Supercape

GM The door was locked, the doorbell was unanswered - if it sounded at all. Brock hopped slightly from foot to foot. "Reclusive weirdo" he murmured. "Sorry, psychology not part of my field training" he said, trying to mitigate his blurt. "I'm not firing my weapon" he added. "Don't worry, I'm not a cowboy. I'm not pulling my gun unless I absolutely have to. Protocol" he said, hands open and honest. "But that's all redundant if we can't get in. I'm sure the little guttersnipe is hiding in there....trying to avoid us. Any ideas about how to get him to open up? Or shall we kick the door down?" he asked. "...unless you can phase us in, or creep in through an air duct...."

Mr Murk "Magic and Time, yes" Mr Murk could smell the brew but not see it. He fumbled around a little for the cup but eventually found it. His can clattered as he swung it gently. "You must forgive me, madam. I have been blind since birth" He sat down in the small room of old things, satistied they were alone. The Murk, that grey dimension of sepia tones, fell from his body like fluttering black leaves. Now he was as Mr. Murk truly was. Dressed in an old suit, with an old bowler hat. His eyes milky white and opaque. His features pale. And clearly not human. Homo Neathanderalis! "Which was, as you can see, a very long time ago...."

Going hyperdimensional for that sweet Impervious 6 toughness! And descending further into psychosis! (with a little time)

GM What to do? That was not easy. He strongly suspected this was a bluff. The whole thing stunk of a bluff. The gunman couldn't know if Captain Cosmos was even there. Or could hear him. He surely wasn't going to blow a mans brains out on a threat that he could not be sure was even delivered. The right thing to do was hold his nerve and stay unseen. He popped back into existence. "I don't want that. Do you?" he said to the Gunman, seriously. His form solidified, the dimensions crystalising over his body. "Honestly, I don't think you do want to kill him, do you? This whole thing seems to be a set up. Someone's been manipulating you...."

GM "Thats my thinking to!" said Brock, keenly. He took out his WEST Scanner from his glove compartment. And his WEST blaster. This was a little unusual; Replica was trusted by WEST enough to have essentially full access to their research, facilities, and operations. Field Agents were scientists, not fighters. Brock had a more gung-ho attitude, it seemed. It was hardly against protocol, but it was unusual. WEST agents were trained to avoid fighting unless absolutely necessary. "Better go in prepared" he explained. He seemed to just like having a WEST blaster tucked into the back of his jeans. In fairness, he seemed to like the scanner more. He gave it a little fiddle. "No radiation or dimensional anomalies. Well, none that I can pick up. Not that I really expected to. AI problems aren't, generally, ones that will rip the universe apart" he grinned. The two of them marched up to the Skeleton Staff building. It was modern masonry, red brick, a bit of wood and steel. The only remarkable thing was its shaded windows, presumably to avoid snoops. Such was the age of industrial espionage. Brocks grin dropped a bit. But only a bit. "Well, no comes the $£%! storm that is WEST and diplomacy and politics. We have to operate within the law, but there is a general goodwill towards us. The world, despite its differences, is more interested in avoiding a horrific disaster than prosecuting a few well-meaning scientists. Still, its a tricky area...." he said, sizing up Replica's response.

GM Replica flew through the internet with her usual speed and grace. The Skeleton Staff was small but relatively succesfull company involving cutting edge AI/Computer systems in medical care. They had developed robotic surgeons, AI diagnostic systems, and even Care home robots all with moderate degree of success (glitches, but workable). Aside from a few spurious and entirely unremarkable litigation attempts (all unfounded and to be expected!) Skeleton Staff seemed "clean". The head of the company was Troy Cho, a brilliant computer engineer and mathematician. He had an unblemished record but from the rumours and gossip, it appeared he was not really being a "people person" - introverted, blunt, and even rude. The four missing co-researchers are Amanda and Rose Wright (a married couple), Jacob Snieber, and Phillip Flywheel, all apparently very good at their job in AI and robotics, but otherwise unremarkable. "No, we don't. Other than he is a bit eccentric. I mean, he has talked, but gave them the cold brush off. He had no information, nothing to say. Hasn't heard from them since last week. Yada yada, blah blah, etc etc. But from the sounds of it, he doesn't say much to anybody. Weirdo!"

A good roll! The Skeleton Staff is a small but relatively succesfull company involving cutting edge AI/Computer systems in medical care. They have developed robotic surgeons, AI diagnostic systems, and even Care home robots all with moderate degree of success (glitches, but workable). Aside from a few spurious and entirely unremarkable litigation attempts (all unfounded and to be expected!) Skeleton Staff seems "clean". The head of the company is Troy Cho, a brilliant computer engineer and mathematician. He has an unblemished record but has a history of not really being a "people person" - lacking in charisma and introverted. The four missing co-researchers are Amanda and Rose Wright (a married couple), Jacob Snieber, and Phillip Flywheel. All are recognised expert computer programmers but there is no other particularly pertinent information.

The issue is not exactly clear. The principle was to keep Gods and Aliens out as they dont really need protection. Undead is a grey area, and I suppose its up for debate and probably depends on their "humanity". Robots would probably not be included as, again, a different issue. One could make a case for transhuman downloaded characters I guess? OOC this was set up with two main reasons; one, to engage in dry tedious philosophical debates (which actually were fun, at least for me! and by the looks of it the other PCs had fun too!), and secondly to experiment with a not-quite supergroup. I was, and still am, of the thinking that supergroups do not work well in PbP format, but that loose associations do. This had a loose feel to it, and was also designed to create ethical conflict. What I will add to the guide entry is the signatures (PC wise, its Murk, Tsnuami, Frost [Who is undeadish], Voin, Dreadnought and probably Grimalkin. NPC wise it is Daedalus and, more interestingly, Dr. Sin!)

GM Brock raised his eyebrows. "Wait..yeah...that's me. Wow. You really look like the real deal!" he said, getting out of his car. He risked poking Replica. "Just like the real deal!" he said. "I mean, if I wasn't told, I wouldn't have believed it!" he gasped, wiping the sweat from his brow. "I guess that's why they call you Replica, right?" He smiled a warm smile. He was pretty clumsy with his words, but he was pretty big with his heart. "The future is here, baby! The future is HERE!" "That's why I signed up. Get a load of this. Beats sweating away in a dark room coding all day, right?" He took another big gulp of latte. He may have blossomed in the sunshine, doing field work and getting a nice tan, but he hadn't kicked his caffeine compulsion. By the blurting of his mouth, he may well have been self - medicating for ADHD. Not that he seemed to mind. "So what have they told you?" he asked. "About this little situation? Skeleton Staff, they call it" He pointed over the road to a small building of elegant masonry and dark windows. It was big enough to stuff a laboratory and an infirmary in, but it would be a squeeze, for sure. Skeleton Staff indeed. "Four of their researchers gone! Only one left, and he isn't doing much talking. Freedom Police are getting frustrated...."

ooc for this

GM April 23rd, 2019 Mid Afternoon... On a rather pleasant Spring day. The air was warm, the sun was bright, and the mood was reasonably pleasant. Agent Brock was in a good mood too. Largely because he was high on caffeine. Agent Brock was a short, squat man who looked like a thug, rather than a highly trained field agent of W.E.S.T. A Russian by origin, he was an expert on Artificial Intelligence. He sat in a t shirt and heans, supping his latte, in a rather expensive looking sports car, waiting for Replica. He was certainly one for the cassual, undercover lok, was Agent Brock. Even if he had a W.E.S.T. scanner and blaster in his glove compartment. Earlier on in the day, Replica had recieved an encrypted e mail from W.E.S.T. It came with no password, and was a devil to crack. But that was kind of the point. Director North knew very well that Replica was one of the few people who could crack it. Assistance Request! Replica, W.E.S.T. Is always grateful for your expertise, as you know. From that business with Darwin X, to the Russian mystery, and even that mess with the glass woman, you have always been a major asset in our mission. Thanks again. We would be most grateful if you could help us once more. Something seems to have gone wrong with a a medical AI project. Significant breakthroughs were reported, then significant glitches, and now four of the cheif develepors have gone missing. The FC police are investigating, but you can understand we are concerned that something else if going on. I say this delicately, but Artificial Intelligence is a potential threat - of course, we support its development as it is also a wonderful thing, but when incidents like this occur, we get concerned. Especially as we never quite got to the bottom of "the Russian problem". We have assigned Agent Brock to the case, and he has made some preliminary investigations. If you can make contact with him we would be, as always, grateful...

If @Avenger Assembled, @Thevshi, @Tiffany Korta, @Heritage, @Exaccus have any ideas or thoughts, please post!

Codus Immortus History In the late 19th Century, the blind immortal Mr. Murk started conceptualising the Codus Immortus as a voluntary and secretive organisation and code of laws that could be offered to immortals. He spent the most part of 20th Century refining his thinking and seeking out immortal contacts. This included study of philosophy, ethics, and law. By the early 21st Century, the Codus Immortus was written and Mr. Murk started offering immortals the choice of joining. The Rationale Immortals face particular problems that mortals do not. Firstly, there is the issue of endless torture or inhumane treatment which could not be applied to mortal men. Secondly, Immortals face risks from the mortal world, who, out of understandable fear or envy, would wish to eliminate them or try and steal their immortality. Throughout history, some immortals have suffered horrors both out of science and mysticism. Priests and theologists viewing them as an affront to divine order, sorcerers trying to extract some magical quality from them to gain immortality, and scientists attempting to experiment on them to understand their immortality for the greater good. In other words, until immortality is the normal, immortals are at risk. Thirdly, there is the issue of redemption. If an immortal truly lives for ever, then it is not a matter of if, but merely of when and to what frequency, they will commit a horrific crime themselves. Equally, in the case of an immortal criminal, it is also not a matter of if, but of when, they will repent. Hence, if both criminal act and redemption are inevitable, can killing an immortal ever be justified? This is not to say that punishment and incarceration cannot be humanely meted out, or that action does not lead to consequence, but the act of termination seems hard to justify as it will apply to every immortal sooner or later, despite the fact that every immortal will repent and rehabilitate. There is also the matter of punishment. If deprivation of life might be considered an infinite punishment for a mortal, as it robs him or her of infinite years. The Primary Laws The Codus Immortus is strictly voluntary. It comes with responsibilities and benefits. There is no compulsion to remain, either. There is, however, a codified section that serves to prevent people leaving and entering as it when it so suits them, by ensuring that there is a three month period between every “move”. Aside from various by laws and legal flourishes, the Codus Immortus has three main rules that act to protect Immortals from their particular threats. 1: An obligation to protect Immortal members from inhuman treatment or torture (such as might be termed Promethean torment). The scope of this is not easy to quantify. It clearly means not directly inflicting such horrors on another. It also usually means not handing over an immortal to another organisation who would in all probability do the same (such as certain dictatorships around the world). Allowing such torment to happen by inactivity is a more grey area that may need careful consideration based on risk to self and degree and likelihood of inhuman or torturous treatment. 2. An obligation to protect immortal members from death. This is very similar to law 1, and would prohibit deliberate murder of another immortal. A difficult area is the death penalty which still exists in some parts of the world. Whilst this would not mean rescuing an immortal from death row, it would mean trying, with reasonable effort, to prevent the death penalty from being instituted and if possible to have the immortal tried and convicted in an area with no capital punishment. 3. No fighting or violence in Club Immortus. As a final refuge, Immortals are expected to treat these clubs as safe havens. It does not mean that they cannot be expelled at all, but this requires a majority vote and a process of debate and consideration by the members. Secondary Laws The secondary laws of the Codus relate to the first and are predictably numerous, despite Mr. Murk’s best attempts at keeping the issues simple. However, some key secondary laws are: The principle of secrecy. The codus primarily works to keep immortals safe from threats peculiar to immortality. This includes the envy and resentment of mortals. Hence, there is a principle of secrecy, in that the Codus, the Clubs, and the status of immortality should not be revealed without very good reason. It is not absolute, but nobody wants the existence of the Codus to become more than rumour in the public consciousness. The Court of Three In cases where the Primary (or indeed secondary) laws are broken, three other immortal members should consider the facts and come to a unanimous decision that the law was indeed broken. If there is no unanimous decision, the case must be passed onto another group of three. If three groups of three cannot decide unanimously (all three groups are split), then it falls to the Lawmaster to consult with all nine members to see if he can obtain a consensus. If none can still be agreed, the Lawmaster has the “decider” vote. The Will of All There will come times of crisis, when the fate of all immortals is at threat. When the immortals must go to war, or change their way of living, or the Codus itself. Perhaps there might be a state that has captured and is experimenting on immortals, and they must be rescued. Perhaps the fate of the world hangs in the balance, and both mortal and immortal must come together. In this case, a grand meeting is held where all immortals are invited. If all present agree, or all bar one lone dissenter (to allow for crazed outside views), the members of the Codus will act as one in these matters. The Lawmaster The Lawmaster is master of the Law of the Codus. He or She must demonstrate good knowledge of philosophy, law, and ethics. The Lawmaster has no particular powers other than as described above in final arbitration of the court of three. He or she may be called on to advise on the word and meaning of the Codus, or technical points, but this is advisory only. Otherwise, his or her powers are no greater than other member. He or she may still vote in the above formats. The Lawmaster has, to date, only be held by Mr. Murk who is author of the Codus. If he resigns, or is ousted by the will of the immortals, an election will be held. The Codex Immortus The Codex is a splendid red leather bound booked inked in fine calligraphy. Its first part details the laws and principles of the Codus Immortus, its second part details its signatures of those who have entered (or indeed left). It is written in English and Latin (although copies exist in other languages). There are of course copies of the Codex. To preserve secrecy, it is not held in electronic format. The Bookkeeper is an official title that indicates the immortal member who holds responsibility for the care and maintenance, copying, translation, and indeed security of the Codex. In addition, the Bookkeeper will act as Lawmaster in case of absence or incapacity of the Lawmaster (as deputy). Club Immortus The Club Immortus is a privately owned by Mr. Murk. It is forbidden by the Codus to engage in violence there (unless in an emergency such as self defence or protection of others). It is a “safe haven”, although one can be expelled for poor behaviour. Technically, other places could be deemed to be protected Havens by the Codus, but this has as yet not happened. Club Immortus was originally set up in Soho, London. Further clubs have been opened up in Cairo, Delhi, Rio, Hong Kong, and Paris. They are technically private residences in the eyes of the local law but are of course open for Immortals. They all have a certain antiquated air (other than Freedom City, due to its relatively recent history!), with a flavour and style that matches the locality. Of course, superficially in the first rooms there is no particular evidence of association with immortality. The bar and lounge, the kitchen and dining room are all quite unremarkable other than in style. However, the clubs also contain mystic portals to the other clubs around the world, living quarters and even infirmaries (where injured members can recuperate safely). The Club is not strictly for immortals only. Some mortals are aware of the Codus, if a member can vouch for somebody else in terms of discretion and behaviour, they can be invited in.

Thats absolutely fine! The only note I would add is that Dok would understand that the advanced technology / effects widening the Lost World Portal might make his portal erratic bang next to it. Its an unknown quantity. But again, its your call!

GM Sgt Henry looked pleased, and Cortez doubly so. "Portals, eh? Where's the fun in that?" asked North. "...only joking, it sounds a splendid way to get their fast. As long as it holds up" he added. "It's your call, but personally I would do the last click on foot. No telling what anomalies might distort the portals as you get near to the Lost world rift" he added. "1 click is better than twenty" added Henry. "Look, I'm no scientist. But I can tell you this, trekking through a Jungle this thick is hard, sweaty work, and takes it out of you. And its not without its risks. Small risks, but risks all the same. An infected insect bite is enough to lay a man down low" he said, gravely. "I am a doctor" said Cortez, a hint of pride as she reached for a spare medical kit. "Well, we are in your hands then, Doctors" smiled Henry again, addressing them both, but looking at Archeville to see if he could conjure up a magic (scientific) portal!

Mr Murk Mr Murk looked around. In a manner of speaking. "Mmmmh. Patience is a virtue, I am told. No rush. Tea would be nice" he commented warmly. "Ill just peruse the books whilst you finish up here?" he asked. He held his cane stiffly and went to one of the bookshelves, quietly reading the ink. Not the book, the ink. He was blind, but he could feel the ink, the words, the letters, the caligraphy, even the flourish of the soul as thought poured into word. It was rather delightful, really. For the most part. There were of course some books that could drive a man to madness, such as those detailing the Unspeakable one and his nameless cults that were without name (and with good reason). "I could spend hours in here" he murmured, although with a voice pitched just load enough for Grimalkin to hear. "Or days. Years even. Why, I could spend centuries in here...."

GM "I told you I was staying on the Plane, right?" smiled North. "Cheer up. Its only 20 miles" said Sgt Henry, strolling in from the Cockpit. He was already in lightweight Jungle Khaki, a knife strapped to his belt, a Tranq-Gun in his hand, a smile on his face. "Its a wonderful jungle out there" said Cortez, taking a Tranq-gun for herself, and a WEST Scanner. She offered some scanners to Delta and Archeville, although it was arguable if they would get any mileage out of them. There was plenty of water and rations to go around. Sgt Henry helped himself to a machete and rope. Cortez had a first aid kit on her back. "Of course, if anybody can teleport us there, that would be spiffing" chimed in Henry. "I rather look forward to Jungle trips" murmured Cortez, keenly. "Plenty of wildlife! And I have antivenom in case anyone gets bitten!"

Still good! To save face, this is still an incredibly expert, clever Dok! (Its just the tech here is Cosmic / bordeline PL X)

Give me a Knowledge [Physical Sciences] Roll! You can automatically detect the portal to the Lost World given your skills etc, to within a few yards. DC 30 DC 40 DC 50!!!

GM The HORIZON began its final descent. Despite its air conditioning, one could almost feel the humidity and heat below, as rich ultra green jungle covered almost every inch of the hills and plains. The Crow Residence was sprawling and crumbling. It was not easy to maintain out here, but somehow it remained upright. The runway, at least was useable, and Sgt Henry landed the plane with only the mildest of bumps and jostles, attributable to the state of the runway rather than his skill as a pilot. Doctor North was already on the sensor array alongside Cortez. "Not really our area, dimensional anomalies" he conceded. "If you would be so good, Doctor?" he asked Archeville, pointing to the computers that gave up to date readouts and holographic displays on null-infinity paradoxical antievents, and hyperdimensional lensing effects. Quite the cutting edge in science!

GM The hills of Wales would be a little bit hillier after today! The Force of Dreadnought drove the Giants head a dozen feet into the ground. He looked, for a moment, like an inverted statue of Easter Island - head in the ground, tremulous body quivering in the air. And then he fell unconscious. He would wake up with a very stiff neck indeed! "Bah!" grunted the last giant on its feet. "The world is DOOMED!" he said. "For King Cauldron be its only hope!" But it did not stop fighting. It didn't have the brains, maybe. Or its heart was too big. With a massive grunt of effort, he picked up a boulder. To say it was a boulder was an understatement. It was halfway to a mountain, almost bigger than the Giant himself. It was so huge that the Giant had difficulty standing upright. It was the biggest lump of rock in the hills and he tore it out of the ground with fingers that must have been stronger than steel. And then, with a huge effort, he dropped it on Klara!

Tough Save: 1d20+11 22 Bam. Failed by 15, straight Knockout! Round 5 23 - Voin - Bruised - 2 HP 20 - Dreadnought - Bruised - 0 HP 0 - Giant 1 - Bruisedx2 The Final Giant will pick up a massive boulder and drop it on Voin! This is going to be a damage 12 area effect, so feel free to make those toughness and reflex saves!

GM And so... The HORIZON was the flagship of WEST, or, more precisely, the flagplane. A converted 747, it was faster, sleeker, and full of every bit of laboratory or scientific equipment that they could fit, including an infirmary and an aquarium. The aquarium was, probably, there as a luxury item (and was the seed of much argument on funding). "You wont see me in the Jungle" smiled North "although I did my time sweating when I was with the WHO" he explained. "No, Ill stay on the Horizon and monitor the communications and sensor arrays" he said. "I know I'm not cut out for Jungle trekking, but I could hardly stay behind when there is a blaster carrying monkey in the mix, can I?" The HORIZON started its descent into the Jungles of Brazil. "Got an old house here we can use. Pulled in a favour from the British Museum, belongs to the Crow family. Dusty Antiquarians. But It's the nearest airstrip to the portal to the Lost World" explained North as they descended. "Should serve, but its twenty or thirty miles through thick jungle to our best estimate of the portal. And who knows what else?" "Strap yourselves in!" called a friendly voice over the intercom. Sgt Henry "Henry" Henry, ex British-SAS, pilot and jungle warfare expert, was more than happy to work for WEST and this was the perfect job for him. He piloted the HORIZON ably, and clearly was experienced. A jovial man with a broken nose, cauliflower ear, and several scars, he still had a broad grin and a respectful, happy attitude. Agent Cortez was a tall, thin Brazillian scientist, an expert in zoology, who had the body of a Brazillian model but the face of someone hit with the ugly stick; lopsided, and angled in all the wrong places. She had a sensibly shaved head and a cynical but intelligent attitude. She seemed rather pleased to be on the job and with Doctor Archeville. She strapped herself in silently and gritted her teeth. "I love my job. But I hate flying..." she groaned as everyones ears (well, those that had ears) started to pop...

GM It was Dusk in Wharton Forest, and the sound of insects could be heard. There was the smell of rained - on - grass and something sweet and sickly underneath. "Gtumph! The indignity!" humped Boddyflock, although he and his men were glad to be alive. Unfortunately, the nauseating fungal cloud had inspired Boddflocks four men to empty their gastric organ quite violently into the palm of Neverboy. Small in quantity, their vomit, but most displeasing all the same. The Fun Guy groaned, then screamed. Clawing at his face as if he might rip it off. "Nwyawwwwlllmn..." he screamed, which could have meant anything or nothing, or quite possibly both. The fungal strains lining his skin were livid purple now, and his skin more mottled than ever! He clawed and groaned, he staggered aound in abject agony. Lorenzo, for his part, put his hand to his glass head bowl and stroked a non existant chin. "Hmmm...Interesting!" he murmured.

Race Time!!! Sir Prize's bike has a 500' headstart, and is a speed 5 machine. Against him is the need to make a drive roll. He is good, but still... Drive Roll: 1d20+15 26 he makes it - for now! Let me know how you wish to [try to] catch up! All out movemenet and extra effort for that real zip speed all allowed! (we need to track CON rounds if the former!)