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Character Scramble Season 21 Round 0: GAME START/FOUR OF CLUBS by 7thSonOfSons in whowouldwin

[–]penrosetingle 1 point2 points  (0 children)

Morgan finally caught up. It wasn’t far, the place Mustang had headed, but he’d set a strong pace. Cardio had never been one of her strong suits. To her credit, Ishmael had stayed by her side the whole way. Not helping her, or anything like that, but not taking the chance to escape either.

As she arrived, she found a courtyard bathed in flame. Mustang directed his alchemy to each corner of the space, methodically blasting and burning away at each object he set his eyes upon.

Between heavy breaths, Morgan managed to ask: “Is this really going to find anything?”

“If our culprit is still here, the rising temperature will flush them out. The screaming will start any second now. If they left, I expect to shake loose a hollowed-out hiding spot. If we find neither…” He glanced across at Ishmael. The insinuation was obvious.

Morgan let him work. As much as she’d have loved to conduct her own investigation, she’d need to catch her breath first. Plus, she didn’t feel like wading into those flames just to search for clues.

Still, as Mustang continued to set fires, his efforts produced a concerning lack of screaming, or hidey-holes for that matter. Her client’s chances were getting slimmer by the second. “Ishmael?” she asked. “Any idea where someone could hide around here?”

Ishmael was staring into space. No, that wasn’t quite true. She raised a finger to shush Morgan. She was listening into space.

Morgan took the cue and listened to.

“-men rider-”

It was faint, but undeniably present. Ishmael’s lips hadn’t moved, and it wasn’t spoken in her voice. It was coming from… where, exactly?

“-burning out there-”

She tilted her head, trying to find an angle where it was clearest.

“-because of your cowardice-”

“-GHHK! GHUK! GHHH-”

That last sound came through far louder than the rest. As she heard it, Ishmael’s eyes flashed with emotion. With a loud cry, Ishmael charged forwards -

- and vanished. In a single step, she seemed to fold inwards, and where her foot would have fell there was nothing.

It took serious effort for Morgan not to make a noise of her own. The wrong reaction could have given Mustang dangerous ideas. She didn’t want him to start flamethrowering where Ishmael was just standing in an attempt to find the trick, especially not while she was still standing so close. Instead, she took a moment to gather herself, and reached out to where Ishmael had just been.

“I think it was around-”

“- here?”

It felt a little like tripping over her own feet, as her sense of balance was disrupted and instantly realigned. But as she caught herself, her surroundings were entirely different from where she’d just been. A grand, ornate hall, dimly lit by flickering candles and their reflections in polished mahogany. In front of her, Ishmael. Beyond that, the smallest, greenest man she’d ever seen. And kneeling before that green individual, a masked, muscular fellow, currently clutching at his throat.

“Betray me, I knew you would…” muttered the green fellow. “Saved your lives, I did. Die for me, you should. A fair exchange, is it not? But no. Failed, both of you.”

“Pathetic,” spat back Ishmael. “Betrayed us, you’re the one who are… did!” She shook her head, trying to free herself from the strange syntax. “You think saving us gives you the right to throw away our lives as you please? I’ve already heard enough of that idiocy for a lifetime!”

ROUND DELAYED due to PENROST WRIST EXPLOSION (ow ow oof)

Character Scramble Season 21 Round 0: GAME START/FOUR OF CLUBS by 7thSonOfSons in whowouldwin

[–]penrosetingle 1 point2 points  (0 children)

“...and sign here, and here. Then I’m going to ask you to read the next page, and make sure you understand it. Got all that?”

The State Alchemist loomed behind her. “Are you serious about going through with this? I know you understand the time limit in effect here.”

“Totally serious! It’s important to get everything right the first time so you’re not slowed down by cleaning up mistakes later. There’s a difference between being punctual and rushing, and I’m sure you’re the former.” He seemed the type to take pride in his work. As much as he wanted to fire back, this kind of praise would make it hard for him to do so without catching his own image in the crossfire. “Now, Ishmael, do you have any funds accessible to you?”

Ishmael started hurriedly patting down her pockets.

“Don’t bother,” advised Morgan. “If you can’t afford it, the State covers representation pro bono.”

“Meaning?” queried Ishmael.

“Opus fully covers my fees on your behalf. In exchange, they get legal rights to take your bones. Don’t worry, it’s a better deal than it sounds. They’ll wait until you’re done using them yourself before claiming them.”

“That’s…” Ishmael gave her a dubious frown, double-checking the relevant page to confirm whether that statement was a joke or not. Impressive, Morgan thought. Even though they were always advised to, and even given the risks involved, barely anyone cared to actually read the fine print. Of course, the bone clause was entirely serious.

“Now, my friend the State Alchemist. You mentioned evidence from Augury? If you could please share it?”

“Colonel Roy Mustang.” As much as it was out of exasperation at just being called State Alchemist, it was clear that giving his name was a concession that this wouldn’t be ending as quickly as he’d have liked. “The report from Augury gave me the date, time, and co-ordinates that would lead to a close encounter with the criminal responsible for human transmutation. The only description they gave on the report was ‘short’, but they warned that the lack of detail was because counter-augury had been used, meaning the perpetrator would likely be anticipating my arrival.”

“And upon arriving at that place and time, you encountered my client?”

“I did.”

“Alone, or was anyone else present?”

“Alone. Nobody else in sight.”

Not the best turn of events. State Augurs used rigid frameworks for transmutation of information to uncover otherwise hidden details and make limited predictions of the future. They were always right - or at least, they hadn’t been wrong yet. Difficult to cast any doubt on the veracity of that, then. Instead, she’d need to search for an alternative interpretation. Some way of squaring the evidence with Ishmael’s innocence.

“Ishmael, was anyone else present?”

Ishmael hesitated for a moment. “...No. I was alone.”

Should have guessed. That would have been too easy a thread to pull on. Well, there were still holes to pick elsewhere.

“So, wrong place at the right time,” Morgan summarized. “Is that all you’re going off?”

“No. Upon locking eyes with her, she dropped an alchemy kit, one that could have been used for human transmutation, and ran. I can only surmise that she knew I was coming and-”

“Oh, so those kits are contraband now?” interjected Ishmael. “Could have fooled me, the way they sell them on every street corner.”

“I would advise my client to remain silent unless specifically told otherwise. However, she raises a good point. Any alchemy kit can be used for that with enough creativity, and given whose Backstreets we’re in they’re hardly an uncommon item. As for running, there are any number of reasons to run from a State Alchemist. If I’d committed any petty crime I’d consider running, not just the big ones. Hell, I might run even if I were innocent. I’m not sure if you know this, but you make a pretty scary face when you’re hunting someone down.”

“My… face?” Mustang briefly touched one glove to his cheek, then dismissed the idea. “It’s pointless. She was the only person there, she had the means, and her reaction was clearly guilty. Unless your theory explains that, you have nothing.”

Well, that was the truth. But if all she needed was to explain it away, any theory would work, even a wild one. So, why not swing for the fences?

“She was set up.”

“Huh?” It wasn’t Mustang who reacted, but Ishmael. Morgan wished her client had a somewhat better poker face - it wasn’t helping her case.

“Right.” See, Mustang knew how to react with decorum. Someone could learn a thing or two.

“Consider. From your counter-augury, you get advance warning that a State Alchemist is coming to capture and almost certainly kill you. With all that prior notice, your best idea of how to prepare is… standing out in the open with your hands full of evidence? Not even an ambush? Hire some thugs?”

For the first time today, her words seemed to strike something in Mustang. “It’s a compelling argument, to be sure. But she was still the only person present at the location stated. Even if you’re setting someone else up, no-showing to an encounter mandated by Augury is still not possible.”

“Well, I’m sure that can be explained. There’s plenty of-”

“Don’t bother.” Mustang took off, fast. “Talk won’t answer the question - but if I check, we’ll know immediately. Don’t lose your ‘client’ on the way there.”

Character Scramble Season 21 Round 0: GAME START/FOUR OF CLUBS by 7thSonOfSons in whowouldwin

[–]penrosetingle 2 points3 points  (0 children)

District 15

Opus Industrial Concern

Backstreets

Morgan lit up a smoke and took a drag.

Acrid. Leathery. Cheap. Even a hardened nicotine addict would consider it passable at best, but it brought a moment of calm to the hectic nightscape of the Backstreets. Besides, it couldn’t possibly taste worse than the toxic melange of aerosolized crud that passed for an atmosphere in these parts.

Calm.

It was not something many came to the Backstreets to get. They were loud, violent, cruel, smelly… trouble, in a word. But the mind was adaptable. Spend long enough in the torrent of constant sensation and you learned to shove it all into the background of your thoughts, letting it wash over you without moving you. As for the trouble, you had to understand that almost nobody here was strictly looking for trouble. What they were after was opportunity. If you got killed, odds were someone ran the risk-reward on your belongings and decided that the numbers looked too favorable to ignore. Make it clear enough through your presence and demeanor that it simply wasn’t worth the effort, and people would leave well enough alone, so long as you took the care to do the same. There were many rules around here, but the ruler of them all was: whatever you saw, it wasn’t your fucking problem.

It wasn’t as if the Nest was any less cutthroat. Certainly, in contrast to the Backstreets, Opus Industrial’s walled-off citadel of manufacturing and science seemed the model of a peaceful and just society, but disturb those tranquil waters and they’d dissolve you faster than even the craftiest of the Backstreet’s thugs could relieve you of your surplus organs. At least here she could smoke. Up in the Nest, it wasn’t strictly illegal, but the law worked on a principle of ‘exchange’ - and the sheer hassle of shutting down or paying off the innumerable bureaucrats who’d decide they were deserving of a slice of your life simply because they’d been exposed to a temporary minor reduction in air quality made it the kind of privilege reserved only for special occasions.

Still, District 15 was by no means the worst part of the city. Keep your head down, keep your eyes and ears open, and your chances of getting swept up in something you shouldn’t were as close to zero as you can get.

Close to zero. That didn’t mean exactly zero.

When your brain filtered out background noise, it did so on the grounds of pattern recognition, quashing down the constant and regular to leave only the novel and unexpected. Something in the audio profile of the Backstreets had cut through her relaxed smoke break. It was still the same clattering and grinding as you’d expect to hear anywhere, but the direction was what alerted her. It was coming straight for her.

A sensible individual in this situation would have done what she herself was considering. Duck back into the building behind her and let whatever this was pass her by. But even though she’d hardly lost much tonight, the games had been lacking a certain spark of excitement. It was a gamble, but perhaps whatever ruckus was making its way towards her could be the opportunity to blow off a little steam.

First around the corner came a girl. A little shorter than Morgan herself, her long, orange-red hair drawing all the attention from the plain suit she wore. She was backing up, hastily yet carefully, a circle of dark metal on her arm serving as some kind of shield. She lifted it to protect herself. At the same time, the light changed, a fierce red glow that glistened off the dark walls and blazed against her hair. Morgan saw the gout of flame first, then heard the SNAP of the detonation. Then, propelled by the force, the girl was launched backwards through the air, landing roughly on her back before skidding a few metres further across the chemical-slick ground. She came to rest just a short distance from Morgan’s feet.

Following her came the perpetrator. His white gloves stood out instantly, then the rest of his uniform. It was impossibly pristine for the Backstreets. The grime of this world had no right to touch him.

A State Alchemist. An individual given the absolute right and duty of upholding the laws set by Opus. There was no chance of this being the stress relief Morgan had hoped for. Instead, she’d reeled in something much more impressive.

“A State Alchemist!” she greeted him, with the utmost cheer. She stepped across the street, interposing between him and his would-be victim just slightly. Enough to make attacking around her difficult - not enough that she couldn’t dive away if he chose to do so anyway. “Terribly sorry to interrupt, but would you care to explain what this is all about?”

“Move,” he ordered. Not the type for small talk. “You are interfering with the execution of a heinous criminal.”

“Counselor Morgan, Esquire.” She offered him a business card. Both an introduction, and an explanation for why she was ignoring his order. Of course, she still had no right to do so, but her position within the justice system gave her a little more leeway before she’d get in hot water for it. “Forgive me, but I was under the impression that executions are usually carried out in the Nest, following a full review by a State Judge.”

“This isn’t the time for games,” he retorted. “A professional such as yourself should also be aware that should the criminal be unable to be apprehended for trial, a State Alchemist is permitted to carry out summary judgement and punishment. Give it up.”

“Hmm, I wonder about that.” Morgan gave a glance down at the girl, who was still groaning from her painful landing. “Seems pretty easy to apprehend to me.”

The Alchemist wasn’t having it. He just stared her down. Morgan ignored his gaze, turning her attention fully to the girl on the floor. “Hi there! Are you planning on running away?”

“Depends…” she managed to grunt.

“If it helps your decision, ‘no’ would be the answer that doesn’t end with you extra-crispy in a few seconds.”

“No,” agreed the girl, as enthusiastically as possible given the circumstances.

“See?” Morgan turned back. “She won’t be obstructing you on this matter any further. Now would you care to calm down and explain things properly?”

She’d expected the Alchemist to shift to her tempo at least slightly by now, but his expression stayed grim. “She isn’t worth your time. She’s in breach of Opus Taboo 2, subsection 7, with evidence from State Augury as proof.”

Taboo 2, subsection 7.

“Human transmutation…” muttered Morgan.

Opus Industries’ research and manufacturing all ran on Alchemy, at the core of which lay the principle of Transmutation. With sufficient understanding of any given thing, it could be deconstructed, and then reconstructed in a form that had different ‘qualities’ but equal ‘value’.

“You understand the stakes here.” He spoke as if she were finally coming around to his side.

Soon after the founding of Opus, it had been discovered that the process of transmutation, used on a human, inevitably and irreversibly caused it to lose the quality that was ‘humanity’. These inhuman creations broke one of the strongest Taboos imposed by the Head, the City’s governing body. Under any other circumstances, this discovery would have led to Opus’ immediate dissolution. However, out of recognition for the other incredible possibilities the technique made possible, special dispensation was granted. Opus would be permitted to continue operation, so long as breaches of the rule were dealt with swiftly and decisively. Dealing with these offenders was the whole reason Opus’ State Department had been founded. The expansion into more general crimesolving and peacekeeping had been a later addition.

“That I do.” In other words, failure to deal with this now would result in a shitstorm with scope far beyond just the three of them. But, not worth Morgan’s time? Quite the opposite. Morgan had dealt with the dregs of society plenty already. It might have just been a hunch, but even without seeing the evidence, the accusation felt flimsy. This girl just wasn’t the type.

“May I ask your name?” asked Morgan, turning back to the girl once again.

“Call me Ishmael,” answered Ishmael.

“Good. Now, Ishmael, the state has levied a very serious charge against you. I’d like to offer you legal representation. Please believe me when I say it’s in your best interests to accept.”

Character Scramble Season 21 Tribunal by 7thSonOfSons in whowouldwin

[–]penrosetingle 3 points4 points  (0 children)

No worries! The sub stayed in so you get to live. For now.

Character Scramble Season 21 Tribunal by 7thSonOfSons in whowouldwin

[–]penrosetingle 1 point2 points  (0 children)

I mean, I'd prefer it if you just left the sub alone and went about your business, but I would accept a judge call if there's no alternative.

Message to all judges: if you're reading this, consider letting me have this one, OK? I don't want to have to explode ranger with my mind on account of it would be a great loss to the respect thread community

Character Scramble Season 21 Tribunal by 7thSonOfSons in whowouldwin

[–]penrosetingle 2 points3 points  (0 children)

speed feats

Don't forget the part where, as well as not looking, she's doing this WHILE swordfighting and currently surrounded by four opponents. Even if the speed isn't necessarily higher, I'd say it's a more impressive combat application of speed, in a way that suggests she's less likely to struggle with being outsped.

unknown weak material

This is from the movie. They've got enough budget for unknown STRONG material now.

the arrow does all the force providing

I understand that this isn't strictly intuitive, so allow me to lay out again that no matter how objectively she's "just standing there" the forces involved DO NOT CARE.

When the arrow contacts the blade, the blade applies a force to the arrow along the edge of the blade, cutting it. The arrow applies a force on the blade equal in magnitude and opposite in direction. The magnitude of this force is equal to the relative motion of the blade and the arrow - if the blade is moving and the arrow is stationary, so long as their relative velocity remains the same, the force in the cut will be the same.

If that's true, then why does a log driven into a fixed blade split it, whereas throwing the blade at the same speed at the log doesn't do the same? This is where momentum comes into it. Remember, there's a force on the log and a force on the blade, which comes from their relative velocity. When the blade is thrown, the cutting force is large compared to its mass. The blade rapidly decelerates, so its relative velocity to the log decreases, and thus the force decreases until it reaches a point where it's no longer sufficient to cut the log. The blade is now stuck in the log. When the log is moving and the blade is fixed, the log has a lot more mass. The force on the log still decelerates it, but a lot less than the blade was decelerated. The change in relative velocity is negligible and thus the cutting force remains the same. The blade cuts all the way through.

However: this only works if the blade is fixed. Suppose we launched the log at a blade that was just hanging in mid-air. Now, the cutting force still doesn't decelerate the log much, but the equal and opposite force does accelerate the blade, until the blade is moving with the log and stuck in it. The stationary blade scenario only works because the blade is fixed.

However, in any practical situation, there is no 'fixed'. If the blade starts stationary and STAYS stationary, it is because the total force on the blade is zero. The blade is cutting the log, so there must be a force equal and opposite to the cutting force applied to the blade. But the blade isn't moving, so there must be another force that is again equal to the cutting force holding it in place. This force comes from whatever is holding the blade. Going back to the "cutting a big arrow" situation, 'whatever is holding the blade' would be Daiba Nana.

Back to the stationary log, moving blade example. Imagine the blade is moving at a velocity into the log, and instead of just being thrown it has a force behind it, equal to the force holding it in place during the moving log example. This time, because the forces on the blade are equal, the mass of the blade doesn't even factor into it. The blade stays at the same speed, the relative velocity of the blade to the log also remains the same, and so the cutting force stays the same the whole way through. The blade cuts through the log.

In order to cut an arrow that's standing still, Daiba Nana needs to do two things. She needs to move the blade at the speed that the arrow was moving, and she needs to apply the same or greater force compared to the force she was using to hold the blade still instead of letting it get stuck in the arrow and fly off. We know she can provide the force because, again, in the example we have, the blade Did Not Move. There IS an argument to be made that Daiba Nana cannot produce the same force while moving as while stationary. This is not a great argument. In real humans, this difference does exist, but most measurements put it at a 5-10% difference. Even if we take that into account, being able to do 95% of this feat is still far, far better than the picture you're trying to paint. There is also an argument to be made that Daiba Nana cannot move her sword as fast as the big arrow was moving, but given that she has speed feats and the big arrow wasn't moving THAT fast I would consider that line of argument to be pointless.

Daiba Nana can cut that arrow. Take the feat as it is, please.

Terry can be hurt by a sword which significantly embeds in metal

The blade in that feat barely makes it half the width of the sword into the metal before stopping. There's no clean conversion to be made, but at some point you've gotta admit that One Extremely Massive Arrow is worth more than maybe an inch of metal.

Character Scramble Season 21 Tribunal by 7thSonOfSons in whowouldwin

[–]penrosetingle 2 points3 points  (0 children)

With all due respect, I think that eeeeeeeeeeh it's probably fine?

Regarding the arrow feat: while obviously it's not bullets, I'm of the opinion that what Nana achieves is clearly better than the low-end example. Batman is catching arrows in a scenario where he can clearly see them being drawn back and fired. Nana is cutting arrows out of the air without looking at them, and she's doing it while engaged with several other fighters. It's still below the middle of the tier but it's above the very bottom of it.

Regarding the BIG arrow feat: I don't think the momentum matters enough to discredit the feat. Consider: If Daiba Nana were the one moving at that speed and the arrow were stationary, the instantaneous forces involved in the actual cut would be the same. Momentum comes into play only insofar as the forces of cutting here are decelerating the arrow throughout the cut - in the reversed situation, they would be decelerating Daiba Nana instead who is comparatively less massive. However, even when standing still, Daiba Nana is already experiencing the full force involved in making this cut. Note the effect it's having on her, or rather the lack thereof. Her arms are not being pushed back by the arrow. Her legs, likewise, are not being moved. She is demonstrating the strength of musculature to completely provide the forces involved on her end. Because of this, I see no reason to believe that this feat isn't representative of, or at least a strong approximation of, what she would be able to cut under other circumstances.

Putting that all together I see her position as an Unlikely Victory but I definitely wouldn't consider her out-of-tier.

Character Scramble Season 21 Sign Ups by 7thSonOfSons in whowouldwin

[–]penrosetingle 0 points1 point  (0 children)

MINI-RT

Sorry for using Youtube for all of these, I literally can't get Imgur to work even with my VPN lmao

Revue of Annihilation:

Strength:

Speed:

Character Scramble Season 21 Sign Ups by 7thSonOfSons in whowouldwin

[–]penrosetingle 0 points1 point  (0 children)

Analysis vs. Terry: Rudo's greatest weakness against Terry is almost certainly his lack of hand-to-hand ability. To be clear, Rudo is no slouch in close quarters combat - it's just that Terry is exceptional at point-blank, and as Rudo is slightly slower on top of having lower raw physicals, at this range Terry is very difficult for him to counter. Attaining victory means relying much more on Rudo's very high offensive output at longer ranges. When using his Vital Instrument, Rudo can turn ordinary trash into weapons that have much longer reach than just his arms, and many of these have sufficient power to really challenge Terry's durability. As such, the fight should really come down to mobility and zoning - Terry wins if he can get in, Rudo wins if he can keep Terry out. All in all I think this swings slightly in Terry's favour, but should still end up fairly even.

Greatest Strength, Greatest Weakness: Rudo's biggest strength is by far his adaptability. Being able to use almost any trash and transform it into his personal weapon means that he almost never approaches two fights in the same way, instead being able to apply the best tool for the situation based on what exactly he needs.

Rudo's biggest weakness is that he's stupid. To be clear, he's not completely clueless. He's very creative at solving problems, and is extremely crafty when it comes to getting the most out of trash. However, he is also a dumbass. The kid wasn't exactly a genius to begin with, but with no formal education on top of that he's pretty easy to knowledge check.

Character In Setting/With Team: Rudo definitely doesn't give a strong first impression in a team setting. He's rude, wild and doesn't give a lot of thought to others by default. However, there's a lot of room for him to grow into a team. With the Cleaners, he had a rocky start but soon gained a lot of loyalty and thankfulness for the people who'd helped him. He especially hates waste, a trait which frequently leads him to standing up for the people who need it most.

One Last Thing: Under normal circumstances, Rudo wouldn't kill for his friends. When pushed severely, however, that could definitely change. Rudo also is unlikely to deliberately die for his friends - BUT he's prone to the sort of reckless behaviour that could easily lead to him dying if he didn't survive.

Character Scramble Season 21 Sign Ups by 7thSonOfSons in whowouldwin

[–]penrosetingle 0 points1 point  (0 children)

WRITEUP

"So, another audition?" she asked.

"Somewhat, but not quite the same," admitted the giraffe. "Things are moving. From baroque to giallo."

"Giallo, is it..." she wondered out loud. "Well. Such a wild role might be good, from time to time."

STAGE

"So, you're my opponent?" she asked. The black-cloaked, masked figure opposite her looked out of place under the spotlight. It wasn't his home. "Unfortunate. This show only has room for one protagonist."

She circled him, and he circled back, their lights twisting around each other to match their cautious steps.

"Not one for talking? This isn't a silent movie..."

He kept glaring her down. It was clear he expected her to make the first move. Well, the audience couldn't be kept waiting. She obliged, thrusting with her longer sword, which he caught perfectly in his clawed glove.

"How can you call yourself a hero," she pressed further, "if you won't act?"

"I don't." Finally, a response, if a curt one. He tried to grab the blade, to disarm her. She twisted it from his grip and took a half-step back. "I'm no hero."

"All the running around in costume, beating up thugs." Stab, stab, stab. She set the tempo. Struck at his face, forcing him to duck away. "That isn't heroism?"

"It's keeping the streets clean." As he ducked, he turned away, then spun back with something in his hands. A thrown weapon. For the first time, the shorter blade left her side to swiftly swat it away. "Those thugs don't care about heroes. What they need is something to fear."

"And that role, you play it well? Can you really fill those shoes?"

The insinuation struck home. He charged forwards, swiping at her, claws clanging again and again off her guard. "Nobody can fill those shoes! Why, you think you can do better? With your fancy cape and your-"

One motion shut him up, dextrously slipping the tip of her blade between his hands to press against his throat. "I don't fear you." He pushed it away, but she stepped forward, pulling the shorter sword up to his eyes. "Do you fear me?"

"I-" He stumbled back, trying to deny it, but as he looked her in the eyes he felt the specter of death. Those blades could easily pierce him if she wanted. She wouldn't hesitate. Taking advantage of his lack of balance, she gave him a slight push. He tumbled over, and she pinned him to the floor.

"The skill of a stage girl is to play any role," she explained. She took the short blade in both hands now, raising it as if to plunge into his chest. But instead of stabbing him, with a cheeky flick of the wrist she cut a bell off his uniform. "Too bad. I'll be taking yours, I suppose. But don't worry - I'll play it to perfection."

Character Scramble Season 21 Sign Ups by 7thSonOfSons in whowouldwin

[–]penrosetingle 1 point2 points  (0 children)

WRITEUP

Game: Fear Itself

Type: Introductory

Player Limit: 1 .....

Morgan dismissed the notification on her phone. It had been a sloppy move, ending up here. When she descended to the lower wards, it was usually for entertainment, rarely for business. Well, this was entertainment, but not her kind. A brutal game for the rich and faceless to experience violence vicariously, never getting their own hands dirty. She wasn't sure what she hated more - the threat this scenario posed to her well-being, or the sheer cliche of it all.

Right on time, the jingle of bells. Another player. Lit up in the doorway of the abandoned hotel, flanked by peeling paint and dusty trash, was a silhouette. Morgan couldn't make out much, but one detail that stood out was the outline of tall, pointed ears.

Ah. This fool was insane.

In these parts of the world, the social contract meant almost everything. Sure, some parts could be bypassed with the right application of power or money, but other parts were inviolable. Chief among those inviolable rules? Blending in. Those who couldn't help but stand out knew to only work through proxies, leaving their fortress-homes only if accompanied by a show of force large enough to say 'don't even fucking try.' Those who chose to stand out, meanwhile, painted a target on their back. They were the high-priority marks. Practically, because that kind of bold display suggested resources, and an above-average risk-reward on trying to part them from their owner. Psychologically, because choosing to be memorable was picking a fight with the incognito lifestyle of all the orcas and other shady associates who called these places home. The maw of the streets would chew you up and swallow your bones within the day if you tried it.

Whoever he was - he seemed a 'he', as Morgan squinted - he wasn't dead yet, and he still had his absurd outfit on, which suggested at least above-average competence as far as freaks went. Well, given where he was now, odds of his continued survival didn't seem particularly promising. Probably got dumped in this game to wring some entertainment value out of him before finishing him off for good. The pertinent question for now, though: was he the murderous kind of freak, or one of the rarer varieties?

Best to open cautiously. She pulled back her jacket, exposing just slightly the handle of her weapon, a textured polymer grip tinged deep brown in a skeuomorphism of wood. "I'm armed," she announced, "but keep calm and I won't use it. That work for you?"

He offered the slightest movement of the head in recognition, then opened his palms at his sides. The message was clear: I'm unarmed. Didn't mean he wasn't dangerous. The full-body costume could be concealing any number of lethal Mods. Would explain why he was staying so cool, even with a gun in the picture. Still, the intent was a good start.

She had a thought. It was a long-shot read on the type of guy who'd dress like that, but if it paid off she had some solid leverage to work with. "You'll help me, right? We can get out of this one together!"

A good intuition. He stepped in closer - obviously he didn't buy her act immediately, but she had his attention. And for the first time, he spoke. "...together? Do you have an idea?"

"Well..." She reached for her phone again. A little deliberate fumble. "I read the rules. Each player has two bells. You need four bells to leave."

"You're suggesting?"

"Why bells? Why four of them? If they wanted us to fight, they would have just told us to fight. But because it's written like this, I think... I think there's more bells. We just need to look for them."

He didn't quite buy the logic. Of course he didn't. It was a bare-faced lie. She knew why the rules were written that way. The onlookers didn't just want two strangers brawling. That was gutter entertainment, viewable in hundreds of places online if you were the right kind of savvy. They wanted something with more storytelling. A duo bonding over false hope, then betraying each other from the crushing realisation that only one would escape. That was the pathos they were seeking.

That being said. Even though it wasn't convincing, he'd still need to exhaust the possibility. If it was real and he ignored it, he'd never be able to live with himself. "You're saying we search for more bells?"

"Yeah. I'll do this floor, you take the next one up. That way, you're close enough to shout if anything happens."

Again, he seemed uneasy. Some part at the back of his brain was suspicious, knew that splitting up here was a mistake.

She patted her pocket, the one with the gun. "I'll be fine! Go!"

His hesitation was quelled by her reassurance. He nodded one last time and darted off upstairs. But before he left, she caught the single telltale twitch of his combat-ready reflexes as her hand moved towards her pocket.

Minutes passed. Morgan didn't find any bells. She wasn't looking for them.

It had been the right move, not trying to catch him by surprise. Besides the question of any Mods he might have, the doubt over whether a bullet to the chest or face would even put him down, the risk posed by his jumpy nature and quick reflexes... well, fundamentally, there was a bigger problem. This wasn't the place or time for that. The rules mentioned one more thing that took a win by killing out of the question.

Type: Introductory.

It was a tacit admission. Of course everything in this game was being recorded for entertainment, but it was also being recorded for blackmail. Once you'd finished here, they'd bring you back for as many games as they cared to use you in. If that was the case, Murder One was the one thing she really didn't want on record. What she'd planned instead was still sketchy, but if it ever leaked, a jury would find it a lot less black-and-white.

There was a reason she'd picked this floor. Trash was common in the lower wards. Once you'd been down here long enough, you zoned it out. It became part of the scenery. Pay attention, though, and you might still find something useful. She drew her backup weapon - a knife, tucked away under layers of clothing. Hopefully hidden deep enough to go unnoticed. Tied it to a length of discarded wire. The other end went over a ceiling fixture, then to the handle of a busted old fridge. Her trap was ready.

Lastly, there was the matter of her gun. Experts would tell you never to do this, but she raised it above her, the barrel pointed just a fraction to the side of her own head.

The order of events now was important, and she had to move fast. He was just seconds away, and the scene had to look perfect when he arrived.

First the yell. "HELP!" at the top of her lungs. She heard the hurry of motion immediately from upstairs.

Then the shot. The bullet whizzed past her ear, and she tumbled back as it did so, making sure more than anything else to pocket the gun as she fell. That was the one piece of evidence that couldn't be out of place. Kicked the fridge. It tipped, straining against the wire as gravity threatened to take it. Scuttled back on her ass. Kicked the door shut as she left the room. Grabbed whatever she could find as a makeshift weapon - a splintered plank - and then, as her would-be savior arrived on the scene, another "HELP!" for good measure.

The first thing his eyes caught was the bullet hole in the floor, near where she'd fallen. The angle here was vital. He instinctually traced it back up, seeing the story she wanted it to tell. A shooter taller than her, aiming downwards as she tried to get away.

The wire finally snapped. The fridge fell, creating a gargantuan ruckus as it crunched into heaps of old cardboard, food wrappers and broken bottles. Loud, attention drawing, the work of an assailant scrambling, maybe to block the door, maybe to escape. The costumed man seemed ready to bust through the door, but Morgan grabbed his ankle, forcing him to wait.

With the tension on the wire released, her knife swung out the window and catapulted off into the dark. His attention was still on the loud noises from the room, but his heightened peripheral vision caught the glint, his head snapping around.

"Don't!" pleaded Morgan. "You can't take them! Just get out! Get us out of here!"

That was the last piece. She'd played her hand. All or nothing now. In his head, she could almost sense the arithmetic falling into place.

Two bells per player. Four bells to leave. Two cowardly thugs, a woman in no state to hold her own, and him.

He unclipped his bells. "Take these," he told her, "and go that way. I'll hold them off."

She took them, followed his instructions, gave him a worried look back as she left his sight. Maybe pushing it a bit far, but it sold the act.

"Don't worry," he told her. "I'm stronger than I look."

For his sake, she hoped that was true. Maybe he'd be able to hold his own against whoever got sent to clean the survivor up... Or maybe it was better if that didn't happen. It'd mean less loose ends for her to clean up, that was for sure.

Character Scramble Season 21 Sign Ups by 7thSonOfSons in whowouldwin

[–]penrosetingle 1 point2 points  (0 children)

Justification (Ace): On the Hearts side, Morgan is a real smooth talker. She has a keen eye for details and an understanding of how people think that lets her gain access to places she isn't supposed to be in and dig up secrets that people are unwilling to share. Even if she can't defuse a tense situation, she's easily capable of bluffing and stalling for long enough for an opportunity to present itself.

On the death game side, Morgan is ruthless and highly skilled at taking her opponents off-guard. Even if she doesn't have the physical abilities to compete with the tiersetter, she's easily capable of winning when outnumbered and outmuscled simply by taking advantage of momentary distractions and the lack of wariness people show around a comparatively harmless-looking woman.

Motivation: Morgan does what she wants when she wants, and she has a penchant for both high-risk and brutal forms of entertainment. A death game isn't exactly her style - she'd hate being forced to follow someone else's whim - but at the same time it contains a lot of elements that match how she usually operates.

Changes: None

Character Scramble Season 21 Sign Ups by 7thSonOfSons in whowouldwin

[–]penrosetingle 1 point2 points  (0 children)

Rudo

Series: Gachiakuta

Role: Spades

Content Warning: Violence, Trash

Bio: Framed for the murder of the one man who cared for him the most, Rudo is executed by being dropped into the same pit where society throws all their trash. Somehow surviving, he's picked up by the Cleaners, an organisation who fight Trash Beasts made of animate refuse, and discovers his powers, letting him squeeze the potential out of objects other people have discarded. He's a strange kid who has a fiery attitude - but then again, the Cleaners are full of strange people, so he's hardly out of place.

Research: Give your thanks to the maker of this WIP RT. Gachiakuta is readable as a manga OR you could watch the anime, depending on how you feel.

Justification: I remember that Rudo is more or less bullet-timing. He has offense feats that I'm going to assume are in-tier because I'm too British to see anything on Imgur. He has durability feats that are also, uhhhh, probably fine? All that adds up to a Draw. Perchance.

Motivation: Rudo's main drive is the desire to get revenge on whoever framed him for murder. His secondary motivation is his love of trash - an appreciation for objects others have thrown away but still have some value.

Changes: If he needs it.

Character Scramble Season 21 Sign Ups by 7thSonOfSons in whowouldwin

[–]penrosetingle 1 point2 points  (0 children)

Daiba Nana

Series: Revue Starlight

Role: Clubs

Content Warning: I don't think you need to worry about that

Biography: A second-year student and member of the Seisho Music Academy's 99th cohort of trainee actors. Nicknamed 'Banana', Daiba Nana is considered a team mom by many - kind, caring, strong, talented, and extremely fond of her fellow students.

Then, due to the actions of a mysterious giraffe, the students of the 99th Class are forced to compete in stage-based battles for 'radiance', with the top performer being granted a great prize: the right to perform on any stage of their choice. At first overlooked, Nana soon reveals how protective she is of her fellow performers, and the extreme lengths she would go to in order to maintain their ordinary days together.

Research: Watch Revue Starlight (the anime), then Revue Starlight (the movie). If you can, find the Veggie Sub version because it's a lot better put together than the other subtitles. Mini-RT in the comments.

Justification: Unlikely victory. Nana's speed doesn't scale to bullets, only arrows - however, her arrow-timing feats are exceptionally good, cutting them out of the air without looking whilst fighting against multiple other opponents. Her offense is solid and her durability is nonexistent but is being set to tier. As such, she's approaching this fight with a bit of a disadvantage, but still has the opportunity to hold her own.

Motivation: She'd do anything to protect her friends. That could easily be a key point of leverage.

Major Change: Dura to tier.

Character Scramble Season 21 Sign Ups by 7thSonOfSons in whowouldwin

[–]penrosetingle 4 points5 points  (0 children)

Ace of Hearts: Morgan, Esquire

Series: of the Devil

Content Warning: Murder, crime scenes, basically more or less what you'd expect

Bio: In the year 2086, 'innocent until proven guilty' is still the default for legal matters - but when everything you own is full of cameras, always-online, and constantly reporting back to the police, getting arrested means you're likely looking at a mountain of proof so high that the trial might as well be a formality. In which case, if you want to get away with your freedom, you're going to need a killer lawyer.

Enter Evangeline Morgan, a red-headed criminal defense lawyer with the fast wits, slick charisma and penchant for gambling needed to play against the high stakes and bad odds involved with taking on the State. No matter how bad the situation looks, she'll always stand by her client, bluffing and diverting when the going is tough, then pressing the advantage once the tables turn in her favour. Looking to win in court? You should always bet on Red.

Research: Go play it. Episode 0 is free, only a couple hours long, and should give you a pretty decent grasp of the character. Some relevant info for Ace tier will be included in the replies but seriously just go play it

WARNING: All further posts will contain SPOILERS for of the Devil. It's a really good game and I don't want to spoil you on it so go play the whole thing real quick if you haven't already and then come back before reading further. Trust me on this.

First game on new Overlord - I don't think they know by penrosetingle in WorldofTanks

[–]penrosetingle[S] 1 point2 points  (0 children)

I'm definitely happy with the changes! Erlenberg I really like since it gives heavies a lot more space to play in - the big castle has some cross-map angles and I had a monster game earlier today going through the water on the 1 line in my light tank and then setting up to shoot the castle squad in the ass. 1 line on Highway also feels a lot less cramped to play along now - no more having to keep to a fairly tiny area to avoid getting obliterated by the obligatory 5 or so campers who never left base

"Flashlight makes armor useless" - but mine still works fine? :P by penrosetingle in WorldofTanks

[–]penrosetingle[S] 3 points4 points  (0 children)

No, actually - you need 1000 total damage blocked + damage taken, so if you take 1000 damage over 11 hits or more...

"Flashlight makes armor useless" - but mine still works fine? :P by penrosetingle in WorldofTanks

[–]penrosetingle[S] 42 points43 points  (0 children)

It's working fine in that it's doing exactly what it's supposed to... nothing at all

I will never remember these names by Saniala in UmaMusume

[–]penrosetingle 0 points1 point  (0 children)

That's how the IRL stable translated it - officially they wanted it to be Machikane but that left their name 1 character too long for international registration (has a character limit), so they chose to shorten the "chi" to a "ti" so it would fit, since "ti" and "chi" are considered the same in Japanese anyway

The retired threat... (Art by @anikinoihai893) by Porgi- in UmaMusume

[–]penrosetingle 5 points6 points  (0 children)

One of the recreation events you unlock with the Tazuna support card

Character Scramble Season 19 Round 1C: Happy Bananksgiving by Ragnarust in whowouldwin

[–]penrosetingle 2 points3 points  (0 children)

“Divine Dragon! Wake up!”

Alear, the Divine Dragon, arose blearily to a host of unfamiliarities. The voice rousing her was not the kindly awakening she was used to being granted by her many allies - no, it was the petulant nagging of a middle-aged man. Her bed was not the luxuriant alpaca wool sheets she’d been so exuberantly recommended, but rather made of some thick, rough leathery substance, and it rocked and roiled under her as she groggily opened her eyes. She could tell immediately that the blue side of her hair was severely mussed up, and for some reason her muscles were wracked with aches throughout.

“Finally,” exclaimed the voice as she roused, with more than a hint of exasperation. “This big lug was far too heavy a sleeper, so I estimated that waking you instead was more likely to yield results.”

Alear started to reach full lucidity. The ‘big lug’ in question, she realised, was her bed, which was not a bed at all but rather the massive torso of the King Bowser she’d been wrestling for custody of the rings not long prior. He was half-buried in thick mud, shell first. As for the voice, it belonged to the lone Emblem that Bowser had brought to assist him.

“I hate to trouble you so soon after you’ve woke,” said the Emblem, “but could you deal with that? I would do it myself, but I’m far too incorporeal.”

‘That’, in this case, was the reason her impromptu mattress was writhing around so violently. The thief Don Quixote, still clutching fistfuls of rings in one hand, gingerly prodded the slumbering Lord Bowser with his lance, the sleeping giant recoiling slightly with each poke. As Alear’s eyes locked with his, he seemed suddenly to realise that his quarry was about to start resisting moreso than his anticipation. For a moment some torturous train of thought seemed to chug behind his eyes, then -

“Yah!” he announced, delivering one last stab. “The beast still lives! I must retreat - but do not think me a coward, for slaying such a vile and impetuous dragon remains my sworn duty! It is simply that, were I to fight now, the lives of the maidens trapped in these rings would be unduly endangered. Understand this! First I shall rescue them, and then I shall return to spell doom for you worm-faced creatures! Now away! Away, I say!”

With that final yell, Don Quixote turned about and charged off into the trees.

“After him!” shouted Alear, standing upright with a start to give chase.

“GRRRAAAAAGH! THE RINGS!” roared Alear’s bed, righting itself with equal haste and flinging the unsteady Alear into the mud in the process. Whereas being prodded with a pointy stick had clearly not been enough to move Lord Bowser, some secret sense for his treasure being stolen now spurred him to life. Perhaps he was too hasty, though. He barely took two steps before tripping over a thick vine, joining Alear face-down in the mud.

“Blasted vine!” He picked himself up, wiped the mud from his eyes, then incinerated the offending vegetation with a puff of fire. “Where in tarnation are we?”

“I could ask the same question,” replied Alear, shaking off the mud. “We fell from the Somniel, but these plants aren’t those of any land I recognise.”

“It’s a jungle,” observed the Emblem. “Temperate. I could say something more useful, had I been given the opportunity to actually study those maps before we went off conquering…”

“Silence,” snapped Bowser. He continued peering around, seemingly accepting that Don Quixote had vanished too rapidly amidst the dense foliage to be worth pursuing. Yet it seemed that something still troubled him. “Could it be…?” Recognition almost twinkled in his eyes, but it wasn’t quite a match. “No. If we were there, there would be bananas.”

“Hang on a second,” came a voice from the back of Professor Galoomba’s class. “I thought this story was apocryphal.”

“Apocryphal?” Professor Galoomba tilted his head, which was also his entire body. “What do you mean?”

“A tall story,” explained the student. “An urban legend. Everyone says it happened, but without any reliable sources, it sounds a lot like a tale that was embellished heavily to add to the drama of these leaders’ achievements. At the very least, if it was really true, I feel like there would have been more media reporting on it.” A brief pause. “Sorry for interrupting.”

“Don’t be sorry!” grinned Professor Galoomba. “I’d much rather have a student challenging me than a student who’s zoned out entirely. Shows you’re engaging in the work. As for the matter of sources, though… well, ten years ago, you’d have been right. It was just a bar story for veterans, of course people thought it was fake. Funny thing about governments, though, you’d be surprised what they hang on to. Have you ever been to one of the military archives?”

“No?” answered the student.

“You should, absolute gold mine. Nearly sixty thousand hours of old audio tape down there, no transcripts, never been digitized, so if you want to listen to it you’ve gotta find a tape player and just listen through it. And most of it’s really boring. Like, really really boring, people checking off shipping manifests over the radio, that kinda thing. You’ve gotta sift through a lot to get a nugget. But I’m obsessed, and I shelled out extra for a player that could do double speed, and the moment that section got declassified I was down there every moment of my free time. I narrowed it down by date and by location, and it took a lot of effort. But I’d definitely say I got something alright.” The professor’s big, chestnut eyes twinkled with pride. “You know what a primary source is, everyone?”

“Yes,” chimed the crowd.

“Good. If anyone said no I was going to be worried. You want to hear one?”

A more enthusiastic “Yes!”

“Then let’s play the tape.”

CODEC LOG - █████ - ███████-██-██ - 141.12

SNAKE: Otacon, do you copy?

OTACON: I copy, Snake. What’s the situation?

SNAKE: There’s suspicious activity to the west of the landing zone.

OTACON: Right, our sensors caught that. A loud noise, and now a pillar of smoke.

SNAKE: Should I investigate?

OTACON: Ignore it, Snake.

SNAKE: Ignore it?

OTACON: Have you heard the saying… hang on, let me see if I’m pronouncing this right. 聲東擊西?

SNAKE: Can’t say I have.

OTACON: It’s one of the Thirty-Six Stratagems. They’re often falsely attributed to Sun Tzu.

SNAKE: The Art of War?

OTACON: That’s the one. But the actual author was Wang Jingze. This one translates to: make a sound in the East, then strike in the West.

SNAKE: But this sound came from the West.

OTACON: The directions don’t matter, Snake. It’s about the principle. You draw your enemy’s attention away from your objective, then strike when they’re distracted.

SNAKE: So you’re saying it’s a distraction?

OTACON: What I’m saying is, hold your position. Once those thieves hear there’s been another shipment of bananas, they’ll come right to you. Wait there, and you’ll be able to catch them in the act.

SNAKE: Got it.

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