gerald in an arrogant tantrum.
“You disrupt our game, huh? I’m ‘a make you wish you was never born, you white-ass motherf…”
Before he could finish, Gerald had his fist halfway down the guy’s throat, cutting of words, air and probably a few muscles. He then raised his arm, gangster and all, and flung the kid into the other thugs. As the leader slammed into three of his peers, knocking them down, his grill flew through the air in slow motion. It bounced of the basket and went through the hoop, continuing down to land in the wide open mouth of one of the gunmen, who had been following the jewellery in its airborne journey. The guy started choking and dropped his weapon.
Five gang members were still standing, and slowly it dawned on them that even though they were facing a single target, they were the ones outnumbered.
Gerald broke into a run, and reached for Big Gun #1. But instead of shooting it directly, he used it as a baseball bat, and slammed it into the closest dude’s stomach. Pivoting severely he swung again and hit another in the face. More teeth flew but they scattered against his chest as he was already moving towards his third target.
Out of instinct the boy lashed out with his knife, but he missed experience and determination. He had never really used the knife for anything but intimidation, a fact he sorely regretted now.
Gerald´s hand grabbed him by the wrist and before he knew it he was circling the air above the supercop´s head. When he was released he found his landing cushioned by one of his mates. For a moment he felt relief, but then he realized that he was bouncing on towards a concrete wall.
The last standing thug held his pistol in front of him and aimed it at Gerald with trembling hands.
“You’re done now, Bitch!” he yelled.
Gerald slowly rose from his striking pose and lowered his sunglasses with his right hand. With his left, he let Big Gun #1 come up simultaneously and tapped it against his head.
For the first time since he arrived, he spoke, and his tone was more gentle than you would expect.
“Are you sure you want to do that? Crime doesn’t pay. And I know the police force doesn’t pay much either, but hey. At least I’ve got a bigger gun.”
The kid stared at the giant man indecisively. Gerald pressed on:
“You can run along now. Tell your friends to stay off the drugs. Become gardeners or something.”
The boy ran, and Gerald stood up to his full height. He raised Big Gun #1 and aimed. A moment later the bullet flew and the MP3 docking station was blasted to smithereens.
“I hate rap.” Gerald stated.
He broke the basketball board from the iron pole it was sitting on and placed it behind his golf cart. With a pair of hand cuffs he attached the hoop to the cart’s tow bar. Then he gathered the gangsters from the basketball court, some of them unconscious, some of the still moaning and flung them on the board.
He then got in and started pulling the pile of gangbangers through the streets.
Not much later he arrived at the police station. His superior was already waiting for him, metaphorical steam coming from his ears.
“Gerald! How many times do I have to tell you?!! We don’t have any cells left!”
Gerald shrugged, flung the gangsters over his shoulders and marched to the row of holding cells. He pulled open a random door, which revealed a small room packed with unshaven and tattooed criminals. Some of them stared wide eyed and cried for mercy, while others simply braced themselves for even more bodies to fill up the already cramped space.
The door did protest a bit, but eventually it fit, and Gerald returned to his captain. The man hadn’t calmed down one bit.
“Downhouser, I’ve had it! You will do as I say!”
“No, Marcus, I won’t.” He replied, “And you know it. I’ve got to go. There’s someone who needs me.”
And with that he left the police station and returned to his golf cart.
Later that day he was standing outside the loading bay of Fantastico HQ. Not much of what had happened inside the building had bothered him much. He had felt strangely familiar there. It must’ve been the fact that everything in there had been so small. When you’re big, everything you don’t fit into looks the same.
He looked at his companions. They looked like they might be criminals themselves. Well, they couldn’t be, or Mr Fantastico wouldn’t have hired them. One of them started to speak.
"Ok guys, we have a half mile walk. I suggest we walk quickly. That way we can get there faster. Conan should take the lead since he is the biggest target. Anyone else should probably be behind him. In case we get shot at. I plan on not being around if trouble shows up, and I don't know much about the West side so I'm assuming it's a bad part of town.”
“Yes,” Gerald replied, “West side is a bad part of town. It’s got lots of crime; drugs, prostitution, murder. We will have to be careful there.”
After a pause he added: “I don’t know who Conan is, but he can take the lead if he wants to.”
“By the way, my name is Virago. Some people call me the Boston Crazy but I promise it's not because I'm actually crazy. I don't even like the name but it's kind of stuck. I am a professional fighter and actor and do my own stunts. Used to make money doing it too until the collapse of the entertainment industry.
Let's see, I do a lot of drugs, take a lot of risks, study drunken boxing, fight hobos, drive cars too fast, and jump from tall buildings without a safety net. I'm also very shy and keep to myself."
“Alright, young man.” Gerald stated, as he towered over Virago, “My name is Gerald, and I warn you: Do NOT take drugs. They are bad for you. You should pick up acting again. I’m sure business will get better eventually.”
It had been a statement rather than a warning. As Virago kept talking, Gerald looked at the others in his presence. He discovered the girl, and apparently was not the only one. The handsome man was making some advances, and she was apparently not entertained by he attention.
“You best leave the lady alone, if that’s what she prefers.” He added to her own burst of rejection.
“We’re supposed to be a team, so let’s behave like one, alright?”
“So.” The man continued, “We've got a stunt man, a beautiful red-headed... gun bunny I'm guessing judging by all of the weaponry you just stashed away. How about you guys... what are you good for?"
“I sell ice cream, and sometimes I kill motherf*****s and make banana splits out of ‘em!”
That was a weird way to talk about fruit, but Gerald knew not everybody was as bright as he was himself. He could handle the language as long as the splits were any good.
Now it was his turn. As he followed the others into the ice cream truck he replied to the earlier question.
“What am I good for? I’m good in general. I’m good opposing evil. I’ve put more men in jail than I can count. And I can count to… well, I don’t know, but it’s a lot. So, if our Goal is the West Side, I’m ready to meet its Keeper. We should move, introductions can be done on the way.”
He climbed aboard the truck, which made its springs creak heavily, and looked around the back. The girl was nosing around one of the freezers and he bent over to pick one himself. His eyes fell on the body parts.
“Wow… those look real.” He yelled towards the front, where the truck’s owner had climbed behind the steering wheel. Then he picked out a brand of ice cream he was familiar with and starting eating it as he waited for the others to get in.
Posted on 2011-02-17 at 22:33:17.
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Topic: Winds and Sand Q&A
Subject: hehe, hey
Hey, can't blame me... English is not my native language.
Posted on 2011-02-17 at 11:08:08.
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Topic: Realms of Twilight -Winds and Sand
Subject: No, we move
Argent heard Skit's findings, and knew they had to act before the whole mission went to dust. He held up his hand to gather everybody's attention. He spoke in low tones, but loud enough so everybody would understand.
"People, we've almost reached our destination. Those guards over there have come to return you to your captivators. We have to move around the building to the back, where they will not find you. Follow our little friend here."
He pointed at the halfling and placed a hand on his shoulder.
"Lead the way, my friend." he added softly.
Posted on 2011-02-16 at 19:12:16.
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Topic: Weird War II Q n A
Subject: ok
More info on Luke's life before the War. Post is up!
Posted on 2011-02-16 at 19:06:23.
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Topic: Weird War II
Subject: Luke with gun
The journey through the German landscape reminded Luke of books he used to read when he was younger. Books filled with foggy forests and eerie folk tales from all over the world.
A particular story about a man drinking his victims’ blood came to mind when he read the sign Barovia, but he couldn’t say why. Perhaps it was the gothic feel of this foreign place, perhaps it was the feeling doom that was creeping up his spine. Either way, he felt alienated from the war. He had lead soldiers into the quaking heart of battle, dodged bullets and grenades, but this dark and silent ride through a damp landscape felt different.
It felt as if he wasn’t supposed to be here.
He looked at the woman on his left, and gave her a comforting smile. She might guess that the reassuring gesture was meant for himself as much as her, but he didn’t care. He knew that he would start feeling a lot better when action started to build up. For some reason he was good at staying alive in the pandemonium of warfare. Perhaps it was the way he knew to blend into the background. That was a trait that bore him some ill tidings at time as well, but it kept him alive through many years of seducing lonely housewives, and dodging their unaware husbands.
As he looked back, he realized how he had been the one who had been seduced time and again.
He remembered the first time after his wife had died. It had been lonely and dark. The outside world had moved fast as he ploughed through bright memories. A distance had been growing between Luke and the rest of the world. People floated past and mattered less and less.
But than he had entered the Thomas’s porch, and the door that normally towered over his destined matt had opened. Mrs Thomas had accepted his daily delivery in person. An insignificant conversation later they were in the bedroom.
Later that day he had felt like part of him had returned to reality. Or perhaps it was that a part of his feelings had been dulled, and that in that numb state he was capable of functioning again.
A habit grew, and business had picked up.
And then the war had started.
There was little else he could do but follow Romo’s idea. He pointed the gun at the Doc, and hoped with all his heart that these soldiers would fall for their feint. As much as he preferred this would all go by with as little casualties as possible, part of him really wanted to squeeze that trigger into the German soldier’s gut. He hated that language. It sounded hateful.
Posted on 2011-02-16 at 19:00:32.
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Topic: Weird War II Q n A
Subject: yes
Well, since Luke doesn't speak any German, and we agreed that the people who do would do some talking when we met the first guard post, there isn't much to write until somebody does say something.
I suppose I could post a 'huh? Whadotheysay' thingy...
Posted on 2011-02-13 at 15:46:02.
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Topic: Recruitment is Closed
Subject: Here's a concept. Meet Gerald Downhouser
Name: Gerald Downhouser
Vital Statistics
Attributes
Physical 5
Mental 1
Social 2
Skill 4
Awesome 3
Skill:
Combat (oh, really?) (Ranged)
Specialisations:
Combat (Ranged) – Big Guns!!
Combat (Ranged) – People (that’s right, he’s good at throwing people at anything he desires)
Advantages:
Hand of Stone
-Unarmed attacks do lethal damage
Throw Anyone
-He could throw fatso the clown, an elephant or even himself, at no penalty
Git Dow-ehn!!
-Extreme capability to jump out of harm's way. Cars, buildings or explosions; as long as it’s big, he’ll dodge.
Disadvantages:
Gullible means I can eat a lot? Then I’m definitely gullible.
-Explanation… you don’t need an explanation. Ok, I don’t need an explanation.
Items and Equipment:
Big gun 1 (he doesn’t know what it is called, but it’s big, and it’s got loads of bullets)
Big gun 2 (he doesn’t know what it is called, but it can make stuff explode AND has loads of bullets)
Handgun (his finger hardly fits in it, but hey… )
Hunting knife
Leather jacket
Spare leather jacket
FantasiConsole Portable with Braintrainer game
Ear-piece (from bodyguard experience). Doesn’t need it anymore, but it grew onto his ear.
Heavy boots
Cellphone
Fantasicornflakebars (more steroid than actual food)
Cigars (for chewing mostly)
Physical Description/Personality Description
Gerald is a huge man, with an unnaturally big torso. He’s the equivalent of a minotaur with a human head, or… Arnold Schwarzenegger in his Commando days, not much difference there. He is muscle incarnate. But what he has in physical strength, he lacks in intelligence. Brains are for zombies; he just bashes anything he thinks is bad.
He usually goes clad in jeans and a leather jacket over a white T-shirt, with a crew cut and dark glasses. Yes, even at night.
Gerald once was a supercop. He fought bad guys, and he won. He was awesome. When he got a bit older, he became a personal bodyguard. It is whispered that he was in the service of Mr Fantasi IV himself, but he can hardly remember. With the reign of Mr Fantasti V, and growing crime, Gerald returned to the police force and is ready to throw some more criminals around.
Posted on 2011-02-13 at 15:41:33.
Edited on 2011-02-13 at 15:43:40 by Almerin
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Topic: Winds and Sand Q&A
Subject: well
Yeah, I was going to have Argent wait to see what the guards are going to do. They won't stand there forever, I suppose. But if we need somebody to go in, Argent can do that. He'll aim for a back door first of course, but it that doesn't work, he'll just stroll in acting like he is completely supposed to be there. These guards don't know what we all look like, so we won't have any problem, I guess.
Posted on 2011-02-10 at 17:02:59.
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Topic: Recruitment is Closed
Subject: ah
I'll do my best to have a character in pretty soon. I'm thinking supposed-to-be-supercop, think Schwarzenegger but without the brains he's always supposed to have in his movies.
Posted on 2011-02-10 at 16:55:16.
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Topic: Recruitment is Closed
Subject: wow
It's total anarchy... I just might need to be a part of this.
Posted on 2011-02-06 at 17:14:09.
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Topic: Realms of Twilight -Winds and Sand
Subject: now things get interesting for Argent
Argent realized they were in a difficult situation. One of the slaves had disappeared, and now there seemed to be more guards waiting for them.
But before he addressed his brother on what to do next, the half orc came standing next to him. Argent was surprised the man now decided to speak to him, but he was glad to speak his mind.
"We are as much slaves as you are. We have no choice but to bring you here. Still, keep your eyes open. I think you will not be in here for long."
He shot the warrior a meaningful look. He had implied a lot just now, and therefore he had spoken in a low voice, avoiding the ears of the others.
No matter what his intentions once the slaves were in, they needed to enter the building. He motioned for the others to wait, and keep back a bit, to see if the guards were going to continue patrolling, or whether something else was going on.
(OOC: I think we should wait a bit, to see what happens. I'm sure those guards are not going to keep standing there if they don't belong at the mansion.)
Posted on 2011-02-05 at 11:29:05.
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Topic: Happy Birthday, Merideth!!
Subject: Have a good one!
Happy Birthday Meri!
Posted on 2011-02-03 at 17:56:23.
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Topic: Where has Ayrn's gone...
Subject: AYRN!
Welcome back dude!
Posted on 2011-02-01 at 20:49:58.
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Topic: Animal Safari
Subject: well
I don't have time to join, but I think the reason why people haven't responded to your hook yet, is that they don't see how this is an RP game.
Can you describe a bit more of how this would be an adventure, or how the story would go? I think that might help in finding players.
Good luck!
Posted on 2011-01-30 at 11:01:04.
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Topic: Winds and Sand Q&A
Subject: well
not to be picky, but Argent made a pass to enter conversation. That was your shot at getting to know other people in the group. I could've had him ask any of the other slaves. I asked the half-orc for RP purposes. If he just gets a growl in return, you can't really blame anybody for not having a special place in their heart for your character.
I'm not saying that you should have acted differently, if that is how your character is feeling about the branding. But it limits the angles if you make him recluse himself from other PCs.
Posted on 2011-01-26 at 16:33:09.
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