Arrrrrgh I missed it! Someone tell me what happened

>>458476
Poet's fate is being determined through a WWE inspired wrestling match.

>>458476
A pony got whacked and another one should've been.

>>458479
>>458483

well i finally got around to posting at it

>>458504
Thank you for sharing

>>458508

>>458504
>>458509
Fucking cute spinning horse.

Name: Rapid Rush [Makes use of the alias “Heat”]

Age: 36

Appearance: Slightly aged adult mare, average height. Short, bright, multicolored mane. Bright neon blue coat. Tends to wear sport coats and jackets, but temperatures over sixty degrees F will typically cause her to shuffle off all non-essential clothing. Rarely speaks, but has a fairly expressive body language, and grasps understanding language and speech without too much trouble - when she isn't hallucinating.

History: Honestly, it's all kind of blurry, she assures them all. What she knows is that she's different now. She woke up one day in the hospital - there were men and women in white all around, and another couple of ponies who weren't dressed at all. They looked pretty sad, and when the man in white told her she didn't have long, they started crying, making such painful noises.

Rush wasn't completely certain why. They seemed familiar, but far from relevant. Some sense of self awareness filled in the facts for her, here and there, when she really concentrated. She'd fallen before she got there, once, moving, unable to stop moving, unable to keep breathing. She bit her tongue and tasted iron, but pain wasn't quite registering properly. Nothing really was. She was pretty sure colors weren't so bright before. Pretty sure she could think straight before.

But now they were, and she couldn't.

Terminal cancer of the brain, they said. Inoperable, they said. Buried far too deep to do anything for. A year or two, maybe. Her brain was sick, very sick, and that was all she could really internalize, with alien thoughts, some of which had no real meaning, buzzing around in her skull like a swarm of violently angry bees. Soon enough, she found herself violently angry, too. She wouldn't live long. She certainly wouldn't live very happily, she realized over the next week she spent alone, uncertain of where the ponies not in white had gone. They didn't come back for her. And in some way she wasn't entirely certain of, all this made her violently angry, too.

In fact, she was kind of angry at everything. She didn't get it. She didn't even quite get why she felt so hateful and twitchy these days. Probably her brain, she reasoned. But it didn't matter. She was going to die.

She wouldn't mind having some fun first, experimenting with these urges. It didn't matter to her anymore who she hurt, or who died, or what happened to her, either. She'd be dead anyway, before long. No one could hurt her, punish her, make her fear anymore. And no one...no one could stop her. She was certain of that, too.

Civilian Details: She once was a mare. She may have even had a child. Could you tell, really?

Grit: 3
Pain and temptation no longer register half so sharply in Heat's damaged mind.

Athletics: 5
No holding back - Heat's absolute speed and strength are her greatest assets, as a result of her very easily triggered adrenal glands, and she is not afraid to make use of it.

Hacking: -1
Although not much for computers besides essential use in her previous comfortable lifestyle, Heat's memory and sense of logic are no longer reliable enough to handle even the most basic of calculations or exploitation.

Stealth: -1
Aside from the downright sunning neon color scheme, Heat, to put it simply, feels no need to hide from much of anything. Perhaps she is hoping something will find her, one day.

Murder: 5
Animalistic, brutal, and violent to a degree not entirely possible for most ponies, Heat's capability to hurt and kill people is a primary nature to her in her damaged and stripped mental state.

Acting: -1
There's a look in her eye - the look of a mad mare, the look of a psychotic predator, always looking for the next kill. It doesn't help she's most certainly the quiet type.

Mechwork: -1
Clearing jams, piecing things back together, picking locks...none of these even occur to the mare anymore.

Perception: 3
For all the damage to her brain the cancer has caused, she isn't quite blind, deaf, or "dumb" yet.

Adept Power: 0
If she can't kill it, it probably isn't going to die.

Animal Mask Killer: 4
For all her immense, unfathomable raw strength and speed, Heat is just a mare, and a comparably fragile one at that. One or two good shots...And she will find peace.


Inventory:
Atlas PPV (500)
Mayfly Repeater (1000)
Hayshimoto Bed Roll (250)
750 Credits

Last edited at Wed, Apr 8th, 2015 20:16

And then, like a shadow in the night, Conch Shell VII descended upon 6A. When they awoke, her citizens looked to one another and said as one: "Well, that was fun while it lasted."

Name: Conch "Logan Cobretti" Shell VII
Race: Magical (Unicorn)
Age: 27
History: Conch Shell VII was born and raised on the rough streets of Manehattan. Ever since he was a colt, he wanted to be a cop and stop the bad guys, just like his daddy. As he got older, he slowly realized that actual police work doesn't actually work like that -- but since he didn't have any other ideas, he decided to join the academy fresh out of high school anyway. A few months into his career, he was sucked into a raid. When he has to talk about it, all he says is he was storming the compound of a rogue scientist who'd been embezzling from an undisclosed major corporation, and his father was killed in action. Of course, neither of these things are strictly true, according to public record -- the scientist in question wasn't an embezzler or even a scientist at all, but the leader of some kind of vaguely Discordant cult, and Conch's father is still technically alive, just in a seven-year coma. Either way, Conch proved himself in the raid. There was a minor bidding war over his career after that, with a couple of corporations trying to snap him up onto their security teams like they did any soldier or cop with potential. But through a positively stupid level of persistence, Conch somehow managed to stick with MPD, and advanced to the coveted rank of homicide detective. He spent the next seven years trying to wrap up assorted loose ends from the raid -- in particular, trying to locate a survivor. He doesn't like to talk about that much. The investigation, he claims, directly led to the death of his newlywed wife, which in turn led to allegations of murder that he was never technically indicted for (MPD looks after their own), but which caused enough of a social-media firestorm that he was forced to retire. These days, he makes his living in the underworld he once swore to destroy, taking jobs where he can find them, trying to pad his wallet as much as he needs to until he can finally crack his last case.
Civilian Details: By day, Conch makes a modest living as LOGAN COBRETTI, PRIVATE EYE, settling disputes off the books and finding people who don't want to be found. He's new to the city, so he doesn't have a smoky office which leggy dames who are nothing but trouble can stroll into yet, but he's working on it.
Inventory:
S&W Beesting Revolver (1000)
Hayshimoto Bed Roll (250)
Gruel (500)
Worthless Black Vest (Heirloom)
Prescription Aviator Shades (50)
700 Credits

Statistics:
Grit: 3. Sometimes, when Conch gets drunk, he'll tell you all about the time he was shot in the chest with a turret-mounted chaingun while high on beans(?) and was on his hooves again the next day. He's not quite that tough, but he's no stranger to taking bullets, either.
Athletics: 2. Conch isn't quite down to entry-level mallcop physique yet, but several years of rough-and-tumble alcoholism mean he's definitely not in academy-standard shape any more.
Hacking: 0. Conch had to use a computer to file police reports back in Manehattan. Does that count?
Stealth: 2. Conch wouldn't be a very good Private Eye if he didn't know how to sneak around in places he's not supposed to be. Knowing this, one could make the argument that Conch isn't a very good Private Eye.
Murder: 3. Conch has long since passed his first rodeo, and knows a thing or two about how to handle himself in a gunfight. The Raid taught him several things.
Acting: 4. To supplement his inability to sneak around, Conch has a large amount of experience with convincing people he belongs somewhere he doesn't, should be told something he doesn't know, and/or that he's certainly not trying to swindle you.
Mechwork: -1. What does Conch look like, a damn engineer? He doesn't know how to fix a computer box. Get somepony else to do it.
Perception: 3. As a former homicide detective, Conch has an eye for details that's maybe slightly better than your average Joe.
Spellcasting: 2. Conch has never put a whole lot of stock in magic, honestly. He knows a few spells, sure, and they've gotten him out of a few jams, but he tends to rely more on his wits and his gun than his horn.
Adept Power: 0. Similarly, Conch doesn't know any neat tricks to overclock his body and "seize his destiny" or any New Age garbage like that. Or if he does, the alcohol is choking them out.

>>458566

>>458567
I will never live that down, will I?

>>458566
Also, I had a couple of second thoughts about my stats, but the post won't let me edit it for some reason, so I'll just mark it down here and hope someone notices:
Acting: 4 5
Spellcasting 2 0

>>458568
lol

You know if you make your character a sturdy you get 20 points instead of 18. You still get to be a unicorn but you won't have access to any amazing spells other than the basic telekinesis.

This is my final string of advice. Use it well HEHEHEHEHEEEE~

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=2EN9SiC3eNo

Name: Unknown
Title: The Highlander
Race: Sheep (Sturdy)
Ethnicity: Scoffish
Age: 30

History: Not much is known about the magical land of Scoffland. The small 'country' has gone unnoticed for almost a thousand years, partly due to their reclusiveness, yes, but mostly because nobody gave much of a shit.

The Shattering brought about a shitstorm, no doubt, and survival was tough. In these godawful times, a small group of ponies banded together; in their true and rightful home of the Highlands, they stayed, defending their useless lot of land from any oncoming invaders. They did so successfully, by virtue of there being none; nobody in the right mind would want the highlands. They were impossible to farm, live in, or do anything to keep a stable population alive. The nation, if you could call it that, was small; only 100, if even, managed to survive at any given time. There wasn't enough grass to graze on to fed any more, and the brutal temperatures of the highlands took more than a few lives. Only the ones with thick coats survived. Because of this, the thickness of one's coat soon became a status symbol in their society.

Over the long years, Scoffland, as it was called, gradually became an untouchable place -- after the Wandering Herd had gathered followers, returned harmony to the world, and disbanded, there was one place they forgot to visit. The few attempts at travel through these lands were met with defensive violence. It was presumed the ponies in this area were merely looters, and nothing more. It was later discovered that they were, infact, tribals. And nobody gave a single shit; more efficient routes for travel and trade were soon found, and Scoffland became a blank area on most maps. Nothing was done about them for centuries. And, even after the formation of Equestria, the Spangled Shield, and the world as we know it, next to nothing has been done involving Scoffland. Equestria may have actually passed a bill demanding them be left alone; equine rights and cultural rights, and stuff like that. They had the right to be left in exile, if they so chose. And chose this they did.

How did this poor schmuck find his way to Canterlot? Who knows? Maybe he just decided to leave. Maybe he got in an argument with his father. Maybe he wanted to explore. Either way, two things are certain: one, there's a new incredibly fluffy pony in town, and two, he will fucking kill you if you insult him, his coat, or his obnoxious bagpipes.

Civilian details: None. He's a wanderer.

Stats:
Grit: 5
>"Li'l wee lassies, prancin' aboot wit'cher li'l flimsy arses...."
Athletics: 4
>"Oi'm comin' fer ye, ye squa'ers!"
Perception: 2
>"Still go' me good eye, aye?"
Murder: 4
>"Hell's 'bout ta run out o' glue."
Stealth: -1
>[blaring bagpipes in the distance]
Mechwork: -1
>"Oi dun't think tha's s'pused te bend tha' wey?"
Acting: -1
>"Gon'uh... Tekhk y' down to th'... Peehn treehn steh... zzz..."
Hacking: -1
>"Wot tha bloody hell is this thing?"
Adept Power: 2
>"Oi dun't think they saw tha' one comin'."
Specialty: Bagpipes: 5
>"FREEEEEEDOOOOOOM!"
>When using bagpipes, all enemies in a 15 meter radius must make a grit roll. If they fail, they lose 2 points of health. Enemies within 5 meters lose hearing, and are considered stunned for a full round. Using bagpipes takes two actions. Does not work twice on any given target.
>When using bagpipes, all friendly players gain a +1 to a stat of their choice: grit, murder, athletics, or adept power, at the cost of two perception. This is unavoidable.

Inventory:
Kilt (Effect: Duster): $500
>Trust me, it's concealing his weaponry.
Claymore (Reskin: Kapricorn Frontline Blade): $1000
>Refurbished heirloom. Simple, but scary.
Bagpipes: Heirloom
>[BAGPIPES]

harry this is what happens when i cant sleep at 6 AM and I get bad ideas and Nevermore eggs me on

im so sorry

>>458566
Out of all the threads on all the imageboards in the world, you just had to walk into mine...I don't have a problem with you, man, but you might wanna revisit that statline with some help from a player. If you play in this game, with that statline, you're gonna regret it--maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but soon, and for the rest of your life. You don't want the last thing people see of you to be the bullet in your head, behind closing elevator doors.

Other than that? Welcome to the fold, Operator.

>>458570
Scotty, dearest of all my friends.

Go to bed.

Name: Hat Trick
Alias: Running Riot
Race: Pony - Pegasus (Airborne)
Age: 29


History: This particular pony was born into a well-off, middle class family that was kind and helpful with encouraging her to find her talents. She found out her calling at a young age thanks to a school talent show, which lead to a promising career as a magician/comedian in her later years. She performed at several small gigs until a talent scout saw one of her acts.

This lead up to a boom in her popularity, fame, and fortune, leading her to a life in Canterlot. But, the cost of this lifestyle came with a price. Her new career had her drained of energy, barely able to keep up with her quota of shows. She quickly sought help from some other forms of energy. Caffiene seemed nice, but wasn't the jolt she needed. So, more drastic measures were taken in the form of amphetamines. Soon, actual magic users came into the picture, pushing her act out of popularity, leading to her downfall.

Thanks to her addiction, it rattled her mind, pushing her to snap when she was fired. But, being the show-off she was, she needed to send a message they'll never forget. Using her talent to smuggle some fireworks into a venue, she set them in several key locations. A fire was started (by her, no less), which left the entire venue in shambles. The only thing that stood out over the top was a lighted message that didn't last long, but had enough viewers to remember it. To this day, nopony knows who did it, but whoever did had a real hatred of theatre since the message said "FUCK YOU". Now she just wanted to look at the fun side of life. Some time after that, she crafted a new way for her to fight, using her wings for a quick, flashy kill on her enemies.


Civillian Details: She decided not to go crawling back to her parents after her ordeal, so she remains homeless and unemployed. Although she does keep herself occupied by conning chumps on the street thanks to her fast hooves. She normally resides in Haven Spire, but takes trips up to the richer parts to set up shop to be either a street magician, or a con artist, depending on her mood.

Stats will be made when I actually figure that out, and my scheduling. I'll also have to figure out what she looks like. Back to pony creator, I guess.

Last edited at Wed, Apr 15th, 2015 02:13

Perception 5
1d10 = 5

Once more, Perception 5.
1d10 = 1

>>458611
Confirming.
1d10 = 1

>>458612
...C-confirming?
1d10 = 2

>>458613
1d10 = 1
Conforming. v:

>>458614
1d10 = 10
:v

Stealth
1d10 = 5

Target 5 :^)
1d10 = 4

Stealth 0 1d10 = 5

Target 5
1d10 = 5

> Crash's new character

1d4 = 2

>>458655
I wish she'd be that good.

>>458657
She can and she will, my child.

>>458608
Finally put the final touches on her.

Stats are as follows:

Grit: 2
Athletics: 4
Hacking: -1
Stealth: 0
Murder: 0
Acting: 3
Mechwork: -1
Perception: 4
Adept Power: 1
Specialty: 5

New Specialty! Press [SELECT] to view more!

Specialty: Sleight of Hoof -- You may hold an extra short or compact weapon. For every two points you have in sleight of hoof, rounding up. For every two points you have in Sleight Hoof you may ignore one weapon switch penalty, rounding up. On a turn in which you switch weapons, your Sleight of Hoof skill can be used in place of your murder score for the purpose of basic attacks; it cannot be used to clash. On a turn in which you switch weapons, you gain a single +1 bonus for every 2 weapon switches you carry out.

Equipment:

Unarmed x5000 - More hooves means more weapon swaps, duh!
Shiv x99
Prayer x99
Rock x99
Standard Blades x99
Telekinesises x99
^ All of this is free so it's mine.

But I had to pay for:
Duffel Bag x1 - I mean, how else am I gonna carry all this free shit?
S&W Beesting Revolver x2 - Two guns with the best power and least cost equal a happy run horse.

And now I'm broke, great.

Last edited at Thu, Apr 23rd, 2015 18:57

>>458662
> presses select

>>458663

>>458664

>>458665

>>458666

>>458667

>>458668

>>458669

>>458670

>>458671

>>458672
> shots fired

Name: Peppermint Ire
Alias: Syke!
Race: Pegasus
Age: 23
Class: Cybard
Appearance: Has a pink coat and eyes the colour of lava. A bedraggled blonde mane with one too many split-ends, and the slight shade of a smoker's stain. Sometimes wears a faded baseball cap backwards, saying "Stay Noided." Excitable demeanour.

History: Born in Horsestralia has had multiple adverse effects on Peppers' life. For one, her family. For the second, the suspected brain damage, though that's never been confirmed. And thirdly, no one wants to hire a god damn Horsie to do their DJ gig.

After a turbulent early childhood in Horestralia - involving a dismembered brother by Kangaroo - this was followed by an equally turbulent adolescence in Canterlot. Adjusting to things such as politics, societal norms, pop-culture and the Fuzzie Bunches was difficult indeed after life in the godless land. Confused and disoriented and alone, she raged against the seemingly false society; an aimless vagabond for some time before her true calling came from on high the mighty towers of underground AM radio. Music, you see, put words on what couldn't be said, and provided exactly the channel Pepper needed. Not long after this revelation, she started a DJ gig, and swiftly gained notoriety for her wild performance style. The maneiac from downunder relished in the attention, and proved adept at interviews, her unorthodox charisma shining through.

Time passed, frustration started to set in. Tired of dumbing down in order to not offend the delicate public’s sensibilities, her true creative spirit became stifled. So with two speakers, an amplifier and a menagerie of synthesized sounds, she headed out to replicate the free-spirited days of her youth in Horsetralia, and its tantalizing dances with death. She needed to find that most elusive of things: something real.

Civilian Details: Unemployed, looking for a gig. Lives in a state of constant disarray at home with her stoner older sister, whom she looks up to a lot. Has limited contact with her parents, both currently working in Middle City as package tour sellers.

Stats:
Grit : 2
Athletics : 4
Hacking : 0
Stealth : -1
Murder : -1
Acting : 4
Mechwork : -1
Perception : 3
(Special) Music : 5 (Music is the skill of spinning fresh beats on the battlefield, but is basically just a reskin of magic. Is also used in the process of making sick mix tapes.)
Adept Power : 2

Equipment:

FUC Soundsystem (Custom Order) ~ Fun Under Control - Pepper's baby, a portable sound rig/saddle bag that brings the concert wherever she wants. Acts in lieu of a Unicorn's horn and is what channels her magic.
Shiv (Free) ~ She wouldn't know the blunt end from the sharp end, but it's free and mildly threatening.
Hayshimoto Bed Roll (250) ~ Stained with too many long nights.
Gruel (500) ~ Horsetralia was worse, honestly.
Illusory Wall (1000) ~ When you really want to raise the roof. An artificial roof. It drove the audience nuts, man.
Shove (500) ~ Bass like a kick to the chest.

Last edited at Thu, Apr 23rd, 2015 13:52

>>458662

Last edited at Thu, Apr 23rd, 2015 18:57

>>458662

>>458662
I am going to bludgeon you.

However, this is technically acceptable. Welcome to the fold, Operator.

>>458674
And you. You're not our first horsie, but you're definitely the first, uh...think of some word for "talented musician" that starts with an H.

Welcome to the fold, Operator.