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Showing content with the highest reputation since 01/16/2020 in Posts

  1. 11 points
    as always: "TIME TO ROUGH THAT CHUMP TERRY UP GOOD!!!" had this lying around as a sketch since last year and forgot about it. might as well make it a little nicer. all digital since digital lets me ctrl+z & hue shift and i am one lazy man. used clipstudio paint to make it but you could probably do it in most drawing programs just as easily. here's the sketch in case anyone is interested. take care bioboys n girls until we meet again
  2. 7 points
  3. 7 points
    I just want to say thanks and congrats to you, @Unreliable Narrator! You've put together something really special here, and it shows in the success you've had, especially considering the fact that it's 2020 and we're on an old-style web forum for a dead toy line haha. I've got to hand it to you, I think I speak to everyone here when I say you've found a way to create something fresh, exciting, and engaging. I've tried several times in the past 5 years to get back into RPing in the BZPRPG, but my interest waned as the pace crawled. So again, congrats, and thanks for giving me a fun outlet for my creativity and a great reason to stay around BZP for good this time.
  4. 7 points
    Hey, guess what, it's Monday in the GMs side of the world. Which means... MORE DARK HUNTER HITS: Go Kill Vhisola. She's a Ga-Metruvian student with a blog that's been gaining popularity for her anti-government message. Also, here's what I'm tracking from the past week in SKE: Onu-Metru: Hunters of the Great Disc are on level seven. They're discovered bohrok in stasis tubes past a construction zone. Dark Hunters and toa fight for supremacy of an elevator shaft up to the surface level docks where Knichou's airship is waiting to take off. Vyarik and Arkius have a one on one duel. They are surprisingly well matched. The vahki are about to say, "am I a joke to you?" Ga-Metru: Disc hunters consider breaking and entering into the Great Temple rather than walking through the front door. Triki's hoverbike is impounded for improper parking. Ko-Metru: The Alpinist and The Cartographer put their heads together to solve the puzzles in the Ko-Metru Hideaway in hopes of finding the region's great disc. Po-Metru: Okuo hacks the planet, discovers Toa Tuyet is likely murdered and Lhikan and Nidhiki probably did the deed. Uses Ko-VPN to hack the vahki hive network. Silver Sea: Metru-Nui assaulted an island taken by the League at dawn, attempting to secure purchase on the rocky beach for a safe landing zone. The fight rages on. South of Destral: The Ripple and its passengers are harried by a group of visorak in airships that fly now. They fly now? They fly now. Am I missing something? Let me know! Happy start of week three. As always, I'm blown away by the amount of traction this game has gained, and how committed you all are to keeping up this pace.
  5. 6 points
    I'm convinced that someone had been sealing people away in a soul gem. And someone finally broke it. Hi, Zeal.
  6. 6 points
    Have we considered the possibility that the Piraka themselves wrote and recorded it
  7. 6 points
    did somebody ring the dinkster
  8. 6 points
    Not the BZPRPG: The BZPRPG: Actually the BZPRPG:
  9. 6 points
  10. 5 points
  11. 5 points
    IC: Reliable Narrator | Barraki Island Capital “Come away from the window. You can’t hypnotize all of Metru-Nui just by staring at it,” said the soothing voice of Pridak as he lounged on the wide sofa he called a throne. Barraki Pridak was a warrior who loved comfort, pleasure, and his own achievements. His robes were white with red trim, silver bangles dangling from his wrists and the points of his mask as he swirled an ornate glass of bula berry wine. He watched Takadox staring out from the throne room toward a regal warship in the port. The blue armored Barraki’s hands were gripped tightly on the windowsill, his lips sneering and whispering curses. “Takadox I can’t hear you if you don’t speak up. You know this.” “Carapar did not have the right to take the mission right out from under me. He stole my prize. That orb was mine by right. The lands south of Destral are mine.” Takadox fumed and spun around, angrily gesturing toward Pridak. “Why do you let this happen? Why do you let him steal from me like this? After all my people have done for this cause, all the blood we’ve spilled, you just let him waltz across my borders and pis--” “I stole nothing, and we could hear you from down the hall,” Carapar replied, entering the throne room. His heavy footsteps echoed in the vaulted roof. They bickered in a large and ornately decorated throne room. Pridak never left except to wage war if he could help it, preferring to adorn every space with the trinkets of glory and victory on the battlefield. Tattered banners of fallen matoran lands formed the rug Carapar walked across towards his fellow kings. Kalmah Lord of Scars, the red warrior loved by his people, walked with him. His religious whips were wrapped around his arms as always. He tossed a war torn banner of another conquest on the ground, then kicked it toward Pridak. A mask bounced out, sliding across the stone floor where the carpet ended. Pridak tossed a pillow toward one of the piles of trophies near his throne. It jostled a heap of green armor, which rustled awake and rolled over with an aged cough to reveal a very much alive turaga of air. “What do you make of this?” Pridak asked. “A bad idea,” Nidhiki replied. “Cornering Metru-Nui's religion is only going to make it more aggressive. Artakha is a sacred land. Killing its leader isn’t doing you any favors.” “He was just an old man in a mask,” Kalmah said as he shrugged. His species were maskless air breathers, caring little for the ways of matoran or their needs after centuries of subjugation by a remote empire. "Besides, their faith is broken pile of lies. The truth should be known." Nidhiki rubbed his chin. “An old man and a pile of lies maybe, but a religious icon more importantly. His brother won’t take this well.” “Stop ignoring me,” Takadox blathered. The Barraki and the traitorous turaga ignored him. “Karzhani is just another old man with a mask,” Kalmah replied. Pridak nodded. “Mantax should be able to handle him alone, if he’s anything like his brother," Carapar suggested. “Where is Mantax, Pridak?” Pridak leaned back into his sofa and took a sip of wine. “He went to the front lines. Something about setting up a surprise.” Pridak’s wine glass lifted into the air as Takadox swiped it from his grasp. “I said stop ignoring me. Why do you let him insult my people like this? It’s unjust.” “You don’t get to have everything you want,” Carapar replied. “Stop whining about it. You were busy, I stepped in. The plan goes on. When I’m busy you’ll step in, as you always do.” “Are you implying something?” “No, I think I made it very plain,” said Carapar. The two barraki stared into each other’s eyes, rage filling Takadox’s and a bored glaze filling Carapar’s. Sparks flew between them. Kalmah stood by Carapar's side innocently, but Pridak noticed the warlord's whips loosening and his clenched fists. Takadox broke first, turning away grumpily. “Well, you owe me and my people an island for what you did.” He crossed his arms and stalked back toward the window to lean against the sill and stair at the sunset. Nidhiki chuckled. “You wage a war to destroy my people in the name of justice and equality and you squabble over rocks and islands? If only I was back in Metru-Nui. I could make everything so much easier and just kill her myself. I did it once, I can do it again." An uneasy silence filled the room. Pridak leaned forward, hands clasped in front of his mouth as he stared at the turaga who'd come to them with such a tempting offer so many moons ago. He'd been faithful, fulfilled his duties. Finally, Pridak whispered, “that can be arranged."
  12. 5 points
    Hey everyone. I was in the neighborhood taking care of some unfinished business in Fan Created Games and thought I'd stop by. Glad to see a lot of old and familiar names on this page alone. Congrats on wrapping up the arc. Friar Tuck would be proud!
  13. 5 points
    Hi everyone! It's Monday for the GM, so that means it's time for the beginning of the week round up. First I want to take a moment to say thank you to everyone who filled out the Google Form regarding the handling of the game so far and what you want to see before the timer ends on this wonderful campaign. In the beginning of March I'll be sending out another form regarding the next game I'll be proposing with a start date of April. Almost everyone who replied to the form said they wanted the narrative from SKE to carry over, so unless you all blow the topic up guess what's happening (alright, @EmperorWhenua, it's your time to shine again): we'll keep the train chugging along, but with a twist. Dark Hunter Hit: Go find and eliminate the terrorist from last week. With Dume temporarily in control of the hits, he's wanting this dealt with ASAP. For clues or to get the ball rolling, message @Azibo. The News: Ga-Metru We learned a startling discovery with Tekmo and Nixie Ta-Metru The search for the Ta-Metru great disc is almost to the first puzzle Onu-Metru The Archives team found the Great Disc! (See further back in this topic for puzzle information) Po-Metru Nothing much Le-Metru Great Disc puzzle is in full swing! The party took a tumble off a protodermis waterfall! Ko-Metru Taja discovered something is very wrong with the stars Silver Sea The beach assault reaches the epic conclusion! Vahki took the bluff! Go Go Go! South of Destral The League fighters found the destroyed Tactical Panda as well as a grotto were things are not as they seem... I do believe that is all for major news! You are absolutely crushing this game. We're at 21 pages in the first month of play. Stay lovely, and remember: Happy chat.
  14. 5 points
    Onu Metru Puzzle: What I loved about this puzzle was that the disc hunters bypassed a lot of the content through creative on the fly ideas. Never be afraid to try something! Since that happened I'm not revealing the secrets still on level 12. Location of the Disc: Level 12 Containment Chamber The Catch: Another matoran already got there, broke the chamber, and accidentally triggered the powers of the Great Disc (6-1-9). Each time the disc reconstituted the matoran at random, it would latch onto something else alive and slowly grow. This Abomination continually tried to escape the disc only to activate it again. Part 1: Finding The Right Floor and Location There are a number of ways to go about this puzzle. The way the disc hunters chose was to research the archives by floor level for mentions of the Great Discs. They found three floors missing all data for the past three months: 6,7, and 12. This point is solid guessing and deduction. Looking at each floor from the elevator shaft would have given the information needed. Attempting to inspect the elevator vestibule for clues would have revealed more on level 12, but the disc hunters never took that route. Instead, they exited on level 6, fought a strange black tentacle, and then continued down the trek. The discovered an intersection on level six, went into the construction zone, and found some Bohrok in stasis as well as a hole in the floor. This hole was recently created by the hunting Abomination made by the Great Disc. The disc hunters also met Kilo-M9 who had information on the Great Disc’s location and who placed it on level 12. Going down the shaft, the disc hunters skipped level 7 and went all the way down to level 12. Here they fought the Abomination as it continued to try and pull itself away from the disc. This is where Vashni did something creative: used her mask of mutation. As a GM I had to think how this would work. In the end, it made sense for the Abomination to be pulled into the shape the mask demanded, which drew the disc from its resting place to the disc hunters instead of the disc hunters going to the resting place as initially expected. Part 2: Removing the Disc from the Abomination How: Place the Abomination in some form of stasis so that it stops activating the Great Disc. The disc hunters chose to have Kilo-M9’s energy draining bubble be the answer, but there were multiple ways to weaken the Abomination and several were mentioned before being acted upon. In all, the disc hunters of Onu-Metru showed really good communication and creativity! Best of luck in Po-Metru.
  15. 5 points
    IC: Onu-Metru | Archives Level 12 Tallea’s use of the Disc of Freezing from Ta-Metru seemed to do the trick: the bits of whatever amalgamation assaulted them froze and then were rejected by the main host, leaving bits of black ice about the floor and walls of the hallway until Vashni’s use of the mask of mutation changed everything. The shape of a matoran appeared before the party. It shifted, twisted, and sprouted multiple heads before they returned into one -- like an image going in and out of focus. The kanohi on the matoran’s face kept spasming and changing, and the matoran seized on the floor, it’s body unused to permanent form. Stuck in its hands was a round disc: 6-1-9. Don’t touch us! Vashni heard in her mind. OOC: Welcome to the final puzzle, Onu-Metru Hunters. IC: Reliable Narrator South Of Destral | The Ripple After the battle with the visorak, the group of warriors assisted in repairing The Ripple until she was almost as good as new. The Captain kept flying as quick as the ship could manage, save for a moment to pause while Sko took Ostrox for a swim to remove the acid. Visorak corpses were kicked overboard, splashing into the ocean like cannonballs. Before long, their next adventure revealed itself in the night air: a storm. Dark clouds covered a patch of ocean, lightning strikes filling the night sky with bright flashes of light. The coordinates for the lost nynrah ship were in the heart of the storm, the captain said, but he didn’t know if The Ripple could fly through such a nasty piece of weather in one piece. IC: Turaga Lhikan | Coliseum A mango-less meal passed before Turaga Lhikan spoke to Thom again. The Turaga sat on his cell’s bed and ran his fingers over the edges of his knee armor while he talked. “Did you get a chance to see what Nuparu was working on before you killed him?” IC: Turaga Dume | Screens in Metru-Nui and aboard airships in the Silver Sea Since his last appearance one day passed. One violent day full of adventure and tragedy. The great Turaga of Metru-Nui’s kanohi did little to hide his grieved expression while addressing his people via the screens present in almost every home. The robes he wore were muted reds and softer blacks, a sign of mourning compared to the brighter and more powerful colors of yesterday’s announcement. “Metru-Nui: I come to you today to speak of the tragedies of yesterday. In the wake of conflict abroad, foreign insurgents have committed themselves to disrupting our lives with acts of terror and hate. In Onu-Metru, our city’s dear friend Nuparu was violently assaulted. Despite vahki arriving on scene quickly, they were unable to save our friend and their creator.” He cleared his throat before continuing. “Assassinations like these stand against everything we have built as a society in Metru-Nui: a safe, peaceful, and organized society. We all have our functions for the betterment of our people and our culture. The death of one is the death of all in my heart. However, I stand before you today in mourning to say we cannot give up on our ways of life. We must double our efforts, we must support our warriors and heroes in the Silver Sea fighting for our liberties and our safety. We must increase our vigilance at home while they are away. If we all perform our duties of work, our society cannot fail. This goes for our vahki enforcers as well, who will in wake of these attacks begin increased unit production and dispatch throughout all metrus. On the same day, a terrorist we believe is associated with the League of Six Kingdoms sabotaged a chute station in Le-Metru. While it brings the transport of goods from Le-Metru to a halt for the next few days beyond what our airships can deliver, our finest engineers are already at work with repairs. “Now more than ever we need our brave people to rise up and become the heroes of their homeland. Those searching for the Great Discs, I hope only for your swift success. By proving yourselves in these tests of bravery, I will be satisfied in knowing you have Metru-Nui always in your heartlights. We when you have the discs, bring them to the coliseum. Your city depends on you to unite and find your entwined destiny.” Viewers watched as Turaga Dume paused his speech when a matoran’s hand appeared with a small tablet. He took it, chuckling as the matoran’s hand disappeared again from view. “Well, now that’s a determined matoran.” The entire city waited with baited breath as Turaga Dume read whatever was on the tablet. Then, with a soft smile of victory, Turaga Dume continued; "In light of recent events, we have come to an advantageous alliance with the rogue faction known as the Dark Hunters. While they have up until this point suggested a stance of neutrality in the conflict, the mercenary organization has pledged a mutual desire to maintain the city of Metru-Nui's safety. In a display of trust they have accepted the task of searching for the suspect in last night's terrorist attack on a Le-Metru chute station. The primary suspect is tall, with red and green armor, wearing a kanohi faxon. He was last seen in Le-Metru. My dear citizens, if you see this suspect, please do not approach and seek immediate assistance of the vahki.” Turaga Dume gestured towards a unit of vahki standing out of focus in the frame. They were resolute, heavily armored, and specially designed units for the protection of the coliseum. Rumors spread since Nuparu’s latest update to the vahki were released as to the powers of their staves, but none confirmed the effect. “Thank you for your time, Metru-Nui. Remember, walk in the light, perform your duties. Our city is destined for greatness. We will triumph and rise above even the darkest hours.” The program ended, screens returned to normal, and the world could never be the same.
  16. 5 points
    BZPower dot com? They can’t possibly have my game i have special interests Look. Look for your special interests. MY GAME!
  17. 5 points
    Today is the 21st, and that means only one week ago SKE was approved for play. I had no idea SKE would do so well, or that you all would turn out to show so much love for Bionicle RPGs. In the past week we've reached six pages of writing together, over 200 posts, and broke two pages of character profiles. The IC, Character Profiles, and OOC topics for SKE have been the top three featured topics on BZPower since launch. It's been so awesome to read the stories you are all making, and I'm exciting to see how this alternative universe of Metru-Nui concludes in March. I will continue to do my best to keep up with your breakneck pace for adventures. If you have any requests or plot ideas I want you to know I love hearing them. Here's to another few months of fun!
  18. 5 points
    IC Stannis | Onu-Metru "Yes, that's true," the old toa accepted in a forlorn tone, "but The Shadowed One's minions—people like you— are often employed by others who want us dead. You all are just the weapons, not the real enemy, and it is very hard to save our lives when our enemy is within. Stannis turned away and began to walk out of the alley. "Now, I keep my word to you—go! And when you report to your masters, tell them you met Toa Stannis. Tell them... I'm back in the city... and I have seen the approaching storm." His large cloak billowed in the breeze of a passing airship, and then the old toa was gone. ...
  19. 4 points
    IC: Reliable Narrator, everywhere Mazor felt magnetically attracted to the glowing orb. The lightning inside crackled and sputtered brightly as his hands wrapped around its surface. Heavy despite its size, it had the strangest feeling of surface tension when held. Was it a solid or a liquid? Before Mazor could think deeper, the world disappeared from view and his eyes rolled back in his emaciated skull. Everything happened between two instants. The world blinked and Mazor was gone. Crawling from the chrysalis of time, Mazor fell into the void. Without even a line to base reality on, Mazor existed alone. His thoughts rolled out from him, conversing with themselves. He saw his youth, his work with the Dark Hunters, his present life on the run, and strange and twisted versions of all the possible future lives he lived. He felt strangely connected to the nothingness of his own life in this place between time. It was comfortable existing without meaning or purpose. Mazor lost definition of himself. He was the void, the unspeaking unseeing unfeeling unthinking something found in nothingness. Was Mazor even something? Mazor let his existence, his subjectivity, spindle outward and unravel. Then the void pushed back. He had never been alone here. And all at once Mazor felt very real and very, very small. Something weird pet his mind as if he were nothing but a docile rahi, and then his eyes flickered open as he returned to reality. Mazor lay on the floor of the cavern in a pool of his own puke. Pushing himself up with an elbow he realized the orb had changed from a strange sphere to a tiny silver cube and his arm felt drenched as if a balloon filled with water popped in his hands. For everyone else in the grotto, when Mazor’s hand touched the orb the red glow of the suva pulsed twice then went out, as did all light in the grotto, and the party’s breathing echoed in the darkness. The silence slowly filled with the sounds of their heartlights beating in sync to something old. In the cave’s umbra something moved. It uncoiled from the shadows, dripped from the ceiling, and slowly twitched with pulsing veins around the party’s feet. It smelled of ash and rotting protodermis. The suva in the cave regained its glow after a few moments and Mazor slumped to the floor. Something changed: strange metal obelisks up to a toa’s height were embedded in the floor, walls, and ceiling. Red symbols written in an unknown and freshly painted script covered their surface, and the veins in the carved pillars around the suva pumped with an organic rhythm. The stalactites of repentant matoran gave off otherworldly moans but remained unmoving. The crew of The Ripple felt watched by something behind them, but no matter where they turned no one could be seen... Pridak leaned back into his sofa as Nidhiki exited the throne room, the softest tap of his Turaga staff echoing from beyond the closed door. The Barraki leader opened his mouth to speak, but a blinding flash of red light made him flinch. The world suddenly grew dark and cold. The stars flickered. When the suns reappeared the stars and moons remained in the sky. The world felt alien. The tides rushed away, pulled far out from shore, then rushed in with all the collected force. Ships battered against the docks and broke. "What was that?" Takadox yelped, his sensitive eyes most affected by the red blast. "A success," Carapar replied with a shrug. Kalmah looked out toward the sky from the window with a concerned frown… As the fight on the rocky beach began to cede to a Metru-Nui victory, a blinding band of red light filled the sky. It stretched across the Heavens in a wide ring to settle on the horizon. Time itself seemed altered and out of sync. As Pardehi worked to save Jephro his head turned as something twitched on the beach. He couldn't tell what, but something moved. Rose in the bluff saw something twitch as well out of the corner of her eye. The fingers on one of the dead moved. Surely it was just the newly arrived howling winds? In the City of Legends, Turaga Dume felt weak. His knees wobbled and he sank back into his desk chair as the sky permanently changed. Looking out through the open doorway to the balcony of the Coliseum, the elderly Turaga had a perfect view of the changes. "Did Artahka actually do it?" He muttered to himself. "He couldn't possibly have felt this desperate." A matoran page knocked on the hallway door and entered. She look terrified. With her were scholars from each Metru. "We need answers," the scholars said sternly. Not even a how are you how was lunch did you also see the freakish change in the sky? "I agree," Turaga Dume said as he regained composure. He tightly wrung his hands beneath the desk. "Lhikan said the heavens would change if his plan succeeded. I did not imagine he had this much sway with the stars. I will speak with him one more time. Maybe he's repented enough in that cell to be of use to his people." "Lhikan predicted this, but you didn't say?" "He's said many things. He was babbling when captured in the Great Temple. You don't expect me to take everything a murderer says seriously do you, Nuju?" "You should when he was the protector of this island. When prophets speak the faithful should listen." "Well," Turaga Dume sniffed, "he'd stopped being any form of prophet by the time he said anything useful. Leave. I'll get your answers." The matoran nodded and shuffled from the room. He heard them whispering in the hallway, then realized they'd seen him in a moment of weakness. The matoran needed a strong leader or they would fracture as they were prone, not an elderly man in glasses pinched to his mask. Rising, he approached a mirror in the corner of the office. He stared himself down, counting his flaws and hardening them, pushing his weakness and grief aside into the small metaphorical jar he kept tightly sealed in his heartlight. He froze as a shape appeared behind him. He knew who it was, but it didn't make sense. They'd plagued him in dreams for weeks on end. The shadowy specter placed a cold hand on his shoulder. He felt nails digging into him through his robes. Warm breath passed his audio receptors as they leaned down close and whispered; "Hello Turaga. It's time." As they made their way from the cave the crew of The Ripple stared in awe at the changed weather. The storm surrounding the island vanished, replaced by an eerie ring of crimson on the horizon in all directions. Wherever they looked, the color stained the furthest point. Further concerning, the stars and moons lit the afternoon sky alongside the twin suns. The tide came in harsher, and withdrew quicker and further than previously noted. Several dead fish floated on the water’s surface, and when someone got hit with sea spray they noticed it was oddly warm. Then they heard the howls of the haunted, and saw the swiftly shambling corpses of nynrah ghosts clambering ungainly and bloated from the wreck of The Tactical Panda.
  20. 4 points
    Adriannnnnnnnnn You should know it's you we strove to appease, not Josh
  21. 4 points
    hulk snapped his fingers and everyone came back
  22. 4 points
    The K-Mart in my hometown finally closed down. I don’t live there anymore, so that doesn’t mean a whole lot, except for one little thing: the times when someone asks me where I’m from. Before, I’d tell them my town’s name, and when they inevitably said they’d never heard of it, I would reply with something like, “I wouldn’t expect you to, after all, it’s so small we’ve still got a K-Mart”. And then they’d throw me the laugh I was looking for so we could move on to the “nice” I’d give to whatever place they called home that I’d probably never heard of either. Now, I’ve got to say we had a K-Mart, and that we’re just another nondescript town among thousands across the country that are helping ease the chain into an existence only in the collective consciousness. But, on the bright side, I guess, if the person on the other end of the conversation is local enough, my town is now on their map, if only for the Dutch Bros. that cropped up seemingly out of nowhere, like it’s the one good scene worth slogging through a bad episode of some old TV show for. My town is also the “Cowboy Capital of the World”, a title more nebulous than it seems. With that information alone, one might think I live in at least three different American towns at once, across state lines. As a child I found this moniker, proudly emblazoned on welcome signs posted at either end of town (and in no one’s heart, truly), first enticing, seductive, and then ridiculous. Sure, we have the Cowboy Museum someone set up (which I have never set foot in to this day), and the Rodeo Weekend every year (one part parade, one part rodeo). Lonely train tracks run perpendicular to Main Street (F Street, but it might as well be Main). But these are fleeting, like the hordes of bikers I would watch rush by with my brother and mother, pulled over along 120 outside of town. There are no gunslingers, no abandoned mines full of dynamite and gold, no out-of-control stagecoaches. I remember more clearly the bitter, pathetic taste of a breakfast sandwich from the immortal Burger King, maintaining its keep at the edge of town, forever hypnotizing hungry passersby looking for something familiar, than I do the rodeo parade we were set to see that morning. This was eternally disappointing for a little boy who was, by all rights, in place to be the main character in a spaghetti western. I was the Mysterious Stranger, the Man With No Name. Even before moving, when I could honestly call my town mine, I lived ten minutes outside of it; a quiet little neighborhood nestled among the old trees and brush along the river. My brother was the only other swashbuckler around, and we made good on it. We were, in turn, pirates, Union soldiers, astronauts, and yes, cowboys, among other things. We wrestled in the dirt and mud, walked warily along the banks of the Stanislaus, one eye looking out for the forces of some malignant undead army, the other watching for the all too real threat of mountain lions. We stared at each other from opposite ends of the dust-choked field we called a backyard before our legs couldn’t take the stillness any longer and charged us into battle. A trip into town left us always somewhat unintegrated, like the piano stopping when we passed through batwing doors, an old man halting the gentle rocking of his chair to squint at us from his porch. A woman pulls her children close around her, a fierce glare in her eyes as she slams the door. No hostility, no hatred. Just unacceptance. In fact, there was nothing to be accepted into, though I so desperately wanted there to be. So we kept moving, kicking up the dust ‘round our ankles. It’s been years now since moving, albeit just a half hour away from where I still call home. Inside me roars the Mysterious Stranger, gung-ho gunslinger out to make things right like he never got a chance to before. These days he’s buried somewhere under layers pensive and remorseful, but maybe that’s just part of who he’s supposed to be. Clint Eastwood never talked much. Being on the other side of that town now, in more ways than one, I think it may have been more of a piece of the Old West than I gave it credit for. If you wanted anything you couldn’t find at the general store, that evanescent K-Mart, or at one of the little shops dotting the streets, always with the same face at the counter, you really would have to go to a Big City to find it, although there was no Sears catalog to order from. The deep, waspish roar of new, fast cars surrounded us in the quiet hours at dawn and dusk, but never passed through us. We were quiet, away, apart, traffic comparable to the days of universal horseback travel. The Bank was the most powerful entity, far from the reaches of skyscrapers and massive factories dotted with city slickers. In fact, a lot of the buildings along Main are the same as they were in the nineteenth century. Death, too, was constantly hovering along the periphery of existence, like a wayward cow skull in a stereotypical depiction of the American desert. I don’t know how many times my brother and I marched into raccoon bones and the remains of squirrels along the riverbank as we hunted dinosaurs. I heard about family members recently lost in that house, and stalked through trees with baseball bats, looking for branches to smash because the demons I was dealing with myself had no forms I could fight. Above all, in retrospect, it felt like a town waiting for something to happen to it, waiting for the sweet-talking mustache-twirler with the long coattails and black top hat to arrive and talk about buying land while secretly planning a devious exploitation. The quiet, smooth rhythms of life there seemed to beg for disruption on the grounds of their existence alone. And yet, as long as I lived there, nothing happened. And now, gazing again at that place I love, I feel my worst fear has come to pass. Throughout my life, painful and tumultuous as it has been at times, two riders have always been alongside me, their consistent presence providing order to my disarray: home, and change. My only hope was that they would never meet, and they have. Sure, there’s the Aaron’s that was a T-Mobile that was a Rent-A-Center that was a Blockbuster, maybe not in that order, maybe it’s something else right now that I don’t even know about. And it seems like the gas stations change hands on a weekly basis. But other than that, there was a persistent stillness to existence there, like things were untouchable. There were no big scandals, no horrific murder cases. Half the town wasn’t plowed away to put in condos. And as ridiculous as it sounds, the K-Mart closing was a sign for me. It, more than anything, was a symbol of constancy, the idyllic nature of life. There it always was, with the handful of employees I could recognize on sight because my father had made friends with them years before, with that one last pair of Nerf guns that had been gathering dust on the shelf for years (acquiring them would obviously bring the ongoing war between my brother and I to an entirely new level of brutality). Even when I was younger I figured out K-Marts were already a rarity, just by how infrequently I saw them around the state and country. It made town feel like a rarity too, like there was something just waiting to be grabbed by the horns. And though I was never truly part of that community I admired so much, I clung to that, even after leaving. But things are mortal there now, and I’ve had to accept that I’ve fallen away from a lot of things, from my brother, from all the half-forgotten friends I promised not to forget, to the core pieces of myself that have degraded with years of sorrow and loneliness. Sometimes I still imagine a cloudless summer day where Main is clear of cars because everyone is inside because of the intense heat or out having fun somewhere, maybe Knight’s Ferry. I am staring down a man in all black, spurs clicking as we come closer to each other but not too close. The leather holster, real, not like the spongy plastic one that held the cap gun I broke over a decade ago and still have somewhere, slaps against my thigh, heavy with the shiny revolver it carries. I squint despite the wide brim of the cowboy hat I keep in my closet that still barely fits. After a lifetime of reaching and grasping for purpose and for something to overcome, I’ve found it in the dark figure before me. But no one notices the things like that about our town, or worse, no one believes they could even be possible. Somewhere along the line in our little lives we forgot adventure and learned complacency, let things come over us instead of looking out for things to overcome. I love that town, but more than the town itself I love my memory of it and what I always wanted it to be, what it maybe still could be. I am willing to die on this hill, but no one cares enough to come and kill me on it. Maybe I’m no longer just the Man With No Name, with a gun on my hip and the right thing in my heart, caring for the town he never learns fully or opens to completely. Maybe I’m a little more tired, a little more grizzled, grayer around the edges; (in part) the man rocking on the porch, watching, trying to keep things out with my eyes, waiting for the right bad thing to let in.
  23. 4 points
    IC: a... lizard I guess? | Le-Metru | The Notch I dreamed this morning of being in high school. My seifuku was in the Spring variant. A new year began! I could smell the cherry blossoms and umaboshi plum musubi. Senpai noticed me after I ran through the hallways with a hose full of cactus juice. He was beautiful and scaly, just the kind of senpai for me. And then I woke up on my rock. I was a lizard. I ate a bug. It was time to search the trash. Water made a circle around me. I would not drown. I am a brave lizard. I ate the water. I ate it until I could roll away. I am so full. I wish I could go back to dreaming. I must find more bugs.
  24. 4 points
    IC Stannis | Airship Just as Vyarik began to grow and take out his destructive tendencies in the airship’s room, Stannis stared at him evenly and snapped his fingers to teleport him away And at Vyarik’s size it was impossible not to have him in line of sight.
  25. 4 points
    From the prison to the slaughterhouse...
  26. 4 points
    I think it's obvious. Only one one being would have that kind of knowledge about the pirakas personalities and the comical sense to rap about them....it was performed by Vezon himself...
  27. 4 points
  28. 4 points
    chef's kiss at that stannis and knichou post
  29. 4 points
    hit it with a wrench until it's level 3
  30. 4 points
    I am pretty sure someone here has probably mentioned it once already sometime... but a scroll through BS01 made me notice something about the overhead views of Mata Nui the island we got all the way back in 2001: Notice anything funny with the way the shallow waters surrounding the island are? Let me highlight the area a bit... Yep... that's the effect of Mata Nui's head and shoulders underneath the island. I don't know why, but catching these hidden bits of foreshadowing nearly 20 years later still gives me a kick. Interesting to note a Faber concept art from 2006 that showed the planned Ignition arc offered a 'zoomed out' view of the area and the full effect of Mata Nui underneath the waves: From what I can tell, the original artwork (or one very similar to it) must have been used on the Bionicle.com website. It can be seen, very blurry in a screengrab from Bionicle Comic 4 that shows the Bionicle.com website: Oddly enough, the "Expedition To Mata Nui" fansite by Binkmeister from that era has its own art showing the shadow cast by the Great Spirit Robot's head and shoulders in its files:
  31. 4 points
    they finally put my favorite character in an rpg! gold good guy https://biosector01.com/wiki/Set:7216
  32. 4 points
    And now, finally... SOME NEW PAGES. Here we get our first look at a "river Tarakava." The turquoise toy was always stumpier than the blue one, so I like to imagine that's a sleeker ocean variety built to swim greater distances and depths. The Toa resumes! And we're riding this one 'til it's over.
  33. 4 points
    The wheel of time turns, and ages come and pass, leaving memories that become legend The next arc happens on locus abeo
  34. 4 points
    glad they released the hd remaster of the bzprpg
  35. 4 points
    I'm still constantly digging to try to find any vestiges of the classic BZPRPG. Here's today's find, some tongue-in-cheek banners we made over a decade ago! Apologies for quality/watermarking.
  36. 4 points
    I don't think the Archduke was assassinated in Bionicle lore...
  37. 4 points
    OOC: getting the ball rolling here erryone hold onto your socks IC: Iona [Beach Assault] The group arrived at the airship's launching platform shortly thereafter, the section of the transport being especially crowded given the operation currently underway. Lightstones cast an eerie pale yellow light against the bulkheads of the section, while a surprisingly diverse assortment of beings milled about the area. Matoran still made up the majority of those present, though none of them would be dropping down to the beachhead. That honor was reserved to beings like themselves. Toa, a few Vortixx and Steltians, and other assorted beings who pledged themselves to the city, all of which readying weaponry and making a final check of armor. They were going to be the first to drop, and it was their job to establish a beachhead for the rest of the strike force to land. Iona broke off from the rest of them for a moment, moving over to where the airship's compliment of Vahki were set up. The mechanical enforcers, locked to attention, regarded the Ba-Toa as she approached with a cold blue gaze. Utterly motionless, save for the slight rotation if their cranial units as they tracked the movement of the being assembled before them. Iona gave them a once-over. They were scarred, their grey armor weathered and pitted from combat, but as functional as ever in her eyes. Out of the various warriors, Iona couldn't help but feel as though they were the most eager for the battle to come. Well, besides perhaps Rose. "Three minutes to drop," the voice once again sounded over the radio, loud enough to be heard over the noise of the beings readying themselves. Satisfied that her squad was ready, Iona made her way over to one of the walls near the end of the fuselage, a rack of metal backpack-like devices arranged along its length. Iona slipped her arms through the straps and secured them tight, before turning to a Matoran nearby. The technician nodded once, giving her a thumbs up. It was about all the reassurance she was going to get right now. "Two minutes." Iona moved towards the end of the section, where the rest of the team had gathered, each having donned packs of their own. A few words were exchanged, and weapons were held at the ready. "One minute." The metal bulkhead infront of them began to hinge outward, the door opening with a hiss of mechanics as daylight spilled into the compartment. Below them, the silver sea. Before them, the sandy beach of an otherwise apparently deserted island rushed closer and closer. Iona felt her heartlight flicker momentarily. By necessity, she had to be one of the first to jump.. Vaguely, she heard thirty second be called. Then twenty. "Ten seconds." She really hated this part "Jump!" Iona took a step forward, then another, and then another. And on her fourth step, there was nothing beneath her feet besides air. And so she dropped, along with the rest of the strike team, plummeting to the beach below at ever increasing speed. Iona watched, moving too quickly for fear to catch up, as the ground rose to meet their group. She counted down the seconds in her head, keeping her focus on the Toa falling just before her. Her count reached zero, and the being she had been following suddenly slowed in their descent. Iona pulled on the cord attached to the pack strapped to her back, a mechanism inside activating the imbedded levitation Kanoka, her own fall now slowing to a more sedate pace. Somewhere, in the back of her mind dedicated to things like keeping her alive, a wave of relief rolled through. Very happy that worked. Iona looked skyward, the others who had jumped from the airship also having activated their packs and reigned in their freefall. It looked like they had caught the League's defenses by surprise after all. Maybe they had caught a break, for onc- A yellow bolt of energy suddenly streaked across her vision, slamming into the side of the airship they had just jumped from in a fiery orange explosion. "Oh Karz!" Iona cursed, loudly, just before her feet hit the ground and her knees buckled to absorb the impact. She doubted anyone heard. Above, the Metru Nui airship canted worryingly to the side, though it still stayed afloat. A second flash of yellow shot across the sky, missing the transport by mere bio. This time Iona got a good look of where the plasma bolt originated from, far off the beach and just inside the treeline. Where whatever defenses the League had set up would have been impossible to see from the air. The Ba-Toa cursed again, though still acted quickly. Raising her hands in a sharp motion she felt the familiar tug of her elemental power, and a broad wall of sand rose from the beach itself between where the team had landed and the treeline further up the beach. The makeshift screen obscuring their landing from whoever was waiting for them, if nothing else. Not too soon, either, as blasts of energy and projectiles lanced out from the trees, causing all manner of effects on where they hit the sand, or unfortunate being, at the end of their travel. "We need to get up the beach!" Iona shouted to the nearest Toa. "Can't stay here, too open!" OOC: woo beach assaults. current obj are two big ol' Hagah Cannon emplacements are just within the treeline, defended by all manner of League mooks for y'all to make up and fight at your pleasure. A lot of them too. More immedaitely are the mass of League soldiers both firing at our landing spot at the beach and probably also rushing us with swords and stuff. the treeline is far enough away where it's going to take some doing to reach it, and preferably as a team unless you want whoever's the medic to piece ya back together later. we're definitely outnumbered at this point. oh yeah the packs are basically parachutes, but more bionicle with kanoka stuff at work. same idea tho. figured they'd be useful for those that can't fly on their own. feel free to rp the baddies as you like, but i don't mind writing for a few of them if you wanna have an Elite Mook fight or something. other obj is not die Bionicle normandy time \o/ @Snelly@King of Kings@Eyru
  38. 4 points
    Heh, you guys brought guns to a sword fight.
  39. 4 points
    Flickr album Waamehi-Nui are gorilla-like Rahi that reside in forests throughout the universe. These creatures are more physically imposing than their Lava Ape cousins, but they are also friendlier and more social. Rumor even has it that a troop on the Southern Continent accepted several Bo-Matoran into their ranks. Good-natured these Rahi may be, but provoke a Waamehi-Nui and it will use its strength and horns to wreak the sort of havoc that gives Skakdi nightmares. The term Waamehi-Nui was made using Tolkien's Matoran Language: [wāmehi "(Rahi) possessing hands" < wai-amehi, from the possessive particle wai (originally denoting possession of the object) and amehi "hand"] (Alternate backstory: Good Guy Hordika :P) Thanks for taking a look. I'd appreciate your thoughts!
  40. 4 points
    Sometimes communication really is the answer.
  41. 4 points
  42. 4 points
    IC: Brutaka, Silver Sea “And here with your troops you will stay. For now, meditate on what the three virtues mean beyond the toa code. What do they mean for society, or all beings? When you are ready to share, I’ll listen.” Brutaka handed over a small stone -- a pebble in his hand, a river rock in Iona’s -- with the symbol of the three virtues carved on its surface. The rock was polished smooth from being turned over in the hand. “When I began my rite of passage this stone was given to me, and now I pass it on to you. If you find yourself no longer called to a higher path, return the stone. Now, I have others to speak with about tomorrow’s assault. You’ll receive your orders this evening.” With that, Brutaka took his leave of Iona. IC: The Reliable Narrator It was a Sunday night and the game master Unreliable Narrator rested. He had eaten lamb vindaloo after a long day at work and taken some time to make a cup of ginger tea. The game master had a sore throat, being on the tail end of a horrid flu that had made him miss two days of work. A video played in the background showing an LA local DIY renovating her home. He idly flipped through the game master notes for a roleplaying game he had begun on Tuesday. He felt they were perhaps longer than they needed to be. Unreliable Narrator was unaware how popular this roleplaying game would become with his friends. He double checked the timeline of events, and began reading the exciting stories everyone had been posting since the morning’s assassination... No, wait, he was not resting. He was writing. He was writing posts! Posts that would do nothing for the plot, except break the fourth wall, and remind players that the next Dark Hunter hit would come out on Monday morning… and would be a player character… IC: Onu-Metru Archives, level 7 When Atamai said the records had been deleted, what they truly meant was that no records of any kind existed for the past three months. When compared to other floors higher and lower, it seemed like a strange pattern of absence. The elevator opened in a long and dimly lit hallway. While nothing seemed off, Vashni felt the presence of something bestial on the edge of her elemental range. As Jutori turned to speak with Atamai, something wrapped around his ankle. It was chitinous, slightly bumpy, and pulled hard. Unless Jutori grabbed onto something to steady himself, and fast, he would find himself pulled down a hallway of eerily flickering lightstones. OOC: Updated this post because I beat you all to the punch! Ha! Take that! I love you all!
  43. 4 points
    IC Kilo-M9 – Onu-Metru, Archives first level: Target detected. Identifying... Identification verified: Ice bats. Scanning... No archives tags detected. Conclusion: Targets are not exhibit specimens. New objective: Seek and eliminate. *** Today had truly been an exceptionally boring one. The archivist manning some of the research stations was used to slow days. While research into the past was certainly important, it was not something people came to do in the archives much anymore. Nowadays everyone was busy using their iStones for information, glued to the glowing screens. Not too long ago he was reading stone tablets using just a lightstone! The gall of the youth. Even now where once the research section had been bustling with researchers analyzing artifacts and comparing notes to each other there was only the silent musing of patrons looking through the digitized reading material. And so the archivist’s role had been merely reduced to tech support and telling people where they’d likely find the information they were looking for. What a fall from grace. This afternoon had become exceptionally boring as the news from the turaga had sent everyone running in search of discs. What few patrons there had been looking up information had all scattered with glee at the idea of being a toa. Like being a toa was anything special. Back in his day, the archives were hand constructed, each tunnel dug out with pickaxes. Then drills came, and workers started losing shifts due to the increased efficiency. Sure, they eventually added more shifts to expand the archives even more, but if your muscles didn’t hurt after a day’s work, was it really working? His musings were interrupted by a loud series of screeches. He paid it no mind, until the screeching became louder, and louder. Out from a side tunnel, a small flock of ice bats emerged. His first instinct was to yell at them to not damage the research consoles, but as he approached they turned as one to stare at him. They were quite large for ice bats, and they looked hungry. He ran down one of the maintenance tunnels in a foolish attempt to escape. What head start he had was rapidly shrinking as their faster flight let them gain ground. Once he reached a fork in the tunnel, his indecisiveness cost him. Sharp talons crashed into his back, sending him tumbling onto his back. He slowly tried to back into one of the side passages, batting teeth and claws away, but he knew there was no holding them back for long. The largest one of all was readying a charge, and the archivist knew he wouldn’t be able to block it. He covered his head with his hands as he waited for the end. The end did not come, much to his surprise. A few moments after he had expected to die, he took a peek at what had changed. The lead ice bat was encased in some sort of bubble, chattering angrily. Its fellow ice bats were staring past the matoran at something behind him. He heard clockwork motors and plodding heavy footsteps behind him. The Vahki were here to rescue him! He turned back to look at his mechanical saviors. Out of the darkness, red eyes aglow, came a scorpion-like machine, blades drawn, tip of its tail still smoking from the initial blast. Not a Vahki. The archivist curled into a fetal position as the Kralhi charged. The machine stepped over him to directly engage the bats, who had come to grips with their fellow’s imprisonment and resumed their aggression. The first bat to charge was neatly bisected down the middle with precision only a machine could have. Half an ice bat landed next to the archivist, the visceral image settling into his future nightmares. The second ice bat was a bit smarter, dodging the first few strikes of the mechanical enforcer. A third bat lunched itself brazenly at the robot’s head, latching onto one of its red eyes. Animal and machine struggled with each other, the bat managing to pull the ocular receptor out of its socket before being impaled on the blade of the robot. The second ice bat, trying to take advantage of the robot’s damaged state, charged once more. It was for naught as the machine recovered its bearings removing one of the bat’s wings. The pest fidgeted on the ground in pain until it was promptly silenced by a mechanical foot crushing it underneath. The tunnel was silent aside from the whirring of clockwork components and the frenzy of the largest bat, still encased in the bubble. The pace of its cries slowed and it slowly passed out, the bubble encasing it dispersing and letting the body flop to the ground. The archivist stared at his savior, its eyes now an unfeeling green. The machine reached into a compartment on its side, removing a kanoka disc of some variety. With one hand it pushed its damaged eye back into place while the other hand tapped the disc to the damaged components. Regenerating energy flowed from the disc into the socket, and the eye was returned to its undamaged state. The robot turned to the matoran, returning the disc to the side compartment. It extend a blade towards him and then pointed down the tunnel he had originally run from. Back to his work station. The archivist took some time to find his voice. The words that came out were shaky and lack any confidence. “I’m not s-sure if I can resume my work at this point, K-Kralhi. That encounter was quite terrifying, and I’m no long in a good head space. P-perhaps I can-“ The Kralhi pointed again at the matoran and back to his work station. It was a slower and more deliberate motion. The blank stare of the machine had not changed, but the intent on its movements was clear. The archivist pondered his options. Past the Kralhi was a tunnel which lead to a more active part of the archives. Vahki were there. Maybe they’d be understanding if he told them about the Kralhi. There wasn’t much chance, but if he dodged the tail blasts he might be able to make it. It was his only chance. He ran past the machine down the tunnel. The only thing that turned to watch him go was the tail of the machine. It fired only once. The archivist would be returned to his work station, whether he liked it or not. *** Objectives completed. Ice bats have been neutralized. Citizen has been returned to work. Ocular receptor repairs completed. Low power regeneration disc energy at 46%. Replacement will be needed soon. Analyzing archives data-banks for likely Great Disc locations. Storing data. Proceeding to next location. OOC: Just leaving an unconscious matoran for the tour group to find. I suppose there's also a large sleeping ice bat nearby as well.
  44. 3 points
    @Emzee bring back Wokapu or we riot
  45. 3 points
    OOC: I decided to write this post third-person since 1) I feel like it's easier for me to write long posts if they're in third person, and 2) it gives me a chance to actually use 3rd person since I haven’t done so in a while. IC, Atamai: Onu-Metru The odd company of Matoran, Toa, and Kralhi made their way down the tunnels of Archives Level 12 toward where the elevator would be situated. The walk was uneventful, save for the occasional cry of an irate Rahi calling from its enclosure. When they reached it, Atamai turned to the group. “Okay, since Kilo is a little large, us four will go up first, and send the elevator down for it. Once we get off the elevator we’ll make a left, and the door to the garage will be on the left as well. I’ll hold the door open so that Kilo can get in- I think he’ll be able to fit.” The elevator doors slipped open and the group (minus Kilo) stepped inside. The ride up was quiet, but if Vashni had decided to peer into the mental plane at that moment, she would have heard many thoughts and feelings, mostly of excitement, and pondering. The ding of the elevator snapped everyone out of whatever thoughts they may have had. The doors opened and the four stepped out onto level 1 of the Archives. Since this part of the Archives was in the back, the area was, luckily, empty. Atamai turned and tapped the elevator to send it back down for Kilo before leading the others down the hallway to the left. They very quickly the group came to a large door with a keypad. Atamai typed in his security code and the door slowly opened. Vashni, Jutori, and Tallea stepped inside the garage while Atamai stood in the door frame to make sure it didn’t close while he waited for Kilo. The garage was very spacious, well lit, and filled with cargo transports similar to those commonly used by the Vahki. Most of these, however, were much bigger, since they were designed for transporting large Rahi. Atamai heard the elevator ding again, followed shortly by the mechanical clanking of Kilo’s legs. The Matoran stepped aside for the robotic enforcer, who after a moment’s pause configured its legs in a particular way so that it could fit through the door frame. There was not an inch to spare. Once the Kralhi had entered the garage, Atamai let the door close behind him. He walked over to where the group was waiting and pointed out one transport in particular. “We’ll take that one,” he said. “The cargo area is really wide, so Kilo will be able to fit inside comfortably. Vashni, if you’d like to get your bike, I’ll swing us by where you left it so you can ride alongside us.” The Fe-Matoran walked over to the back doors of the transport and pushed a button on one of them. The doors swung open revealing the spacious cargo area inside. Atamai turned to Kilo and gestured to the transport. “Hop in,” he said. The Kralhi clankered over wordlessly to the transport and stepped inside. Atamai closed the doors after it. He then walked over to the right side door and opened it. “Alright, all aboard!” he jokingly said as he climbed into the transport. “Whoever steps in last please close the door.” Atamai took his position up in the cockpit while the others stayed down in the passenger area below him. He reached over and pushed a button on the dash. The transport roared to life, and with a push on one of the levers, it began to move forward on its mechanical legs. As it approached the entrance to the garage, the giant doors slide open. Harsh sunlight shone on the group’s faces, causing them to squint. Atamai briefly waited for passing traffic, then directed the transport toward the Archives’ main entrance where Vashni’s bike was parked. Not even a minute later, the iStones the group had all flared to life with an incoming transmission. Tallea was the first to open hers up. Atamai couldn’t see what was on the screen, but he could hear the familiar voice of Turaga Dume. ““Metru-Nui: I come to you today to speak of the tragedies of yesterday… ***** “…We will triumph and rise above even the darkest hours.” Tallea and Jutori immediately began discussing the ramifications of the Turaga’s message. Atamai, on the other hand was too busy driving the transport to have a conversation. His only thought regarding the message was, The Dark Hunters? Really? We’re trusting a mercenary group to help keep the city safe? After reaching Vashni’s bike, he put the transport in park, and let the Toa of Psionics off. Once Vashni was settled on her bike, Atamai turned the transport around and headed northeast toward Po-Metru, with Vashni riding alongside. ***** One long and very bumpy ride later… Atamai brought the transport to a halt next to a chute station. He surveyed the landscape of Po-Metru. In the light of the setting suns, the landscape, usually colored brown, had more of an orange glow to it. “Alright,” he called down to Tallea and Jutori. “Let’s take a quick break to stretch our legs and figure out where to go next.” OOC: @pokemonlover360 @Snelly @Tarn @Silvan Haven Whew, for me that’s a long post. I hope everyone doesn’t mind me bunnying them a bit, we kinda needed to get a move on to go find the next disk. @Darth Jaller, if you’d like to have Jabali join us, you can have her approach the group or something since we’re right in front of the chute station where she is.
  46. 3 points
    After the upgrade, there doesn't appear to be a way to turn off the rank images for certain groups, so everyone gets to enjoy them now.
  47. 3 points
  48. 3 points
    im having too much fun with it we gotta keep pushing lads it's a meat grinder on that beach
  49. 3 points
    Because we intend to destroy the in-game universe by then. It's just a matter of time. Tick tock. Tick. Tock.
  50. 3 points
    Hey, everyone. I've been hard at work on this story (off and on) anyway and have finished, well... a good number of new pages that I've simply neglected to upload here. I'll start posting more soon, as I have more time for it.
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