Supercape

APPROVED

Post away!

"Wine?" said Rene, a flash of a smile appearing. "In England???" he realised, his nose wrinkling in disgust. "Pardon me, Madame, but I will not debase myself with the filthy grape of this land. Non!" he said firmly, raising his finger in objection. "Whilst I cannot abide the drink, the British can only lay claim to beer. And so it is this inferior refreshment that shall insult my tongue!" he said, ordering said beverage with a grimace on his face. "So, Madame, forgive me for having my head spun yet again by two centuries of mystery. I feel at last the pieces fall into place, and with some relief, I should say. But the puzzle is yet without solution. The last piece is not in sight or in hand. I speak, of course, of Gallia. Where is she, and what tune does she play in this medley?"

Diplomacy Roll for the Femme Fatale (Agnes!) and yes, Diplomacy does count! He is neutral at the moment. Won't let you in. DC 15 becomes friendly: lets you in, and will follow you. DC 25 Helpful: He is at your beck and call (will give you a guided tour, flirt, comfort you, share his secret whiskey stash...etc)

GM The Crowd gasped as the Bound woman fell headlong onto the stage, almost bumping into the shoes of the Mayors. The two bodyguards reached instinctively for their guns, and pulled them. But they would have been to late. Only Foreshadows' lightning fast reflexes and eagle eyes had saved him from a nasty shock. The Crowd were growing restless, perhaps stirred up by the women in the crowd who jeered. Perhaps the Mayor's guns...perhaps a bound woman. There was nothing ill in mood yet but the rumblings were there. "<Save me!>" yelled the bound woman to the crowd in Porteguese. "<See what boot is on me?>" she yelled to a growing rumbling discontent and ever louder jeers and boos from the crowd...

D'oh! Crimson Tiger is up!

So that means Blod is up!

1d20+0=8 As she is effectively a bystander PL0, feel free to narrate that ensnarement however you wish!

Avalon - are you still interested in this? please confirm or this will be archived at end of month.

This all looks good to me! The PP from powers add up to 55, but need updating! (6 + 12 + 37) My only query is in skills - how come a 16 year old kid has 4 ranks in driving? My only comment is that there is his complications are a little Spartan. There is nothing wrong with that, and I would be happy to approve them, its just a comment that there is actually not a lot there that a GM could bite in to - so you are aware! EDIT - Also, his Array could do with sharpening up in the format!

Formatting is a bit unusual (font?) which could do with some cleaning? However, it otherwise all looks good to me, so I will give an APPROVAL! And see what other refs make of the font!

As Graft has Radius vision he also gets the requisite amount to see the electrocutor. She is about 20 feet away.

"That's good..." commented Pitch, smoking away behind what she hoped was a sturdy column. Perhaps too good? "So, what the hell is with the pink light?" she asked, not looking directly at Nikki - keeping her eyes peeled at the door to the church. Perhaps it was the church itself. She hadn't been in one in...well...forever? Perhaps it was the itch down her tattoo'd spine that seemed to crawl in an uneasy way. Perhaps she was just used to being Paranoid when it came to demons. Perhaps she was just tired from the walk, tired from the pains that ran down her leg. Perhaps...perhaps... Tazel, you twisted tongue she called out mentally to the little demon. If you have anything to say about your friend here, you better say it soon. Because something big is going down...and If it turns out badly for me, it will turn out badly for you, too...

GM "That's a fair point" conceded Cord. "As I matter of fact, neither am I. Suicide missions aren't part of the job" he explained. "However, here is the fly in the ointment" he explained, showing Jay the photographs again. "Our guys have examined the three explosions to date. Calculating tonnage and radius size is not a precise science, you understand. But even if you study the photographs for a minute...." Cord was right. Even to the untrained eye... "They are getting bigger. Mr. Golding has indeed done us a favour by moving to the wilderness of the Northern tundra forests. In so far as his potential to cause death and destruction is limited. On the other hand, he would have done us far more of a favour if he came to us." "How much more powerful are these explosions going to get? How quickly? Is there even, in fact, a limit at all?" he said, posing serious questions. "Hence you see why we can't leave this one alone. So we need to find him. And, if necessary, subdue him. Your bag of tricks - your arrows - could certainly come in handy there. But I emphasise we don't want to kill him, we want, if possible to talk to him, and see if we can't work out a solution for everybody..." He packed the files away in his bag. "And, as you say, it would be prudent to stay away from him. I'll buy a megaphone when we land..." he said with a chuckle "..which won't be long now..."

Velocity can have a +5 Situational Bonus for having Radius vision in this case, giving her a total of 23. Hence, Graft and Velocity hit the DC 20 Mark: There are indeed several people in the crowd - women wearing masks - who are jeering. You count ten of them, and apart from mask and gender, they vary in height, weight, age, and appearance. They could, in fact, be anybody on the street. Whilst they are trying to incite the crowd (which is very large and pressed), you can't see any immediate danger. Having said that, Foreshadow spots a more immediate danger. One of the stage hands, a woman in a mask (a flashing electric gaudy one) is fiddling wit the electrical appliances that supply the microphone. Foreshadow summises that she is about to administer an electric shock down the wire and into the Mayor!

GM And at the Snooty Fox... Deptford was a rough part of London in this dimension. Home to men of the sea, women of the night, and slaves to the poppy. It had a multitude of ethnicities from around the globe and empire stuffed into the area, which was not privy to much investment in housing, security, or services. The Snooty Fox was unquestionably a Luddite pub, with Luddite security. It faced the Thames and was recipient to some rather unpleasant factory smells drifting from across the river that no doubt served to increase their fervour. Inside however, was a haven from such noxious vapours. It was smoky, it was dark, and it was drunken - all of which served to mask out the outside world and its aroma's. Outside, two enormous men with arms as thick as most men's legs stood outside in flat caps and coats, swigging from beer bottles and eyeing up who came in. The Snooty Fox clearly had its own type of police force...

GM Later, at the Sterling... Sir Earnest Pennyworth, Whig Party sat in his favourite chair drinking his favourite drink and reading his favourite paper. Which were, in order, a battered leather chair of excellent comfort and a musky smoky aroma, a stiff gin and tonic, and the Times. Sir Earnest penny worth was rotund and did not care one whit. He was bald, with deep set black and intelligent eyes, an excellent jacket, and a monocle that sparkled slightly. "Now then Madam" said the Head butler, a tall thin rake of a man who was crispness and velvet rolled into one. "M owes me a favour for this. If you ruin the reputation of this establishment, I'll have him ejected from the club, on the grounds of ungentlemanly behaviour ill fitting a gentleman" he sneered. Despite his manner he had been as helpful as he could. "The old rascal Poncenby is fond of his Gin. Too fond, if you ask me. I have had to wake him up several times from his habit of drunken snoring. Still, respectable as they come, in his own manner..."

GM Midflight The day was drawing into the evening but as they headed north, to bright and long summer day's, there was no diminishing of light. "So" said Cord, placing a neat and slim folder onto the table infront of Blue Jay. "Our mystery man is Matt Golding. Straight up regular guy. Worked twenty years in Insurance Law. Wife, two kids, and a dog named Rex. You couldn't really have asked for a more regular guy..." he said, pressing his fingers together. "If you ask me, suspiciously regular. We got one citation for car parking fine twelve years ago. Other than that, he is clean as a whistle. Pretty good going for twenty years, even for a smart lawyer" "So why are UNISON involved?" he said, asking the obvious question, before pushing a sereis of black and white photo's to Jay. They showed a demolished house. A demolished street. "Four days ago, he exploded. Witnessed exploding. Destroyed his own house. We managed to confirm the story. The witness is still in Intensive Care. The guy is like a living, breathing, ball of TNT. Never seen anything like it in all more years..." he said. "Then, the guy disappeared. Like a ghost. We just about managed to track him down to Canada. Courtesy of two massive holes and a few smoking cars on the highways up there. But I gotta say, this guy has got the smarts. His trail is cold..." "Other than that, we got zip. We don't know what he can do, we don't know why he is running. Psych profile tells us nothing, they think he might be running to an unpopulated area for safety. Not his. But those around him, like his family. Of course, who knows what the safe distance is..." he frowned.

Back at the Bloodhound Detective Agency. the Hound slammed the phone down, put his feet on his desk, and his hands behind his back, leaning back in his chair in a practised but still precarious pose. "So this fellow Carl, I got to asking around. Army mane, served in 'Nam, hard case. Whilst you guys are all superheroes and all, I'm not going to mess with him. Guy's practically a war hero..." he said. "He's been running the gym for nearly twenty years. Run it well too. At least, whilst boxing was top of the menu. Nowadays, its taken a hit. All the young cool kids want to learn kung-fu and ju-jitsu" The Mess snorted, and flexed his watermelon muscles in contempt. "I got a few whispers he is tied up with the mob. Nothing concrete. Never is with those bozo's. Still, it all ties together, how a guy like that could need some bigger game, some snort of prestige. Going in for some souped up underground fighting" he explained. "I don't need to say this, of course, but the potential threats are mounting up. Ex-Army, the Mob...they could have a small army of goons manning this joint, probably need them too. And then we have whatever jumped up powerhouses are going to be in the ring..."

So it is time for some notice rolls. y'all!

GM The musings of the Heroes was interrupted by an arrival. The Mayor and his wife, complete with a few requisite bodyguards, had entered. "Aha! Our patron arrives!" smiled Ana, as she kissed, with perhaps over-zealous passion, the Mayor. His wife merely smiled at the extravagance. "I see you delivered not one, but four magnificent protectors for the evening!" said Ana, taking the poor Mayor, swept along by the force of her personality, into her arm. "What fireworks shall we see tonight?" she asked cryptically. "But no matter! the party has begun!" she announced, as a stream of fireworks signalled the beginning of the final party of the night. "Please, I think it is time for you to make your speech!" she announced. "Lady Brazil, too perhaps!" she asked the silent spandex wearing hero, who merely looked at her with penetrating eyes and no inclination. "I have spoken many speeches" said the heroine. "But tonight, I think I will be at the side of the stage. I am sure the Mayor can give words enough" she said. It was true, too. Lady Brazil was more than just a super powered heroine, she was a figurehead, and a carefully neutral but patriotic (even jingoisitic) speaker. She was there for Brazil first and foremost. Ana shrugged her shoulders. "Perhaps, but maybe the mood will strike you!" she winked. The Mayor, meanwhile, wiped his brow and stepped up to the centre stage to the applause (most of it genuine) of the crowd, and started to speak into the microphone above the whistles, cheers, hoots, and odd jeer. "Marvellous!" clapped Ana as the Mayor droned on, in a rather uninspiring drawl.

Just a quick note - I am on holiday next week, but will be around to post a bit most days. However, this week is ferociously busy at work (due in part to my holiday upcoming), and to be honest, the rest of my life has been a bit busy too (not in a particularly bad or good way, but in a time-consuming way). Hence the past few days, and the next few days, are Spartan in postage - I'm trying to muster up the time and energy to slip in the odd post or two but thats about it, sorry!

La Rosa are a successful criminal gang of Brazil but more specifically RiO. Their leadership is unknown - possibly because it is a loose knit organisation, possibly because the leaders are very skilled or powerful. There are large concerns about its link with police and politics, and corruption. Whilst pretty ruthless and criminal, they have avoided the worst of crimes such as murder or people trading. They operate more via gambling, extortion, prostitution, and drug running. A nasty bunch, but not the most violent.

GM Ana, who was still with the three heroes, and showing them the detail of the stage and fireworks, raised an eyebrow at Velocities entrance. "My, you do work fast!" she said with a smile on her face. "I would love to see the world through your eyes for a day. Or, perhaps, a year, depending on how you look at it! You must have a unique perspective on the flow of life, hmmm?" She looked solidly on as Velocity gave her explanation of Luiza's rant. "I know this woman. I passionate woman, a voice that is without age. She speaks, no doubt, from her heart. I feel that. But what do you make of these words? what is behind them? what does it mean?" she asked emphatically, and impossibly. "Nothing should stop Carnival Night!" she said, stamping her foot down like a spoilt child.

I have been pretty darn busy in RL too, Elegy, but I thought I would make a few moments to answer this. 1. First off, credit for running threads and GMing them. It is not easy. Just trying to do what you have done is great. 2. The Pace of threads is a difficult thing. It is not like a PnP game. It has advantages (you have plenty of time to consider responses and it is much easier to wing it), and disadvanatges (you can't pick up on non verbal cues). The pace of threads naturally ebbs and flows. As Thevshi said, dropping a few kindly hints is ok, and going on to chat is very helpful. However, one of the best tools you can use is to discuss things in OOC, and make scene cuts when a scene starts to flag. 3. On a related note, you don't need to have an all-powerful GM who controls the entire story. You can discuss how you want the story to proceed with players - it is their story too. Don't inflict your vision on players - you provide the raw ingredients that may (or may not) cause conflict, and together you cook. 4. On that subject, as Arichamus has said, ask players what they want. There is no right way to play an RPG, despite what some may say. There is no right way to play M&M, either (although there probably are a few wrong ways). The site has guidelines about what to avoid, but within that scope there are massive differences in preferences. Some like murder mystery, some like drama, some like combat. Some players want to "win" and feel in control, some what the opposite. If you have in mind a tense murder-drama-investigation with lots of characters who have a complex relationship, you are going to bore stiff a player who just wants a dust up and chance to use the powers of his/her PC. Equally, that style might be exactly what a player wants - the same player who likes an occasional fight but would be bored silly with a "line up up, knock em down" series of goons at a bank robbery. 5. Be patient and kind on yourself. Overall, despite doing a hell a lot of GMing here, and many people liking my GMing - I know that a ) My style is not fgor everyone and b ) No matter how hard I try (and sometimes I think trying and planning actually worsen a thread - very Zen), about one third of threads rock, one third of threads are an enjoyable mediocre, and one thirds limp along, possibly dying en route. And there is no point getting to upset about it. Its fair enough to take constructive criticism or advice (if you solicit it), but if anyone calls you out on being a bad GM, I can bet you they have never GMd themselves (PS: Knowing our player base, nobody is going to do this...) 6. Finally, kick back and enjoy.