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[SaintKerrigan]

INCEPTION

MAFIA

12-player Mini Theme, based on Christopher Nolan's masterpiece.

Info:

• BaM ruleset
  Night start
  Max 1 week deadline days. (Time is relative)
  Technically no deaths.
  Original roles.
  Possibly bastard roles.
  Even I'm confused by my own game mechanics.
  You probably need to play the game twice to completely understand the intricacy of the plot.

Requirements:

• One finished game
  Having read and understood the BaM ruleset
  Having seen Inception at least once.
  
  A bachelor in neuroscience.

Pre-ins are accepted by PM

I wondered how long it'd be before someone did this...

[SaintKerrigan]

SS

Davy Maybourne

High Orbit, UTP Planet Massotorrido, Medici System
November 26th, 2486 Space Calendar
0233 hours Standard Space Time

The graveyard shift was always a bitch. Ensign Sammy Weiss wearily rubbed her eyes and took another swig of coffee.

Another six hours to go...

Distractedly she eyed the steel-gray mug in her hand, studying the symbol of spacefleet printed on it's side: a crimson laser pistol on top of a white circle, which was encircled by a pair of curved, green olive branches. The colors intrigued her dazed eyes...

A shrill beep emitted from her computer console. Setting the coffee mug down, she looked at the holographic display and saw the pop-up the earlier sound had announced. It read, "Incoming Interstellar Transmission. Priority Alpha-1 Red. Source: Rebel Planet Liten, Tynnfred System."

She raised her eyebrow. Alpha-1 Red transmissions were high-danger red-alerts, on par with planetary invasions. On top of that, it was coming from a rebel planet. Something was going on, here.

"Bertha, answer transmission," she ordered the AID (Artificial Intelligence Design) on her computer terminal. "And flag the transmission for Communications Officer Vivaldi."

"Complying," Bertha's low, smooth voice replied. A black rectangle took up the majority of the holodisplay's visual area and began showing video feed.

Immediately Sammy was startled by the sound of laser rifles firing in the background. A woman, clad in a faux-tiger fur coat in addition to a simple gray jumpsuit, was standing in front of the camera on the other end of the transmission, panting heavily. Behind her, five militia were brandishing laser rifles and facing something to the left of the screen. A door, perhaps? And then there was no time left to wonder as the woman gasped,

"This is Leslie Hampton, Governor of Liten. We're being invaded by the Arkons, and we lack the resources to fight them off. We request immediate aid from Spacefleet."

"Governor Hampton, this is Ensign Weiss of the SS

Davy Maybourne

," Sammy replied. "You are currently considered a rebellious state to the Union of Terran Planets. As such, you may not request--"

"Damn it, then, consider this a surrender!" Hampton shouted. "This pains me, but not as much as getting wiped out by the bloody Arkons!"

"If you're surrendering, I'll need to relay this transmission to our station admiral--" At this point Bertha automatically began to hail Admiral Washiby-- "--as only an admiral can accept--"

"There's not enough time!"

Behind the governor, the militants held their rifles at the ready. One of them said, "Get ready, men."

Hampton sighed and keyed something into her terminal. "I'm transmitting the data we have on an object of alien origin," she stated. "We think it's the reason the Arkons invaded in the first place. We didn't have enough time to figure out what it was, but we know it's damned important!"

On Sammy's screen, a pop-up appeared announcing, "Incoming Data Packet. Priority Alpha-1." She told Bertha to accept the data packet. "The Admiral has been notified, and should be responding shortly, Governor."

"Just get here soon," Leslie growled, "or there won't be anything left to save!"

Suddenly, a large yellow laser shot across the room in the background. One of the militants cried, "They've gotten through!" He and the others opened fire with red laser bursts.

"Shit!" Hampton screeched. "We've got the files uploaded. Just get the hell--"

Suddenly, the display returned to black. A pop-up appeared, reading, "Signal Lost."

"Bertha, attempt to reestablish contact with that transmitter," Sammy ordered, fighting the fingers of ice tap-dancing on her spine.

"Complying."

Two more video boxes, smaller than the first one, appeared on Sammy's display. The right-side box displayed a black-haired man in his thirties--Communications Officer Vivaldi--and the left-hand box displayed an older man with graying wisps of hair and icicle-blue eyes. Station Admiral Washiby.

"Yes, sirs?" Sammy inquired tentatively. "Did you guys get all that?"

"Indeed," Vivaldi replied in a rich, tenor voice.

"Did you get the entire data packet?" Washiby asked.

"Oh, um, yes sir." Sammy ordered Bertha to open the data packet. Immediately a plethora of files appeared on the holodisplay, with a small summary box on the side. Inside the summary box were two things: a picture of an egg-shaped, ebony-black object with a ring of turquoise light running around the widest diameter, and written text that read,

"Unknown Alien Artifact. Discovered: Day 25, Month 13. Dimensions: 0.28m at shortest diameter, 0.81m at longest diameter. Distinctive Properties: Emits a blue light and a quiet hum of 26 decibels. Preliminary scans indicate energy of some form, but will require more extensive tests to be conclusive. --Dr. Joshua Gordon, Lead Scientist"

"I'll get our science team working on this data immediately," Admiral Washiby stated. "Have you been able to reestablish contact with Liten, Ensign?"

"Negative, sir. The transmitter probably got fried."

"Keep trying, anyway. Officer Vivaldi, alert the Admiralty Board of our situation and request a conference transmission to discuss how we're going to respond to this event. Afterward, order Commodore Kerry to recall his crew from shoreleave and report for duty within the next 24 space hours."

"Yes, sir!" Vivaldi and Sammy replied simultaneously.

"Good. Admiral Washiby out."

SaintKerrigan announces...

The Return to Liten

UPDATE!

Features of this game:
- 18-player Large Theme
- No bastard mechanics
- Mostly-normal roles (No bastard roles like Jesters, Cults, Beloved Princesses, etc., but there may be stuff you've never seen before)
- Epic storyline (of which not all aspects were shown in the bit provided) from a veteran storyteller
- 2-week days and 3-day nights
- And much more...

This game will start shortly after the completion of the ongoing game "Choose Your Side: A Comedy of Whims". You may pre-in now, if you wish. (Additionally, you may wish to read the prequel to this game to get an even better sense of the storyline.)

[SaintKerrigan]

SS

Davy Maybourne

High Orbit, UTP Planet Massotorrido, Medici System

November 26th, 2486 Space Calendar

0412 hours SST

Admiral Washiby sat on a comfortable, yet stiff black chair, in a tiny low-lit room. In front of him was an opaque, circular, black holotable, and encircling the table were 14 plain, sparse chairs, in addition to Washiby's. Holographic figures were seated in most of these chairs; five were male, eight were female. One chair, however, was devoid of an occupant.

"Has any news been heard on the whereabouts of Admiral Dawkins?" Washiby inquired. "This is a situation of utmost importance, and though I feel the entirety of the Admiralty Board should be available to discuss the implications of the event at hand, we cannot afford to wait any longer."

"I concur," agreed Admiral Gradkowski, an auburn-haired woman in her early forties. Murmurs of assent trickled from the rest of the admiralty. Gazes shifted toward a white-haired, steel-eyed woman in her late fifties, her face bearing the stretched, shiny look of people who underwent wrinkle surgery. "What say you, Supreme Admiral?"

"Very well," the Supreme Admiral responded. "We shall convene this meeting without the presence of Admiral Dawkins. Should he make his entrance at a later time, he shall have to catch up via an AID summary. Now, Admiral Washiby, elucidate us on what has transpired that called for a full meeting of the board."

Reading from a condensed, AID-written summary projected in front of him, Washiby recounted the events of a couple hours ago, having them refer to the data packet he sent them when necessary. In his conclusion, Washiby stated, "Until now, we have not been able to discern a proper motive for an Arkon invasion beyond speculation of manifest destiny and causation of chaos. Now, however, they seem to have a specific objective to their invasion of the planet Liten. It would be in our best interests to retake the planet from the Arkonian forces and deny them whatever it is they're after."

"Hold on," protested Admiral Yakamoto, an aging Japanese man. "This is merely speculation on your part. There is no concrete evidence to support your position. Even if your supposition is true, our forces are spread thinly enough as it is. There are more productive things to do with our armadas than retake a fringe colony that up til now has been in a state of rebellion."

"But Liten is on the border of UTP space!" Admiral Lynch protested, her emerald eyes smoldering with fire. "They could effectively utilize it as a staging ground for a full-scale invasion of the 8th and 9th Sectors! We should deal with this situation now before it grows out of hand!"

"And what do you expect us to do?" growled Admiral Kearns, plucking at his gray mustache. "The 5th, 6th, and 12th Sectors are already war-torn and suffering heavy Arkon occupation. Many of our fleets have already been culled from other systems to defend the systems currently bordering Arkon-occupied territory. The

Davy Maybourne

already has a significant fighting force in the 89th Fleet. They should be able to handle any light Arkon incursion, and if the situation worsens they can get off the alert."

"Do you have no concern for our border worlds?" Lynch seethed. "These are

our

people, dammit!"

"We do not have the resources to protect every single world!" Kearns insisted. "You know that as well as I do! It's a terrible fact, but there it is."

"You just have no concern because it's not

your

people that are going to die!"

"Order!" All eyes focused on the Supreme Admiral. "We all know how precarious the Arkon situation is, and we all know that ugly decisions must be made. Please keep the emotional aspect out of your consideration.

Suddenly, a notice flashed in front of Admiral Washiby, stating, "Alpha-1 Intrastation message incoming." Lines of text began scrawling across the holodisplay. His eyes widened as he read.

"Admiral Washiby, what's happening?" inquired the Supreme Admiral.

"I'm receiving a summary from my science team." Slumping into his chair in exhaustion, he continued, "According to the Liten data, that object is capable of generating high amounts of power, with no physical cost. In other words, the device is a source of infinite energy."

Stares of shocked silence could be found in abundance at that point in time. "This...this isn't a joke, right?" Admiral Yakamoto queried.

Admiral Washiby shook his head. "My scientists seem certain about this."

"But isn't limitless energy...impossible?" protested Admiral Gradkowski weakly.

Admiral Kombu an elderly, balding black man, stated, "This changes things entirely. If that device is a source of infinite energy, not only can we ill-afford to allow the Arkons to possess it, it would be to our great advantage to secure this device for our own needs. This could advance our technology by tenfold, and indeed may be the key to fending off the Arkon menace."

"But even if this device is what it claims it is, we can't just divert our forces from their current locations," Kearns objected. "We're having a hell of a time holding our own as it is."

"Does it matter?" Lynch insisted. "If we can replicate this infinite energy source, we'll have the Arkons beat. Plus, we sure as hell can't allow the Arkons to get their hands on it."

"Then we'll send an S.O.B. team," interjected the Supreme Admiral. "I know of a team in close proximity to the Medici system, but they currently lack a stealth frigate. Admiral Washiby, I believe you mentioned that you had a frigate being readied in the event of a go situation?"

"Aye," Washiby replied. "The frigate isn't stealth, but with the right equipment we can make one out of her. The captain is experienced, and quite honestly I was close to recommending him to the Secret Operations Branch myself. Just get the team and the equipment to the

Maybourne

, and you'll have your ship."

"Excellent. Does anyone have an objection?" Silence was the answer. "Excellent. I shall get the S.O.B. team and the necessary stealth equipment to the

Davy Maybourne

as quickly as possible. Admiral Washiby, ensure that this commodore of yours is briefed properly on his new assignment, and get him the necessary clearances. Everyone else, prepare for the possibility of redistribution of forces, should it become necessary.

"This meeting of the Admiralty Board is adjourned!"

UPDATE!

The Return to Liten

is very close to signups, within the next week or so. There's still some pre-in slots available, so if you want in, be quick about it!

[SaintKerrigan]

Coming sometime in 2011...

Spoiler: because this is really fucking long...

(Sorry about the varying image sizes, btw. I didn't notice until late in the process.)
(And no, I don't feel like explaining how that was possible.)

SaintKerrigan announces...

Red

vs

Blue

Mafia!

Some Notes:

- This is Red vs Blue. Expect an extremely bastard-mod game.
- The game is still very early in the design stage, but it will most likely wind up a 12-player Mini-Theme.
- Flavor will be drawn from the first five seasons of Red vs Blue only. (In other words, characters that did not appear in the first five seasons, like Agent Washington, will not appear in this game.) This may be subject to change.

It is not likely that this game will be run anytime before the Scummies of 2011.

Also, I will

not

be accepting pre-ins at this time. I

will

, however, accept "PMs of Interest", which basically means if you explicitly tell me that you'd be interested in playing this game, you'll receive updates from time to time on the status of the pre-game development.

[SaintKerrigan]

(Also, if anyone feels like offering me feedback on the way I presented the flavor for my recent announcement, I'd appreciate it. It's a bit experimental for me, and I want to try and get it ironed out before I actually run the game.)

(And obviously I meant to say send the feedback via PM.)

[SaintKerrigan]

I had a feeling that something bad was going to happen at Harrowmog.

It wasn't a premonition, or at least I don't think it was; it was just this horrible feeling that settled in the pit of my belly as Mother Berae and I ambled on toward that great city, home to the god Aeltor himself. For several hours, I kept this ill feeling to myself; perhaps it was just one of those "changes" Mother Berae mentioned recently that happened to twelve year-old girls like me. Eventually, my inner pain must've betrayed itself in my countenance, for Mother Berae suddenly pulled me over to the side of the road, took me by the shoulders, and looked me in the eyes.

"Are you okay, Cassandra?" she inquired.

"I'm okay," I replied meekly, but apparently not enough to fool her aged cunning.

"What's wrong, child?" she wanted to know. "Please, be honest with me."

"Well, I don't know. I doubt it's that important..."

"Anything could be important."

I sighed. "I just have this bad feeling, that's all."

Mother Berae raised an eyebrow. "What about?"

"It was about Harrowmog--I just can't help but think something terrible is going to happen to that city. Soon."

"Like a rock nestled in the depth of your gut?"

I blinked. "Yes..."

Mother Berae closed her eyes and began to murmur words in that language she called "Old Tongue." She'd never taught it to me, but she seemed very fluent in it...and she most often used it when she felt disturbed or distressed.

"Mother Berae..." I brought my hands to her shoulders. "Is everything all right?"

She looked up at me and smiled; but I could see the tears hiding in her eyes. "It's all right, child. We need to keep moving, now."

We briefly embraced, and then we resumed walking down the hard, dusty dirt road. The heat of the late morning sun was starting to make its presence known, and my woolen tunic itched something terrible. Mother Berae and I rarely came down from our mountain abode, and when we did, it was only to get something from the little village at the mountain's foot. Now she was taking me to Harrowmog, capital city of Frekkasi and the largest port city in the known world, and she wouldn't even tell me the reason why we were going there.

That was why I didn't ask her to share her thoughts with me; she would give no answer until she decided it was time for me to know it. But just from the behavioral slips I'd noticed, it seemed reasonable to conclude that our business in Harrowmog would not be pleasant.

One help us,

I prayed silently.

One help us all...

SaintKerrigan announces:

Currently planning on a 16-player game, features of which include:
- The revamped return of the

Sleep Cycle

and the

Item and Inventory System

from the original

Descent into Chaos

.
- The use of a

Character Creation System

, which not only will allow players to shape what their game role is, but will also allow them to have a say in who their flavor character is.
- The use of a

Combat Mechanic

to replace the standard lynch.
- The use of a

Quad-Phase Game Day

, the total length of which is twelve real-life days.
- The inclusion of top-notch flavor (as always).

UPDATE: ON HOLD INDEFINITELY DUE TO REAL LIFE ISSUES

[SaintKerrigan]

SaintKerrigan, do you know when in the summer your game will be in signups?

My target is late June to early July. Whether that happens or not remains to be seen...

Does that mean Red vs. Blue mafia is going to happen?

Red vs. Blue Mafia is going to happen, but I wouldn't expect it before the start of DiC II.

[SaintKerrigan]

Protip: If you think the game is crazy and confusing, but non-bastard, it's probably bastard.

...or maybe that's what he

wants

you to think!

[SaintKerrigan]

Unfortunately, I am not going to be able to run Descent into Chaos II

or

Red vs Blue Mafia, due to real-life issues that will likely prevent me from returning to the site at all. I apologize to those who were looking forward to playing either of those games, and for those of you who had pre-ins/PMs of interest, I will definitely let you know if I should happen to be able to run either of those games in the future.

[SaintKerrigan]

An empty hotel is like an empty grave.

Both are meant to provide some measure of comfort and rest to people, and when they lack occupants they fail to provide either. Both are imbued with an aura of hollow incompleteness, a void of dissatisfaction, when no one resides inside their domain. Both, in fact, lack purpose without the presence of human beings within.

Despite their similarities, however, they have a significant difference: a hotel is meant to serve the living, while a grave is meant to serve the dead. Rarely does it happen that the two functions are combined. The Red Lion Hotel and Ski Resort, nestled somewhere in the isolated regions of Colorado's Rocky Mountains, was destined to play that rare role of both hotel and grave in the year 1979.

The passengers of the malfunctioning bus Greyhound #4501, for the most part, weren't aware of the Red Lion's fate, nor the imminence with which this fate would visit that deserted hotel. As the motley assortment of men and women traversed through the steadily-thickening flurries of snow assaulting the mountainside, with naught but flashlights to guide them through the night, most gave no thought to the possibility that they would soon find themselves in a coffin filled with horror and terror which threatened to claim, if not their very lives, at least their sanity; indeed, they wanted very much to find that hotel, some even praying to various deities that the hotel would be there.

A few knew more. They knew that the Red Lion was not meant to be salvation, but rather damnation. It had to be the latter; the plans these individuals had made were predicating on it. But no plan is perfect, and if one intends to take a hotel and fashion a grave from it, they'd best be prepared to deal with the consequences.

For everyone has their secrets. And secrets can kill...

SaintKerrigan presents

A 13-player Mini-Theme

Moderator: SaintKerrigan

Comoderator: Haylen

THIS IS A HIGHLY ABNORMAL BASTARD-MOD GAME. AS SUCH, THERE WILL BE A REQUIREMENT OF FIVE COMPLETED GAMES ON MAFIASCUM, OR THREE GAMES ONSITE WITH ONE BEING A THEME GAME, IN ORDER TO JOIN THIS GAME. IF YOU WANT TO TRY AND BE AN EXCEPTION, PM ME, BUT DON'T EXPECT THAT I'LL CHANGE MY MIND.

Features of this game will include:

- Improved versions of the Sleep Cycle and Item & Inventory system (introduced in

Descent into Chaos

)
- Tri-phase game-days
- A sanity mechanic
- An unusual lynch mechanic (in which all lynching will take place during a short period of time between the second phase and third phase of the game-day)
- Deep, chilling flavor from a master storyteller
- And more...

BODIES BURIED BENEATH THE WHITE

Coming to Mafiascum late June 2012...
(All pre-ins full. PM me if you want me to let you know when the game is in signups.)

[SaintKerrigan]

lol'd I was under the assumption posts could be edited in this thread. No go. >.<

I can edit mine. :/

[SaintKerrigan]

LOCATION

City-State of Refuge

TIME

04/07/2081 11:57:35

He stood atop the roof of the Government Center Tower, fifty stories above the crowd gathered below, in Radioactive Free Plaza. The winds swirled strongly, but he was not concerned; his custom-made grip-feet had more than sufficient grip to ensure the wind wouldn't blow him over the edge. Even if, somehow, he were to fall, the grapple gun attached under his right arm would arrest his fall, and once touching the sides of the building, his gloves and grip-feet would allow him to cling to the wall. Of course, it would take his modestly-superhuman strength and dexterity to climb his way back to the top.

It was no wonder that the public had come to call him the Gecko. Ninja-Acrobat of the Surfaces. Proud member of the Bureau of Superheros. Mutant and Tekka, combined. What wasn't to like?

A female voice spoke through his earpiece. "This is Superhero Central. T-minus two minutes to go-time. All birds, report in."

"This is Bird One, all clear."

"Bird Two, all clear."

"This is Magloricent," drawled a male's bass voice. "Not a thing, Super-S."

Gecko rolled his eyes, hidden behind dark scanshades. "

Bird

Four, all clear."

"Bird Five, all-- hold on."

Gecko immediately looked to his left, at Sunwell Tower. The scanshades zoomed in on Girlgoyle--Bird Five--standing on her perch atop one of the panther/eagle/monkey-shaped gargoyles overlooking the plaza. Her leathery wings, protruding out from her purple skinsuit, stood unfurled and at the ready.

"What's wrong, Bird Five?" Super-S inquired.

"Hold on, Super-S. I thought I saw something near Bird Four's location. Gonna fly by quick and check it out."

"Negative on that flyby, we are at t-minus one, no time. Bird Four, clear your location."

"Roger that, Super-S." Gecko looked down the front of the GCT. "Bird Five, what did you see?"

"I thought I saw someone climbing up the west side of the tower. Whatever it was vanished out of my view."

"How far up?" Gecko started sprinting to the west side of the roof.

"Tenth floor area."

Gecko peered down the west side. "Nothing but glass. Must be Five's eyesight--wait--" His scanshades suddenly highlighted a small section of a fourteenth-floor window and flashed the words "BREACH DETECTED" at him. "Breach detected. Running down to check it out."

"Acknowledged," Super-S replied.

With that, Gecko got on his hands and feet and began skittering down the side of the building as quickly as possible. Absolutely no one was on the ground-street below, though traffic on the e-way, eight stories above the ground, seemed as congested as ever. In any event, no one seemed to notice him scrambling down the side of the Government Center Tower

"T-zero," Super-S announced. "The package is at the podium. Hurry up, Bird Four."

At that moment, speakers positioned all over the city of Refuge blared a monotone, genderless voice saying, "Attention, citizens of the great city-state of Refuge! Attention, citizens of the great city-state of Refuge! Attention, citizens of the great city-state of Refuge!"

Gecko was now at the thirtieth floor and still scrambling madly. Suddenly, his scanshades flashed, "HEAT SOURCE DETECTED" and a blinking red arrow at the bottom of his field of vision. Braking to a halt, he peered through the window indicated. Inside, a woman was bent over a holodesk, with a man standing directly behind her; the scanshades identified the woman as "ANNETTE T. JABBERBANX" and the man as "CLAUDE F. MULGREW". Both had their pants on the flexwood floor, draped around their respective ankles.

They abruptly stopped, looked at Gecko, and scrambled to cover themselves. Grunting disgustedly, Gecko resumed descending the GCT.

"Did you say something, Bird Four?" Super-S asked.

"Oh, nothing. Scanshades picked up a false heat positive."

"You're sure it was a false positive?"

"Uh...yeah. Just two people having close encounters of the human kind."

"Oh...kay, then. Make sure you file an improper use of government time charge when this is done. You know how they get when we don't report things like that."

"Yeah huh."

Finally Gecko reached the location of the breach: a circular section of a window was entirely missing. "I'm at the breach. Looks like a cut-in. Going in." He crawled through the hole and into a hallway.

"Roger that, Bird Four. Um, what floor?"

"Fourteenth. Don't worry, I know the protocol about Floor Thirteen. Anyway, searching for the target."

Speakers within the building spoke, "Citizens of Refuge, your Director of Refuge, Mickel Lenin." Gecko ran across the ceiling, head swiveling left and right to afford the best view for his scanshades. From the intel, he knew this floor should be deserted, its occupants at the viewing balcony on the sixteenth floor. Thus, there should be few, if any, false positives.

"Citizens of Refuge, I greet you," spoke the crisp, feminine voice of Director Mickel Lenin. "Fifty-seven years ago, on the twenty-fourth of March, in the year 2024, an extraterrestrial species commenced their invasion of our planet. Billions of lives were lost in the war that followed, but after seven long, arduous years, in our bleakest hour, we claimed victory over the alien threat."

The scanshades abruptly flashed "UNKNOWN POWER SOURCE DETECTED" and pointed Gecko to the first of several plotted navpoints to take him to the correct room.

"That victory came at the cost of our planet, for our nuclear arsenal was key in destroying the alien threat. Some survived in underground shelters, but many perished at the whims of change that the radiation brought. Our planet will never be as beautiful as the pictures in our archives depict.

"But some emerged from the radiation alive. Alive, but changed. Some used their changes to help restore civil order to those around them. I speak, of course, of the first superheroes, the mutants. Because of them, humanity still lives, and here we stand today, in this great city-state of Refuge."

Gecko climbed left at an intersection, into the hallway with the door to the target room. He didn't need the scanshades to detect the black-suited figure exiting the target room, a mere three meters away; his eyes saw the person readily enough. The dark figure turned to face Gecko; its face was entirely wrapped up in black cloth.

"I figured that it would only be a matter of time before a pawn from the bullshit society appeared," a gruff, metallic voice growled. "Judging by the fact that you are crawling on the ceiling, you must be Gecko."

"Yeah?" Gecko nimbly dropped down to the floor. "And who are you?"

"Call me Teela."

Gecko shook his head. "C'mon, dude, what kind of lousy-arse nickname is that? Alright,

Teela

. Why did you break into the GCT?"

Teela was silent. In the background, Director Lenin's voice droned on, "And so the Tekka superheroes helped build Refuge. However, the enmity between the Mutants and the Tekkas. The radiation-born resented the technology-forged. In 2058, twenty-five years ago, we created the Bureau of Superheroes, in part to bring peace by forcing both sides to continue to work together. A side effect of this law was that any superhero not affiliated with the Bureau of Superheroes was forced to live outside of the safety of our city-state..."

"Bird Four, what's going on?" Super-S demanded to know. "Talk to me!"

Gecko ignored the demand. The "UNKNOWN POWER SOURCE" indicator flashed consistently in Gecko's vision as he stared at Teela. "Not going to answer? Very well, then. I guess I'll just have to go in that room and see what you've put in there."

Teela stood resolutely in front of the door. "I will not let you do that."

In less than a moment the sliver gun holstered at Gecko's right hip appeared in his left hand. "You don't have a choice in the matter. You have five seconds to get out of--"

Without warning, Teela launched herself off the door and rolled-cartwheeled across the floor, towards Gecko. He pulled the trigger--and immediately the scanshades flashed the word "JAMMED" at the top of his vision. Grunting, he tossed the gun aside and, with a vocal command, extended the short blade concealed atop his left arm. As the black bundle of acrobatic energy called Teela came close to him, he stepped in and sliced at her.

He missed. Again, and again, and yet again...

Unheeded by either of them, Director Lenin's voice continued, "Thus, we have come to an important crossroads: do we allow the so-called "Outcast Superheroes" entry into Refuge? It may seem cruel of us to exclude a certain type of people from our city-state, but consider this: after the creation of the Bureau of Superheroes, supervillain crimes within the city proper fell to less than five percent of all total crimes per year. Compare that to the thirty-nine percent

average

endured by our city prior to the Bureau..."

Gecko somehow found himself lying on his back, his scanshades cracked and useless. Angrily he grabbed them and hurled them away from his face. His crimson eyes glared at Teela, standing above him at his feet, holding his sliver gun. "You're blind. How did you--"

"I am not blind. I am one of the few that can actually see."

"Oh, really? You think you've beaten me, little cur? This isn't over!"

"Amusing," Teela replied. "You sounded like a supervillian for a moment. Fitting, I suppose." With that, she turned around and ran off down the hall.

"Get back here!" Gecko growled, leaping to his feet and dashing after Teela. "Super-S, we have a bogey, repeat, a bogey! Pursuing now!"

"...now that you have seen how much better our life is now," said Lenin, "do you think we should risk the stability of the many for the pleasure of the few? Absolutely not!"

Teela whirled down a corridor to the right, Gecko hot in pursuit. At the end of the corridor was another wall-sized window; no other exits were present. Just barely ahead of Gecko's outstretched hands, raised his sliver gun and aimed it at the window.

"It won't work, you know!" Gecko hollered. "It's built to only respond to my touch! You're trapped"

Said Lenin, "Thus, I now announce the decision of the Board of Refuge:"

Teela pulled the trigger.

"Rule 901.b.7 will be upheld."

Microslivers of aluminum, repelled by electromagnetic force, spat forth from the muzzle of the sliver gun and impacted the window, shattering it into thousands of pieces.

"The outcast heroes will

not

be allowed access to Refuge, not even if they wish to join our Bureau of Superheroes."

Tossing the sliver gun aside, Teela bolted for the splintered window and leapt out, arms and legs outstretched.

"Even if they wish to join the Bureau, they cannot enter Refuge."

Desperate, Gecko extended his right arm, intending to grapple Teela and use his strength to keep both of them from falling.

"Thus the Board of Refuge have spoken!"

"Cazzo che merda!" Teela yelled. "Cazzo che merda!"

And with those words Gecko suddenly found himself accosted by two incredible sensations of force: one on his backside, ripping his grip-feet off of the floor and sending him tumbling headlong out the window; the other on his frontside, a solid, violent impact that completely arrested his movement. Where they came from and what they meant were things he was not able to resolve before his mind succumbed to the blackness...

SaintKerrigan Presents

Revenge,

Refuge,

-and the-

Real

____BS____

Confessions of a Superhero

a 13-player mini-theme

__FEATURING__

- flavor crafted by a veteran storyteller
- a bizarre setting for said flavor
- unique, exciting power roles
- and much, much more...

COMING SOON

- Accepting pre-ins now! -

[SaintKerrigan]

_^^^

When is this planned to take place?

As soon as I get to the top of the Mini-Theme Queue.

[SaintKerrigan]

Note: Revenge, Refuge, and the Real BS: Confessions of a Superhero is now full on pre-ins, but feel free to ask me to let you know when the game goes into signups.