SuperNES I: Gods Among Us

[Arrow Gamer]

Jake Connolly/Arrow Gamer
Nationality: American
Location: NYC
Powers: Super strength, reactive evolution and superspeed.
Weakness: If he is not in contact with the ground, directly or indirectly (like if he's in a building) he loses all his powers except super strength.

Background: Jake grew up an orphan and has a very... loose... set of morals. He steals and kills with no remorse, and is always on the lookout for ways to expand his 'turf' in the city. He tends to stay away from drugs, as he saw meth destroy his mother as a young boy. He goes out of his way to kill any drug dealers he sees. He is 24, and has a small group of boys he found on the street that he protects. If anyone threatens them, they can expect to be found dead in the morning.



Kaiser and I are still running ours, as we've spent over two weeks thinking of ideas and formulating the NES. Feel free to join when we post the prethread, and it is rather different than this one: it takes place during an altered WWII universe, where you can contribute to the war.

 

[qoou]

Sam/qoou
Nationality: Russian-Irish
Location: New York City
Power: Ability to regulate and interfere with the hormonal systems of living beings.
Weakness: Emotional immaturity stemming from horrid childhood, lack of knowledge of biology, superstition, unawareness of extent of powers, inability to fully control powers, inability to keep powers fully in check; a tendency to, without knowing, use powers on self when in a state of anger/fear/joy/etc, exacerbating said state.
Gender (courtesy of #nes's Morte): Both

"Sam", his last name unknown, was born to an illiterate Russian immigrant on the morning of October 28, 1886, the day of the dedication of the Statue of Liberty. Already hated by his Irish father for making him miss the parades with their plentiful free booze, Sam did not exactly help the situation by being born with the reproductive systems of both males and females. Upon hearing of this, her mom fainted and his dad cursed. Her early childhood saw much more of his dad's cursing, as well as excessive, desperate, praying from her mother. After a couple of years, seeing that neither his cursing nor his wife's prayer were helping any, Sam's dad grabbed his son's cot one day and took it to the nearest orphanage. Unknown to him, his wife had placed her precious silver crucifix pendant inside Sam's beddings the previous night.

Bounced from orphanage to orphanage for much of his early childhood, Sam eventually ran away, taking with her the silver crucifix. The rest of his childhood was spent as a street urchin, getting her daily food by begging, and when that didn't work, by stealing. On the evening of New Year's Day, 1899/1900, Sam had a horrifying nightmare. When he awoke from it, she found every one of his nearby urchin comrades seizing. Running away from the ghastly sight while begging the God dangling around his neck for forgiveness, Sam made the decision to explore this new curse of his, hoping that it might eventually turn out to be a blessing instead.

 

[merciary]

Sir Nigel Gibson/merciary
Nationality: British
Location: London
Power: possesses anyone who wears him with complete access to their memories and skills, if some dies while wearing him he gains their memories permanently
Weakness: he's a ring

When he was safely tucked inside his own body Nigel Gibson was a respected British officer serving the Empire to his best of his abilities. That is until a certain unpleasantness involving some native village in a remote corner of the world. While doing his duty to the Empire Nigel had a habit of fidgeting with his ring. One of the elders saw this and appeared to be trying to curse. Unfortunately for the poor man he was cut down before he could finish whatever he was trying to do and Nigel thought little of it. Until he was killed in another incident three months later. Then peculiarly he found himself outside of a pawn shop in London in a body not his own. After a few minutes of confusion and disgust at the fact that his ring had wound up in a pawn shop, and more specifically he was now in the body of some laborer, he decided the only proper thing to do was report this incident to the authorities.

 

[erez87]

Electric/erez87
Nationality: American
Location: New York City
Power: Control over and the ability to produce electricity. Can create large amounts of electric energy in his body and channel them outwards into any target. Also capable of creating a sort of electric shield that electrifies anything nearby, causing things to slow down, explode etc... While he can create a lot of power, lightning is still stronger - but he is capable of channeling lighting into any target when concentrating.
Weakness: Water, even the smallest amount on his skin can be very painful as he gets electrified by his own body, sweating can be a problem. He is also a regular human being, thought his shield protects him from most things. Another weakness is his mind – he is insane and can easily lose control and concentration when annoyed.

 

[Nailix]

Wow a lot of people in NYC, nobody wants to party in Rome with me

 

[Seon]

I'll play in Roma with you. That's the benefit of being a long distance teleporter

 

[Nailix]

Long distance and short distance teleporters unite!

 

[Luckymoose]

You immigrants are going down.

 

[Terrance888]

What he said.

 

[J.K. Stockholme]

Looks like Hugel is partying alone too.

 

[qoou]

You immigrants are going down.

Bring it on. I'm going to cry so hard that I'll accidentally send everyone within a 3-block radius into respiratory shock. Then I'll run away and start praying in broken English.

 

[Terrance888]

You cry? I feel nothing.

 

[bestshot9]

I think I'll go ahead and play, too!

The Lone Rider/bestshot9
Nationality: American
Location: Houston
Power: Gun Magic
Weakness: Regular Human

 

[bestshot9]

SuperNES I: Gods Among Us
Issue #000​

Everyone knew 1900 would bring changes to the world. Even now, just within the first month of the year, the first electric bus has become operational in New York. The Boers in South Africa continue to wage war with the British Empire, and worker’s strikes are beginning to flare up across Europe. However, none of these changes compare to the largest one that no one saw coming. On the first of January, across the US and Europe, and probably across the entire world, people have woken up over night with strange and wondrous super powers.

While obviously not every human being on the planet now finds themselves with special powers or skills, and in fact over 99% of the population has been left unchanged, the few individuals who now find themselves empowered must decide what they will do with their gifts. These powers range in both strength and effects; some people can control others’ minds, other people can manipulate gravity, and yet many more have vastly different skills than these. While these individuals may now realize their new powers, for the most part, the public does not. This will change very soon.

We start our story off in the first few days of January, 1900. These super powered individuals, while spread across the word, seem to be largely clustered in New York City, USA, must decide what they will use their powers for. Will they selflessly serve their fellow man? Or will they use these new god-like powers to enslave and conquer those whom they deem inferior? Only time will tell.

Meanwhile, in New York…

Mayor Van Wyck stood in front of the large crowd in lower Manhattan Island. In his hands he held a large set of ceremonial scissors. He waved at the crowd, who waved and cheered back at him. Turning to his left, he nodded to Police Commissioner Andrew McGreely, who wore his Class A police uniform to the outing.

The crowd had gathered to see the mayor cut the ribbon of the brand new New York City Electric Bus system. He had chosen Manhattan as the site of the ceremony because of the modernity of the area, the lights, and the overall atmosphere. This would prove to be a boon for the city, and the people knew it.

He snipped the red tape, and the crowd burst out into applause and celebration. People rushed to be the first to board the new buses. He smiled, and turned to the Commissioner, who was a good and trusted friend. McGreely nodded to him, and he nodded back.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” he said to the crowd, who began quieting down so they could hear him, “let this day be the sign of New York moving into the 20th Century! Our people are the best in the world, and they deserve the best!” he paused for affect, the crowd cheered as he knew they would. “However, this is but the first step in many! Not only did I help unveil the new Electric Bus system to the city, but I will also take this time to announce plans for a brand new underground railroad, to be built in the city, making public transportation that much more accessible to all!”

The crowd erupted in cheers again, and he smiled, and waved. McGreely stood by the stairs of the podium and nodded his acceptance of the mayor’s announcement. Everything was going just right for this great, vast city.

Meanwhile, in London…

The captain of the transport vessel Seaward studied listened to the radio. Apparently more boys were going to be sent to South Africa to fight the Boers. This, of course, was not news to him, as his ship was packed full of soldiers kitted out and ready to fight the Boers. He sighed to himself as he smoked a cigar. He was scheduled to leave port a day ago, but thanks to a confusion with the supplies for his ship ending up on another, he was stuck in harbor until said ship could return. The higher ups were telling him it would probably be another three or four days at most.

He hated being behind schedule. He hated being cooped up in port. The sea was his home, the sea was where he belonged. He also knew that the longer the men stayed bottled up on board, only being allowed to visit the dock areas, the more likely they were to get into trouble. Most of these boys were not from the big cities and had no idea what they were getting into. He just hoped they’d hurry up and let him leave, so that he could get the men where they needed to be to fight for the Crown and put these barbaric Afrikaners down.

He sighed again, snuffed out his cigar, and tried to take a nap.

Meanwhile, outside Berlin…

“We cannot take the enslavement by these bourgeois factory owners any longer!” Helmut Bayer told his fellow workers. He stood atop a crate outside the mine he and his fellow miners worked at. “It is high time the Proletariat take back what is theirs by right!”

The men cheered. He did not. He was on a mission. He had fellow communists standing outside the gates to the mines, handing out leaflets to the miners not on strike going on and off work. They espoused the egalitarian ideals which he and his fellows held dear. Their strike was but one of many flaring up at mines across the country. Organizers had hoped the few mining strikes they started here would spread across Germany and force the Bourgeois owners to meet their demands.

It seemed to be working. More and more miners were joining the strikes everyday, wanting a change in working conditions and wages. There were even whispers that Austrian miners would be joining soon. The fact that this was beginning to spread across borders meant that it was going exactly as planned.

However, who planned these demonstrations, Helmut did not know. He was just given word by his higher ups in the Party. Who they were, where they came from, he did not know. He did not question. He did what he could to help the Party meet its goals.

Meanwhile, in Rome…

While tensions run high throughout Rome, and Italy in general, the opera Tosca is still set to begin showing on January 14th. Many people are excited to see the new opera, adapted from a popular French play, but many are concerned about the themes of murder and torture which supposedly fill it.

While the opera is highly anticipated, the Roman police and authorities are worried they may have to cancel the opening night. Because of rising tensions between the lower and upper classes, and the spreading of strikes in both Germany and Austria, many are afraid that there could be an incident during the opening night of the show.

As of now, the authorities are allowing the show to unveil as planned. They will be keeping a close eye out on the actions of the poor, however.

To Be Continued...

OOC:​

Here's Issue 0 to help set the stage. Tell me what you think of the update style, I'm trying to make it feel "comic booky" but not too much (its hard to make a comic book feel without actual comic panels).

Go ahead and respond to these events listed in the story, or come up with your own.

 

[Terrance888]

Babyface, better known as Bernard Whitless, walked towards the procession, the crowd naturally parting before him. The cheering individuals subconsciously registered his repulsiveness and inched away from his suited body. Although he noticed, he did not mind. Tugging at one end of his false mustache, he listened to the optimistic, bright speech of the Mayor. Today was a good day for New York. Today will be a great day for his checking account.

Although he has talked with Thomas Newton about crashing the opening ceremony, the decision to move it to Manhattan changed things. No matter, if things go the way they should, both will be much better off than before.

 

[Anonymoose]

The evening of the second of January of the nineteen-hundredth year of our Lord was the year of the heavenly cataclysm. That was the night that changed the face of Paris forever. A meteor shower was very active in the north-western sky and many of the faithful on the Île de la Cité, home of the world-famous Cathedral of Notre Dame, were gathered outside of the Western facade of the cathedral viewing the show in the heavens. Among those viewing was an American friar by the name of Mateo. Mateo was lent by the Archdiocese of Chicago to the Archdiocese of Paris in hopes of producing a more capable lot of friars that could serve a province with greater knowledge of the world and of the Word.
All those viewing the celestial ordeal that night became aware that the meteor shower was not a standard astronomical event. The shooting stars were falling more and more frequently, and occasionally they were bursting in the air, in the fashion of an Oriental fire display. The sky lightened from the deep black to violet and many became frightened. This night was not normal and this shower was clearly, in the minds of most viewers, an omen. The shower began to subside and with it, the crowd of amateur astronomers. Brother Mateo was the last to turn toward the moon-shadow of the western facade. As he turned his back on the heavens, eyes on the cobbles ahead of him, he was stricken by the cataclysm.
The violet sky descended over the city and a last stray mass of stardust fell toward the Île de la Cité. Mateo was smitten in the back by the meteor, which passed through him and disintegrated upon the cobbles. Brother Mateo passed away in the shadow of the cathedral, burned and pierced by a warm gift from the heavens.
Before the first hints of daylight tickled the clouds over the River Seine, Mateo awoke. He noted screams around him, fire in the night, and an unnaturally swelling river attempting to consume the ancient consecrated ground of the cathedral. Mateo felt new awareness in his frame, felt himself as the avatar of this small world, and lacking the capability to articulate himself amid the madness of the cataclysm, temporarily dubbed himself the knower of the Île de la Cité. He saw and knew all of the goings-on around the isle, and felt the encroaching river, and knew the celestial seed in the cobbles and the remnants inside him were tied, and the he had become one with the holy ground. He felt compelled, certainly by God, to protect the people here. He smote a drooping branch from a riverside willow and commanded the river away from his hallowed ground. He pulled the eroding land back together and turned east toward the face of the beloved cathedral. The buttresses had fallen, the statuary was demolished, and fire raged amid the rubble. He discarded his staff and willed the fire to die.
He erected the fallen buttresses and returned everything to an ideal state. Brother Mateo entered the sanctuary, expecting corpses and destruction, but only saw one human mass, in the northern ambulatory. Mateo drew the corpse toward him and willed life into it, but there was no effect. He wept; the Archbishop was a gentle man that had supported the enhancement of the friars' education. He had wanted only good for the world. Mateo quickly found solace, knowing Cardinal Richard was at peace with the Father. He willed the corpse to the catacombs and moved west to contain the damage elsewhere. Three of the four bridges leading to the Île de la Cité were destroyed. Mateo raised his hand to mend the bridge, but could not affect any change. Brother Mateo knew he was shackled to the island, knew then that his miracle power came with the price of his freedom. Brother Mateo returned to the cathedral, comforting the stragglers that were returning. Many had witnessed Mateo's apparent divinity, but some saw this power as a threat, and fled over the remaining bridge to take shelter away from heresy.

Elsewhere in the city, great power was imbued in characters of much lesser humility and worthiness. Dr. Herriot, a capable veterinarian, was stricken by lightning of the sky during the cataclysm and awoke with miraculous power over lesser minds. He bent his will over his patients first, but soon turned to the peasants and challenged the government of the French Third Republic. He sensed Brother Mateo and planned to take the cathedral as a personal fortress, but bided his time.
At the University of Paris, wondrous power of illusion and destruction was gifted to a professor of natural philosophy, Professor Gebbard. He crafted a kingdom of the campus and surrounding areas. He locked himself in a large lecture hall with a good view and commanded an army that was half-illusion and half deranged peasants. He could also sense Brother Mateo, and sought him as an equal, and desired to learn the secret of the power in Paris, though he could not fathom the power in Notre Dame.
One peasant had no intention of being used as a tool. Paul-Henri Armistead was gifted with a special gift over the sounds of the world, a manipulator of voices and noises, of the calamity and the silence. His slight power is bent toward destroying the foundations of the modern world, and creating a paradise for the poor, even if it means tearing down the foundations in Notre Dame and in Sorbonne.

 

[tuxedohamm]

Lloyd Everett Lane “The Coalman”/Tuxedohamm
Nationality: American
Location: Washington, DC
Power: Enchanted Pick and Shovel. Increased strength, agility, speed, and endurance. Other minor benefits originated from pick and shovel.
Weakness: Completely human without pick and shovel and only half powered with only pick OR shovel.

Origin incoming. . . .

 

[thomas.berubeg]

He watched as the bus stopped to let a cart pass.

It is a monstrosity.

As always, there was a voice in the back of his head, pressing to the front. He tipped his hat to the bus conductor, a gentle smile on his lips.

They take and take, leaving nothing behind of the world.

The electric bus silently sped along down the street, quickly fading into the the crowd of horses, carriages, and people. “Soon, my love, we will bring this world back to its glory days.”

The voice remained quiet, and the man slowly picked his way across the street towards the Bowery Savings Bank. He stood for a long moment in front of the door, until the voice spoke.

What are you waiting for? Go, my Zduhac. They have brought enough pain into being.

He pushed the door open and walked into the lobby of the bank. Marble columns framed busy counters, where harried tellers counted pile after pile of money to be sent deep into the vaults of the place. Obviously wealthy patrons chatted in groups or waited in silence for their turn at the counters. He rapped his walking stick twice on the floor, and the sound echoed, cutting through the rumble of the crowd. From where the stick struck the ground, glowing green lines arced along the marble floor, forming an ornate circle.

“Excuse me, Ladies and Gentlemen. My name is Baron Von Tragenort. I require that you place all the money currently in this facility on the floor in front of me. Should you not comply, I will be required to use less than tasteful means to persuade you.”

As the people in the crowd looked at each other in confusion, the Baron sighed, and rapped his cane against the floor again. From the floor rose a number of ethereal figures, which spread out to move through the crowd.

“Please, this is not a difficult request. My scheznyk and blud are not patient creatures. The money in the circle. NOW!”

Shadowy fingers began encircling necks, ghostly claws gently stroking cheeks, drawing drops of red blood. A dignified looking man took a swing at one of the shadows approaching him. His fist passed clear through the shadow, which sprang at him, tearing his head from his neck.

A woman screamed, and a teller fainted at the sight of the blood. Another called out: “Please sir, we’ll do what you ask, just don’t hurt us.”

“Good. A man with some intelligence. You will go far in life. You will take the key to the vault and open it now.”

The teller complied, and most of the shadows drifted through the door, returning with bags of gold and money, which they deposited within the glowing green circle. As the last of the gold was placed in the pile, the Baron smiled at the crowd, bowed, and struck the floor again. There was a green flash of light, blinding the crowd. Blinking, they realized that they were alone again, that the Baron, the shadows, and the money had all disappeared.

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

NEW YORK TIMES
January 23, 1900

OCCULT BARON MAKES OFF WITH VAULT, AUTHORITIES NONE THE WISER

Last night, the daily activities of the Bowery Savings Bank on Bowery Street were shaken to their foundations. While the regular habits of the patrons were occurring, a man dressed in fineries associated with the highest class of person strolled into the bank demanding that the fortunes held in the bank be turned over to him.
When he was opposed, the self-proclaimed Baron turned violent, calling to his side, as unbelievable as it may seem, shadows from the ether. These Demons, though we as rational individuals are loath to call them that, went on a rampage through the bank. A rampage which left at least one dead. The victim, Dr. Woodrow Wilson, a lecturer at Princeton University, was killed in a show of heroism that attracted the ire of the Baron’s ghostly servants.
This act of violence finally broke the spirits of the tellers, and they acquiesced to the Baron’s designs. The Baron’s spectral servants quickly piled the money before the Baron, and with a flash of light, he disappeared as quickly as he had appeared, leaving the patrons of the bank in shock.
Authorities have not been able to trace the Baron, as he left no sign of his passage except for a large melted circle in the marble floor of the bank.

 

[Arrow Gamer]

Jake awoke, and immediately turned over to check on his boys. They had been whispering about the police looking around for them, but so far nothing had happened. Jake was keeping watch as usual, but had fallen asleep. As he turned, he heard the slide of a gun beig loaded in the distance. He whipped around, but saw nothing.

"Johnny!" he called to his second in command. "You here that?"

"Yeah, I'll go check it out." Johnny walked over to the end of the alley where they were sleeping, and looked around. "Nothing here, boss. Streets are empty."

". That means they've cleared the road." Jake motioned for Johnny to come back, then ran out into the street, yelling "TAKE ME! JUST DON'T HARM THE KIDS!"

"Put your hands in the air and kneel down. We wish you no harm, but lethal force will be used if you make a threatening movement."

At that moment, he heard a clock in the distance chime twelve times: the year 1900 had begun. Suddenly, unexpectedly, Jake felt power flow into him. His arms tingled, his ears picked up sounds he's never noticed, and his legs felt strong. He looked at the police officer and grinned. "I don't think so."

He rocketed towards the distant man, covering the 200 yard distance in under two seconds. He threw a vicious uppercut, and the police officer's skull flew into the sky, going nearly 50ft before crushing back down. Instantly, seventeen guns were leveled on Jake, and they fired simultaneously. Suddenly, the world seemed to slow down. Jake weaved between the bullets, dodging all but one. It clipped him on the arm, bouncing off harmlessly. He kept attacking, and soon he had destroyed the police force, with only a couple grazes from a shotgun someone had pulled on him.

He ran back to his boys, and soon they were on the move again.

 

[Nuka-sama]

I'll be joining this, let me get something written up