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WILL YOU HELP SAVE THE WORLD?

Mask or Menace is a panfandom urban 'superhero' genre DWRP game, where heroes, villains, and everyone in between seek to survive and thrive in a world loosely parallel to our own.

Sep. 1st, 2014

selfimage: — ᴍᴄᴋᴇʟᴠɪᴇ — (Peter and the wolf.)
[personal profile] selfimage
[ if it's not obvious, it's definitely Loki. he's all dressed up in his armor and headpiece, and he's also wearing a peculiar mask. ]

A shame it isn't November yet. "Remember, remember the first of September" doesn't have the same cultural significance, does it? Let's just say it's more of throwing off the mask of anonymity.

[ with a sigh, he pulls up the mask, revealing his face. he looks theatrically put-out. the curious part really isn't his face, or the mask, but he's entirely surrounded in white, fluffy clouds and clear, blue sky as far as the eye can see. there's no horizon in sight, it's essentially the perfect blue backdrop that he's standing against. how he got there or where exactly he is could be anyone's guess. ]

Before I dive right into the meat and potatoes, I'd like to make a few things clear. Dabbling in truth was never really my strong point, but utilizing it is something else entirely—oh, and publicly, I'm well aware! Let's just say that I'm a sneaky good-for-nothing trickster, and everyone should keep an eye on me.

That's the disclaimer for you! See? No need for the bouts of warning that this message may accompany.

[ he shrugs up his shoulders, struts forward and poses before looking all too smugly satisfied with himself. ]

That said, down to biz. There's been a lot of talk. The kind of talk that really doesn’t go anywhere. Captain Holiday always keeps the guise of the matter-of-fact while being one of the most frustratingly vague people within these Nine Realms. I take it that it's already been noted. But with new techniques such as the compartmentalization of information—how much does anyone within the mortal government really know?

Hornets, terrorist attacks, space missions, and we all remember that pleasant paint ball incident where the prize was a date with the lovely Porter while everyone else participating succumbed to an untimely and unfortunate death-like experience. There were also the challenges in space that most likely would have ended in boom without intervention. Ah, and the time at that swear-in soiree where the wrong saunter to the wrong room at the wrong time left the crowd there feeling like they were on fire, but it's okay, they really weren't. Then there's that monotheist who went on a psychotic murder bender and ravaged the countryside to fix the so-called anomaly of us. [ a dismissive wave of his hand. ] Who may get off on good behavior soon, as a pleasant side note for all of us keeping track.

And the latest and greatest, the wide-scale opportune kidnapping of imPorts thrown into a death match with mechanical bears, etcetera. Complete with nullifier tech! Hm ... it's almost as if someone out there doesn't like us very much. Or the idea of us, and ideas can be powerful. Wasn't there that bit about interrogation within the borders of this country? We are in the middle of some kind of temperature-like war, aren't we? You could really carve up the tension with a dull blade.

Out of all these seemingly connected, or unconnected events, we're forced to conform to a universe synced up tech savvy Greek Fate program and a Porter that thinks it’s all in good funsies to muck with our abilities and pull us through several omniversal barriers, and all the while managing to constrain the powers of those who can find such methods of travel. Moral of the story? Don't ever pay full price for travel when you can do it for free. That's to say that my extra-dimensional abilities don't hold water. Nor did the other spectrum of mortal religion's. [ cough cough Lucifer cough cough. ]

Not saying that there aren't worlds worse than this, it's pretty much a grand walk in the park from every angle. But other possibilities out there—a-aa-aand the probability of another "bad end" is always sort of there, isn't it? I've been there, I've seen them, and they're none too pleasant.

[ possibility brought gifts and curses, but he'd still take freedom any day of the week over the small comfort of security. he likes it here, even all these mortal politics. ]

Holding information hostage gets old and can cause all kinds of trouble. Like dying trouble. No one likes dying trouble. So I'd like to propose some sharing is caring—conspiracies, experiences, theories, call it a free-for-all impromptu exercise. Keep it public, won't we? A little ol' request from this trickster. We don't want anyone running around in a hacking frenzy for information. Kiiiind of misses the point.

Oh, yes, to start us off! It’s a bit funny how only one Fate is mentioned syncing with the Porter. There’s three, isn’t there? At least myth dictates of them. Hm—sooooo … how many other references can we pick up on, hm? Who's ready for Greek bingo?

ETA.

[ he straightens his voice with a little er-mm. ]

Let's make that Greek and Roman, hm? I guess that ups the chances of a bingo, so Lachesis can be the "free space."
sharkweak: (whatever)
[personal profile] sharkweak
[Rin's a teenager from a modern, regular-ish universe, so it didn't take him long to adapt to the communicator he was given. It's not that different from his phone from back home, minus this intranet that spans the connections of, uh. All of these 'imports' (imPorts—IMPorts???) like him. There was rage at first, of course, but by now it's subsided and has regressed to mild frustration. All that's left is slightly drawn in eyebrows and tight lips.

That's how the video starts for a split-second before he's figured out it's finally recording and okay, he's gotta looks less bothered. More—settled? Tolerant? Especially when he's about to make this request.]


My name is Rin Matsuoka.

[He knows English, so even if there wasn't a translator aspect to his communicator, he'd be set. Thus the Western formatting of his name. Bilingual and looking to mingle.]

I guess I'm stuck here like the rest of you. I don't know anything about being a hero, but I don’t want to lose what I do know. If anyone has experience with swimming here, I'd like someone to practice with. I swim competitively—butterfly and free.

[Like he's introducing himself to a class for the first time. Kinda stiff. He'll loosen up as he gets to know folks.]

And… I'd be willing to teach someone who's willing to practice hard. [That's the end of it. He's not very good at this—only recently made captain of his swim team. Addressing a lot of people at once? Not his forte.]
pacifistaggressive: (Ladyhawk | Looking at you)
[personal profile] pacifistaggressive
 [Metalhawk, aside from doing his job (because if anyone was diligent and full of work ethic, it was this bird), had spent most of his time locked up in his newly fixed home, no thanks to his larger form. Truth be told, he had to still practice the transition between his human form and Cybertronian form. Anger and relaxation were the triggeers. So he'd  have to get control of them.

Which included something that would cause him to relax. To sink into something that could relieve his anger (and believe him, he already knew what triggers -that-. His house learned that one the hard way).  Thanks to Annie, he thought further about the offer Armin gave him about going to the library for a library card. He'd visited it once, giving a once over. But he didn't take anything just yet.

Mostly because he didn't have his card yet, and because...

Where do you even start?

That's where the network could probably come in handy. Metalhawk was all about public opinion, so when the feed clicks on, he's at his notebook again, this time sitting outside. A first in a few weeks that didn't involve desperately trying to crawl out. Before he can even speak up, though, a songbird lands in his lap, given a careful shove to the...dozen others before finally speaking up. ]


Does anyone here like to read? 

I'm looking for ideas on reading material for myself.

As a...hobby.

[That's right, Metalhawk's trying to get a hobby.]

Locked to Alex Armstrong )
earnedmystripes: (pic#4825126)
[personal profile] earnedmystripes
['SUP IMPORTS, did you miss this guy? He's giving the communicator a particularly sour expression as he sits out on the front porch of his residence, #14.]

...Well, this sucks.

[He didn't even get to be home an hour, man. At least his injuries are healed again, but jeez........]

Soooo, do I even wanna know what all I missed?

[His tone rather suggests he doesn't; Kotetsu expects something or another has managed to go horribly awry in the month he's been gone--things have been one disaster after another since May.]

Oi Bunny, Judge Petrov, you guys still around? I'm back in #14 if you wanna talk in person or anything.

[......sorry, Ryan, he's only just had five months of memories crammed back into his head and is kind of freaked out about it tbh, he's kind of forgotten about you as the Dude From His Future.]

Uhhh...right. I'm Kotetsu, by the way. If you didn't, ah, know me before. Not that it...doesn't say that on the thing, anyway, but. Y'know. Introductions, n'all...yeah.

[Aaand one awkward silence later:]

...See ya. [Click.]
bittersweeter: (♔ yell)
[personal profile] bittersweeter
[ the screen pops up on a pretty girl with wooly blonde curls, one blue eye and one green, looking kind of pissed and seemingly sitting inside a small cafe if the iced coffee in front of her is any indication. she is not actually pissed, not incredibly, this is just her resting bitch face. she's already divested herself of her winter wool coat and knitted hat and instead is wearing a tank top to accommodate the heat, but she also, contrarily, has a pair of black leather gloves on and a thin silk scarf, light blue, draped delicately around her throat, covering up the scar that marks her as a member of her family. ]

Two things: I'm looking for a Sharpe, a specific one named Cassel, but he is physically incapable of not being involved in the most dramatic trouble so I know he is here. [ she sounds... vaguely affectionate? maybe? it's possible she's not looking for him to hunt him down and murder him. or maybe she is. that could just be how they show affection, you don't know their life.

but in any case, she moves on swiftly, not entertaining the idea that cassel isn't here. he has to be, they were in the car together. and it's probably all his fault somehow because that's just how it happens in lila's life. ]


Secondly, does the government really expect me to help fight Soviets? I'm a Zacharov. We're Russian. [ not to mention the hateboner lila has against the government (all of them!) for the anti-worker legislation and the camps of old with makes her derisive tone all the more contemptuous. she grew up on the stories of how her family fought back against that bullshit, she's not about to suddenly change her tune and start frolicking off against the ussr because uncle sam said jump. uncle sam can go fuck a bald eagle. ] That's like asking me to fight against my own cousin.

[ ..hahhahahhahahahah. BAD ANALOGY. whatever, she's keeping it. no one else will understand why she is smirking anyway. ]

Okay, maybe three things. I'm living at... [ she looks at something on the table, nose wrinkling slightly in distaste. ] Number 22. That's happening.

That's all. Dosvedanya.

[ and with a little wave, she cuts the feed. ]