TwiLyghtSansSparkles

We might need it.

How about Nukeeverythingtown? Can you get a secure shipping line to Nukeeverythingtown?

Is it possible to contact Geneva Convention Land from Altermopolis?

And they wouldn't even be FUN illusions. Just lame stuff like making a chair vanish right as you were about to sit, or making the pipes look newer because he didn't want to pay to have them fixed.

I don't know; she gazed into the Void and all it seemed to make her was adorable. Then again, not everyone in the Reckonersverse is Epic!Fluttershy.

Did you hear that? A joyous cry of "LOOK OUT HEAVEN, HERE I COME!" It sounded like Chicago Joe. Should....should we tell him Interventionotropolis only exists in theory?

I kind of want to visit Altropolis, where lack of pockets is no barrier to always having a tasty breakfast sandwich within arm's reach.

Not nearly as dangerous as Unicyclia, where the ruling class tears across the countryside on unicycles and the sound of bagpipes can mean either healing or a firey death.

Off topic, but I read a theory on the Firefight spoiler board that the reason Epic powers defy physics is because they're pulled from alternate universes where all physics function that way. If that's the case, Big Al, the Unicyclist, and Shiny Sparkle imply the existence of some pretty strange universes.

It might add a certain element of irony if her time with Nighthound was what finally did her in, though. /opinion

I had an ending in mind for Nathan when I started out, but that got scrapped pretty quickly. As of yet, I don't have any real endings written in my head beyond a few vague things I'm pretty sure will happen, but that will probably be revised if not scrapped before game's end. I do have some characters I plan on surviving the destruction , but HOW is a question I have yet to answer. You say that like it's a hardship.

True, but I think you're underestimating the media's power to adjust when ratings are on the line. Steelheart was one of the "newer Epics," according to the prologue, and this is two years after Calamity rose. One year after Epics first began appearing. While it's probable that Steelheart killed everyone who might have recorded him, there's nothing stopping another media outlet from finding the evidence. By that point, media channels probably had contacts in every level of law enforcement, if not outright police scanners. The chances of a reporter hearing a cry for help just before the entire radio goes dead are high; the chances of said reporter going toward the town where the cry came from are even higher. Once there, said reporter would almost certainly be sending a live video feed back to their headquarters or their house or something. Unless Steelheart made a point to destroy all media equipment--which is a definite possibility--then there would most likely be some evidence of his crimes.

Post-Annexation, the media would definitely die. The Capitulation Act would have drastic consequences, one of them being that the state and local governments that just gave up would deprive those locales of their infrastructure; without time to adjust, businesses would be unable to maintain the supply lines necessary to stay afloat, depriving media outlets of the ad revenue they use to operate. And that's not even taking into account the simpler difficulties of running a TV-based service when the power grid is no longer operational. So yes, the Capitulation Act would kill the news. But what about before the Capitulation Act? Like Voidus said, society wasn't yet in its death throes; banks were still giving out loans and the police were still trying to keep up with demand. Rescue workers were still doing their jobs. Why would the news media die? That, from the eyes of the press, is the best time in history to operate. Not only is there headline news wherever you turn, but the people would watch the news in greater numbers to learn as much as they could about new Epics and what their motives might be. Given that this is the environment in which Steelheart got his powers, I see no reason for his Rending to NOT make the news.

Yes. Like that one.

The hot, furious glare Moral Guardian is drilling into my back demands I vehemently deny this.

Don't blame me; blame my brain. Which....is a part of me, I guess. So blame me? I haven't finalized which of my characters will die before RP's end, but I do know which ones will survive for sure. The others are still up in the air.

Moral Guardian believes it sends a bad message when a hero dies. Therefore, he demands at least one decent Epic and several vanillas escape the destruction of Oregon. But not Nighthound. Nighthound can die.

In which Flowerface is named President of the Backseat. Poor Flowerface.

I'd take the pug pictures, but the payoff wouldn't come until the appropriate post is up. So I'd be like that awful vending machine that eats your money. I advise you to save your pug pictures. Even if he stayed awake, he'd be too drunk to help much.

RAFO. Agreed. No objections from us, though Quota may limit the word count in your post. In that case, I wouldn't object to double posts, if it moves the plot along.

By the way, Voidus. I recently read a Cracked article that mentioned a Choose Your Own Adventure book where the main character's brother has psychic powers because "he can feel the knowledge." I thought that sounded like an Epic power. Agree or disagree?

New Quota/Unicyclist post up.

Having watched the trailer…. If you squint and sort of turn your head sideways, it looks a bit like the Reckonersverse, though with some of the dystopian elements toned down. A world where the metahumans have disrupted society, but not torn it down entirely. As for the quality….call me a cynic, but it looks like they're just going to hit all the same notes comic books have been hitting for the last 40 years. Learn from your mistakes instead of running from them. Powers don't make the hero. Do the good you can where you are. Remember what Uncle Ben said repeatedly. And don't get me wrong: those are awesome messages. Everyone should hear them at least once. But when every major comic has preached those messages since the 1970s, it might be time to explore some new ground, philosophically speaking.

Opposite Day? Calamity, what kind of a slontze says that? Oh. Right. Quota wasn’t sure how long he’d been running when his thoughts caught up to him, but he knew he wasn’t out of the Dominion. The borders of CorpseMaker’s territory were still a bit hazy in his mind, but he was well within their limits—of that much he was certain. He paused for breath, back pressed against the rough brick wall of a derelict shop, and listened for footsteps. Opposite Day? It was just like that time he’d roped in a Muslim and a Christian on the same forum thread. Comparing a religion’s Prophet or Messiah to Hitler tended to do that. Just when he’d thought the debate was going well—just when they both seemed to be losing their tempers—they’d shut down. Left the thread. Gone to a different topic. Still high on argument, Quota had followed, and there, on a thread dedicated to the latest Harry Potter movie, he had done something dumb. He had called them names. Nothing clever, either. Just your standard slurs. He’d let loose, hoping to draw them back to their earlier discussion so he could hear them shouting obscenities through their screens. Instead, they had left again. Because they knew something he knew, but denied: He was losing. Now Electro knew the same thing. He was losing. And when Timeport resurrected, he’d know the same thing, and they’d see he’d fled, and they’d both assume he’d stayed out of the hunt because he knew he’d lose. Losing. Quota pounded his fist against the brick. Losing. And they knew it. They sparking knew it. He’d return to CorpseMaker and be upbraided for showing weakness. Timeport and Electro would never let him live it down. He pounded the brick again, harder this time. His hand smarted and throbbed. Losing. Just when Quota had nearly made up his mind to lure a few vanillas to their deaths, he sensed it. An Epic. Getting smashed up against a tree hurt. Losing in his first charge hurt more. His sides screamed with the sort of pain hinting at cracked ribs; his shoulder throbbed; his head pounded. But Nighthound had caused that pain and there was a whole museum still intact and Funtimes had made that jungle and he hated that jungle and Nighthound was there and he was still coming— Bagpipes. He still had them; he’d been clutching them tightly when his tire blew and Nighthound sent him hurtling toward a tree. Somehow, he managed to raise them to his lips and play a song, gentler than the others. Pain lessened. Bones knit themselves together. The Unicyclist stood. Still playing. The song became harsher, the notes shorter and sharper. Flame burst forth, hurling itself at Nighthound. And the ground vibrated as every dinosaur in the museum thundered toward him. Quota had two choices: risk a fight or run from one. It was easy to coax an Epic into a fight. Vanillas, accustomed as they were to bowing and bolting from trouble, usually lost hope before things could really get interesting. Satisfying in its own way, but there was no challenge to it. No bragging rights for pushing someone off a bridge when they were going to jump anyway. Epics, though, were more interesting. Tamp down a bit of their bravado, squash some of their anger, and there was no telling what they’d do. They might hurl flame or smash your toes, or they might leave and return with an army. They might lash out, or—if you hit the right nerve—make a show of leaving you alive. Mundivore’s reaction was one of the milder ones. Quota had to ask himself a question, and that question was not, “Do I really want to risk pissing off an Epic?” but rather “Can I escape before they find me?” He reached out toward the Epic, carefully and gently. There was anxious anticipation there, and fear, curdled into the sort of anger only an Epic could possess in abundance. Layered over it all was an almost giddy joy, as nauseating as artificial sweetener in brownies. He sensed another one nearby, missing the joy but with aggression in abundance. A scapegoat. Quota grinned, reaching out toward the artificially sweetened Epic. Let’s see if we can fix that, shall we?