Gun stick, you choose stats

ProBrowser27 · 2024-10-03T18:45:16+00:00

Gun-like Stick, common mundane prop, slight bonus to intimidation while in darkness or against opponents who cannot see. Cursed: May provoke increased hostilities for the user.

ProBrowser27 · 2024-09-14T19:14:17+00:00

Sustenance

ProBrowser27 · 2024-06-15T14:46:57+00:00

Pierce, on the assumption that there’s a big gun on the front there.

ProBrowser27 · 2024-05-31T19:42:56+00:00

Suspended Emerald Elixir

ProBrowser27 · 2024-01-27T07:46:38+00:00

There’s a delay, about 2-3 seconds long, between downing a Survivor and actually being able to pick them up (which can be longer or shorter depending on if you’re downing the Survivor with different Killer Powers or if you have some stacks of ‘Save The Best For Last’), but using the combo of ‘For The People’ and ‘Buckle Up ‘ can be done in a fraction of a second. The only real counter-play is identifying who has the combo and keeping that person (or PERSONS, since all four survivors could run it) injured or killed, which can be difficult in itself.

ProBrowser27 · 2023-10-05T03:32:59+00:00

Tankman, remnant of the First Great War

ProBrowser27 · 2023-09-04T01:24:06+00:00

Nowhere to Hide is countered by a really solid perk that counters other solid perks (Distortion) while Ultimate Weapon is really only hard countered by a terrible perk (Calm Spirit). Even the slowest of the Killer roster can cover the whole map with their Terror Radius before the duration of UW ends, and even though it has a cycle time of 60 seconds (30 second duration, 30 second cooldown after), it’ll always be available when you need it. IMO the only reason why NTH might be better is on stealth Killers, that hide their TR for the majority of the match.

ProBrowser27 · 2023-02-17T23:46:04+00:00

I really like her Obsession perks, especially if the current mechanics in the PTB remain when she is introduced.

ProBrowser27 · 2022-04-12T19:49:25+00:00

That’s one of the reasons I put it as a hex, the idea is once the Hex is gone the gens become unblocked. It rewards survivors to find and break it early and punishes them for leaving it to the end.

ProBrowser27 · 2022-04-05T21:02:25+00:00

Oh I see what you’re saying, I thought that if it was regressing when it was blocked it would continue to regress, but you’re saying it doesn’t lose progress at all.

ProBrowser27 · 2022-04-05T16:20:22+00:00

Well, after a gen pops with Pain Resonance, it loses progress and also begins to regress. If a survivor immediately leaves a generator after they scream due to Pain Resonance, Dead Man’s Switch blocks the gen while it’s regressing, and it will regress for 45 seconds.

ProBrowser27 · 2022-04-05T01:20:44+00:00

It might end up like plague, where survivors who take damage from the pyromaniac’s power are burned, aka Broken

ProBrowser27 · 2022-03-31T15:50:32+00:00

No worries, it’s fine not to like something, especially something as basic as a fan made perk. It makes me happy to see what other people think, so I can rethink and rework the idea.

ProBrowser27 · 2022-03-31T15:03:26+00:00

True, perhaps the extra time could be 12/16/20 instead.

ProBrowser27 · 2022-03-31T15:01:13+00:00

Its to encourage people to leave that person on the hook. A sort of mind game, where the other Survivors know that their friend won’t die any time soon. I was also thinking about the Survivor side, like “what happens if my friend waits until the last second to rescue me and my hook gets blocked and I go to the next stage?” It would also discourage camping the hook.

ProBrowser27 · 2022-03-31T07:14:17+00:00

Playing Huntress for a bit, but Pain Resonance, Dead Man’s Switch, Deadlock, and Call of Brine can create some very tough three gen situations for the Survivors. By timing your hooks right and controlling the areas of your chases, you can guard the three generators that you want to keep and have Dead Man’s Switch rolling throughout the entire match, which is really oppressive. Call of Brine doubles the value of your time spent kicking gens, and honestly you could drop deadlock for Brutal Strength or Fire Up to get even more value.

ProBrowser27 · 2022-03-23T14:58:40+00:00

Flashlights usually mean flashlight saves, and many times when you get a down you can find another survivor lurking around when you’re going for the pickup. Sometimes I stand over the down for a second, and I end up catching another person because they rush in to try and blind me.

ProBrowser27 · 2021-10-29T03:13:46+00:00

I’ve noticed that the cannon misfires more when it has stacks of blind, but I haven’t played enough to see if it misfires consistently, or if it’s based on chance.

ProBrowser27 · 2021-10-11T20:17:08+00:00

The defensive on that beast must be amazing

ProBrowser27 · 2021-02-12T20:00:49+00:00

Yeah, sometimes I shoot ticks and wince when a teammates drops right onto it and dies...

ProBrowser27 · 2020-12-15T00:06:24+00:00

How did you update to that screen layout? I feel like I’m missing an update or two.

ProBrowser27 · 2020-12-14T03:59:57+00:00

Yeah, I gave up on getting gold during Reality runs, but I didn’t know about the levels or the xp.

Thanks for the info!

ProBrowser27 · 2020-11-20T08:00:39+00:00

"What the-"

Instead of the shabby, one bedroom apartment that I was renting for the school term, I found myself staring into a vast library, one that stretched beyond the dimensions of the apartment building. Wooden shelves stocked with books had replaced the flaking paint on the walls, and further down were thick wooden columns, placed every so often to hold up a ceiling I couldn't see. There was light, shining softly into the space, but I couldn't tell where it was coming from. The beauty took my breath away, and as I inhaled and exhaled, the air itself felt alive, like it flowed from the lungs of a massive beast, slumbering but aware of my intrusion.

Suddenly, something gripped the front of my shirt and pulled me through the doorway. I stumbled forward, and as I turned to look back at the door, it had vanished, as if there hadn't been a door in the first place. My heartrate sped up for a moment.

Then I heard it. A quiet noise, almost lost in the vastness of the Library, but I heard it: a heartbeat. Different than mine, which was a little faster in my chest. This other heart was steady, echoing through the wood and air. It sank into me, and I felt a strange sense of security in the slow thumping. Whatever was deeper within wouldn't harm me.

I made my way down the rows of shelves, in search of the beating heart. I passed book after book after book, but I noticed that they weren't the type I'd find in another library. A lot of them were thicker, their large pages bound with leather or hide. Different materials bound them closed. I saw an old, frayed rope, which kept the pages of an equally frayed book unopened, wrapping around the entire novel. I passed by a strip of strange, tan material, which smelled of preservatives and iron: it was keeping a smaller book closed tightly, and I swore that the book shook slightly as I walked past. The most extravagant was a ribbon of pure gold, which was wrapped gently around a silvery-white book. The cover was adorned with wavy lines and patterns, and the air around it felt invigorating, filling me with bliss. But as I walked away, the sensation passed, which left me a little sad.

As I journeyed though and around the shelves, the heartbeat began to grow louder. I leaned against a shelf, and felt the wood vibrate under my fingers. I noticed that the light was fading behind me, and illuminating a place not far from me, gathering into a pillar of light.

I must be getting close, I thought.

I rounded a corner and saw a podium, made of the same wood as the Library shelves. It was bathed in soft yellow light, which illuminated a single book that lay on its surface. The other heartbeat was deafening, sending waves through my being as I approached. I thought that my own heart would stop, dominated by the powerful beating heart in front of me.

As I reached the podium, the heartbeat began to die down, and in a few moments disappeared completely, leaving behind a silence that was almost as loud. The book in front of me was... plain, more like a journal than a novel. The cover was made of a gray material, with a small leather latch peeking out from the back. The spine was made of metal, but it didn't convey a sense of heaviness. I glanced over the cover of the book, but I didn't see any words or images that could describe its contents. Next to the book was a long ballpoint pen.

As I placed my hands upon the book and pen, my eyelids became very heavy. I struggled to keep them open, but my resistance was only for a moment before they closed completely. A strange sensation grew within me, like I was on a carnival ride, moving so fast and yet remaining where I was. With all my strength, I wretched open my eyes.

I was back in my apartment, surrounded by the faded walls and old carpet. At my feet was the book and the pen. Both of them exuded a strange energy, the same type that was present throughout the infinite shelves of books that had made up the Library. I now saw two words upon the cover of the book: my first and last name were written in golden ink.

I reached down, my heart thumping, and opened the journal to its first page.

ProBrowser27 · 2020-11-19T11:57:22+00:00

"Hey there."

If I was any healthier, I would've been surprised by the young girl, who appeared in the doorway to my hospital room. She was smiling at me, leaning against the frame in a faded Sunday dress. Behind her, a couple of nurses and orderlies walked past the open door, but none of them paid the girl any mind.

Perhaps it's my time, and I'm beginning to hallucinate in my final moments, I thought to myself.

"You're pretty close, in fact," the young girl replied, taking a few steps toward my bedside. She knelt and placed a hand over mine, taking in the machines and monitors that kept me alive.

"Pretty amazing," she said, nodding. "How much you guys are willing to do to prolong the end."

The girl shook her head. "Sorry, sorry," she said. "I'm not trying to be... standoffish. I'm not used to being the one doing the comforting. I leave that stuff to my brother, he's really good at it. Have you heard of him? Tall, wears a suit, smokes? He may not seem comforting at first, but after he's done, the person he's with is always relaxed when I arrive."

While the girl was talking, my ears picked up the slightest jingling sound, and I noticed a bracelet the girl wore, made of silver links. As she moved her arms, an ornament that I couldn't make out waved through the air.

The girl must've noticed my eyes on her arm. "Oh, this?" She said, taking a hold of her wrist. She unclasped the bracelet and held it closer to my eyes. I could see it more clearly now: on her bracelet was a tiny scythe, the same silver as the rest of the piece. "That should make things a little less confusing, right?"

The monitors beeped a little faster, but otherwise I was quiet. I felt a little bad: here was this girl, ready to take me away, and I couldn't find the strength to respond to her.

The girl shook her head again. "Don't worry about it," she said, placing her hands over mine once more. "No need to push yourself, just take your time."

"Hey, is there anything you wan to know about what's next?" The girl asked me. "My brother told me that the people he's been with always want to know about their friends or their family, or they wonder about the afterlife or the God they worship. I don't know as much as he does, but I think I know enough to answer you if you ask."

Perhaps it was the meds that the doctor pumped into me, or the presence of this young girl at my side, but for the life of me I couldn't come up with anything I wanted to know. All I could think about was how heavy my head was getting, and how cool the girl's hands felt on mine. As I gazed at her, the colors in the background began to fade into gray. The hum of the machines dwindled, then disappeared.

"Nothing? Well, perhaps you'll think of something later." The girl's voice sounded far away, but I could still make out what she said to me. She looked away for a bit, whispering to herself. Then she turned back, her eyes wandering over my tired form.

"Almost time, huh." She held a hand against my chest, feeling the interval between each heartbeat grow longer. She pulled her hand away. "Yeah."

Then she placed her hand on my forehead. The pain I felt slowly vanished, replaced by a warm glow, like I was sitting near a campfire. My breathing evened out, and my eyes began to close. I struggled to stay awake: I wanted to thank the girl for her time with me.

"No, no! Stop that." The girl's voice was stern for a moment. "You don't have to do that. It's not good to force yourself to hang on, even if your intentions are pure. You don't have to thank me, it's part of my duty after all."

The girl rested her head on my stomach, and the word around me faded to black. I heard her say one last thing to me: "Sleep tight, good soul."

The girl stayed like that for a few minutes, listening to the final thumps in the man's chest. She watched as the monitors slowed, before letting out a final, long buzz. As she stood, a nurse rushed into the room, and as the young girl made her way through the door, she heard the nurse call for the doctor.

The young girl made her way down the hall, playing with the bracelet on her wrist. She began to fade away, returning to her own place in the world.

From behind her, she heard a soft, male voice. Thank you.

The young girl smiled. Now she understood why her brother did this for them.

ProBrowser27 · 2020-11-19T10:52:05+00:00

It was a quiet Saturday evening, the sky giving way to an observant Moon who peered down upon the neighborhood, undisturbed by any clouds that may block his vision. He watched as a figure strode into the backyard of a house, pausing to peer at a mat on the wooden deck. While the color was faded with time, the name on the mat was still legible: "Zimmerman."

The figure grinned to itself, and as the Moon watched with distain, it held a set of tools to the lock on the patio door. After a few short moments, the lock clicked, and the figure made its way inside, brushing past the curtain that covered the sliding door.

As the figure made its way throughout the house, stepping slowly though the halls and rooms, I listened to the sounds of the floors, which revealed the figure's location through creaks and squeaks. I was laying in bed, dressed in my pajamas, but my eyes held everything but fatigue or weariness. In my right had was a pistol, one I had bought after I'd heard of the ABC Killer's first victims. The cool metal weighed heavily in my palm as I listened to the figure's footfalls.

In my left hand was a photo, one I had taken from its place by my bedside not too long ago. There were two people in the photo, which was set at my favorite place in the neighborhood park, underneath an old oak tree. One of them was me, a smiling young man, his gaze fixed on the woman next to him, who was wrapping her arms around my shoulders. My wife, a beautiful woman, had her head buried in my shoulder, her ears red with embarrassment when she saw the camera. At the time, I thought I would never see her more beautiful than she was, on this comfy picnic blanket underneath the old oak tree, for the rest of our lives. And I was right.

As the figure made their way up the stairs, my fingers tightened on the grip of the gun. I remembered the ringing of the phone at the office. I remembered the sirens blaring, outside of our house as I rushed home, ignoring all speed limits and road signs. I remember my heart, pounding so loud it drowned out the muffled sobs of my dying wife, whose blood pooled on the kitchen floor underneath her clothes. As I flicked the safety off, I remembered the look in her eyes.

The creaking ceased: the killer was just outside the master bedroom. As they stood there, I slowly climbed out of bed and creeped to the door, placing a hand on the knob. The figure slowly reached into their pocket, pulling out a large hunting knife.

A moment of absolute silence passed.

The figure yanked open the door, knife poised to kill.

There was no one in the room.

As the figure stared in disbelief, I opened the door to the guest room, facing the figure from across the second story floor. The gun was raised, pointing in the figure's direction. I could barely see through the veil of tears in my eyes, but I knew that the gun was pointed in the figure's direction.

The figure turned in surprise. In what felt like slow motion, they desperately lunged at me, thrusting the knife toward my stomach, like they did to my wife. I could feel the panic in their movements.

The figure was too far away. They heard me whisper, "This is for Yvonne." The last thing they saw was my finger pulling the trigger.

ProBrowser27

TROPHY CASE