Nik

Hey, it's this thread again. I just wanna say I've always found genetics a bad time for security AND other medical staff. Either you have to drag a blind, deaf and geneticist who is somehow missing his legs into surgery to fix his ass, Or you end up shooting one because he's trying to break into the captains office to rename himself "Psionic Specialist". So, yeah. Fuck Dat.

Yeah. I did. Busy days. How is the people's. All three of you who are still around.

That reminds me. Fuck ANYONE who praises the sun in a different covenant. I don't have the mental capacity to grasp invaders who praise the sun.

Frankly, roleplay gets pretty awful anyway on every other occasion, but I do see the point. Still, I'd prefer mild confusion on what the bug man's job is over it being a Power Ranger minion who eventually turns into a giant form of itself.

Their design is amazing for all the wrong reasons, I think. They look exactly like one of the monsters that attacked the power rangers in some season or another, which I suppose is due to the lack of ability to make these inhuman. Of course, they could have been designed as entirely unable to wear clothes, and give them four sets of legs. That might have improved them a bit, as they REALLY do look like a Sentai minion grade enemy currently. Still, I suppose they are interesting enough. Shame we can't get anything except "Human BUT" races. These would have been nearly the same if they had been say...non-carbon lifeforms made of a flexible metal, that are human shaped because they are imprinting on them or some shit. /me shrugs.

Why is it so hard for you people to do things. Make it a thing in the Armory, and give one to the HOS. Or just the Armory. On a side note, for the love of flying fennit foxes, I still feel uncomfortable that scientists can just MAKE some of the best weapons in the game, without lockboxes on them.

HOS specific trenchcoat. so they can spawn in style. oh, and briefcases if they aren't on there, mod kits and toy mechs.

OH GOD NOW I HAVE TO DO MORE THINGS. AAAAAAAAAA. Well, see you Dea. Don't go dying or nothing without some kind of explosions and high stakes, high tension battles against the moon.

>Casually notices he's put this in the wrong forum board. FUCK IT.

Man, isn't dark souls 1 awesome. Man, isn't dark souls 2 such a sack of shit. The bitter feeling of having a sequel that somehow improved a bunch of issues, and created just as many different ones that weren't previously issues. Because who the fuck need's god damn expiration dates on your characters. Or a Invasion system that makes reliabley invading about as easy as beating Artorias with a fucking broken straight sword. Let's bitch about souls games, Blood borne, builds, gear, DLC, that one asshole who always runs shredding spear/Crystal Catalyst/Dual wielding spears, or how fucking hype caestus are in DS2 (Spoiler, it's like your god damn Ippo or Little mac. Fucking Rad.) I've been running a Gentlemen build for Pvping recently, and watching people panic as they can't figure out why i'm bullrushing them barehanded, then laying out rad punch combo's is fucking awesome. Infuse them with lightning and your laying out Rolling Thunder's all day.

So, this has been suggested a billion and a half times. and I'm gonna suggest it again. Fucking Jukeboxes with music in them. Get them set up for the bar, the library, wherever. Have them play local audioclips of various tunes. Would be quite pleasant for in game, and add a nice thing to relax icly with. I'm well aware of the technical issues of coding this in, and blah de blah blah, but god damn it, we need some actual recreational things that aren't the holodeck and a pool that's just a fucking overlaying tileset. We need things to boogie out to, man.

Suddenly, I am reminded that I possess this gif. for some reason.

I'm fucking dead. God damn it.

(Here's a story thing for a character I may or may not use. Yell about how good/bad it is if you wish, I enjoy feedback~) Ryan Lisand was a man. A man, who was of one of the highest rank any Head of Security could rise to. A proud man. A just man. A man who was vaguely aware that a black furred Tajara had just drugged him, and the feeling of someone dragging him like a sack of fleshy oranges. As self-awareness slowly arose from the stocky man, several things began to enter his mind in order. Firstly, he was in a small room that he did not recognize. Secondly, he was handcuffed to a chair, behind a glass wall, a windoor embedded into it’s side. Thirdly, said grey Tajara was behind said glass, fiddling with a complicated set of valves and pipes, wearing the orange jumpsuit of an engineer. And fourthly, he was wearing nothing but the Captain Underverse boxers he had put on that morning. Utilizing all of the training he had obtained in his twenty three years as a head of security, Ryan succeeded in not soiling his clothes when he finally took notice of the orange plasma tank jutting from under his chair. The Tajara seemed to note Ryan's sudden sorry state of being awake, and quickly stepped into the small room with Ryan, gripping his chin in an attempt to examine is face more closely, before giving a quick giggle and releasing his head. “Well, well, well, Misterrr Lisand. Arrren't you a handsome thing afterrrr fifty yearrrs of life, eh? Prrroud, a herrro, who the little ones want to be, the ladies want to bed, and the gods themselves would envy” said the Tajara, whose name had finally wormed it's way into Ryan's mind. “Hadar, what the sweet fuck are you doing?” Ryan croaked out, aware of how sore his throat felt. “Can't even prrronounce a simple name, can you? A shame, perrrhap's he should be applying forrrr a new name then Hiidarrrr, eh? Drrrasii, mayhaps? No matterrr, no matterrr~” Leaning back against the window, Ryan was aware that Hiidar was not a particularly tall Tajara, but possessed the stocky, muscular build of anyone who spends a majority of his shift inside a hardsuit. The black fur of the Tajara was well groomed, and his mane kept in a neat ordeal. Fumbling with the cuffs, Ryan suddenly decided to try his hand at being a stage magician, hoping he had a particular talent with the handcuff trick that he had always enjoyed as a child. Giving a few “Tsk Tsk” sounds, Hiidar turned and left the room, returning to the secondary section of this apparent hidden room as he continued to fiddle with the system of valves and pipes, before turning and grinning at Ryan. “He's got a question, forrr you, Sirrr mane.” It didn’t take much for Ryan to note that the Tajara’s teeth were a perfect white, yet possessed several holes where teeth had been apparently lost. Before Ryan could respond with some form of plea for release, death threat or mix of the two, Hiidar continued with speaking. “It is a question a dearrr frrriend told him. What, is the most powerrrful thing in the entirrrre univerrrses, hm?” Resisting the urge to yell “Your mother”, Ryan continued to work at the cuffs, finding himself surprised at how little they hurt digging into his hands when he became aware of the igniter rigged up to the floor next to him, and said “Metal? People? Money?” Giving a light Titter, the Tajara pulled a small handkerchief from his pocket, a bright red piece of silk with a few odd gold lines running through it, and wiped at his face, removing some unseen debris from his muzzle. “No, no, silly one. Firrre.” Re-entering the room, the Tajara began rigging up Ryan with a blue oxygen tank and a mask, flicking his internals before giving a hefty yank on the cuffs, removing the progress he had made to freedom from the Tajara. Leaving the room, he once again returned to the Frankenstein-esque assortment of pipes, flipping a switch. This seemed to trigger something, as Ryan began acutely aware of the hissing noise of some unseen toxin floating into the room. Finding his tongue, Ryan began to balk “I-I ain’t done nothing wrong, Hiidar. I can help you, if you’re in trouble. Y-you need money? This some k-kinda hit?” “Money? Oh heavens no! Hiidarrr needs nothing frrrom you but one thing.” shuffling through the many pockets of Hiidar's engineering backpack, he pulled a small photo and pressed it to the glass, grinning lazily. “Rrrrrecognize this, Sirrr?” Ceasing his struggles for a moment, Ryan glared at the photo, not quite seeing what was pictured for a moment, before his heart skipped a few beats, and almost attempted to continue these plans before his body kicked in to remind his heart about how valuable it was to the whole “not dying” thing was. “E-eh? Not a clue. Let me go!” he cried, more and more aware of the stinging of plasma seeping into the very material of his eye's. “Oh, don't rrrecognize the ship that held severrral dozen Tajarrra hostages, and the fourrr terrorrrists whom you sent the command to blow out of space, when they asked forrr rrransoms? Funny, he is positive it was you, Sirrr Rrrryan, who got prrromoted forrr yourrr quick thinking and excellent...the worrrds werrre “Rrresourrrce management underrrr dirrrress” yes?” Lacking words, Ryan blankly stared at the grey-furred alien, before finding his left hand had found itself outside of the handcuffs embrace. Grinning, he rushed the windoor, planning to throttle the Tajara and escape this hell. Two things occurred at this exact moment. Hiidar gave a titter, and Ryan ran headfirst into a locked windoor. Pulling a Signaller from his bag, Hiidar gave another titter and spoke. “In the end, dearrr Sirrr, you will burrrn in this life and the next.” Clutching his clawed hands together, signaller between them both, Hiidar began to mumble “Dearrrr Shadow, this one sends you a gift of blood and firrre, frrrrom which the guilty shall rrrise to yourrr embrrrace!” Ryan heard the click of a igniter clicking into life.. Ryan, was a man. A proud man. A just man. A man who took a hostage situations and made it into a promotion. “Let's see you bomb yourrr way out of this.”

Rai's currently spending her free-time trying to lose weight and learn free-running, and is also currently failing due to a large amount of sweet shops near her place of living. Oh, Jasri spends his spare time fighting in a somewhat illegal fight club on Beisel, and is also currently considered the club's current number two. Oh oh oh, Rai spent two days in a escape pod with nothing but some universal enzyme, milk and a music player with nothing but a copy of "Do you believe in magic" on it.

Ain't the first or last person to leave, it just seems someone (Me, self appreciative satirical wank wank) started up a thing of people leaving posts about it. Which is good, because then we at least know they aren't dead or some shit, Echo~

The concept of Trigger warnings seems to be my trigger, because I was about to smack someone. Like, holy shit it's called not getting mad because someone likes Obama. You don't need to steal the word trigger and make me think of that instead of friggin Vash the Stampede. Kids these days, with their fucking trigger warnings and Bon Jon Jovi's.

You rang?

I agree with lessick, give them a little icon thats a pen, or a hammer, or something, depending on their job.

A...more valid idea, since dalek is right, although a tad crude, is to have these agents be assistants to other traitors. Upon antag's spawning in, it would say "Rai Amari is with us, they may be willing to assist you" Or something like that. I'd suggest, however, whitelists need to be applied for a single character, and you can only have that one character with valid reason. As well, that character cannot be head, captain, or any implanted job.

meanwhile, voltage has turned into jontron