I just happened to think of this semi-randomly, but. A Pokemon Gym Challenge in the Omniverse, perhaps not actually done with Pokemon but involving the player character and the Gym Leader fighting a friendly match over a gym medal, rather than fighting with Pokemon. Those who gather all eight can participate in a special challenge, get a cosmetic reward or something.

Possible ideas:
-8 Primes as leaders, ideally they would stay in the verse they are the leaders of, or have a base with Recall Station so they can be available at a moment's notice. The problem being that the Gym Leader players might get dragged from whatever they are doing or are unavailable for a while because they are banished, in the void, the Oververse or such. Advantages include that you'll be most familiar with the character you play as.

-8 NPC Primes or secondaries which are waiting and available to play. This would hog at least one space per participating player which might not be that big a problem for secondaries, but moreso for NPC Primes. It would keep the players' original character from needing to be ready at all times.

-A limited-time event taking place in the Nexus, because that's neutral grounds. Either we organize an out-of-site tournament with an online game (like a Pokemon online tournament) or people can challenge the Gym Leaders for their medals.


It would obviously need to be decided what type of fight it is - with Assist characters or between the challenger and leader, how to ensure that there is no (or minimal) waiting for the participants, what the engagement rules are if any, etc. I would also need suggestions for what sort of cosmetic or otherwise acceptable rewards (like a special move that must still be purchased by the player) you can think of, and if anyone knows what to do about the Elite 4 - as a group of Primes that are strictly more powerful than other Primes would just be unfair.

And of course, do tell if you would be interested in playing a leader, and for what verse!

Ballad opened his eyes, staring up into the overwhelming whiteness of the Nexus. He brought his right hand up to his forehead, squinting as he pinched the brim of his nose. His head no longer felt like it had been crushed between two slabs of ice, which was a plus. However, his eyes burned looking at the illogically colorless realm he was in. Even after more than a week of exposure to real, natural light, he had still not gotten used to it.

"Your soma's light-receptors are comparable to an adolescent's, kindred spirit. It is understandable, however, given your natural habitat." The gunner spoke to himself, sliding his hand over his eyes. He waited for a few moments as if expecting something to happen.

"No response...." He muttered, pushing himself off of the ground. Apparently, mere insults to the anatomical nature of his form was not a trigger for him. He did indeed have limits to his temper.

The gunsmith looked down, rubbing his hands over himself. He caressed his torso, feeling the soft leather of his green jacket before moving towards his pants. He curled his toes inside his black snow boots, breathing in through the crimson fabric barrier around his nose and mouth. Finally, he rubbed the top of his head, pinching the trapper hat that surrounded it. He smiled behind his scarf, pulling on his coat before nodding in an appreciative manner.

"I must say, virescent one, you have a fine taste in raiment," He said, letting go of his attire and looking down at his gloved hand. Still nothing.

The soldier lowered his hand, lifting his chin up to stare at the fountain of the Nexus. The fountain wasn't actually much of a fountain, bearing more of a resemblance to a typical medieval church. It was tall, towering over everything else in the realm. Near the top was a bell that never appeared to move, and just below it was a circular stained-glass window. As Ballad gazed at the holy structure, lowering his gaze to the door, he saw a single marble pedestal. The pedestal was slightly short in height than himself and held a basin on the top of it. The copper bowl was filled to the top with water, with a sign hanging over it saying "Pour out your Holy Spirit, to bless this gift of water and those who receive it, to wash away their sin and clothe them in righteousness throughout their lives, that, dying and being raised with Christ, they may share in his final victory."

The gunsmith walked towards the bowl, grinning from ear to ear behind his scarf. He started to reach for the water, adjusting his eyes to look at the ornate sign above him.

His eyes turned white, smoke billowing out of his arm as he jerked his hand away.

At first, the gunner frowned, looking at his limb like it had literally formed a life of its own. His annoyance, however, was soon replaced by a genuine curiosity.

"I should not inquire into the nature of that reaction, should I?"

"No, you shouldn't. Kindly fuck right away from it, will you?"

"What colorful vernacular, companion. It's... interesting."

"Shut up," He whispered, his eye's switching from white to yellow as he turned around, walking away from the church building.

------------------------

XCOM 2 should be unlocking any minute, and I will be starting my campaign shortly and likely playing the whole weekend! Tune in if you wanna watch my trainwreck of a game: <!-- m --><a class="postlink" href="http://www.twitch.tv/gregthegrey">http://www.twitch.tv/gregthegrey</a><!-- m -->

I was at dinner with a friend recently when she told me she has a Roleplay partner on Devianart. Later she told me she planned on someday going to live with her in Japan. Her friend also wants to come visit her here too. They Roleplay a little every night, but my friend doesn't know what she looks like, and they don't seem super interested in swapping pics.

Now this is all well and fine, I don't need to know what you look like to write with you, but I just wanted to voice that if you plan or talk about meeting someone, even if you think you have a good idea of who that person is, it is always good to remain cautious and always meet in a public place. I would hate to see anything happen to anyone because of your favorite hobby.

This message is for girls AND boys, who can handle themselves as adults, but should remember that there are dangerous people out there if you aren't careful.

Happy Roleplaying!

So, basically,  I was wondering if it was possible for a prime to create something that could revive non-primes after they are killed.

Character name: Smith

Character source: The Matrix Trilogy

Character history: I'll go more indepth eventually, but its canon until he gets exploded at the end of the third movie.

Physical Description: It be Agent Smith, yo. Black suit version, from after his break with the Machines.

Stats:
ATK: 4
DEF: 0
SPD: 4
TEC: 4

(Buying 2 Stat Increases for 3000 OM)

Starting Proficiencies: Physical Strength (1000)

[b]Starting Powers: Burst Movement (800)

Starting Moves:

Viral Infection (Probably a Fluff Move): By spearing a person with his outstretched hand, Smith can overwrite their code and replace it with his own. Against weak Secondaries, the chance of resistance to this effect is nearly zero. As his target's power increases, so too does their ability to resist and rebuff Smith's code. A defeated foe, however, cannot hope to resist this potent ability. New Smiths created are Secondaries, and using this on a defeated Prime does not prevent them from resurrecting as per the norm. As an OOC note, PC Secondaries, and important NPC Secondaries are part of the "can resist" party.

Tier 1 Super Offense (Agent Reflexes): (600)
As a being composed of computer programming, Smith isn't bound by the limitations of a mortal mind. In fact, his consciousness can operate on two levels. The first is the standard level, which allows him to interact with others and the environment in normal time. However, he can also "overclock" his programming. By entering his second mode of operation, time itself seems to slow to a crawl around him, although this is merely a side-effect of his heightened speed. Using this ability, he can launch a flurry of attacks, against which an opponent is helpless to defend. The effect of this ability is temporary, as prolonged overclocking can corrupt Smith's core program.


Tier 1 Super Defense (Agent Reflexes): (600) As a being composed of computer programming, Smith isn't bound by the limitations of a mortal mind. In fact, his consciousness can operate on two levels. The first is the standard level, which allows him to interact with others and the environment in normal time. However, he can also "overclock" his programming. By entering his second mode of operation, time itself seems to slow to a crawl around him, although this is merely a side-effect of his heightened speed. Using this ability, he can avoid otherwise deadly attacks. The effect of this ability is temporary, as prolonged overclocking can corrupt Smith's core program.

Total should be 6000-6300 OM spent. After the switch, I should have 6500. Lemme know if I made any mistakes.

I confirm that I have read and agreed to the Rules of Conduct.

Where did you find us? Dude, I be Ganondorf. Also, give me a name change to Smith, bruh.

If I wish to use a different weapon during a power up, must I buy said weapon? Say I buy my animal instincts and gain claws as a weapon. Do I have to buy the weapon of claws along with the power up? The claws could only be active during the power up.

At the center of the white sky there stood a tower, lordly and tall, with sheets of frozen rain and snow shards rattling across its immense window panes. Its base level was wide and made of dense stone blocks, a warm and roaring hearth languishing in its entrance hall. As the long, winding stairwell within it rose up towards the sky, the grand building gradually wound itself into a more cylindrical shape, a rounded bulb the very same color of a pearl peaking up at its top.

Rocks of differing and gratuitously monolithic structure were placed in a coliseum-like pattern around the tower, although none could match its awesome height. There were mountains beside it, too, resting like the meaty forearms of a large, muscled giant. They were greater in size than a small asteroid, but less than a large one. If one were to take all of the individually divided slopes, cliff faces, and crags, and then measure them up all together, they would find that the whole mountain train was about as heavy as an extremely large amount of anvils.

Speaking of anvils— one was being struck, logically at the time that these observations were made. The sound of metal striking metal reiterated itself again and again. These weighty blows rang out with a supreme and profound quality; a familiar pang that echoed through the bones and jittered along the gums and teeth. Metallic clangs resonated in the upper atmospheres of the air surrounding the towers topmost bulb, cushioning it as an oyster seals around a precious pearl with its velvety soft flesh.

Inside of this pearly-white bulb, a wide-shouldered man was hard at work in creating a most intriguing weapon in the amber-colored light of his forge. His mustache was the color of burnt coal smoke or an oily and well-polluted river at dawn, and it was riddled with micro circuitry that would allow for it to twitch and wriggle across his synthetic upper lip like the springiest, fattest caterpillar to ever live. This long, impressively curled bug seemed to be doing barrel rolls in its jubilation as the robotic man worked.

Reddish smoke honey-combed across the walls of Grandpa Harley’s enclosed lab, poisoning the air and covering most of the furnishings with a slimy layer of black soot. The continual drumbeat of the smithy undulated in the space between the ceiling and floor tiles, heat and frost crystallizing in the warm light of creation.

Then, as a fire-seared and white-hot tong of metal was lifted into the air in the artificial, nerve-dead grasp of the armored senior citizen, something rippled quite alarmingly through the air. The old man immediately likened it to hearing a hyena’s distant cackle, lying with his back against swiftly cooling sands and a crackling fire spitting in lapping tongues towards an immeasurable indigo sky.

Puzzled, the robot placed the metallic rod upon the table before him with a resounding clang. He listened as whispering dredges of wind whistled along the curved edges of the towers highest point, delicate and pittering dabs of snow sprinkled in-between.

When no other sound came forth, he gave a minute shrug of his shoulders and resumed his work, only to be interrupted yet again by a persistent drumming against the roof not nearly an instant later. His synthetically-grooved gloves stained black and smoking, the old man’s hands clenched into fists, prepared for a rounded of fisticuffs with some sinister interloper. He was the very spitting image of Hephaestus, flames snarling at his back and the dogs of war braced for a brawl in his knuckles.

His sensors told him that the odd noise was stemming from somewhere up above when the suction-y, plucking sound made its presence known again. As he plodded over to a rectangular side window, a hand reaching out towards the stringy tie that would pull the window open, his red-lensed eyes gleamed with a fiery orange hue.

A beat later, the window slid open with a swift, jumbling zip!

Face perpetually grinning save for the twitching of his mustache, Grandpa Harley stuck his head out of his home, snowflakes catching on his safari hats metallic brim and melting from the heat of whatever micro circuitry kept him on his feet. He was still Homestuck, but most of his head and nearly nonexistent neck were not and that was all that mattered.

Sizzling noises accompanied the strange, rippling tapping this time. A peculiar grating ran along the rounded roof in eerie accompaniment, like a positively gargantuan child was gnawing on it as if it were a lollipop. As he turned his neck a full 360˚ with a sprightly whirring noise, Grandpabot was just able to watch as his roof was eaten away at by some peculiar, phlegmy ooze. Small spurts of goopy smoke rose into the air as what seemed to be acidic snow evaporated solid stone.

A small bead of the foul stuff dribbled upon his cap, and Grandpabot watched with steadily increasing alarm as a dime-sized hole was worn into his hat. Out of the corner of his lenses, he could have sworn that a tentacle arm or perhaps a scaly dragon's wing waved lazily at him.

“By Echidna’s quills!” he exclaimed, ducking back inside and slamming the window shut with extreme prejudice. With an afterthought, metal panes slid over the usual plexiglass panel. “I’m being made into Swiss cheese!”

After removing his hat, he was able to slide a finger all the way through the newly acquired abrasion with a peeved hmph. He would have to forge a new hat, no doubt, and make it expressly resistant to foul beast juices! In the meantime, he would have to work out some inventive way to eradicate the terror of pale white nastiness skulking about in the greater airy wastes.

His heavy boots drummed loudly against the floor as he stomped towards the transportalizer, taking the newly-made cobalt blue blaster gun with him. As he disappeared in a plume of green galaxies and sparking electricity, reappearing once more in the welcoming foyer at the base of the tower, Grandpabot looped a merry red bow with a card attached about its middle.

A pen was promptly removed from the inside of one of his boots. With a scratchy and clumsy script made all the more ridiculous by his large, fumbling fingers, he scribbled out a quick message:

“Happy birthday, my favorite girl!

I’m afraid that I must step out for a moment to take care of an unidentified flying infestation, but rest assured that I will return home safely to you and we can celebrate with cake and a dozen fancy ribbons!

You’ve grown up to become a fine young woman, dearest Jade, and I deeply regret that I was not there to spend those many trying years with you. This gun is just as sensible as yourself— it will not shoot to kill, but your bullisome interlopers will never cross you again once they have been on the receiving end of one of these frozen rounds! A warning of greater things to come, if you will.

Try to avoid dastardly, no-good fellows where possible, but always do what you know is right. I will return on the morrow, my departure time according to the mantle’s clock is 14:02. If anything should happen to me, do not go to great lengths to recover my components.

Pleasant travels & good fortune to you.

J. Harley.

P.S., Always keep at least five computers with you at all times. You must never be unprepared!

P.P.S., Kindly inform that Karkat fellow that his bathing routine is appalling. I haven’t seen anyone bathe fully clothed since my gambling ventures into the Siberian wilderness!

P.S.P.S. I won’t pry, but your Dataverse chums are a cagey bunch of hooligans. Be cautious, my dear!”

With a swoop and a flourish of dark green ink, Grandpabot tucked the blaster gun beneath the capable arms of the stuffed mummy doll propped up upon the chaise lounge. There, that should do it!

He had just finished retrieving his blunderbuss from the hands of his taxidermied double when a sharp rapping came upon the tower’s front door. The elder Harley turned his attention briefly towards the picture of Jade nestled comfortably atop the fireplace, let out a tinny hum, and made his way over towards the source of the knocking, which had sounded three times in all.

The door to the house slid open, the atomic symbol on its front hidden by the inner wall of the home. Slightly stooped with his head bowed over the front mat, the old man turned a critical eye towards a few tracks in the snow that appeared vaguely shoe-shaped. They were mysteriously empty, as if whoever had stood in them a few seconds before had spontaneously combusted.

It was a surprisingly common occurrence, spontaneous combustion— one of his old explorer’s club chums had been thoroughly combusted while flying a plane over a stretch of grassy plain in Africa. Either that, or he had simply crashed and been devoured by lions and scavenging beasts. Grandpabot preferred the former theory.

His boots made a heavy crunch in the upper crust of snow as he ducked out into the elements, the front door sealing soundly shut behind him with a sigh. With his bulky blunderbuss held out in front of him, Grandpabot marched boldly across the rainbow-splattered front lawn, being certain to pay his respects to the downed snowtroll of whom Jade had spent nearly fifteen minutes bringing into this world with a tip of his hat.

Slowly but surely, with labored footsteps and a whole blizzards worth of snow already sinking into his innermost machinery, Grandpa Harley vanished over the mountain rise.

Quote:

Sorry Jade!

I had forgotten to tell you I promised to meet up with my sister!
I don't wanna interrupt, so I'm leaving this letter for you.
I hope I can make it up to you sometime!

Thanks!
- Ruby and Weiss

It was the aftermat of the invasion, people were running through the streets in panic, grabbing whatever they could carry and rushing out of the city. It was no longer safe in the city, the fight scared allot of people, their leader was missing and currently there was no ruler. Stewie was running through the streets laughing loud and maniacally, "Yes fear me you peasants, run ! Flee ! Leave this place." He fired his laser pistol into the air to backup his threats. After running through the streets of Nippur for a while he started to slow down and take a look around. Buildings were burning, wounded soldiers were laying on the ground, screams were heard from blocks away, it was pure chaos. Stewie hadn't seen another prime in a while, he started to feel lonely. Looking at the last couple of guards running away with their tails between their legs he unsummoned his weapon. One last look around to make sure he was alone.

Stewie sighed and sat down, "What am I doing ? This isn't any fun without Brian. I miss Brian, we used to have so many great adventures together. And even though they were dangerous it was always fun." The child looked down at his feet as the memories were playing in his head like an old movie, two friends laughing and running through time and space. So many adventures that started with his inventions. Inventions, that's it ! As if a light bulb appeared above the genius's head he looked up. A bright idea popped into his mind, "That's it ! My inventions. They have never failed me before, well, alright sometimes they need a little extra work, but they always got the job done." Stewie grabbed his backpack and started searching through it, "Darn it where is it, I'm sure it's in here somewhere." With his head half inside he finally found what he was looking for, "AHA, found it." Out of the bag he took a small round device with a red button on top of it.

"Well, the return pad was meant to return from different times, but I am sure it will work if i rewire it." Out of nowhere Stewie used his primehood to summon the tools he needed to open his device. As if it was nothing the machine was opened and the wires were exposed, "Alright let's put this one here, and this one over here." The child mumbled as he worked his magic on the machine, "Alright this should do ". He closed the lid and stood up and took one last look around him, "Alright Omniverse, all I have to say is, I hate this place ! I hope we never meet again. You took away the only friend I made. YOU SUCK OMNI !"

Stewie pressed the button and threw the device on the ground. The disk opened up, and the young genius stepped on it. He took a deep breath of dusty air and activated the return pad. Energy started to spark and the disk started to shake heavily, "What the deuce ? what's going on ?" The small platform sparked heavily. Stewie's eyes betrayed him in his final moment and showed something was seriously wrong, he looked scared. The return platform malfunctioned and caused a large explosion.

The dust settled, besides some burned wires and a few loose bolts there was nothing left. No sign of the young prime. It was the last sighting of the Prime known as Stewie Griffin, no one knows if he made it back home or that he lost his power as a Prime and lost his life.

This is just a place for me to share with you the wealth of comedy and strangeness I find on the "Youtube." I will add more to this list as I see fit.

***IMPORTANT***

I will tag anything I deem over the top in terms of profanity, crudeness, and other baser forms of eliciting laughter. My sense of humor can be...off, at times. I will go on the record and say that most of the videos I show you are probably full of swears.


SOME OF THESE VIDEOS ARE NOT FOR THE FAINT OF HUMOR.

You have been warned.



Now that the legal troubles are out of the way, I think I'll start out with Brandon Rogers. Probably one of my favorite comedy guys. Defs give him a subscribe if its your kind of humour, but some of his stuff can be preeeetty offensive. I'll try to leave those out of this list however.

[youtube]1CcXGZUbbyo[/youtube]

[youtube]mPDK7v-DfBM[/youtube]
TAG: Mild Nudity and heavy sexual themes, but its all censored/out of clear view.

[youtube]TfOIdxHpPpk[/youtube]


I sincerely recommend you watch all of the Grandpa videos if you like this one. I recommend also Elmer Hates His Job, A Day With Mom, and the Auntie Fee parodies, though I dont feel comfortable posting them here for everyone's sake :'D Brandon Rogers doesnt get enough credit. His videos are the best thing ever. They always cheer me up B)