Ataraxian Wist

Greetings to Karabiner, I hope this message finds you well. A great deal has changed recently, but ultimately, I do not believe we have a conflict in interests. In any case, I understand that time is a precious resource to some (I have even heard people say that time is money), so I will get to the point. I would like to open negotiations to make a purchase. I am specifically looking for a directed energy weapon that fulfills certain requirements, requirements that I suspect nobody in Edmonton could meet as well as you could. I would, however, be willing to consider any other acquisitions you wish to offer. I wait upon your response. Best regards, Epoch Karabiner read the words with a slight grin. He knew he was the best, of course, and had no doubt at all that he could meet these specifications, but reading it in Epoch’s own words was always nice. He hated to think that someone intelligent might believe some Epic scientist could offer more value; their devices were made of death and pain, wrenched from the bodies of the highest order of humans to ever roam the earth, superior, even, to Aryan Maples. Epics were the closest thing humanity had to true supermen; indeed, Steelheart had actually become one. It was Karabiner’s most fervent hope that he, too, could become a superman, or Übermensch, as they were called in the motherland. That didn’t stop him from selling or even developing such technologies, but he only did so if he deemed the source Epic wholly unworthy of their godhood. Those who wouldn’t kill their inferiors, even if given a reason; those who did things to please the Maples; those who served anything but their own higher good. “Charles?” He called. “Yes?” A computerized voice replied with a British accent. Karabiner disliked that characteristic, but it would have taken years to create one with a German accent. The stuffy British voice belonged to a very efficient assistant, though. “Give me an inventory rundown,” he said, holding the letter so that no text was covered by his hand from any angle. “I’ve identified twenty-six weapons matching that criteria, thirty-seven that could work by a more liberal definition, and eight matching weapons that also possess other peculiar properties which Epoch might take interest in.” “Excellent. Did I ever tell you you’re the best?” “You programmed me to be, sir.” “Yes. That I did,” Karabiner chuckled. “Would you like the rundown, or have you changed your focus?” Asked Virtual Assistant Charles. He tended to have a longer attention span than his maker, which could be immensely helpful. “Ah, yes Charles.” “I’ll start with the more expendable ones, if you’ve no objection?” “I have none.” After a long list of lightning throwers, supersonic blasters, plasma guns, lasers, and more energy-blades than one might immediately expect, Karabiner was feeling fairly confident that her have just what Epoch needed. He stopped Charles periodically, asking him to re-classify one “Explodopoint,” requesting that a few of the weapons he knew to be older be brought to him for Link Reaffirmation, and once to summon a lemon-lime soda; he had always preferred this brand, as it was more carbonated and had a stronger lime flavor than others. “… and then there’s the Haywire.” Karabiner swallowed his sip of pop. “And why, exactly, is that one catalogued with the rest of my inventory?” “Admittedly, sir, it isn’t. Did you specify a source file?” Now Karabiner was angry. “Yes, you stupid program! I said ‘give me an inventory rundown! How did you miss ‘ inventory’ and still read the letter?!” “My apologies, sir. It seems my microphones are not functioning as well as my Omniscience Link.” Karabiner cooled his anger, sipping his pop from a tall glass. “Time for some Tinkering, than.” “Send my response to Epoch: I am likewise unaware of any conflicts, and consider our past business more than enough trust to open negotiations. I require only a few concessions in regards to meeting, as you might remember or expect. I cannot, with the current instability and subsequent power craze, bring the Picket itself, though you or a minion could, perhaps, come to it. If you find that particular option agreeable, I would prefer to use the Scottie to sending my location over any network or system that I cannot ensure is secure, due to the aforementioned situation. As always, however, ‘beggars’ cannot be choosers, so I am perfectly willing to accommodate if none of these will serve.” Karabiner cringed somewhat at the necessity of such formal cordiality, but continued. “Best regards, sign, and send, Charles.” “Would you like a Forgery of your hand, sir?” Asked Charles. “Oh. Of course, good catch.” “Message Forged, and Boomerang sent with it, sir.” She is the best for the job, I guess, and she'll probably be back. “Would you like to set a trap for Epoch, sir?” Karabiner brushed it if almost immediately. Almost. He did have a few things that could probably contain the temporal Epic, but he didn’t need that kind of influence yet. I will not take over until I have mastered myself, established a true morality, he reminded himself.

Yes it is. Who makes it?

I say new thread. This was the first that wasn't a teenager (read the tags) so the next could be a responsible adult at 21. Also, Tayahound in a dress is the best idea ever.

In response to some concern about Neo-Nazi Karabiner, he does have two things going for him. The first is that he didn't get out much in Olympia Polaris, typically leaving the city to collect powers these days. The second is that he refuses to take over anything until after he has deemed himself a true superman, which may never happen. But yeah, that's another reason for the Moose to kill him.

Bloodlight Actually, Red could feel that way too.

Less anti-Semitic and more pro-Aryan/Epic-superman. Basically, he considers Hitler's "undesirables" the lowest firm of humanity, with Epics asking then being somewhat more acceptable. Other people are likewise discriminated against based on powers out the lack thereof, with Aryan people second only to Aryan Epics, like himself. Unlike Hitler, he isn't out to exterminate anyone, but he'll kill those he considers lower without provocation, and he constantly strives to become a truer "superman" than Hitler or Steelheart.

Okay, so I've got some potential photos to distinguish characters. Arachnerd: Bloodlight: The one I like best for Karabiner has a Swastika, so I'm wary about using it, lest I appear insensitive. I like it best because he kind of turned Nazi in my writing of his next post. So, trigger warning. What do y'all think?

I suck at these, but here's one. Bloodlight's intro

Haha, thanks. It actually comes from another Branderson thing, where I coined the term Synergized Investiture Circuit for a thing done with actual Nicrobursts or Ettmetal. I realized that the Reckonerverse is all about brevity, so I took of the first two words. Plus, Investiture wasn't really applicable...

Enhancers, sorry LOL. EDIT: Maybe we could call them the Compounder or something. EDIT: Or the Circuit.

I just realized, if we put the trifecta with Karabiner, they would all permanently become Trifecta-fied Karabiner. That would be insane.

Okay, so my other brother came up with a name and we both felt pretty dumb. The magnet Epic will be called Polarity. What's more, he is a Tongan albino who's name escapes me, and we know his weakness, which I'll PM to... Who?

Hey, so I just realized something: If Karabiner were to get his hands on Upgrade, he could do some wacky things that might result in both having much larger powersets (making them both Links, basically) and Epic poer Mobile apps. Maybe that's a bit OP, but I just came up with a reason for everybody -not just the Circle of the Sheild - to want his head. What do y'all think? Also, @Drake Marshall Karabiner should respond soon. Also also actually actually, my brother @TheRutabagaKing! decided he didn't want to join the RP yet, and wants me to write for his unnamed magnet Epic until he has makes time for this, so I'm going to try to get him set up. He (unfortunately) needs to stay alive past the end of this RP, so just keep that in mind.

More or less their way of doing things. If they'r e an Epic, this might include their particular brand of evil, whether or not they fight the evil, and if so ho hard they try. Maybe take a look at some of the characters in Edmonton's Recipe for Epic Maple Pug Treats, if that didn't make sense, because I'm terrible at explanations. Can't wait for you to join us! P.S. I honestly didn't intend to drop off the face of the planet, but I guess that happened, sorry. I trust you guys have found ways around needing my characters for this past while?

Hoid is awesome. Not in the sense that Lift is, of course, but that hasn't stopped y'all from theorizing him half to death (though he can obviously recover from even that, so no big deal). It's great that there is so much thought going on surrounding Hoid, but the sheer volume of theoretical waffle surrounding him makes it difficult - when even possible - to really understand and theorize about him without repeating (or re-re-re-repeating, in some cases) a theory that's been A) canonized (and therefore not a theory), B) denied, or C) logically disproved and abandoned. Now, I'm a bit new to the actual theories, but I've seen references to them everywhere, and I really don't want to read through ten more repeated theories in search of relevant speculation. I'm sure I'm not the only one, either. I know there's the whole "espoused theories" thing in signatures, which is pretty helpful, but I think it would be really nice to have a real home for Hoid's Theoretical Waffle, where we can keep track of what's new, what's old, what's been redone a thousand times, and what people really tend to agree with. So basically, if you can just make a post for a particular theory, then we can collaborate to gather all of the relevant information and put it in a master Hoid Waffle thread we could make later. Maybe it's a dumb idea, but it never hurts to ask, right?

So, which main player Epics would have agreed to Arachnerd's neutrality, which would have tried to recruit her but then agreed to her neutrality, and which would have done something else? I need this info for the past if her opening post that wakes place the day after get altercation with Nate, as she was smart and emailed Karabiner, requesting a quick trip in exchange for her current Gemborn Spyder, Jetmaw.

I like it @BitBitio!

Bloodlight is up! Well, Nate, really. His.powers will show up in a flashback in post 2, but what do you think?

Nate Snyder grabbed one arm of the star-wrench with his left hand, spinning it quickly in the loose grip of his right hand. Then he grabbed the two lateral arms and gave it a hard crank. Top… Bottom right… Far left… He moved the familiar tool in a familiar pattern across the hub of his spare-spare-spare tire. Far right… Bottom left. “Perfect!” He said loudly no nobody in particular. Well, nobody at all, really. He was the only person for miles, he was sure. If there was anybody else, their brights were off. Or they don’t have a car, he considered. Probably more likely. If there’s anybody at all. Nobody at all… In that moment, Nate knew he could do it. He could become Bloodlight again. “It would only be for a small time,” he told himself aloud. He did that a lot these days, though there had never really been a time when he hadn’t, a little. “Who am I kidding?” He asked himself. “There’s no way I’ll be safe again by the time I reach O.P. I can’t risk it!” “OP in O.P.” He laughed at his own joke. Then he realized it wasn’t really that funny, and stopped. “Sparks, I’m lonely, aren’t I?” He sighed. “It’s really out of the question, though. This hunk of junk” – he was looking at his red Saab 9000 Aero, which was not junk by any stretch of the imagination, but had kept losing tires over the course of his trip because they had been junk; summer tires meant for Lost Vegans, rather than the normal Saab tires that just couldn’t be found anymore – “will just have to last until I get there.” Nate made up his mind. Running his hand through his light hair, he opened the driver door and climbed back into his “hunk of junk.” He turned the key – which he had left in the ignition – and pushed on the clutch pedal, hearing the familiar roar of the engine as his Swedish snow racecar came to life – in the most figurative sense, of course. He pulled back onto the road to his left, groaning that he wouldn’t be able to really use the car like it was meant to be used. He couldn’t just fly down this road at 110 MPH without seriously increasing the risk of a Bloodlight takeover, even with the proper tires for the roads and enough gas to afford slightly worse fuel economy. “It’s not fair.” Of course it wasn’t. The Saab was made for speed, and here he was going 60 on a straight road. He looked at his dash while he drove. There, in a picture framed screwed to the dash, was the most wonderful person he had ever known. There was no need to ask himself why Celia couldn’t have been there in the passenger seat like old times. There was no need to realize that he wouldn’t have been driving at all if he could be with her. He had already discussed it at length in the first day of the trip. Even so, seeing her face brought a smile to his. Then tears came to his eyes. It just wasn't the same without her. Nothing was ever okay now. “I’m sparking gonna crash,” he chuckled through sudden sobs. It helped a bit, the laughter. He still remembered waking up in the passenger side of this car, an odd, irritating itch on the back of his neck. Oddest of all, his powers weren't calling to him. Not at all. He had reached up to scratch it, but a pale hand had stopped his tan one before it had moved far. Looking over, he had seen her – Celia Dillet – driving somewhat slowly, red marks under her eyes, evidently from crying. She had looked at him and smiled. A haggard expression, but her angular face sent the message of joy clearly enough, and he understood what it meant. “ Is this…?” he has begun asking, pointing toward the back of his neck with his free right hand, his left having changed positions to grip her right tightly. “Yes,” she had interrupted. “ You are free.” “I'm scared,” he had replied honestly. He hadn't known why he was right to be scared. Not yet, at least. Nate shook himself back into the present. His tears had not stopped, but just then he was fine with that. He had plenty of water bottles in the back seat, which he could each easily from his current position, so he wasn't going try get dehydrated, and he had never been one to suffer from headaches. That was especially true since pain had become so commonplace in Lost Vegans. He should have died several times by then, but he had always been saved – from death, but not pain – by Bloodlight, so he had learned to live with it. The physical type, anyway. Nate turned his eyes resolutely on the road. “Toughen up, buttercup!” he told himself. It was a saying his dad had used when he was little, though Nate still didn’t know what it meant. Nate drove for a few more hours, but he simply had to stop. There was too much pain in his heart, and he couldn’t risk becoming Bloodlight again. “Not yet, anyway. There is the plan though.” He pulled off on the right side of the road, turning the key to the off position. Then he curled up in his seat and cried himself to sleep.

Funny thing is, my sarcastic brain wants to correct it to Lost Vegans

So I realize this probably just got missed, since it was the last post on pg. 80, but is it's kind of important. Ideas?

So, do we have a specific name we wan't to use for post-Calamity Los Vegas? Asking because Bloodlight mentions it specifically in his intro, and I don't want to presume anything. EDIT: Maybe Lost Vegas?

Very much so. I still need to finish reading that thread

I hated Dr. Funtimes when I first met her, but I totally loved her by about page four.

I'd suspected that, but I figure if it is generated by a handheld device he could probably move it, specifically if he used other devices to tamper with the power when "tuning" it. Also, did anyone catch that pun?