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Post by not1stepbackwards on Mar 22, 2011 7:38:49 GMT -5
OP’s note – I saw creative takes on fascinating characters in different formats (i.e. narratives, profiles, and journals) in this forum. I decided to try telling my Champion’s story from another angle…from the perspectives of the very criminals she hunts.Issue #1 – The Greatest Trick the Devil Ever Pulled Tommy glanced around the abandoned sewer chamber at his New Purple Gang crew. With Millennium City’s heightened security, it was one of the few places they can meet. Doing a mental roll call, he asked, “Where the hell’s Ernesto?” “Eh…he ain’t coming, boss,” coughed Barber, nervously fidgeting with his switchblade. Considering he was a stonecold killer who’d bring a knife to a gun fight… and win, Tommy thought it a troubling sign. “He’s in the joint,” volunteered Henry, his hired muscle. “Word is he was high on smack, still carrying a few bags on him, walking around the gas station like a zombie. The cops cuffed him, said he had intent to distribute, but simply sampled a bit too much of his own product.” “No, no, no,” Tommy said, shaking his head, “that’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.” As one of the New Purple Gang’s top lieutenants, he took pride in his ability to gauge its members’ abilities and loyalties. That’s why he chose Ernesto to sell heroin. “There’s no way Ernesto would use, coz an ounce of smack he used was an ounce of smack he couldn’t sell, and his only addiction is money.” Suddenly, Barber’s switchblade went silent and he burst out, “ It was that vampire!” Rolling up a sleeve to bare his wrist, he continued, “She drinks from your arms to make it look like needle marks, so, so, so when you tell people, they think you’re just a junkie and making the story up!” After an awkward pause, Tommy replied, “Alright, now that’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.” “They call her Bloodbath,” explained Henry. “She’s a cape, a new one, with this vampire gimmick going.” “What, like striking terror in the night, because we’re a superstitious and cowardly lot,” sneered Tommy. “I’m supposed to believe that line of bull?” “I don’t either,” Henry calmly replied, “But maybe Ernesto did. It would explain his state of mind, wandering around with the goods out in the open. If he was being chased by this Bloodbath, where’d he go that he thinks a vampire wouldn’t follow? In broad daylight.” The comment briefly reminded Tommy that the gun-for-hire had been a Summa Cum Laude MCU student with a Harmon Scholarship. Of course, after he tried to rob a bank to pay for his mom’s emergency surgery, he ended up working off his debt for the New Purple Gang. “So,” he asked, “What have we got on her? Our rat in M.A.R.S. give you anything, Barber?” “The other capes call her ‘B.B.’, but her sheet gives her a real fancy name…just like a real vampire! It says here,” said Barber, unfolding a piece of paper from his pocket. “Yeah, see, surname’s Bathory, but her given name’s Erza…eh…Erzee…” “Hang on,” Henry laughed, “Is it spelled E-R-Z-S-E-B-E-T? Báthory Erzsébet? Are you kidding?” Tommy narrowed his eyes, just wondering how smart Henry really was, “Is that German? Since when did you speak German?” “Not German. Hungarian,” replied Henry, still chuckling. “Elizabeth Bathory in English. That’s like the name of…she’s like Dracula Girl Junior, the female Vlad Tepes. She didn’t just drink blood, she bathed in it for immortality or everlasting beauty or something. The best part is,” he said with a pause, like someone telling a joke badly, “Historians now think all those vampire and bloodbath myths are just a bad pun on her name… BATHory!” He burst into laughter again. “So what does that mean, Henry,” shrieked Barber, the paper rattling in his hands, “She a vampire or not?” “ No, man,” Henry said, trying to catch his breath. “She’s just messing with us! It’s like if you grew a pointy little beard, and then told people you’re Lucifer D. Satan and you’ve come to buy their souls! It’s so obvious she couldn’t expect anyone to believe it!” Barber barked back, “But what if she knows we’re too smart to believe her?” “Well,” replied Henry, gasping, “Then she must also know that we know that she knows that we’re too…” “ Enough,” said Tommy, holding up a hand as if he could physically push back the lunacy. “Henry, what am I paying you for, anyway? Go guard the god damned tunnel. I want to talk to Barber.” After Henry’s chuckling echoes faded down the tunnel, Barber asked, “What do you think boss? I mean, Henry’s a real smart guy, but Ernesto ain’t no dummy either. He wouldn’t have been scared by someone just pretending to be a vampire.” “So that means he was scared by someone that was really a vampire? Come on, Barber, forget about it. I know you’re just worried for Ernesto and you don’t really believe in this baloney,” said Tommy in a slow, reassuring voice. “ Henry’s right. People see what they want to see.” Gunfire roared down the tunnels. Instinctively, Tommy grabbed his assault rifle as Barber sprinted silently towards the sound, his switchblade materializing in his hand. By the time Tommy caught up, Barber was already kneeling by the wall of a bend, poised like an animal ready to pounce. Barber gave a slight nod as he drew his dagger back, indicating he was ready. Tommy rushed forward and turned the corner, his finger on the trigger. He saw a pale figure hunched over Henry’s prone body. She looked up at him slowly, nonchalantly dropping something that made a wet sound as it hit the ground. It was Henry’s arm, limp and lifeless, its cuff red and heavy, splattering in a small pool of his own blood. As she leapt forward at Tommy, the last thing to go through his mind was that Henry may have been wrong after all. “La plus belle des ruses du diable est de vous persuader qu'il n'existe pas.” – Charles Baudelaire
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Post by not1stepbackwards on Mar 22, 2011 7:39:31 GMT -5
Issue #2 – It’s What’s Inside That Counts Barber ran, his feet not making a sound. I’m the best hitman in the whole damn city. Never seen, never heard, if I wanted. However, his heart was beating like a drum as he fled. He saw Tommy emptying his rifle into that Bloodbath, but which didn't even slow her down, yet he made no sound to give Barber away. That’s why Tommy’s the boss, thought Barber. Silent to the end for the New Purple Gang. As he ducked into the maze of tunnels deeper into the sewer, he slowed down. So what am I doing, continued that treacherous train of thought. I’m turning my back on him like I got no balls. Just retreating, the rational part of his brain commented. Tommy wanted the others to be warned. Then Barber stopped, thinking, Yeah…but then what would the others say about me leaving the crew behind?He thought back to the last words Tommy had said, “ Henry’s right. People see what they want to see.” He remembered the fairy tale, the one about an emperor. A tailor promised him to give him a set of clothes so beautiful only smart people could see it and pretended to dress him. Of course, after that, no one was stupid enough to admit the emperor was naked. I’m no college-type like Henry, reflected Barber. Maybe it takes a dummy like me to know a damn vampire when I see one. A more troubling thought was brewing in his mind, How the hell can someone like her go around the city, drinking people’s blood? If it was him or someone in the gang doing that, the authorities would organize the biggest manhunt in history. Barber turned the idea around, If I was a vampire, I’d go after us, coz we’d never go to the cops. However, he noticed a flaw in his logic, But if she wanted to keep things quiet, why did she keep Ernesto alive? Why not just kill him?Then Barber realized that, as a New Purple Gang hitman, he knew better than anyone…it was exactly like their extortion racket. Make them scared, make them hurt, but DON’T make them dead unless you have to, coz you can’t squeeze a corpse for cash next time. Naturally, it wasn’t their money Bloodbath was after. It’s what's inside that counts, mused Barber bitterly. What’s inside our veins! She ain’t hunting us…she’s farming us!Barber had done many things he wasn’t proud of, more than he could count on the fingers he cut off people that owed the New Purple Gang, but he still felt morally superior to the vampire. How could someone…something like her even act like a cape, he asked himself. Then he considered all the other superheroes in the city, how their masks and tights gave them free reign. It ain’t that she’s a cape DESPITE she’s a vampire, Barber mulled. She’s a cape BECAUSE she’s a vampire! It was the perfect alibi. Barber knew what he had to do. He headed back towards Bloodbath, but more importantly, to his crew. As he heard slurping sounds in the far end of the tunnel, he tried to recall what the legends said. They could hypnotize people, make themselves appear as counts and princesses, he thought. Or as heroes. Edging his way to the corner, Barber turned his attention to the most pressing question, But how are you supposed to kill them? Was it garlic or crosses, acid or holy water? Or you got to stab them…yes…in the heart. It REALLY is what’s inside that counts. “ Henry’s right. People see what they want to see,” Tommy had said. His mind told him Bloodbath should look like they do in the movies, beautiful with pale skin and red lips, but he paid attention to his eyes instead, seeing the centuries-old parasite as she really was. Never seen. He walked openly towards the monster. She looked up. Never heard. He flicked his switchblade out as loudly as he could. Her gaze followed it. If I wanted to. Barber ran towards Bloodbath. She rose, lunging back at him. The vampire threw a swift right punch. She was quicker than he expected, but still not as fast as he was. He twisted, avoiding her fist narrowly. Her other arm darted forward and grabbed his throat, slamming him into the wall… exactly as Barber planned. Television always shows murderers holding knives backwards, stabbing down at the head or chest. Experienced killers know that the skull and ribs get in the way, so aim for the stomach instead. Expert assassins do one better with long daggers, perhaps even ice picks, to go past the guts, up through the lungs, and if they’re lucky, into the hearts for instant death. Barber was not a TV villain, nor an experienced killer, not even an expert assassin. He hissed, “ I’m the best hitman in the whole damn city.” It is something of a trade secret among doctors and Special Forces that the quickest way to the heart is technically through the left armpit. However, it requires surgical precision and a lot of force to hit. Barber, still in the vampire’s grip, threw his right knee directly into her left elbow. As her arm jolted upwards for a split second, he threw his right hand, clenching his switchblade so hard that his knuckles went white, in a perfect sideways arc under her joint. Bloodbath gasped as Barber felt his strike piercing through the lung into the hollow sweet spot of her left ventricle. He thought he sensed a slight palpitating vibrate through his knife as he gave it a nice twist. His moment of triumph turned into one of terror as she said, “ It only works with wooden stakes.” Barber didn’t even resist as Bloodbath placed a perfect sleeper hold on him. As he faded into unconsciousness, he felt his life ebb away through his warm, wet wrist. “There’s something almost magical about a pretty girl. Her smile can melt the hardest heart and set the thing awhirl! But pretty eyes and lovely hair are things that will not keep, So I agree with those who say that beauty’s just skin deep. Here she is, a picture of grace, Two vacant blue eyes, in an ashen white face. Though she seems kind of stiff as an ex-human being, How far she will go remains to be seen! She’s charming! She couldn’t be nicer! What a pleasure it was to slice her! She’s magnificent, every ounce, ‘Cos it’s what’s inside that counts! How exciting it is to suture A beauty without any future. She’s magnificent, every ounce, ‘Cos it’s what’s inside that counts!” - Buck Henry, Beauty Rest
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Post by not1stepbackwards on Mar 22, 2011 7:40:34 GMT -5
Issue #3 - The Emperor's New Clothes “ We’re closed,” shouted Maria Szabo at the knocking outside her shop. It was a traditional corner store, cluttered with anything that could be sold, but she also kept a small corner for tailoring. Her wizened hand wrapped around the shotgun behind the counter. As an elderly woman living alone in Westside, one can never be too careful. “ Jó estét, néni,” said a female voice from the other side, then as if catching her mistake, she translated, “Good eventide…ah…auntie. I must practice the English some more.” It had been a long time since Szabo heard her native language of Hungarian. A shadow darted in the corner of her eye, but she ignored it, as she knew it was merely her cat, Mr. Fuzzo. “I wish to come in,” the visitor continued. Though polite, the phrase was a statement of fact rather than a request as a tall, pale figure entered the half-lit corner store, her black evening gown seeming to merge with the shadows. It took a moment for Szabo to remember that she had bolted the door shut for the night. Mr. Fuzzo perched himself on the highest shelf, peering down at the woman. She returned his gaze, like two predators in the jungle sizing each other up. Eventually, he turned his head away as if to say, I acknowledge you as a fellow hunter and shall allow you passage through my territory. “I have need of new clothes,” her unwanted customer said in a voice that not only sounded commanding, but used to being obeyed. She gave Szabo a look that she recognized on Mr. Fuzzo. You exist only to feed me or to do my bidding, her face seemed to say, And I am not hungry…for now. Szabo narrowed her eyes, “So you are the one they’re talking about. The Blood Countess of Èachtice, Báthory Erzsébet.” Defiantly, she added, “You are not welcome here! I know you are…” “And I know you, Maria néni,” interrupted Bathory, “And that your son was recently lost to you.” Szabo froze. The very words seemed to tear open an old wound. “I heard the New Purple Gang mention you both,” her patroness continued. “And that you owed them the ‘ protection fees’. It was they who made him…what is the word, ‘ disappear’.” Szabo remained rigid. Her eyes did not well up with tears, but only because she had none left to shed. “If you know who I am, then you know what I can do to you,” Bathory proclaimed, “Or to them. I wish for you to make me a costume like those of your ‘superheroes’. What do you want in exchange? Money?” Her offer was greeted with silence. “ Protection?” Szabo’s negotiation stance remained unchanged. “ Justice?” “No, no, no,” Szabo burst out. “ I want their blood!” Bathory smiled, baring her fangs, and replied, “ Done.” Szabo listened as Bathory described her idea for a costume with an obvious vampire theme. In a world of secret identities, no one would suspect a bloodsucker like her to openly advertise herself as such. Szabo thought it was utter nonsense, but in such insane times, perhaps hiding in plain sight was the perfect strategy. She began drafting costume designs, but grew tired of Bathory looming over her, so she turned on the television in her shop. It was showing a late night black & white movie, Dracula, starring their fellow countryman Bela Lugosi. Bathory watched quietly with Mr. Fuzzo in her lap. After an hour, Szabo turned to Bathory with her sketches, “What do you think of these?” After a pause, Bathory said delicately, “Perhaps too much…” “…or maybe not enough,” finished Szabo, echoing her sentiment as she took off her reading glasses. She felt the same way, that while each concept had its own link to the central theme, none of them were what they were looking for. “Maria néni, how about,” Bathory suggested, gesturing towards the television, “something like that?” Szabo saw Bela Lugosi stare right back at her, wearing a tuxedo with a white tie and a cape. She stood still for a moment, then crumpled her sheet of designs into a ball. “Don’t move,” she told Bathory as she strode into the backroom. She emerged with a dark jumpsuit in her arms. She held it against Bathory’s tall frame, explaining, “It’s a M.A.R.S. Kevlar one-piece, the younger ‘heroes’ love it. I got it from a surplus sale.” Szabo taped the sides of the garment, then grabbed a can of white paint from the corner. As she methodically sprayed even coats on the chest of the suit, she slapped Bathory’s outreached hand, “Don’t touch it until it’s dry! Now go pick a pair of boots that fit you. Top shelf.” By the time Bathory decided on her footwear, the proprietress was already spurring her to put on the outfit. After teaching her how zippers worked, Szabo ripped a piece of soft textile in a perfect straight line and wrapped it around Bathory’s throat so tight that her tongue stuck out. “There, that’ll make your grotesquely long neck look distinguished,” said Szabo with satisfaction. “All that is left is the cape, Maria néni,” replied Bathory. She then realized she was alone on the shop floor as Mr. Fuzzo gave her a quizzical look. “ Maria néni?” She found Szabo in the backroom, hugging something tightly. The shopkeeper whispered, “I patched the cuts as best I could. I know it’s not exactly what you are looking for, but I want you to wear this when you face them…so that they remember.” She pressed the object into Bathory’s arms. Bathory looked down at her hands. It was a men's trench coat. Very softly, Szabo said, “ My boy, John, was almost your height.” Without a word, Bloodbath turned, swinging the jacket over her shoulders. She went out just as she came in, passing through the walls as if they were merely mist. “Yes,” Szabo hissed at the night, “ Let the streets run red.” "The finest clothing made is a person's skin, but, of course, society demands something more than this." - Mark Twain
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Post by not1stepbackwards on Mar 22, 2011 7:41:57 GMT -5
Issue #4 - Lies of Omission “And then I said to her, ' I’m the best hitman in the whole damn city.' Like she’s got me by the throat, but I got her where I wanted. So I took my knife and I went, ‘ HAAAIII-YEAH!’ Right under the arm, straight into the heart!” Tommy stood quietly in the corner of the prison quad as Barber told the crowd how he fought Bloodbath, the new ‘hero’ responsible for putting so many of them behind bars. The hardened criminals gathered around him like schoolchildren during story time. Tommy waited until the audience was dispersing before approaching Barber. “Hur hur hur, Barber,” laughed a clinger-on. “I swear that story gets better every time you tell it.” “Ah, shaddup, Ernie,” replied Barber. Turning, he saw Tommy, “Hey, boss. You weren’t looking for me, were ya?” “Matter of fact, I was,” said Tommy. With a glance, he signaled to Ernie that he wanted to talk to Barber alone, “I got some good news for you, Barber. We worked out a deal with the District Attorney to get you out of here real soon.” “Aw, thanks boss! How’d you manage that?” “I got our legal advisors to appeal and they’re going to pin some stuff on me to let you walk. It’s me they want locked up, anyway,” Tommy replied with a shrug. “Fair trade.” Barber looked up at Tommy, then down at his feet. He eventually said, “I never told no one this, but that night? When you were fighting that vampire, I ran for…” “Hey, hey, hey,” interrupted Tommy in a hushed voice. “That was smart, Barber. I was counting on you to do the smart thing and warn the others. But you did something better than that.”Barber’s brow furled, “Huh?” “ You came back for us,” Tommy explained. “Now everyone sees that you’re the biggest badass in Westside. Besides, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about. The boss of bosses has got a plan to deal with our little… rodent problem.” “What ro…oh yeah, I get it now. The big one we saw in the sewers, right?” “Exactly. We’re getting some expert help. Now, everyone knows how you take care of the vermin, so we want you to hook up with this professional. Well, that’s all I have to say, but I got you a little present,” said Tommy, handing Barber a book. “What’s this, a novel? Wait,” muttered Barber as he looked at the cover. “’ Dracula?’” Tommy had already crossed to the other side of the prison yard. As Barber flipped through the gift, a photography nearly fell out from between the pages. He stared at it for a moment, then grinned, “Yeah, that’s what we need …a rodent exterminator.” As Tommy headed back to his cell, he thought, Of course I’d rather have you out of here instead of me, Barber. Inside this maximum security prison, it’s nice and safe. Outside, I might run into her again. Better you than me…you idiot.--- Maria Szabo looked up at the clock in her shop. “It’s nearly midnight,” she announced to her guest. “It’s that same black and white moving picture again! Maria néni, pay for cable so we can get the extra channels on this television box,” came the reply. “Well, Your Excellency, you can buy that TV, take it home, and install cable there,” Szabo snapped back. “Don’t they pay you for being a Champion or whatever it is you do, Bloodbath?” After a pause, Bloodbath countered, “Fine, Maria néni, because you are a miser, you give me no choice but to watch this dross once more.” For the past weeks, Bloodbath had dropped by periodically after opening hours, mostly to watch the news. Although she never bought anything, Szabo was secretly happy to have her around. Aside from a superhero being the best anti-burglary system in the world, they’d talk about the gangsters she put away or life back in Hungary. With her son gone, Bloodbath was the closest thing she had to family. “Oh, tonight, I have gift for you,” said Bloodbath. “Well, thank you,” replied Szabo, genuinely taken aback. “But I’d really rather you buy the TV with money.” “If I do that,” considered Bloodbath, “I’d have no one to practice the English speaking with. Plus, I think you’ll like this more than the monies.” “I seriously doubt that, but show me anyway.” “Patience, Maria néni. Good things come home to those who are waiting, yes?” Szabo had gotten used to Bloodbath’s butchery of colloquialisms, “That’s ‘ good things come to those who wait.’ And what exactly are we waitin…” A beeping sound came from Bloodbath’s direction. She put a finger to her ear and said, “Am on way.” Confused, Szabo watched Bloodbath stride towards the shop entrance. At the same time, she heard a car screeching its way towards them, stopping right in front of her store. There was the sound of doors sliding open and slamming closed. After the commotion died down, Bloodbath returned with another figure that was almost her height. “Like I said, good things come home,” asked Bloodbath. “With the gangs threatening us for protection money, I went to the police and they put me in their witness protection program,” said a young man’s voice. “Um…please don’t get mad, Mom.” Meekly, Maria Szabo asked, “John? I thought you were dead.” She raised her trembling hands to touch his face, as if making sure he was not a ghost. Then she slapped him as hard as she could, “Why didn’t you call?” “The cops said the gangsters may be tapping our phones,” said John in a muffled voice as he tried to block her blows. “Please stop hitting me, Mom!” “I see you have much ketchup to do,” said Bloodbath to no one in particular. “I leave you to it, but I keep the jacket, thank you.” She smiled as she left the shop, scratching at a fang with a fingernail, and decided to go for a drink.
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blackmethos
Sidekick
Lone Wolf among the Roleplayers
Posts: 14
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Post by blackmethos on Mar 22, 2011 7:51:19 GMT -5
Nice. Well written and quite interesting. I like it
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Post by theironbat on Mar 23, 2011 12:24:46 GMT -5
Very nice perspective and creative storyline Look forward to reading more. We got all our series of comics going on around here lol
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Post by not1stepbackwards on Mar 24, 2011 12:18:20 GMT -5
Thanks for the encouragement, gents, and it's really you guys that got me writing in the 1st place from when I read your own pieces on this forum. My 1 real contribution was to NOT make this centred on my character...it's about the CO setting that you guys play in, which I think is more engaging.
My goal is to make it fun for you, that when you're fighting against even these lowly New Purple Gang henchmen with new alts, you feel each of them has a name, a personality, maybe even a family, but definitely a story of their own.
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Post by knighton on Mar 26, 2011 0:44:15 GMT -5
I loved this! I really liked how you breathed life into what I used to think were pathetic Purple Gang members. Also like the pics that went with this, especially that cork board type thing at the beginning. I am eagerly awaiting the next installments. I want to learn more about Bloodbath!
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Post by not1stepbackwards on Mar 27, 2011 12:39:10 GMT -5
Hi guys, just posted up Issue #2, plus also re-did all the images in a format better suited for lower resolution screens (down to 1280 by 800). I try to make these stories just plain fun to flip through, so I wanted to make it convenient for you to view. I loved this! I really liked how you breathed life into what I used to think were pathetic Purple Gang members. Also like the pics that went with this, especially that cork board type thing at the beginning. I am eagerly awaiting the next installments. I want to learn more about Bloodbath! I'm particularly honoured that you like it after reading your excellent Saturday Night Fights, as both you and I focus on the Champions Online setting we all share rather than on our characters. I really hope you like this latest issue. I really hope you root for the New Purple Gang Blade Man, Barber. Even I'm rooting for Barber. Barber rules!
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Post by knighton on Mar 27, 2011 22:49:34 GMT -5
Aw man... I was rooting for Barber too! *Spoiler!*Is he dead? I think he is, but I hope he isn't!*End Spoiler!* I guess I'll just have to keep reading to see what happens with Bloodbath and Barber! I can't wait for Issue #3! I'm honored that you liked Saturday Night Fights! I'm actually surprised that people have read it, to be honest...
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Post by not1stepbackwards on Apr 2, 2011 12:37:54 GMT -5
Issue #3 is up! This time, it's told from the viewpoint of one of Westside's citizens. The story here mirrored my own search for an ideal costume for this mini-series and, indeed, the character herself. The theme boils down to " a vampire pretending to be a human pretending to be a vampire". With this forum's help (thank you, you know who you are), I found an outfit that exceeded my highest expectations, as shown at the end of the issue. Not everyone will appreciate it, but I like it as it's simple, yet tells a story by itself. On a sidenote...this could be modified into an awesome Phantom of the Opera costume (by just replacing the eye accessory with the half mask). Music of the night indeed, woohoo! Aw man... I was rooting for Barber too! *Spoiler!*Is he dead? I think he is, but I hope he isn't!*End Spoiler!* Honestly, even I haven't decided yet. Issue #4, the final chapter for this mini-series, will should up next week. We'll see then.
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Post by not1stepbackwards on Apr 28, 2011 11:58:15 GMT -5
This came out a little later than scheduled for a number of reasons, but perhaps the biggest one is this: By itself, it's a little rough, but it's a Proof-of-Concept and Work-in-Progress of a comic I'm making about my Champions Online character. I don't think making an actual comic about a comic book-themed MMORPG character is like "a new idea". All of us thought about it at one point. What triggered me to get this out fast was seeing April's State of the Game. I kind of wanted to beat Cryptic Studios to the punch. I'm trying to make a short, one-off story in this comic book format. This is just a preview of ideas to come.
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Post by KenpoJuJitsu3 on Apr 29, 2011 8:07:56 GMT -5
Very nice. I am impressed and will be following this story and the way it is presented.
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