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 Posted: Tue Jul 10, 2012 8:59 am
Good balance with the new Constitution so you should be good to go.
Give us FIGHTS~
And isn't explosions and gameplay what videogames are all about?
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Posted: Tue Jul 10, 2012 9:20 am
Holy sh1t, looking at those stats, I am going to try my very d@mn best not to let her anywhere near him XD Jegus. This is going to be hilarious. I'll submit a test run some time today.
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Posted: Tue Jul 10, 2012 10:59 am
((Oh goodness. Here we go.))
Willam walked into the arena idly juggling two of his pokéballs in one hand. The other hand went through his greasy hair to get it out of his eyes - a little repulsively, it remained half-standing up in the air from not having been recently washed. His brown jacket hung loosely around him and sort of billowed in his wake, which probably would have looked more heroic if it weren't for the tired, bored, and vaguely irritated look to his eyes. They simmered when he saw his opponent. Really? While the announcer's voice boomed his introduction, he sat down with a snort in the dirt and took out his other two pokéballs, starting to juggle all four.
Fiona skipped in from her door and gave a little, surprised jump when it slid shut behind her. She frowned down at the dust that puffed up and shook her pretty skirts, trying to get it off. She immediately hated her opponent, and puffed up her cheeks in indignation. This rat? Well. Shouldn't be too much of a problem. As soon as the announcer finished her introduction, she yelled, "Hey, street rat! Ready to lose?" and charged straight at him, hoping to close as much distance as possible.
The girl had to be hiding something. In an effort to end the battle quickly, Willam whipped one ball forward and muttered, "Blow her sky-high." A scintillating red light coalesced into what looked like a scowling, larger pokéball that levitated through the air towards Fiona as its container bounced back to Willam. As soon as it was within twenty feet, it began crackling with electricity, and by the time it reached the girl, it detonated with a concussive blast, shrouding the area in dust. When it cleared, the little girl stood there fuming, the remains of a shield made of ice falling to the ground and a smear of dirt along her backside where she had landed. She seemed unharmed except for her ego, and with a furious yell, stood up and extended her arm towards Willam, unleashing a bright blue beam of light.
Wide-eyed, Willam had barely enough time to catch his pokéballs and launch himself to the side. The ray followed him at her whim, though, and he watched his clothing start to freeze before he unleashed what looked for all the world like a giant ferret. It took the blow, able to withstand the elemental energy for a few seconds while the boy tossed another ball her direction. Before Fiona could redirect her attack, a foot-tall wasp with drills for front legs was hovering over her and released a salvo of darts from its rear stinger and those legs. The girl just grit her teeth and bent her head towards the projectiles, which did little more than pierce the skin and bounce off.
With a triumphant smile, she threw her hand towards the hovering insect, hurling a hail of hoary spikes of her own at the bug. It squealed raucously and retreated, wounded, while the ferret darted forward at the girl's legs with superhuman speed at a gesture from its owner. The first pass took her legs out from under her and made her yelp, but when the sentret sped back in for another go, she breathed out a cloud of icy vapors towards it and slammed the palm of one hand into the ground, launching herself in the air for a better vantage point. While there, she and the wasp traded blows, her kicking at it while it dodged and stabbed, opening wounds on her sides and legs and making her whimper until she managed to pummel it with her foot, sending the thing hurtling into a wall to fall, limp and defeated. She landed with a giddy shriek and gave the frozen ferret a similar treatment while Willam's eyes bugged out in baffled rage and he grunted, "Impossible! You little brat!"
Fiona cackled, merrily clutching her red-stained belly, then stumbled. She suddenly felt dizzy, and looked down at all the tiny puncture wounds she had been given. They were staining her beautiful dress! About that time, the prickling nicks she felt in her head from earlier in combat began to pulse in waves. She had been poisoned! With a surge of will, she clenched her teeth and forced her body to cool down from the feverish state she was entering, and once again launched herself in the air towards Willam, bringing her hand to bear to aim her freezing ray at him again. He whipped two knives from out of his cloak at her, but as before, she just deflected them with her impossibly thick skull. With a third quick motion, he summoned a grinning chimpanzee that had an extra hand for a tail behind her and turned his back, already feeling the chill seeping into his bones. If his last creature couldn't deal with her, he knew he was finished, and didn't want to see the look on her face when it happened.
With a resounding smack, Fiona face-planted into the dust beside Willam, having been slapped in the back by the monkey. His body was too numb to move quickly, so he fumbled his dagger and dropped it when he went for it, but the aipom had gotten its tail-paw wrapped around Fiona's throat and chin, ready to snap her neck if necessary. "Y-y-yield," Willam stammered, trying to warm himself back up, his ears already burning from how frightened he was of the child. "Y-yield, b-b-brat."
She struggled, but she was weak from the poison and the chimp had the upper hand. It strained her chin threateningly. Sniffling and looking ready to bawl, she spat, "Fine. You win. Meanie!" With a sigh, Willam slumped down into a seated position and, while the announcer declared his victory, began recalling his pokémon while he fought off shivers. Stupid kid.
((I don't know if you wanted any limits on the combat; I kinda went with just displaying most of the respective characters' techniques. This kinda what you were looking for? Also, having had a chance to write this out now, I think I need to switch out my sentret for a gloom. Just sayin'.))
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Posted: Tue Jul 10, 2012 6:36 pm
I can discuss here right? So from a brief overview, I'm confused on one aspect. Who writes battle outcomes? And how are you basing win/lose?
On the idea of characters, I have a few ideas. Totally want to make an electric character just because of that Infamous reference. Nice job Water! wink
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Posted: Tue Jul 10, 2012 6:44 pm
DragnGuy7 I can discuss here right? So from a brief overview, I'm confused on one aspect. Who writes battle outcomes? And how are you basing win/lose? On the idea of characters, I have a few ideas. Totally want to make an electric character just because of that Infamous reference. Nice job Water! wink Both players create a scenario from the character stats wherein their own character wins. The judges will vote and the winner's post becomes reality, moving them into the next round.
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Posted: Tue Jul 10, 2012 7:47 pm
Nice job for inspiring Infamous on you guys? Heh, okay.
I think a fancier term for 'becomes reality' could be 'becomes canon'?
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Posted: Tue Jul 10, 2012 8:08 pm
Lol the other person's story isn't canon, so that means its filler rofl
Hell yeah! Though I might make a rather interesting mix for my electric character. Infamous will be one for sure, but got some other series I could use too.
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Posted: Tue Jul 10, 2012 8:11 pm
Watervoir Nice job for inspiring Infamous on you guys? Heh, okay. I think a fancier term for 'becomes reality' could be 'becomes canon'? They both work, but I like to think that both events actually occur and the gods, via their godliness, only let one writing persist in the True Universe and smite the other- because that's what moody, bored, omnipowerful beings do.
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Posted: Tue Jul 10, 2012 8:47 pm
Character Name: Carpenter
How often can you check/post to the event?: No idea. Hopefully often
Looks: Carpenter, for lack of a better description, appears to be stitched together from many different skins of many different hues and textures of green, brown, gray, and black, a few patches seem to be decaying.
There are a series of short, nail-like extensions on the top of his head and his eyes are a deep gray radiate inner-peace. He has no visible mouth; the spot where it should be is covered by a single, olive green piece of flesh. His fingernails are pitch-black and extend to about an inch from his fingertips and end in a dangerous point
He wears brown leather straps with large buckles on his arms, legs, and a thin, black vest on his chest. On his feet he wears leather boots. His hands are wrapped with a pair of ragged, worn-out, olive green hand wraps that flow down his arms and a similar, torn scarf that wraps around his neck and trails behind him.
He also wears a thick, heavy-looking, stainless-steel chain belt that wraps around his waist and shoulders. The buckle is a realistically colored steel skull with no lower jaw and four steel points behind it in an “X” pattern.
Personality: When Carpenter speaks, his voice seems to come from all directions at once and his voice is young and smooth, his tone deep, but not too deep. He also tends to mock whoever is talking to and seems to like calling them "kid". Though he seems to talk with a cocky attitude, it's obvious that he knows what he is talking about.
He's not a fan of fire.
Brief bio/introduction: Hailing from the land of Empyrea, Carpenter is the oldest of a group of fighters called the Workmen! Heh, makes me wonder what the other members of the Workmen are called. Mason? Smith? Hunter? Ha! Oh, what's that? Those really are members of the Workmen? There's even a guy named Mick Anick? You mean like "mechanic"? Well then... -ahem- Let's hear it for Carpenter, everybody!
Fighting Style: Carpenter fights with impressive speed, stringing together rapid punches and the occasional kick aimed for a vulnerable point or pressure point, designed to more stun than damage, giving him an opening for a heavier, much more solid strike or a tackle while staying light on his feet and moving rapidly while evading or countering incoming attacks. He has proven to be able to shake off even massive amounts of abuse (such as being slammed into and breaking a stone wall) with relative ease.
When an appropriate opening shows, Carpenter can deliver a devastating strike at the cost of his attacking limb, as the limb itself tends to be destroyed in the process of the attack.
Basic stats ((point pool of 75, 20 point cap))
Strength: 16
Dexterity: 17
Constitution: 16
Intelligence: 10
Wisdom: 10
Charisma: 6 - He's kinda ugly, but has some charm.
Extended stats
((point pool of 30, 5 point cap))
Armed Combat
Chained Belt - 3
Unarmed Combat
Grappling – 2
Punches – 5
Kicks – 5
Dodging – 5
Acrobatics - 1
Disarming - 1
Magic
Remarkable Speed – 5
Technically Dead - 3
*
This is just a rough draft. I decided to use a nerfed version of Carpenter for this. I have no idea if his speed needs to be put into magic or even allotted points, so I just threw in some points. I ran into the same problem with his non-living status. You can tell me whether or not I can put those points into something else.
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Posted: Tue Jul 10, 2012 8:55 pm
DragnGuy7 Lol the other person's story isn't canon, so that means its filler rofl The other person's is AU! Alternate Universe! Who says the other story can't exist. > u> I've started writing my test run entry, but I don't know if I'll be done it tonight.
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Posted: Tue Jul 10, 2012 8:59 pm
Character Name: Cedric Ardent
Role: Marshal & Resident Smith
How often can you check/post to the event? At least once a day
Looks: Every bit the part of a blacksmith- which is his secondary function at the tournament: forging, reforging, and repairing weapons for the competitors. He boasts a godly musculature hidden beneath a scant wardrobe: leather gauntlets lacking fingers, knee-high leather boots, and baggy black trousers that hang limply over the neck of his boots. From his belt of black leather dangle all manner of tools for his craft; one in particular, his hammer, outshines all the rest with its sheer size and design. It is clearly meant for both work and war, and gleams warily from Cedric's left hip like a steel sentinel. His face is downright ugly, like God forgot he was sculpting a human face and gave him instead the visage of a bulldog. His nose is bulbous, nostrils each as wide as the flat bridge. Small brown eyes are overshadowed by thick brow bones dense with brown follicles. It seems much of his hair has decided to migrate, leaving most of his scalp bare. Meanwhile, a great, manly beard cascades down his cheeks, hiding his neck and much of his chest with a chocolate brown thicket. His default expression is wary and analytical, prone to smiling in the presence of friendly folk, and frowning around women and gods. He has a lumbering gait with a hitch in his left step- to the trained eye, it is the sign of a man who has adapted to his limp.
Personality: Cedric is a man of few words, preferring action to vocalization. He is quite nearly mute around the fairer sex, though he seems to lack shyness altogether, making his presence around women awkward. He prefers to keep busy and working as he enjoys all both of his careers greatly and finds talk of either comes much more smoothly. He is slow to anger, but key triggers include: breaking rules, poor sportsmanship, dishonesty/dishonor, and insulting/abusing fine craftsmanship. He is intelligent, kind, and amicable if you give him the time to loosen up, and quick to silence or disappearing if he feels others are malcontent with his presence. The only time he takes an authoritative stance is when he is on the job; whether its metalworking or marshaling, Cedric is a no-nonsense individual and aggressive in his eagerness.
Will you be fighting? No
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Posted: Tue Jul 10, 2012 9:23 pm
Basics
Character Name: John Thunder
How often can you check/post to the event? All Saturdays/Sundays, most Fridays/Tuesdays, some Mondays/Wednesdays, no Thursdays.
Looks: Tall, young-looking human with short gray hair. Wears a black robe with silver trim (beneath which is light, tight clothing. The robe is rigged to fall away if it gets caught on things). Fairly attractive, but has a general air of malevolence that can be unsettling and his narcissism shows in how he carries himself.
Personality: JOHN THUNDER, WIZARD AT LARGE, is a natural genius who could've been anything or done anything... and chose to become an undisputed master of all things LIIIIIIIIIGHTNING! He's a total jerk about this. For John Thunder, the words of the day are "irresponsible, selfish, rude, and arrogant, all day erry day." He's absolutely insufferable.
Brief bio/introduction: "JOHN THUNDER, the Wizard Wonder!-" *Ideally the crowd boos at this point* "-arrives to THUNDEROUS applause! This match should be ENLIGHTENING!" *Ideally the crowd boos more at each pun*
Describe your fighting style: MADE WITH LIGHTNING! REAL LIGHTNING!
Describe your weapons: Swords, by which I mean lightning that doesn't resemble swords at all. What we're saying is John Thunder does exactly what it sounds like.
Stats
Strength: 5
Dexterity: 14
Constitution: 14
Intelligence: 20
Wisdom: 20
Charisma: 2
Abilities
Scale of 0-5 with 0 being completely inexperienced and 5 being mastery. You have 30 points to put into the following:
Armor: No.
Armed Combat: No.
Unarmed Combat: Evasion 5, Acrobatics 5, Mobility 5
Magic:
LIIIIIIIIIGHTNING (5)
Lightning on Self (5)
RIDE THE LIGHTNING (5) [Yes, it basically is just telekinesis with Lightning on Self added]
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Posted: Tue Jul 10, 2012 9:28 pm
Huh, I forgot a bio. WHOOPS!
I'll, uh, add that later.
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Posted: Tue Jul 10, 2012 10:35 pm
His name and introduction boomed over the speaker, or wherever the hell the sound was coming from. This was it. Another fight for his life, only this time, a little more legal than the last. He had his weapons in hand, four orbs of power that danced in his nimble fingers as the clock rolled on. Seconds, then minutes, had passed, and his opponent had yet to make an appearance. To pass the time, the audience consumed itself with pointless behaviour, chattering like insects, pointing fingers at him or engorging themselves in their food like animals. "Tch." His brow twitched with irritation. Willam was itching for the announcer to call for a no-show. He turned back to the corridor, duster billowing from the sudden draft, himself gearing to saunter back to the safety and shade of the entrance corridor -- when a shrill cry reached his ears.
"CAKE!!"
His vision darted over his shoulder and it became clear why that voice came to him so much clearer than the individuals in the cacophany of the audience. Already, the announcer was zooming through her introduction spiel. In the meantime, Willam judged her silently, sizing whatever much there was of her. Blonde ponytails set in loose curls, button nose, short stature. This petite French queen had nothing on him. Or so it would seem. She could have been hiding something.
And she must have been doing a truly spectacular job of it. Half a minute since the start bell had chimed and she was still shouting for desserts. "Hey, brat! Over here," he called to her. Maybe she was just lost.
Her head whipped in his direction and that was the only thing he saw before he forced his body to one side, throwing himself into a roll to dodge a silvery wind of icy cold. Damn it! Little powderpuff. This was bad. His Beedrill, being a bug-and-flying type Pokemon, was particularly susceptible to ice-based attacks. No big deal. He simply had to end her before he had to send out his wasp friend, which was an unlikely event to begin with.
Coming out of his roll, he raised one of his red and white balls at the girl. "Blow her sky-high." A puff of smoke, a red burst of light, and his floating ball of doom manifested into being. Willam sneered, imagining the shriek of terror that the girl would have had no time to make before his Voltorb zipped up to her in a torrent of cackling electricity and blew up in her pretty little face.
A million shards of ice flew out of the bomb site in all directions, and out of reflex, almost instinct now, his brown ferret friend was brought out to spread out around him a magenta dome of protection. "Don't know what I'd do without you, Sentret."
After a dreadfully long handful of seconds, the dust finally cleared and his friend had dubbed it safe enough to let down its shield. Its back turned from the carnage, his Sentret was ready to return to its humble spherical abode. They had won. In his state of elation, Willam held the Pokeball up towards the sun with the half-hearted intent to perhaps take up his victory with a boisterous proud stance, just this once in his life, when something crossed his sights.
The blood drained out of his already pale face and he reached a hand out at his friend to pull it away from the threat that was descending down upon him. "Get out--!" Too late. The Sentret suffered from a violent kick from the girl its side, which sent it sprawling across the floor in one direction before it was hit with a blue beam of light. Willam held the Pokeball out at his Sentret, now frozen stiff by a half-inch layer of ice, withdrawing the Pokemon back to safety.
But there was no break time for him, no break from the iron-hard stare being administered by the child of blonde tresses and balled fists. "Give. Me. My. CAKE!!" And with that, the girl charged at him headlong with the speed of a herd of Rapidash and the one-track prejudice of a hundred Taurus on Red Bull.
He managed to dodge the girl's headbutt, augmented by another ice launch, by a hair's breadth. Another Pokeball was lobbed into the air. "Get her while her back's turned!" Smoke, light, and a purple monkey smiled its way into existence. "Aipom!!" it cheered briefly before scurrying up the girl. Surprisingly, the two went down quickly, tumbling onto the floor in a mass of limbs and a hand-shaped tail. Willam watched silently, his posture composed but heart thumping in anticipation. Something was wrong. Aipom's movements were slowing. And then, a tiny hand darted at the monkey Pokemon's neck. It wasn't a choking hold, but his Aipom made a screech and the patch of fur closest to where the hand made contact was growing stiff and rigid. The Aipom's eyes were starting to roll back up into its skull.
Willam blinked, and then two and two were put together. He scowled and jabbed his arm, Pokeball in hand, out at the two wrestlers on the floor. "Aipom, return!"
The red beam of light was only fizzling out of existence when he was knocked onto the floor.
"I. Want. My. CAKE!"
Two fists wrenched him up by the front of his shirt. He forced himself to stare down the girl, hoping to intimidate her with his sneer while his brain strained to find a way out of his situation. The storm was rolling in. Her eyes were clouded by her rage. He could almost see and hear the lightning coming out of her ears. He couldn't send Beedrill. Not with the little hailstorms that could come out of her fingertips. Never mind the cake, she might end up devouring his last Pokemon.
"You win." He couldn't believe he was saying this, but between money and his only friends, the choice was clear. The nearest Pokemon center was a dimension away. "I surrender."
The girl pulled him close, until they were nose to nose. He braced himself. The girl sniffed him before realizing this man had no cake on him and let go of him, disposing of him like one might an unwanted ragdoll. "CAKEEEE!!!" the girl screamed at the crowd.
"Little Miss! Over here!"
The sun was peaking over the silver lining. Willam tilted his head to the side to admire it a little more. His hand was making clandestine movements to hide his dagger under the folds of his jacket. Vitamin D. That's all.
"Is that... cake?"
A brief pause, and then: "Yes, Miss. It is."
((I found the juggling Pokeballs thing in the beginning too cool so I included it too. >.<"
Oh yeah, and I kinda stole some dialogue lines, hehehe. And I just pretended that Sentret knew protect, yeahhh. Artistic liberties, woot!))
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Posted: Wed Jul 11, 2012 11:31 am
Woot~ Activity!
Judges - the fights are in. Y'all get to voting.
If any other fighters want to do a test run just find a partner and pair up - looks like we've got a few more signed on.
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