Alright, so i was thinking today about speed and what happens after 5, with the assumption that its based off the fastest land animal, the cheetah, at 60 mph. To run on water one needs to run at 67 mph, though trying to figure out the whole indefinite thing and the physics of walking along walls is really just a headache and even more so is what defines being nearly impossible to hit at 20. I feel like these two tiers of the speed stat should be redefined for clarity, or if anyone is willing to explain them more clearly that would help as well. I appreciate it!

Btw, we dont need to debate this, its too vague the way it is now, we will get nowhere, I would rather a higher up analyze this before we come to any conclusions, unless someone is pretty firm in their info.

You see these images?


They were all made using this in-browser program known as Pixton! And guess what? I'm gonna use it to make your characters! Just give me a reference (preferably from all angles) and I'll do my best to recreate it! Also, specify if you want any special effects as well. Any extra people? Specific poses? Pixton has it's limits, though, so don't expect the best of the best.

Vault access: Guu, Gildarts

Recall, Dataverse Uplink, and Medical Centre access: Gildarts/Molly, Carn_Val, Desco, Gamzee Makara, Mickey Mouse/Minnie Mouse, Undyne, Sans, Alphys, Frisk/Toriel, Cupa, Proto Man/Mireya, Yu Kanda, Ice Bear, Jams Bolero, Eric Everstorm

fist-of-genetics.omniblr.net

fist-of-genetics
May 15th 2017, 5:15:33 pm


First awakening, first post! Finally, a version of Tumblr in this world! Might as well 
make my first post a nice little selfie with my new buddy! Say cheese!

So yeah, a friend wants a vault to put their artefact in. I have a base to put it in.

1. Can they pay fully for the vault even if it's not their base? Like if I give them permissions as such to do so.?

2. If not, could they pay half for the vault while I pay the rest?

3. If 1 or 2 is a yes, how do permissions work? Do we both have access to the vault? In the case of 1, does she need to give permission to me to use the vault in my own base?

Out of her apartment. The little blue majin stepped out of the doorway, arm bent behind her at an impossible angle to mess with the locks and secure the portal. A little ritual she had picked up from watching and observing other people around. Her 'neighbors', as she had come to learn the word was called. Locking up behind her wasn't really going to do much. The locks and door weren't exactly the sturdiest things. If anyone really wanted in they wouldn't be much of an obstacle. It was more of the mental sense of security. Or something.

Not that Graowr really understood why anyone would want to get into a palce they weren't supposed to be in, anyway. Especially someone else's home. That was just weird.

But she didn't have the spare mental capacity to waste on that. She had a job to do. One she had set for herself, admittedly, but one she was now determined to see through. She was off and running. Down the hallway. A quick slide under the lumbering form of Mister Cartwright, the massive alien in the corner apartment, who could barely manage a tired huff at her eccentric passing. A quick hop out the window, into the open (and, strictly speaking, not exactly clear) air of Tier 4. A sharp plummet down, as she was on the third story.

For nearly a full second, the thought "oh right, I still can't fly" struggled to break through to full coherency in her mind. When it did, she let out a disappointed huff, a grumpy frown creasing her lips and her nonexistent eyebrows twisting her already perpetually-angry seeming expression into a dark scowl. This was a pickle.

She flung one arm out to the side, gloved hand stretching out well beyond her natural reach. An errant windowsill was caught in her questing grasp, fingers digging into the stonework. Her purely downward momentum was arrested into gaining a horizontal lean. She came down to the ground, hitting it boots-first in an awkward, stumbling run. Her hand loosened its grip, extended arm snapping back into place like a rubber band. Her stumbling posture carried her flailing and windmilling for several meters before a loose piece of detritus got under foot.

She lost her balance, into a tumble. Ass over elbows, she went, ending up sprawled on her front, face down on the sidewalk. Slowly, her head rolled up, until her chin was resting on the ground, instead of her face. Something shifted in her mouth, rolling around and sounding like trying to crunch down on a stubbornly hard piece of candy. Then it came to the forefront, and with a wet "Pftha!" it was expelled, and a drool-covered chunk of concrete, the size of a walnut, clattered and rolled away from her. "Blegch..."

After an incident that would have been embarrassing, had the majin not lacked social awareness even an elementary schooler could boast and be proud of, she had rolled over onto her back and hopped up to her feet. Dusting herself off, she gave a quick stretch. Adjusting her gloves and scarf, thrown out of 'perfect' arrangement by her rough landing as they were, she turned right around on one heel, planting her hands on her hips. "Okay...which way's the elevator up..."

Quote:Word Count: 560
Character Count: 2575

"I see, then I suppose we can accept you among our ranks, so long as you don't break anything. Master Demetri has left a few postings on the board in the back, and do watch yourself." The Bartender replied to the ruffian sitting on the stool in front of him, motioning to the back. Plenty of possible recruits had arrived after word went around the local towns that a Prime had settled nearby, while rumors of a Thieves Guild piqued the interest of the local thugs and bandits. However, only a few managed to make it as footpads. To much of the surprise of those who attempted to join, the Bartender was a man far more than he was made out to be and tested each one’s mettle with various tests.

First, came the test of skill, seeing if one could break into a locked strongbox in the short span of time in which a merchant could barter with a customer, pickpocket someone in broad daylight while in the sight of others, or perhaps even convince someone who witnessed a crime that their eyes deceived them. To be a thief, one needed to already have some skill in their craft. There was a wide range of specialties: fingersmiths, jailbreakers, deceivers, infiltrators, and even spies. However, skill was not enough to pass as one of the Thieves’ Guild.

The second test was one of merit and intelligence. Although an uneducated beggar may be a good pickpocket, if they cannot be smart about their actions then they may leave a trail of evidence in their wake, something not appreciated by thieves that hide in shadows. Each of those who wished to become a part of the Guild answered multiple complex riddles, given short times to figure them out, and no riddle was the same. Groups were not allowed and every time some tried to sneak some hints, the Bartender seemed to be behind them, ready to disqualify them and escort them off the premises. He seemed to be everywhere and nowhere at once, just out of sight but within earshot.

As the last test, each of the test participants had to fight the bartender in close quarters combat. Many seemed to snicker and gloat about it being an easy fight, before finding themselves groaning on the floor with their arm twisted behind their back.Those who underestimated the chivalrous server found themselves ejected from the premises, while those that took the brawl seriously still found themselves at a struggle. The well-groomed bartender was a master at martial arts, to which he would call ‘fisticuffs’. This last trial cut off the final bits of imperfect recruits and left only a handful of true thieves.

Local guards were made aware of the Guild by these trials, but made no action against the tavern, after all, rumors were rumors, and they didn’t actually have much to complain about. Since only a few had met the requirements to make it into the guild, many of those who failed simply helped to entertain the guards and fill the jail cells, leaving them quite content. So long as there wasn’t anything grand being done, they had no intent to investigate further and only report the increased amount of crime. Perhaps one day this would fester into something more than a mere tavern with scum, but for now they did not worry.

The Bartender dusted himself off as the man he had spoken to sat up and made his way past the bar, into the back room where only Guild members were allowed. The cellar below was large and spacious, the surviving recruits learning each other’s names and skills, making friends and rivals. The man joined in with the crowd, as the room held a few tables and a rack of alcohol for those who wished to relax, as well as a few common games for the bored.

“Glad to be able to meet others that actually know what they are doing! Unlike some of the fools out there.”

“Aye, and this place ain’t half bad. Could use a bit a spiffing up, but it’s a good start to what we are wantin’ to do.”

“Has anyone seen the Guild Master? Supposedly, he took part in the war in the Dunes, as well as help the group of Primes in the Ashen take out the dragon on the mountain.”

“That’s a load of bullshit. Probably just rumors to hype him up more than he needs to be.”

The variety of thieves was respectable, some even having originated from other verses, a melting pot of personalities and voices, as well as diversity. One was skilled in hacking, carrying a computer with her at all times, as well as other various techs. Another sailed some of the Vasty Deep, having been a Captain of a pirate ship, skilled with a cutlass and pistol.  Others were native to Camelot, with brandished knives and quick fingers. All held the skills, intelligence, and strength needed to make the best of thieves.

Then, one by one they became silent as footsteps that everyone recognized came down the cellar steps. First, the black slacks, then the brown vest and white shirt, and finally the well-groomed mustache and slicked back hair.

“I wish to speak to a Chloe. Is she present?” The bartender inquired, scanning the room.

A small, thin framed girl in a hoodie carrying a laptop stood from the back corner and stepped forward.

“Yeah. That’s me.”

“I have a specific task for you if you would follow me.”

Are you including an increased SP pool like in the first DA, or no?

Alright so I had a thread where i was memeing the fuck out of things a while back when i was ryner, its time to start it up again.

My creations:

http://i.imgur.com/SvqVdXH.jpg - a long time ago in a dnd game far far away 

http://i.imgur.com/lNKyL5J.gif - if omni had eyes

http://i.imgur.com/btYrBGi.jpg - gamzeesus motherfuckers

http://i.imgur.com/avcF6fg.jpg  - staff initiation

http://i.imgur.com/ABPm0lO.jpg - Meet squirronel, our most deadly prime.

http://i.imgur.com/MpvFE1t.jpg -little did you know tartaros is sponsored by nerf

http://i.imgur.com/Dc9mdKu.gif  http://i.imgur.com/XyddJNH.gif - "sdjhg;dfsg" -Adam

http://i.imgur.com/jxbfrI9.jpg - Hiro and Okor make an appearance in one of Omniverse's all time favs

http://i.imgur.com/iNiIxUH.jpg  - Theyre all looking at a giant doge.

http://i.imgur.com/1fy0Ywa.gif - "please put the murderpriest in your Kool-Aid" "I don't want you dipping Anderson's asscheeks in all my plans damnit"

Feel free to make some requests, i may get to them, i may not, i can probably also do characters if i can come up with something for you, ill probably try to work on some of the requests from my previous thread.