Zidargh

I'm no writing critic, nor am I an author, but... [quote name='Reise']A man in a black cloak with long black but with purple tinted hair...[/quote], I really didn't like that line. The structure was off. Perhaps it would be best to edit that to; "A man in a black cloak walked out of one of the many booths that littered the street. His black hair glowed with the artificial light, the odd purple tints glaring now and again." That wasn't good either, but just an idea. You can often tell the quality of an RPG by the spelling-quality, so watch out for that. I've planned, created and participated in countless Final Fantasy RPG's. The only one that survived was Sage's Final Fantastic Survivor. I feel the main problem with these RPG's is like anything else based on a specific series/era, if you're going by a pre-existing story that was left open-ended previously, people are bound to have conflicting opinions of what was/is to happen in that world. Therefore you risk utter confusion. You must look ahead and ask yourself, "Do I really think this RPG could work? After all, it has to be interesting and constantly progressing. But most of all, it must be relevant to the story line." People tend to get bored of sequels to storylines because they start to lack the imagination needed for an RPG, because they worry about it sticking relevant to that world, and what has happened previously. I [i]loved[/i] the city of Midgar. It's drearyness and themes were wonderful. A beautiful setting I feel. But bear in mind it was [spoiler]blown to smithereens[/spoiler] pretty much, and I highly doubt people would want to rebuild that city for they felt so oppressed. Therefore, I would've thought the majority of people would've evacuated it long ago. But who knows? You set it 50 years ahead, obviously you have a flexible period. Just make sure you cover that aspect. If you can make it work, I'll take my hat off to you, but it will take a fair bit of planning. By all means go for it. Perhaps you should give a tiny bit more of a background story to this 'five' aswell. I sound very critical but I hope it helped.

[quote name='GTK']The person covered up in the wheelchair is most likely Rufus Shinra. If you look at the cast list, Rufus is listed. The guy who voices him also does Roy in FullMetal Alchemist. The new trailer has the wheelchair person talking to Cloud, so you can hear who it is. There's also a lot of Shinra stuff on the wall behind him ^^;[/quote] Well that's just [i]silly[/i]. How the hell would [spoiler]a human being survive a blast of that size from one of the Weapons. And if he did survive it, the debris would've killed him at least.[/spoiler] That just takes away the glory of seeing what happened in FFVII, lol. I honestly feel this film is just twisting events to fit as much content as possible. And I don't like that they're doing that.

Fox: "Don't do this to me! I said go! Go on! Go! I don't like you anymore! *Sob* Go away you... why am I breaking down over a prehistoric creature. I must be on crack."

[font=trebuchet MS][center][b][size=3]Issue #7-Part III: [i]Pinnacle[/i][/b][/center][/size] The attacked fell upon his bed, limp, as if he were dead. He coughed and tasted the dry, juicy liquid that emerged into his throat. Stray blood still wandered around his system with every heavy breath he took. His heart pounding, the painful shock didn?t seem to have the intention of leaving him in a hurry. [I]?Who was that monster??[/I] He thought. [I]?In fact. Who were both of those men? One had the intention of killing me, the other, saved my life.?[/I] And while he tried to comprehend everything that occurred, he began to cry. His eyes burnt with the released pressure of relief that burst through his body, and the salty tears ran down his bruised cheeks, tilting as he sought comfort from his beige duvet. His coarse breathing was interrupted by random sniffs, until he wiped his nose, sat up, and tried to control himself as he re-winded back to the previous event. [I]?I want to be stronger.?[/I] ?Why the hell did I even take on this goddamn case!?? He yelled in fury, slamming his fists down, crumpling the duvet even more. And as he calmed down, staring into space, he noticed something. There laid a syringe. Placid. Trying to camouflage itself amongst the fallen debris of plaster, wood, and dust. Quickly running to the desk, which was fortunately left unharmed, he fumbled through various documents and found the photograph that was inside the mysterious package. Blowing off the dust, he hung the photo underneath the dim lamp, and smirked as he compared it to the syringe on the floor. Jumping to his knees so that he could see the device clearer, P.I. Dennett began to examine. The needle had snapped in half, the end not attached seemed to have gone missing, and three tiny pools of blood trailed from the needle. It obviously belonged to the creature that invaded his apartment earlier, for it had not been there before. But what stunned him so, was the green liquid that half-filled the device. Black dots were littered about inside, either from contamination, or a powder of some sort. But once Dennett had picked it up, the liquid transformed into a cloudy substance, making the syringe less transparent. Amazed, he shook the syringe, just as a kid does with its first pet, or a broken toy, and then the liquid morphed into a gooey red substance. ?Looks like I made it angry,? the Detective spoke out loud. And just as he was about to take the device and place it within one of his desk drawers, he noticed some writing across the cylinder: - [quote][size=1]Fairbanks. Ploraphynethide Phlorum ?[PINNACLE] Highly toxic. Highly corrosive. Handle with care.[/size][/quote] [I]?Fairbanks??[/I] He thought. This stood out, as he did not quite understand what the other information meant. He was by no means a scientist. It appeared Dennett had found his first, solid clue. Reaching into the drawer he had previously opened, Dennett pulled out a rough and torn tome, which had [quote]?Key City Communication?[/quote] written all over it. Vigorously flipping through the hundreds of pages to the ?F? section, he found his destination and pointed his finger to skim through the thousands of names that were archived. ?Fabio Pizza, Fagolo Cigarettes. Ltd, Fairbanks Drive, Fairbanks University?? He had found what he was looking for. But something didn?t seem quite right. [I]?Why would a chemical be designated for a driveway? Must be for a science experiment.?[/I] [I]Brrr. Brrr. Brrr. Brrr. Brr- Keyway Cars, how may I help?[/I] ?Yeah, hi. Could I get a cab?? [I]Isn?t it a little late for someone to be heading off somewhere? It doesn?t sound like you?re at a club.[/I] ?No time for small talk, ?bud?, just hurry up.? [I]Sure. It?ll be there in about 10 minutes. Wait, where would you like to go?[/I] ?Fairbanks University.? ------- The gentle hum of the motor weighed down upon the passengers? eyelids. The silhouette figure of the driver never seemed to falter, not until he moved his head to side to speak, eyes still on the road, ?Hey kid.? ?Huh?? Dennett replied sharply, a little shocked by this interruption to the gentle melody. ?Can?t sleep?? The driver?s voice had that [I]cool[/I], husky tone to it. ?Haven?t I seen you before?? ?Maybe. But then again, maybe not. We?re both wanderers.? ?Um, okay?? Dennett spoke as he attempted to drift out of the conversation. ?Hope you ain?t hurt.? But the Investigator didn?t hear, he was hypnotised by the scurrying patterns along the window. Raindrops glided along the glass, reflecting the bright neon and white lights that faded and illuminated every few seconds. Casting shadows within the dark vehicle. ------- Slamming the door behind him after payment, the P.I. blinked as the car pulled away, the driver certainly didn?t want to make eye contact with his customer. And then he surveyed his surroundings. It was almost a monolith. The two bushes that stood at the front, acted as a barrier between the road and the University gardens. The damp, bright grass had been cut to utter perfection by a janitor or gardener, obviously very proud of their profession, whilst the sprinklers were left on. Perhaps it hadn?t rained here, or perhaps the blades were just very thirsty. The actual building itself was obviously just a segment of the entire campus. Industrial lamps shot up their beams amongst the brickwork, illuminating the walls of the building, making it seem much taller than it probably was. And a static flag hung down from the centre on a pole, bearing the typical American flag. Universities were always notoriously patriotic in appearance. Suddenly, the doors below the flag, and just above the path and footsteps gently gave way, swinging to each side. Out walked a man bearing spectacles, his eyes worn and tired, obviously behind on his mid-term marking. He carried a suitcase, which had been patched up and repaired many times it seemed, representing his financial stability. And just as he approached the bushes that separated him and the investigator, it burst open, white papers fluttering everywhere. ?Dohhh? This really isn?t my day!? Muttered the grey-suited man as he bent to gather all of his documents. It had came to Dennett that the University would be locked and that he should?ve ran to the doors, stealthily passing the man before they closed. But perhaps he still had another chance. ?Can I help at all?? He asked. Shocked, the suited man looked up in fear, and rubbed his glasses, squinted and scrunched up his nose. The Detective jumped down from his hiding place amongst the bushes, onto the footpath that led to the building. ?I said, can I help?? The man surveyed the beige, raincoat wearing detective, but couldn?t determine whether he were friend or foe, for he wore sunglasses, keeping his face a mystery. But he was desperate. ?Oh, well, um, I-I, alright then.? The two struggled with the random drafts of wind that bullied them, by picking up the documents, and tossing them away, but eventually they were successful and returned all the documents to the worn suitcase. ?Oh dear.? Spoke the nerdy man. ?What?s wrong?? ?I?m not going to be able to close this damn thing. The lock has snapped in half again.? ?Oh, here.? Dennett, using all of his persuasive techniques, brought out a strong elastic band that would be more than capable of holding the suitcase shut. ?Take it, it?s yours.? ?Oh! Well, thank you.? The man fastened his case shut. ?Wait a minute. Who exactly are you?? Now was not the time to panic. Out of everything he planned, Dennett had forgotten that his target would want to know who he was. Racking his brain, he finally came up with a slightly ambitious answer. ?I?m a Professor.? ?Oh? Me too. I haven?t seen you around in the staff lobby before though.? ?Well, I don?t like to spend time in run-down ghettos.? Joked Dennett. ?Ah, well I see what you mean.? The real Professor chuckled. ?What are you doing around here anyway?? ?I forgot my house keys.? Dennett realised this entire situation was getting ridiculous. ?We?re both having a bad day then.? The professor could empathise with the character Dennett had put on. ?Well, here, take this key, and you?ll get into the main building. May see you around later on today.? The ?professor? took the key, and nodded his head. Then they both passed each other, Dennett heading towards the building, and the professor to the road. At this time at night, it was hard to determine whether it would be appropriate to say ?Good Night?, or, ?Good Morning?. So, silence was the best thing. Peering into the main foyer of the university, Dennett picked out a receptionists desk, but it was too dark to see anything else. He decided that it would be best to find a campus map, and find the laboratories of the university Twisting the key in its thin, cold slot, Dennett quietly opened the door with a creak, and left it open behind him, just in case the security guard would find him, so that he wouldn?t have to fumble with the door. Inside the main lobby were a few chairs, possibly for visitors, cabinets containing trophies and certificates of achievement, and just in front of the receptionist quarters, a canvas-holder, sporting a very complicated map. [I]This place was more of a labyrinth than a University,[/I] Dennett thought. He didn?t want to risk turning on the lights, so he moved it into the moonlight, revealing a conveniently placed positioning of the laboratories he was seeking. But suddenly, there was a crash, and then some footsteps, that became louder and louder as they drew near. Dennett looked around in fright, he had to find some place to hide. But there was [I]nowhere[/I]. The footsteps were drawing near. [I]NOWHERE[/I]. The pacing became faster. [I]There![/I] Even though the receptionist door was locked, the gap in the wall was big enough to get through, and so he dived, sliding along the glossy table, with a gentle thud onto the carpeted floor. He ?sat?, mangled, his legs up against the desk chair, with his arms thrown backwards to support his fall. But he could not move. [I]No.[/I] He definitely could not move. The ?feet? were only a few metres away. Rubbing his eyes from the sweat drops that emerged from his forehead, he noticed that something was missing. His sunglasses were [I]gone[/I]. But it was too late. ?Go, go, go!? Whispered a voice as several other footsteps scurried into the room, now muffled by the carpet flooring. ?He?s not here sir.? Spoke another voice. ?What do you mean he?s not here!? You saw him outside didn?t you!?? Replied the voice that whispered previously. ?Yes, and he appeared to have entered the lobby, but now he?s gone.? ?We have specific orders to apprehend the man who was supposed to have been killed earlier by Pinnacle.? [b][I]Pinnacle?[/I][/b] Dennett thought. [I]What do [b]they[/b] have to do with it?[/I] ?Wait a minute.? Muttered another voice. A ruffle indicated the man was bending over to search for something. ?Sir! Look at these!? ?Sunglasses?? Questioned the original voice. ?That?s right, sir! I?m [I]sure[/I] these belonged to him.? In shock, Dennett jumped, making a thud sound against the wall. And suddenly, there was silence. [I]One, two, three?[/I] Dennett lost count at the number of seconds, but he knew time was running out. ?You know what to do.? ?Yes sir.? Replied a voice. And several footsteps could be heard hurriedly exiting the room. But, when it fell quiet, a ruffle, a click, and several tinkles were heard. Followed by some more footsteps exiting the room. Something that sounded similar to steam could be heard, and it also changed the scent of the room. The smell became overwhelming; it caused his eyes to burn, and his throat to grow tighter. Burning, and tighter it all became, until the ?whoosh? sound filled the entire room, as it grew louder. Everything was pitch black after that. But he wasn?t to die. Oh [I] no [/I]? He made a natural vent. He had left the door open?[/font] ------- OOC: It seemed fate was against me with this post. I?m terribly sorry it took so long. Dear apologies to all other participants and Shy.

Morpheus, no offense, but before you make anymore arguments, please look at this in a business perspective for the [b]general[/b] public, and also get some solid evidence to back your arguments up. None of the next-gen consoles will fail, I personally feel the 'superpowers' learnt from Dreamcast's failure, and what they need to do. It's just about diversity, but keeping within the same market. For example, the DS and PSP are completely different in layout or features for example; the DS's touch-screen feature - the PSP's music playback feature; But they're both handheld systems. The competition levels will rise, that's it.

"Usher's latest publicity stunt took himself to new levels, sporting a new Jedi-look! [size=1]Unfortunately, he was inept in the force and burnt his face off."[/size]

[quote name='Morpheus']I think XBox 2 and PSP. The XBox is a commercial failure and the new xbox will cost at least $700. The PSP Is OK but it seems like the N-gage: an all in one that doesn't do the functions as good as other devices. What do you think?[/quote] The PSP!? I got my hands on one two days ago (I did work experience in a shop, made friends, this guy's girlfriend imported him one from Japan for Christmas). And believe me, that thing [i]won't[/i] fail. All SONY needs to worry about is establishing itself within the handheld gaming market and then they're off. Perhaps they won't have quite the same following as the DS (Though me reckons it'll be close), but the PSP won't do a Dreamcast either. The power of the damn machine was incredible. Even going through the menus was so smooth. The screen was huge, compared to what I thought it'd be, and the analogue stick was very sharp, and responsive. I played Ridge Racer, and the visuals and sound were incredible. My only gripes were that the thing was alot bigger than I thought it'd be. It weighed a bit, and the screen was also very sensitive. After 3 days the guy already had about 12 dead pixels.

[quote name='Kane][SIZE=1']Billy thought asking a Zombie for a haircut was a good idea, but for everything else there's Mastercard. [/SIZE][/quote] *Slaps head* :p Now [i]that[/i] was a winner. lol X 3

2 + 2 is only knowledge and truth because to the individual, there is no way of questioning it for they are not the ones who created the basic foundations of Mathematics. Therefore, this is only known as knowledge for everyone believes it. Despite my interest in Philosophy, I only feel that belief can only be classified as truth and knowledge to the person that believes in the subject. Take religion for example, there is no solid evidence that God exists, people only go by their beliefs, and to them, God really does exist. Therefore, how can you show them that this specific religion is a load of BS? Because you don't have any solid evidence to back your opinions either. I always pray, but I don't believe in a religion. I just like to think that we were created by something for a purpose, hopefully not something similar to that of a Sim/RTS game. ^_^

Oop, I never thought I'd win with that one, it was a spur of the moment thang. Here ya' go... [img]http://www.gamepro.com/nintendo/gamecube/games/news/images/34150-1-2.jpg[/img]

[QUOTE=Siren] What I am looking for, however, is if a game's developers (like Kojima and his crew) are so strongly emphasizing a level of gameplay previously unrealized, with new and exciting features that will immerse you more than ever before...I don't want some derivative menu/item system whose "survival" aspects are nothing more than superficial window dressing, and really, that's all MGS3's new gameplay options are: just a regular menu/item system wrapped in a fancy "Hey, look at this!" costume.[/QUOTE] Whilst I respect you for your opinions and well-structured arguments, I still feel you are setting fairly high expectations. Unless you are looking for a [i]Thief: Deadly Shadows[/i]-esque pick-lock control system for removing bullets or something along the lines of that, I feel your ideas of a 'groundbreaking-gaming-mould' are still incredibly ambitious. Let's take your idea of 'moving the joysticks around'-idea. Whilst this would be no means impossible (quite a good idea actually, lol), this would be quite a bold transition into the Metal Gear world. And do you really feel the fans of the series are quite prepared for that, or even want that? You're completely right in saying how you feel this 'window dressing' takes away the survival element of the game. I'd much rather an adrenalin-causing, intense-struggling battle with the controller to try and escape gangreen, than using the D-Pad to go through a handful of windows to actually cause something to happen. But this relates to my opinions in this 'modern' day and age of gaming; Whilst the ideas are brilliant, I feel the ideas are too ambitious to put across, even if they actually worked. I like things simple, that cause awe-striking and complicated results. I miss the times when I was younger, where I was pretty much pleased by anything an FF-game gave me, or other quality series' had to offer. To be honest, I feel this whole gaming-thing has become too competitive. Every company is trying to outdo eachother by taking huge steps into a genre they're not too familiar with (Though Kojima's keeping to his foundations it seems, 1-up for him). This situation's just producing alot of crap with fancy aesthetics, whilst there is a minor exception of a few stars. As is the way with modern business.

"Only one more thing left to do!" *Drops pants*

I don't understand how Hero can be classified as a bad film. Acting-wise, yes alright, Jet Li especially was a bit bland, but this didn't affect the film. I didn't particularily enjoy [i]Hero[/i], but this is because I found the sub-titling in the theatre especially fast so I couldn't read it and get a good view of the entire picture. And I'm not used to sub-titling, lol. I watched Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon with dubbing and I didn't find it too bad, plus, we used to have this Jet Li Friday Night thing on for months on Channel 5. The dubbing just made it hilarious. (Break enjoys my 'dubbing voice'.) Admittedly, I did go into the film expecting this bloody martial art film, and yes I was a bit surprised because the trailers didn't make it out as philosophical as it was, but I wasn't particularily bothered. I just feel I need to see it a second time to fully enjoy it. However, despite my gripes, I especially [i]loved[/i] some of the sets. Especially the set where Nameless fights Sky. That chess court was beautiful, plus, I love rain, lol. I'm surprised nobody has complimented the film in how the colours represented the different emotional perspectives of the film. Grey - Calm; Red - Anger + Lust; Green - Jealousy; White - The Greater Good; Blue - Sadness + Honour. Well, that's what I got from the film anyway. Either way, the cinematography was superb.

[center][font=trebuchet MS][b]Name:[/b] Hojo Yi [b]Place of Origin:[/b] Kyoto, Japan [b]Brief:[/b] Born under his father, Motoshida Yi, whom was serving under the feudal lord, Leyasu Tokugawa, Hojo was brought up by the strict codes of priesthood. Once his father passed away, Hojo prolonged the life of his family?s name as a samurai bodyguard for Leyasu Tokugawa himself. [b][u]Those Who Haunt The Shadows[/u][/b] It was the great Battle of Sekigahara? Lord Tokugawa had received word that Ishida had formed his entire army in order to intercept us at the plains of Sekigahara. This battle was going to decide the fate of who held the upper hand in this feudal conflict. The rain had fallen at twilight before, leaving the air clear, the grass damp, and the sun blaring through the bright sky. Many soldiers had slipped amongst the grassy knolls and forest suburbs, but were left unharmed for the vegetation comforted their fall. Being the spiritual type, Tokugawa felt that the day had already been decided. Victory for the Tokugawa families. Yet there was a feeling that lurked in my stomach so. A mixture of adrenalin? and uncertainty. My part in this battle wasn?t going to be by Tokugawa?s side this time. I was replaced by his niece whom he had always cared for. Despite our efforts, no one could make Tokugawa feel secure as much as she could. Part of the Kunichi (female ninja), her skills were often unrivalled by many. Well, perhaps Heihachi Honda could match up to her with his spear at his side, the Tonbugeri. But that is a story for another day. Anyway, I was set under the command of Amano Yasukage, serving as a mere unit who were to flank the nearest squadron by ambushing them in the woodland. Despite my arguments, I was bound by the oath my father swore before I was born. As we marched forward, the random units scattered on the front lines of the Tokugawa army could be seen in the distance, the number of infantry within the units ranged between five hundred, and a thousand. Those men marching forth on their own were on a suicide mission, and they knew it. But as is the way with the Japanese men, loyal to the extreme, and completely stubborn. As we approached the Sekigahara stream that almost split the lands in half, I began to catch the huge Lake Sekigahara to my distance. Its waters were tranquil, and I knew that Tokugawa was watching it in the event that reinforcements arrived for Ishida. Suddenly, a voice roared out, ?Infantry and horsemen, halt!? I hadn?t noticed that we had rifle cavalry behind us until our unit stopped. And whilst I looked around, I noticed that everyone else, with the exception of our General, had petrified like statues, their sights focused on the great, looming mountains to our flank and forward. The tiny units miles from us continued to march onward to the misty distance ahead. Everyone knew that was where our enemy lurked. And everyone knew that once those units began to step on level ground, the cannonades would begin. Amano?s voice roared like the white lion, ?Now look ahead of you men! Those who are marching for our Lord are saving not hundreds, but thousands. As soon as you see the first sign of the blitz, break up and charge into the forests to our left. There you will wait once you are in the deepest regions, and wait for my command. ? Every soldier rallied forth in recognition of the order with their weapon raised above their heads. Including myself. ?And one more thing!? Amano continued. ?Beware of [I]those[/I] who traverse the canopies. Beware of [I]those[/I] who vanish and appear once you are a dead man. Beware of [I]those[/I] who haunt the shadows.? All men began to stir at the mention of these beings, but there was no time to become hesitant. BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! We froze once more, only to listen to the whistle of the iron balls rocket through the warm air, only to tear apart those that opposed them. And with that, we roared like the dragon upon its intruders, turned and charged to the left. The light ahead grew darker as I entered the woodland. The odd ray broke through the leaves ahead, but apart from that, I was surrounded by an ominous atmosphere. Despite the amount of men at my side, charging blindly with no goal in mind, I felt an urge to stop, for I knew that [I]we[/I] were the ones heading like lambs to the slaughter. My armour rattled with every move I made. It?s red and black leather rubbing against each other, whilst the wood plating clicked as my shoulders shook. And as I looked up, I had noticed that the bamboo trees had already seen conflict. Random chunks had been cut out of them, some had been sliced apart altogether. And as I watched the last rank of men fade off into the mist, I was left alone. I wasn?t quite sure why I stopped, but a gut feeling forced me into this position. ?Come on you coward,? I shouted in anger at myself, hitting my legs in frustration. And just as my limbs began to cooperate with my spirit, a sudden whistle burst through the dense silence, whilst a flying, silver star zoomed past, cutting my left cheek on its flight. I didn?t flinch. ?Samurai! Run! Rargh!? Called out the fog as a grey-dressed being ran at incredible speeds towards me. Its tanto held to the side as it squatted in its run. Unsheathing my weapon was the first thing I did in reaction, but then I caught sight of a man with his sword raised above his head with both hands. The cone-like hat on his head indicated that he belonged to my unit. Suddenly, the grey-being stopped just like that, as if letting the brave soldier catch up. And just as the soldier brought down his sword, the being spun round, slicing the throat of the youth that tried to save me. Ninja. I had already plunged my katana into his back by this time. Dead. And then, in fear of what I thought was most likely, I charged ahead, into the misty forests where I knew more would be lurking. I should?ve left them with the thought that there were no more of us, but I had to find out for myself. And there they all were, my entire unit, splayed about amongst the bloody soil. There was evidence of resistance however, as some of the Ninja were on their final breaths as they leant against the trees and plantation, but in comparison, the numbers were very few. I left that war, only to go to travel the world, I?d forgotten who I was that day. [/font][/center] P.s: I want a post background... P.p.s: My [i]Hero[/i] post is nearly done.

[b]Name:[/b] Christopher M. Twanton [b]Age:[/b] 24 Natural Years [b]Callsign:[/b] Ranger [b]Appearance:[/b] [b][Secretary Report - HQ][/b] - "His dark brown hair shot towards the heavens, with spikes that looked like they had been cemented into place by an industrial gel. Whilst his eyes played 'Snap', the deep irises of a dark brown, pools of experience and wisdom. His figure was athletic, slim, but showed obvious signs of exercise by training, or the practice of other sports. The odd chisel scattered here and there along his bi-and-triceps. Whilst his legs were long in stature, showing signs of potential in agility and speed. Height-wise, I'd say he stood at about 6'0" to 6'1", an average height in this day and age. Not too small so as to be blown to smithereens by a grenade, nor too large to make a marksmans' job easier. He also dressed in a trend he seemed to have developed by merging primitive styles with the new. He called his trousers 'jeans', that were loose fitting, dyed blue, whilst he wore a long-sleeved black top with a turtle neck. A silver necklace could be seen hanging from his neck, and his footwear were of the newest fashion. Mr. Dennett reflected on his clothing by stating that his uniform in Sygnosis X was completely that of what Sygnosis X would be seen wearing. Overall, he was a very handsome man. He was polite, clever, and obviously experienced." [b]Personality:[/b] Ranger is an incredibly deep person. Having experienced much loss within his lifetime, he has now developed a very negative mindset, in that nothing lasts forever. Yet, despite this, he comes across as outgoing and laidback as much as possible when one has experienced what he had. But if the subject about his past or family arises, he can become closed, quick to temper, or irrational. If the time comes, the mission is put first, and even though he prefers to lead, he does not give a second thought to falling into line as long as it does not affect the mission for the worse. Yet during a task, Ranger constantly looks out for his comrades, sometimes not even bothering to care for his own safety. Due to his father's profession, Ranger is quite intelligent and can be very cautious in dangerous situations. [b]Biography:[/b] Ranger was born into a parental war zone. His father was a scientist whom excelled in the subjects of Neurosurgery, and also Ballistics. Two subjects that contradicted each other completely, but proved to allow him a very varied career. For example, his knowledge in Ballistics allowed him to develop the research of [b]Nanobots[/b]*. A calm, witty, and incredibly intelligent man, with the ability to inspire so many, his colleagues would've rather been titled 'Disciples'. He loved his son. Ranger's mother was also a scientist. But she preferred the subjects of Synthetics, and the Science of Tactical Warfare. A greedy and cold woman, whom though beautiful, was capable of scaring the opposite sex away, rather than attracting them. Her thirst for power drove her to compete for the highest of positions in Novus Concordia. She hated her son for not being 'perfect'. Yet despite these differences, Ranger's parents married for their love of Science. When Ranger was born, everything grew pear-shaped. For one, his father, Zaylos H. Dennett, was overjoyed at the creation of this new child. Yet, Ranger's mother was horrified for she discovered that still, in this age, technology was not being created by human beings. Arguments began to take place, and they were usually involving Ranger and his career. His father wanted him to pursue whatever he wanted, as long as it made Ranger happy, as a parent's love for a child ensues. However, his mother demanded that Ranger was drafted into the special force about to come about, Sygnosis X. When he had turned 19 years of age, Ranger was kidnapped and forced into a laboratory, where his crazed mother was waiting, alongside a handful of specifically chosen individuals. Here they would operate; Replacing his right arm with a Blaster, enhance the aesthetics of Ranger's eyes, for they were his father's blue, and not his mother's dark brown; and fit a Durasteel leg that replaced Ranger's left leg, capable of releasing a Beam Sword by impulse. Ranger was being changed from human, to half-Reploid. A war machine. And was then reserved as an agent within Sygnosis X. Outraged at the news of this incident, the shock deemed Ranger's father mentally unstable by the Supreme Government of Health, forcing him to divorce Ranger's mother immediately. And though Zaylos H. Dennett had followers willing to die for him in the name of Science, he took it upon himself to command his 'Disciples' to strap him full of explosives, and then charge into his ex-wife's house, where her new husband slept. Where he would ultimately...detonate. Ranger was adopted at the age of 21 years of age by a former-senior member of his father's team, who was named Michael Twanton. Unfortunately Michael Twanton died at the age of 84, but taught Ranger to love again. To this date, Ranger has been serving Sygnosis X with sworn loyalty, despite his mother forcing him there in the first place. [size=1]---------------------------- *Nanobots were devices that were capable of charging electrical surges into communications outpost that would explode. Their goal to shut off an enemy's communication ability. These were deemed too dangerous for they were thought to be easy for terrorists to acquire. ----------------------------[/size] [b]Affiliation:[/b] Sygnosis X [b]Primary Weapon:[/b] A Blaster that fires short plasma blasts very rapidly. The Blaster was designed so that its functions could be customised according to the mission at hand. Stealing energy from Ranger's biological electricity, there is no ammunition needed as such, but can make Ranger feel very faint if overused. [b]Secondary Weapon:[/b] A collapsable Beam Sword that is contained within Ranger's synthetic leg. The blade is two and a half feet long, the beam of a glowing pink. [b]Defensive Capability:[/b] A Beam Shield. Ranger's synthetic leg is said to be capable of surrounding his body with an extra layer of protection. Temporary, in that the effect lasts only about five minutes, and is only capable of protecting the body from blaster fire, this shield is not one to be depended upon. Therefore, Ranger relies on his Blaster's quick rate of fire, and agility. -------------- Whew. Apologies for the length.

Finally! Someone actually recognises Front Mission 3 for it's quality. It seems to be a fairly unknown game around here, and your review is everything I agree to. However, I do disagree with how you disqualified a point for how Emma's and Alisa's story are not as split. The fact that they refer to eachother so much is brilliant. And that single, choice you make which is so subtle, was a brilliant touch to deciding with storyline to follow. I've yet to play Front Mission 4 for it's not been released in the UK, and I highly doubt it will be. Sales were probably poor in the UK, for Mech-funky-games are of an unknown taste here. I love the music in Front Mission 3 though. Especially the Jazz in the bars, etc.

[b]Gromit:[/b] "Yeah, I touched her, I sodomised her. But I didn't kiss her! I swear to you!...Uh... Wallace?"

[QUOTE=James][color=#707875] In regard to Maverick Hunters, I'd like to restart The Third Succession, but right now it's a bit difficult because so many aren't participating anymore. I mean, a lot of people aren't really on OB now. [/color][/QUOTE] Eh James, I'll always be around... Heh. If you can cook up your RPGs according to the ideas, you can count me in. But I certainly see what your saying, the higher quality members don't seem to be here regular. I'm not a higher quality member, but I'm definitely not around as much as I used to be. At the moment, I was thinking of collaborating with someone for an Ico-esque, RPG. Simply because the game is so beautiful, not just in visuals, but just in imagination. If anyone's interested, you can either PM me or if you're lucky, find me on AIM.

[b]General Minister of Defence:[/b] "Ya' see Mr. President!? This is what that big red button does to our frigging marine life. [size=1]Oh brilliant! So you do it again...[/size]"

[b]Narrator:[/b] If this were triple-tag, I would be Sub Zero to harden those babies!

You're a right idiot, do you know that? ... I love your story though. ^_^ "For some reason, Charles was depicted as fat..." Now [b]that[/b] line actually made me laugh out loud. It caused my mum to ask me what was wrong. Now I await my big cameo appearance. For even though we haven't spoken in a while mateyboy, I bloody well deserve one! Tally ho, mwaha! [b]Edit:[/b] Eh!? I just read the second one. I'm in. Booyah!

[QUOTE=Mr. Maul][font=Garamond][size=2][color=seagreen] [font=Garamond][size=2][color=seagreen]These are almost always Adam, James, or Adam & James productions. Such as the Kill Adam series, and that one Nintendo crossover game who's name escapes me at the moment. This is highly due to the fact that they actually SPEND TIME on their games- Amazing! A higher-level of game will attract a higher-level of gamers (and a higher number of them, as well).[/color][/size][/font] [/size][/QUOTE] Um, the Nintendo crossover one was mine, lol. [b]Plumber Bros. Incorporated.[/b][ (If that's what you're talking about.) Though James played a hefty graphics design role. But saying that, mine was no means an epic tale. It was innovative sure, but overly ambitious. It died very quickly, and that was my fault because I just really didn't know how to direct it(So many apologies to those involved). As much as James has created his wonderful little gems, people are forgetting Shy's [b]Hero[/b]. Sure it's a slowass production, but every post is worth it, and the way you'll see them interwine eventually will stun you. If you want a decent RPG, you have to have everyone committed to a degree, and for it to be imaginative. But for an epic you need; Imagination, Innovation, High levels of Commitment, and most of all, Communication. Everyone needs to know what they're doing. It's ashame really, RPGs are being compared so much that members are getting competitive. Anyone's capable of creating a kick-scrotum RPG, you just have to put in the effort.

[size=1] All I ever ask for is games, lol. But damnit! Puberty makes me want to purchase clothes! [b][u]The Cube[/u][/b] .Paper Mario 2: The Thousand Year Door .Metroid Prime: Echoes [b][u]The Black Box[/u][/b] .The Getaway: Black Monday (A maybe...) .Jak 3 .Rachet and Clank: Up Your Arsenal (Another maybe...) .Spyro [Whichever the new one's called] (Every year I've got a Spyro game. Regardless of its target audience, I find it enchanting, lol.) [b][u]The Larger Black Box With A Green Thing In The Middle[/u][/b] .Halo 2 (With Live) [b][u]That Silver Flip Thing[/u][/b] .The Legend of Zelda: The Minish Cap .Golden Sun 2: The Lost Age (Bought it, traded it. Never gave it a shot.) These are what I can think of right now, Ill add more to my list if anymore catch my eye. [b][Z][/b][/size]

[size=1] Trust and Honesty are the two main foundations of any relationship I've found. It's ashame that I become incredibly insecure when I have a girlfriend, or when I did have a girlfriend. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't stop thinking about the other guys after my girlfriend. I was much younger then though. But as already said, the way a couple comes together is through attraction, whether that be by physical appearance or personality, there needs to be something to attract someone's attention into you. I feel attraction is the spark of a relationship. It's just about maintaining that flame when you're in one, which can be incredibly hard. I don't feel a relationship can be [i]defined[/i] in a sense, because there are so many different relationships out there, such as friendship, family, or even love/hate relationships. But to create one, there definitely needs to be foundations, for I believe relationships are about building up on something. [b][Z][/b][/size]

[font=trebuchet MS][center][b][size=3]Issue #7-Part I: [i]Pinnacle[/i][/b][/center][/size] ?This makes no sense?? Muttered P.I. Dennett. His voice was hoarse with whisper, and his accent? cold. Mr. Dennett was on a case. He hadn?t had a case. Not for a very long time. But this one determined his financial stability within the twisted and warped metropolis of Key City. The time was around one AM, and the night was cool. Yet, despite the lateness, this man was still working to make his mark known within the city. He?d been given the investigation by an unknown person, at an unknown time. With a slam of the door, there it was behind him, [I]the[/I] package. Laced with a starched line of string, the brown envelope that contained his briefing just sat there, waiting. After being picked up, opened up, scrunched up, and thrown away, it faded away from memory?died. Much like what happened to the investigator after every relationship he?d had with another person. The letter had obviously been typed, and typed very officially for that matter. It stated; ?Dennett. Times are bad. Something lurks the streets. Enclosed is a photo. Research it. Big payment if carried out successfully. Important. Be cautious.? [I]?Be cautious.?[/I] He?d no idea what this meant. And as the letter suggested, there was a photo. A crisp, black and white image of a syringe that laid on the cold, dank, alley floor. The needle had snapped, leaving a diagonal edge as the point, and just below it was a tiny pool of liquid. Throwing it onto the desk, the photo gently glided below the dim lamp, this being the only source of light in the apartment. With a sigh that almost sounded frustrated, Dennett threw himself backwards into his chair only to run his hands through his smooth, dark hair. He was a handsome man, but he never got the chance to realise this. A drifting soul, seeking, but never gaining the light at the end of the tunnel. After undoing his briefs that tightly clung to his shoulders, he reached forward and fondled with a cigarette packet, only to pluck out one of the tobacco-filled sticks. ?Someday, these are going to be dangerous for your health,? he spoke out loud to himself before lighting up and inhaling a puff of the venomous air. Allowing the cigarette to droop on his lower lip, balancing between his mouth and gravity, he stood up and approached the only window of his apartment. It was half- open and allowed a cold draft to flow through his black hair and tease his skin. His apartment was stood next to an alley, and the window looked down upon a street corner, so, all that could be seen and heard was chaotic movement of city traffic. Suddenly, the clicking of footsteps ricocheted off of the stone, dismal walls to show a lone figure standing backwards against the opposite wall. As some car headlights flew past, the figure was revealed to be a man within his late thirties, and black. He then pulled out a golden instrument that gleamed amongst the street headlights and pressed the sharp head of it to his lips. Within a few seconds, the alley was orchestrating a lone saxophonist, and a very talented one at that. As the robust music began to start, the sky became denser with its noir clouds forming overhead, and then, it rained. Yet the saxophonist continued playing. He played so hard that the opening funnel of the instrument created an air-like barrier from the bombarding raindrops, causing them to bounce off into a spray before they made contact with the brass. And then, it stopped abruptly. ? After the musical notes suddenly halted, a sudden crash of what appeared to be trash cans could be heard. There was no yelling, and there were no signs of violence, except in the nature of the sound, but the event definitely startled the poor Investigator. ?What the--!?? He yelled, nearly falling out of the window. With a push away from the sill, he regained his balance and came to a very drastic conclusion.[I]?Racist thugs.?[/i] Charging over to his bed that laid near the window, he grabbed his beige raincoat and accompanying hat, placed them upon his body and picked the keys from the pocket. From there, Dennett continued his charge for which he violently threw open the door, and ran threw the brightly lit corridor, its narrow, scarlet carpet intimidating for it seemed it went on forever. But then, an unknown force made him halt suddenly, only to listen to the quick thudding of footsteps that traversed the adjacent stairway. Adrenalin pulsed through his veins at the thought of the thugs approaching, and so he returned to where he started his daring charge. The investigator then found himself sitting at the foot of his bed, but he was shivering, no matter how tightly he held himself for comfort. And then, there it was. Straight in front of him was a man, dressed in black trousers, polished shoes, and a white shirt with briefs hanging from his waist. His hair was black, and his features were defined, or so they seemed from the sunglasses that covered his eyes. This man was of course, Dennett. But how could this be? The Private Investigator was sitting at the bed, petrified by the thought of the thugs. Yet, this other man was standing there, armed with a Tommy Gun that was pointed at the doorway. And then, the man acknowledged Dennett with an assuring nod. Suddenly, multiple gunshots could be heard, followed by Dennett?s guardian falling to the ground, dead. But he was then replaced with another copy of the Investigator, this one with a much more menacing face, Tommy Gun aimed towards the pathetic version. ?Hello.? ?Please! J?Just don?t fire.? Screamed the ?real? Dennett to the palms of his hands. ?Why do you wear that ridiculous man suit?? By this question, Dennett lifted his head, trembling as he stared up the gun barrel. ?Think you?ve got the guts?? ? ?YES!? A fork of lightning crackled in the dark sky overhead and a car flew past, horn beeping wildly. Suddenly, the saxophonist trailed off terribly in reaction to this random holler, and removed the mouthpiece from his dry lips. It was still raining, but much more heavily this time, and the black man that stood in the alleyway was completely drenched, but he didn?t seem to care. He continued to stare upwards to the stunned man who breathed heavily, causing puffs of visible breath to appear here and there. ?Yo? daddyo?. You okay?? The saxophonist?s voice was very coarse, much like one would sound from too much smoking, but it seemed soulful, and wise. He then blew a very loud note, which startled Dennett again, and spoke once more, ?You were asleep. Was I really that bad?? Trying to gain some focus over the dark and dank alleyway, Dennett looked out bright-eyed before returning from the shock that overwhelmed him. ?N-No. Not at all. You?re an extremely talented man.? From what appeared like a glint of a smile, the saxophonist felt around in his jacket pockets and looked back up at the investigator. ?Got a light?? Looking upwards to the sky, stunned by this question, Dennett curiously plucked another tobacco-filled stick, and then scratched a dry match that laid on the desk next to the window. The flame flickered with the wind slightly, and gave birth to a new fire upon the edge of the cigarette. ?You want me to throw it down?? ?Well, I did play for over two hours for you.? Answered the black man, rubbing his goatee. ?Well? okay.? The white man held the filter carefully at the butt of the cigarette, and then successfully flicked it with his index finger so that it spun against the air currents, only to be skilfully plucked back out of the air by the musician. ?Appreciated.? And with that, the black man disappeared. There was no sign of him. And even though Dennett tilted his head incredibly far out the window, it proved futile. He was simply gone. Gone like the shadow that haunted the alleyway every now and again. Even though he didn?t know the saxophonist, it did prove disheartening that the saxophonist who relaxed him so, was to just leave like that. [I]?Probably didn?t trust me.?[/I] After pulling down the window, Dennett watched the tiny specks of precipitation blitz the glass, and then, he started to think about work. ?Back to the grind.? He spoke out loud in a sorrowful tone. Racking his brain for clues, or any [I]sense[/I] that this case had particular, the P.I. began to think out loud. ?So a syringe? No doubt a chemical of some sort. Perhaps a rare medicine? No- That?s not it. How could this be of such importance? Let alone that, who the hell wants this information? A drug!? Dennett gasped, and ran over to the dim lighted desk that illuminated the room eerily. He carefully pressed the photograph against the desk and pulled it towards him, so that the image quality would not be ruined. And there it was. Suddenly, it all became clear. This ?drug? was not rare at all. It was so accessible that it was even being used on the streets. But if it weren?t for the curled up hand to the side, this would?ve never been discovered. There was no solid details stating how lethal the drug was, but by the tone in colouring of the hand, there was definitely some serious stuff going down on the streets of Key City. [I]BAM, BAM, BAM![/I] ?Wha--!?? The man snapped out of his trance of concentration and turned to the door, nearly falling backwards in the process. [I]BAM!?WHAM!?CRACK![/I] ?What the hell is going on!?? Dennett screamed as he watched a chunk of the door soar through the air in the form of broken splinters. ?Uhhhhh?You?? Moaned an incredibly eerie voice. It was much similar to that of a zombie, petrifying those who heard it, filling them with the agony that the speaker suffered. The P.I. simply did not know what to do. He looked to the jacket that laid splayed out on the untidy bed, but it was too far away, and he really did not want to cause the being outside to panic. Carefully, he reached into his pockets, in the hope that he left that Revolver he saved up so long for, but to no avail. ?WHAAAaaaatT d-d-d-did you d-d-do to meee!?? Moaned the being outside aggressively. He seemed to be suffering from something, obviously a speech impediment. ?I didn?t do anything to you! Leave this place at once!? Screamed the P.I. once more in the hope he could scare the being away. ?LIES!? Yelled the beast. And then [I]it[/I] smashed the door down in one hugely powerful door, revealing what was causing all the ruckus. Time stopped still. The beast outside was human in figure. It had two arms, two legs, a torso, and a head. But it was [I]hideous[/I]. The shirt upon its torso had torn from the centre, revealing a heavily built chest that pulsated with every breath. Whilst the blue jeans revealed the beast had obviously been shot at, it?s huge thighs bleeding through the small holes in its covers. Its head had a crown of neatly cut brown hair, but its face was horribly disfigured. The right cheek had seemed to grow inwards, causing a huge bump to form at the left side of its face, whilst the bones scattered around the face, had been scrunched up as if the face had been squashed by God?s hand itself. The eyes were bulging, blood shot, and the pupils seemed to have dilated. Then time resumed. ?Rarrghh-igh-yaaaaRGH!? Bellowed the beast, huge arms flailing above its head. ?What? What are you?? Questioned Dennett as he fell to the ground in horror. ?I?m just like youuu! YOU DID THIS TO ME!? And then it charged furiously in Dennett?s direction, lifting him up by the neck as he did so, and pinning him up against the wall to left of the window. Choking, Dennett looked into the deep, bulging eyes of the beast. It seemed as if it was crying for help, but from the inside. But there was nothing he could do. This soul?s exterior was killing him, randomly bashing his spine against the plaster, jolting his head backwards and forwards. Dennett felt as if his spine was going to snap. ?I d-d-d-don?t want to do this! N-n-no! YOU HAVE RUINED ME!? The beast was struggling internally. Its heart was still pure, but it seemed to be possessed by an unknown force, and was hurting from the inside, trying to keep back the fire of sanity that flickered ever so slightly. ?Yargh!? With another slam against the wall, Dennett penetrated the plaster into the fibre glass that insulated the apartment. He was trying to breathe, but the bulges in the beasts? palm cut off the air supply in his throat. [I]FIGHT![/I] And with a sudden burst of adrenalin, Dennett dug his steel toe caps into the waist of the beast with a kick, only to rebound from the strength of the muscle. Pain surged through his right leg. And suddenly, despite the grinding of the beast?s yellowing teeth, choking of Dennett, the growling and the gasping, a robust note flew through the apartment?s closed window, into the ears of both the beast and its victim. The tightening of the grip loosened, dropping Dennett as a big heap on the grey carpet. Dennett then choked even more, trying to gather up as much oxygen as he could to satisfy the alveoli in his lungs. But something stunned him. The gigantic man that was suffering so clasped his ears shut as the note reverberated in his ear drums. He then pivoted in large stomps, screaming in anger and agony at the sound of the note. ?Wh-What have YOU DONE!? But Dennett did not reply, he began to calm as his heart began to work again, and as his lungs started store up the oxygen, releasing the atoms as the red blood cells were purified. And then, the beast reached out towards the window, screaming, ?They?re coming for YOU!? Then it lunged to the glass, and fell over the edge of the radiator, speeding its descent down the many stories of the apartment towards its final rest in peace. Dennett had stood up by this time, leaning against the sill and watching as the man crunched into gigantic heap of muscle. --- It appeared to have stopped raining earlier, but it started again, cleansing the skin of the blood that poured from its wounds. And as the trickling of rain upon the metallic emergency exit stairway completed the ensemble in the form of gentle percussion, the cigarette was there on the stone where the saxophonist once stood, burning. [/font] OOC: So there it is. Just like with Ben's, comments in the Underground would be most appreciated.