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Mar 31, 2014The sense throbs behind Angel's forehead, The danger comes close, but the girl is far away, buy coming nearer. Angel leaves the lake, tearing off across the skies, winging his way alongside the bright red train that winds its track throughout the dream land. The girl is inside, he knows, he senses, and others too. A pair of dreams, pretending to be real but profoundly different. In the blind landscape of Angel's mind, the girl is bright bonfire, while the dreams are tepid matches. One means the girl well, but the other mans her ill. He must stay close and on guard.Tucking his wings, Angel alights on top of the moving train with a graceful touch. He folds his legs, sitting cross-legged and letting the wind whip against the smoothness of his face, basking in the dreamland sunshine while the girl and her dreams ride below.Posted in: Forum Roleplaying
Mar 29, 2014Angel rises from the surface of the Crystal lake, floating in mid-air on slowly beating wings. Below him the water ripples, but no refection mars its mirror surface. Angel is awake again, after what seems like ages asleep. Something is pulling at him, something deep at the back of his brain that he knows only as "the sense". Like his hands and his ears hear, his sense knows. It knows when there is danger and it calls to him, a dull throbbing warning deep in his head. The girl will be in trouble, soon, the sense knows.Posted in: Forum Roleplaying
With a beat of his wings Angel takes to the sky, high up where the sun is bright. He glides on his wings, sensing and waiting for the danger.
Mar 27, 2014Name:[true name unknown]Posted in: Forum Roleplaying
Age: appears to be a younger adult (30's)
Personality:(How you act)
Appearance:Angel looks like a man, tall and imposing with narrow shoulders and slender hips. He always comes dressed in a black suit, with a white tie and a bright blue rose in his lapel. If Angel had a face, he hopes it would be handsome, but the front of his head is smooth and pale white, featureless. His hair though, is long and shiny blonde, flowing out behind him whenever he takes to the sky on his great white wings.
Your Dream:Angel was torn from void by the sound of tearing metal. The smell of spilled gasoline game him form, and the cries of a little girl gave him purpose.
Angel came into existence the day of the car crash, alone and nameless, knowing only one thing: he needed to protect the girl called Demetria. It sat in him like an summons and he descended from the sky on his new wings to the place where two totaled cars sat smoking in the roadway like crushed insects. He alighted on the ground without a sound and walked to the wreckage. In the first car everyone was dead, and none of them were Demetria. In the second car he found the girl, small and unconscious and wheezing shallow breaths. Next to her sat an ugly, squat man with curly hair, who smiled at him with a too-big grin. Angel reached into the car and pulled the girl free. She stirred, looking up into his face with blurry eyes. If Angel had had a mouth, he would have smiled at her and reassured her. Instead he carried her to the side of the road, setting her down gently in the grass as the sound of sirens grew louder in the distance. The girl was small and hurt, but Angel knew at the core of his being that she was the key to his own mystery. Only by keeping her safe would he ever find his true name. Only by keeping her safe would he reveal his true face.
Inventory:(Items. 0-10). Nothing but the suit he wears and the rose.
Telepathy- Angel has no mouth to speak, so he communicates by thought, but only a a normal talking range.
Speaking in the third person (Angel will always refer to himself as “Angel” until he eventually finds his name)
Feb 22, 2014dreamer_of_evil posted a message on Looking For a Creative RPG Lore writer. Perks Included For you.I don't know if this option is still up, but I'd love to make a story for you. Good vs evil is pretty broad, but for that reason it offers some pretty interesting interpretations (much more interesting than the good noble warrior vs the evil power-hungry wizard). If you're still looking for someone to write a little bit more expansive story I'd enjoy working with you. I have several years of creative writing experience and last year I placed runner-up in a national collegiate short story contest. Let me know if you could use my help!Posted in: Server Recruitment
Dec 21, 2013Character Name: Count StokerPosted in: Forum Roleplaying
Race: Human (well, mostly)
Abilities: Enhanced night vision, magical aptitude and a sizable amount of wealth.
Weaknesses: Bright, direct lights, a withered and nearly useless right hand, and undying greed
Bio: Count Stoker was once fully human, back when Neo Genesis was a new world. He immersed himself in magics, reaching for deeper knowledge and greater power. He explores the dark mysteries of magic that some feel would be better left untouched. He has sacrificed much for his power and wealth, including his own humanity. Now Count Stoker lies somewhere in between, not fully human but neither fully magical.
Now ageless, Count Stoker survives only to grow his own power. Through his machinations, he now controls the area know as the death gorge, lording over it as a self-styled feudal ruler. His castle sits astride the chasm north of the New Citadel, providing one of the only access points to travel overland from the New Citadel to the Old Citadel. All who would pass over the night bridge must pay a toll of gold or risk Count Stoker's wrath. In the last hundred years, Count Stoker has never been seen outside the castle walls during the day, and only rarely at night. He lives in shadow, clothed in legends and mystery.
Personality: The count is ruthless, greedy and unerringly dark. He fancies himself a noble and as such considers himself the superior to the masses. He has a penchant for all things old, especially those pertaining to the sordid history of old earth. He always acts in his own interest often at the detriment of others.
Appearance: Tall, and overly skinny, as if a person was pulled from both ends and stretched without quite breaking. He stoops ever so slightly. His right hand is shriveled and withered, and he usually keeps it hidden beneath a cloak. His skin is a greyish-white and his eyes are deep, opal blue and are said to glow faintly of their own accord. His hair is grey and full, cascading down in a long mane behind his uncovered head. Beneath his cloak he dresses neatly, in the style of early medieval earth-lords. On his shoulder he wears a badge made with his self-styled coat of arms, glowing crystal framed by a black castle.
Location of Birth: New Genesis, in the Old Citadel when it was still in use.
Theme Song (This is optional just copy and paste a link to the song for your character):
Dec 21, 2013This sounds good with alot of interesting dynamics to explore such as scarcity of food and resources, adapting to a subterranean life and negotiating the general anarchy of the space.Posted in: Forum Roleplaying
I too wonder about the surface. Is there anything left up there. Is it habitable if not sustainable? Should the end goal be to find a way to make the surface habitable again?
If you go ahead with this concept let me know, I'd love to get in.
Oct 27, 2013Posted in: DiscussionQuote from EATMYBALL5
"Since 1.7.2, I have not gotten a desert and a snow biome in the same world. Is this normal?
Has the world generation been changed in such a way that you get either cold worlds or warm worlds?
Is anyone else having the same problem? Thanks in advance.
Asked in another thread by another person. But i got this problem too and really want to know more about it. the only answers we got there was: "Try walking for a while". I have been walking 10k blocks in 10 different worlds and never seen them in same world. Only found one snowbiome and never found a mesa biome.
Quote from GarretGarterBoy
Its Not Loading That Because I Think There's More Biomes And The World Cant Fit All In One
Not quite, what happening is that now the biome generator is sensitive to which biomes can border each other. So, when generating new terrain, the game places a probability control on biome generation, making certain biomes more likely to spawn close together. Generally this takes the form of temperature, with cold biomes morelikely to spawn next to equally cold biomes and hotter biomes spawning next to hot biomes. That said, the biomes can all become connected if you get the right combinations. For example, extreme hills and deserts aren't going to spawn together, but it's possible to move from extreme hills to a forest to the plains and then into a desert. You can also try your luck crossing an ocean, as I believe that oceans can spawn next to most any type of biome.
I've been playing a nomad style world in 7.2 for a few days now and I've come across most every type of biome except for a mesa and a mycellium biome.
Oct 18, 2013At 6:37 that evening a large white semi-truck pulled up and around back to the loading dock of the Wisenbaum Building. Boss stood there in the middle of the floor as the big metal door whirred slowly upward and the rear end of the trailer rig bumped gently against the buffer pads. As soon as the truck was stopped the passenger door floor open and Marty practically jumped out of the cab. He rubbed his hands together in the cold air, placed them on the lip of the dock and swung his big frame easily up into the space where Boss was waiting.Posted in: Forum Roleplaying
Marty was what doctors in the medical field generally called “a giant”, six and a half feet tall with shoulders that looked like they might have been able to carry the semi along if it ever happened to break down. Boss always thought that he looked like an oversized Orangutan, with a shock of bright orange hair and a matching carpet that covered his arms and chest. That and he had to slouch so much to talk to normal people that his knuckles almost dragged the ground.
“Safe and sound, Boss” Marty called, throwing a mock salute to Boss as he pulled up beside him.
“Good to hear,” Boss said in a quiet voice that made Marty hunch over to hear. “I want you here tomorrow morning when Mr. Chen comes to pick it up again. We were supposed to have it to him yesterday.”
“You mean Jack the Chicken Ripper? I don't want anything to do with that one. Not me.”
“Look,” said Boss with a stern voice right into Marty's ear. “If all goes well you won't have to. I just need you there in case something goes wrong.”
“Like him trying to get our heads too?”
“Yeah, something like that.” replied Boss, knowing that it wasn't quite outside the realm of possibility.
Just then the driver side door of the the semi opened and Zed the driver pulled himself from the cab down onto the pavement. Boss always said looked like a giant, overall clad bowling ball. The man was only a few inches above five feet and nearly as far around. He has a bush of curly brown hair that fell down over his eyes and a scraggle beard that hid an unknown number of chins.
“You all good Zed?” boss asked from up on the dock.
“Reckon” was all that Zed answered. Zed was a man of very few words and, much to Boss' liking, even fewer questions. Boss reached into his pants pocket and brought out a white envelope with a couple hundred dollars in it and tossed it to Zed, his payment for the errand.
“Just hang out a bit while we get everything off the truck,” Boss told him, “then you can go park it father back out of the way.”
“Mkay.” said Zed in response. Then he leaned against the wall and cupped his hands around his beard, trying to get a cigarette to light in the chill Minnesota fall.
Boss walked over to the semi trailer, undid the big metal latch and heaved the door open. It scraped in the overhead track as it opened, making an awful metal on metal sound. Marty flinched at the noise and furiously dug a finger into his ear to try and block it out.
Behind the door sat several large pallets stacked high with cardboard boxes tied together. On edge of the boxes the name “Gordon Trans-American” and below in smaller letters the words “Vancouver, BC”. Stamped across the whole face in large capital letters was the warning “FRAGILE”. Boss took out a small switch pocket knife that he always carried with him and flicked open the blade, slashing his way through the packaging and hauling down a box from the closet pallet. With three quick slashes he cut through the top of the box, and pulled it open to reveal the contents. Placed delicately on top was a set of delicate looking glass ornaments, the kind that would be found on fancy mall Christmas trees come December.
Boss picked up one of the ornaments with the tips of his fingers, held it up, and rotated around to view it from every angle. Then he carefully placed it back in with others, reached for the edges and brought the whole section out of the box and tossed it casually to the side. Glass balls rolled around the concrete floor of the loading dock as Marty tried in vain to gather them up in his giant hands.
“There you are...” Boss said, almost to himself. Below the decoy ornaments lay the true prize, layer upon layer of shrink-wrapped, freeze-dried cuttlefish. They sat there, flat, long and a pasty cream color, their long squid-like bodies ending in a jumble of tiny tentacles. They technically weren't illegal to eat or even sell in the states, its just that getting the proper permits to import them was nigh on impossible and so Mr. Chen and others like him relied on Wisenbaum Consulting to circumvent the system.
“Wow, do people really eat that stuff?” asked Marty, who appeared over Boss's shoulder after corralling the last of the glass balls.
“You've worked here long enough to know the answer to that question.” replied Boss.
“Yeah, well it still turns my stomach a little.”
“I don't pay you to be queasy,” countered Boss “let's just get them off and ready for Mr. Chen.”
Oct 17, 2013Here we go:Posted in: Forum Roleplaying
The man called Harold Wisenbaum stood hovering over the big black phone that stood guard on the far corner of his desk. He could sat down in his desk chair, done some work or some light reading while he waited for it to ring, but he didn't, he just stood there, hovering and circling the desk like a vulture over his prey, waiting hungrily for the little red light to blink and the tiny bell inside to ring its clarion call. Harold was not a big man, in fact he was rather small, skinny in a way that suggested he had never needed to diet in his life. Fitness just came naturally to him. He held his frame taught and anxious as he made another hovering lap around the desk, running his hands through a thin crop of gray stubble on the top of his head, never taking his eyes off the big, black phone. He fretted and ground his knuckles anxiously in to the wood of the desk. He thought to himself that this really wasn't becoming behavior for a man of Harold Wisenbaums's stature. Then again, he thought, he wasn't really Harold Wisembaum.
The light blinked once and the man who called himself Harold Wisenbaum lurched across from the far side of the desk, grabbing the receiver off the hook before the first ring.
“Hello?” he said, trying to keep the tension out of his voice.
“Boss? Boss its me, Marty. We got the shipment. Someone had mislabeled the container and it got put in a totally wrong part of the shipyard.”
Wisenbaum breathed a sigh of relief and allowed himself to crash backwards into his desk chair which groaned and squeaked with the impact. “Is it intact?” he asked.
“Yeah, yeah, it looks like it.” Marty replied. “Nothing broken, all the seals still good. Some bozo marked it 'St. Phil' instead of 'St. Paul' though. You ever heard of a place called St. Phil?”
“Never in my life.” the man called Wisenbaum said. “Good work finding it. Call me if anything else looks fishy.”
“Well the whole thing is fishy,” Marty joked, “there's got to be several tons of the stuff in there.”
“You know what I meant.” the man called Wisenbaum wasn't quite in the mood. He just wanted his crew back, no mishaps.
“Yeah, yeah, Zed's got it up on the truck bed know. We'll be back from Duluth by the evening.”
“See you then.”
The call went dead and the man called Wisenbaum whistled a long soft note, exhaling all of the pressure of the last few hours. It was tough life, it really was, he thought. Harold Wisenbaum ran a consulting firm called Wisenbaum Consulting LLC, and they specialized in the glamorous and exciting field of finance review. At least they had, when Harold Wisenbaum was alive. The man who now called himself Harold Wisenbaum had quietly taken over the name and the company when the real Harold Wisenbaum had died nearly six years ago. It was a good move, given the kind of work the company now undertook. If any problems arose, the man could quietly slip away and Harold Wisenbaum could go right back to being dead again.
Among his associates and employees, the man who assumed control of Wisenbaum Consulting simply went by the name “Boss”. It let everyone know who was in charge and reminded them of it day in and day out. Over the years since the real Mr. Wisenbaum's tragic death (a disastrous allergic reaction to shellfish), Boss had quietly and carefully carved out a niche in the Midwestern world of organized crime. More precisely, he and his men specialized in the import and brokering of various ethnic Asian commodities that were, strictly speaking, banned inside the United States.
When he had finally caught his breath and his heart had slowed to a steady rhythm, Boss touched another button on the phone and spoke into it.
“Yes Boss?” came a crackly female voice from the other side.
“Get Mr. Chen on the line and tell him we've got his order, we'll deliver it to him first thing tomorrow morning.”
“Will do Boss.”
There was a click and a green light lit up on the phone as Martha the receptionist picked up the outside line. Even with the cargo in hand, Boss still did not feel up to the task of explaining the mishap to Mr. Chen. He was a hard man, and harder still to read. The owner of three large ethnic groceries in the Twin Cities area, he would do whatever it took to get the things that his brand of client desired. Once, when Boss had lost Mr. Chen's product to a warehouse fire, Mr. Chen began mailing decapitated chicken heads to Wisenbaum Consulting and only stopped when Boss agreed to do his next request pro bono. His employees were still finding desiccated heads hiding around the office, and Boss himself hadn't been able to stomach the thought of a KFC since.
Oct 16, 2013Posted in: Forum RoleplayingApplication: dreamerofevil
Organization Name: ATE (All Things Evil)
Starting City: Minneapolis MN
Starting Associates (Pick 10): Mastermind, 2 x Thug, 1 bookie, 2 x hacker, 1 drug dealer and 1 driver (spin-off of gun runner).
Choose one small business to own in your city:Wisenbaum Consulting LLC
Sep 26, 2013Hey all,Posted in: Screenshots
I've recently gotten into a lot of Feed The Beast (FTB) play, and I'm especially loving the New World mod pack by kylemcqueen75. This marks the first time I've really spent any time with any kind of tech mod, and the first time I've tackled them in survival to really see how they change the way I play the game. Here are some pictures of the first base I built, as I was just starting out and learning the ropes of all the different mods. I hope you enjoy!
Let's take a tour:
Here it is, the front side of my base, which I've dubbed Oakwood Manor. The two round towers hold most of the tech and working parts of the build while the center part hold the decorated and spacious living quarters.
Here's another view where you can see all of my resource farms spreading out through the marsh in front of the manor. I really enjoy the new biomes that the ExtraBiomes mod adds to the game. It makes playing a whole lot more varied and gives you a wonderful new pallete to work on. As it turns out this entire build is built out over the marsh right off shore.:
And here it is from the back, showing the observation deck and the back side of the living quarters.
Now to go inside. First lets check out the living spaces:
This is the ground floor entrance, a large reception area meant to be inviting and grandiose. Keeping with the theme of Oakwood Manor, I chose a sturdy tree as the sigil for the build. You can see it inlaid in the floor and then the colors reflected in the stained glass of the ceiling. At the back you can see the two large paintings which are actually relics purchased from the Byzantine millienaire village that sits right along side the manor (more on that later)
Up the winding marble stairs, the second story holds a couple of small ante chambers, one containing an enchanting set-up and the other containing a small workshop with an industrial craft generator and a few of the simpler machines.
The Third Floor:
This one is a little sparsely done. It was the last thing I built and decorated and i didn't quite have the materials necessary to really spruce it up nicely. It still serves its purpose though. I get to sleep and the zombies stay outside.
As well, it has a large walkout balcony where you can see the entirety of the Byzantine Villiage of Anapolis, courtesy of the millienaire mod. Millienaire is perhaps my favorite mods and one of the main reasons why I love this mod pack in particular. It adds such a new interactive dimension to the game that vanilla villages just don't accomplish. Plus I love watching the little villages grow and expand under my benevolent hand. Anapolis started out with sever or so tiny building s and has now grown into a center of regional trade and culture.
Now for the tech:
Most of this build was spent learning the intricacies of Buildcraft piping, storage and the process of sorting and routing ores and other materials. The end product then, was this expansive and somewhat clumsy ore grinder.
It starts out at the entrance to my mine with a little chest that whisks away everything in up toward the processing tower. Having it right down in the mine allowed me to keep working without have to climb all the way out every time my inventory got full.
From there it entered the processing tower, which took up the entirety of the left tower of Oakwood manor. Everything from the mine passes through a long series of MineFactory item routers, sending the simple resources (stone, dirt, gravel) straight to storage chests and all the ores (this pack has a lot of new ones) into their own designated furnace.
There are two floors of ore furnaces, each with twelve different ores being processed. In hindsight, this set-up is really clunky, but I had yet to do alot with other mods and so this came out, and it does work. While input and output are automated via simple buildcraft piping, I opted in this grinder to feed all of the furnaces by hand so that I wouldn't inadvertently waste an entire chunk of coal smelting one block of ore right as it came in.
Lastly, the refined ores were pumped out and then resorted into groups of vanilla ores, mod ores and nether ores. They were then moved back down to the bottom floor of the tower for easy access.
This is only the first of my FTB survival builds though definitely not the last. As this one neared completion, I set out on a quest, exploring the area around me for a new site.
About 600m to the southwest of Oakwood manor lies the site of my next project, The Oasis Outpost. Connecting the two I made a long road running through the countryside in between. When I timed it, the journey from one to the other takes right about 3 min at a constant, normal pace. Here's a map to show you what I mean.
Let me know what you liked, didn't like and we'll see what comes out of the new base. (Hint: I'm experimenting more with industrial craft power and buildcraft quarries.)
Sep 26, 2013dreamer_of_evil posted a message on REGIA ANGLORUM - THE HEPTARCHY ------>UPDATE 10.28.14<------Woohoo he's back!Posted in: Screenshots
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