Lord Fell

re: Security DCs... Just wanted to point out that the Core book (p.46) lists the standard DC for a cheap lock (such as you'd find on a brief case) as 20, which is the lowest listed. A standard house deadbolt is listed as 25. I believe you can normally take 20 on a Disable Device check to pick a lock as well. The only thing preventing anyone with a hairpin from waltzing through a normal house is that it's a Trained Only skill. Could I suggest the DCs on (normal) dwellings be... Struggling: DC20 (can be done by anyone with the skill, and no penalties) Normal Wealth: DC25 (listed standard, requires 'expert' skill) Wealthy: DC25 (cannot take 20, due to other factors, eg: alarm, dog, household staff) Rich: DC25 (cannot take 20 as above, requires two successes) Silly: DC30 (cannot take 20 as above, requires two successes)

I've never been a huge "big blue" fan, so even though I like Super Heroes and Comic Books, I never got into Smallville. It seems like, the older I get there are more shows that "sound like I'd be into them" -but when they actually get to air, I find that I can't be bothered. Not sure why that is...

I can buy the Slippery Slope argument. I figured it would be ok, because performing is basically a fluff skill. But, all we need is for someone to claim that since Lock Picking is just a hobby for their character, a Master Work tool-kit should also be a freebie... I'll change that to "custom painted" and lose the Masterwork.

My post is staying as is, for the reasons I've cited above. If you have further criticism of the way I want to RP my character, please PM me.

Pompadour (what the heck, already?!) Edits... :arrow: Under skills, my Knowledge skills should all be 2 (+3). Somehow I was giving myself a +2 bonus. :arrow: Please drop the Super Strength AP in his Hair array from 3 to 2, add the PFs Bracing and Ground Strike. The weight limits will need to be halved (1/2/3/6/15 tons). Add (-10 Bracing) to the Knockback entry. :arrow: I think that the Wealth rules have now been hashed out to the point where I can safely ditch the Equipment feat. Under complications, but above Stats, could the following be added: Possessions Pompadour typically carries a fancy, PDA-style Cell phone, a multi-tool and a flashlight with him. His pride and joy is a custom-painted, Masterwork Stand-up Bass using the link to the picture for the bass from his original equipment list, please http://i39.tinypic.com/1zee6v7.jpg :arrow: Using the pp freed up from Eq, raise his Attractive to 3, which will improve his Diplomacy and Bluff. I had intended him to be Superhumanly attractive, the 3rd level gets him there, without having to ret-con him later. Done by Sandman XI

Sorry, I disagree. Avenger's post doesn't say "Intimidate +13" to me, it says "I'm insecure and want to start a fight" -typical barroom antagonism. Me, the player, would probably not be intimidated by that and I'm sure that my character wouldn't be. Whether the lights going out interrupted the intimidation attempt (the shoulder grab and eye-contact that would actually make that intimidating), or me just taking refuge in the 'immune to interaction' rule, I'm fine with either.

Oh, re: Security... I think that a certain amount of security should come with any home. I recall my brother once picked the lock on a normal bathroom door with the handle of a comb... so that's DC10 at best (beatable by a 10year old using improvised tools). I'd think that a basic home would have DC15 locks and such. Someone who was struggling would probably have a place with cheaper locks (DC13) and more wealth would imply better locks and security; add +2DC per wealth level, and an additional roll to beat per wealth level. Someone who is filthy rich has... DC21 locks; an alarm system, walled grounds with cameras, and a security detail (probably means 2xDisable Device rolls, and 2xStealth rolls).

In the back of his mind, Pompadour heard his counselor's voice... When you feel the urge to hit, take a minute to remind yourself that you're a Super Strong person in a world filled with Fragile people. Nevertheless, Pompadour shifted on his stool, ready to get to his feet, one hand already moving to block his rival's attempt to put a hand on his shoulder. Right... let's not get arrested on our first day as a free man. One of these chicks is probably this guy's girlfriend. I can diffuse this... ...and then the lights went out. Pompadour's eyes were adjusted to the club lights, and he couldn't see in the near pitch black. Holding his drink steady in one hand, he patted himself down and fished out the mag-light his agent had left in his suite as a gift. Handy, this... now, if only there are batteries in it... A beam of light sprang from his hand, and Pompadour surveyed his immediate surroundings, he frowned and swept the nearby ground with the beam to make sure that Jack hadn't fallen and was being trampled. No sign of him... Pompadour looked around the club.

When I first read your post, it looked to me like Jack had done all his snarly bar intimidate stuff, and that the lights had gone out at just the perfect moment for him to disappear... which I felt was an unfair use of narrative privilege. Rereading the post, it's clear that the lights going out interrupted Jack's spiel. So, sorry for getting in your grill about that -could have been prevented by closer reading on my part. re: Stealth and Intimidate... Stealth I give you, no questions asked. Pompadour's notice is decent, but not exceptional. Throw in a penalty for the lights going out, and there's no chance. As for intimidate, I just don't see Pompadour being intimidated by a guy in a bar; he's too arrogant or short-sighted to consider the possibility that he might bump into another Super. Jack was also interrupted during his act. I'm going to operate on the assumption that the sound/music died with the lights, and that if the building has emergency lights they haven't come on yet.

This looks good to me. Is this ready for the books?

One last thing on my end... Having paid for a few pieces of Eq, and even noted in my News where it came from, it makes sense to me that I'd generally have it with me (cell phone, multitool, flashlight). Should characters note on their sheets if they have normal gear that they often carry?

So, a character with Charisma 12, Attractive 1, Wealth 1, and 1 rank of Diplomacy would list the skill... Diplomacy 1 (+2/+6/+8 Attractive/Wealthy) ? I tend to agree that this looks good... although Angrydurf's query re: cell phones, flash lights, etc, is valid.

Pompadour eyed the man cooly for a few moments, before smoothly unholstering a Blackberry. He checked the display for messages, before tucking it back in its case. "Perhaps I just came in to use the phone." He glanced at the red head to his left, that was currently rubbing her enormous bosom against his arm, and then allowed his gaze to pass over the other women carousing nearby -his gaze lingering on the pair who were writhing against each other, their tongues flickering like snakes. "Perhaps I'm a Missionary, hoping to convert the Heathen Natives." He took a sip of the drink in his hand, a Zombie apparently, and allowed his gaze to shift to the ceiling. "Perhaps I'm concerned about World War Three, and sought the cities only public bomb shelter." He took another sip of his drink. With a slight shrug, Pompadour returns his gaze to Jack, looking him right in the eye. "Perhaps you'd like to ask me... what you actually want to ask me. Or you'll get lost. I'm good either way."

No problem... I'm not entirely sure if Pompadour should be considered a sharp dressed man... he looks a little bit like, if The Fonze were deified. It's also hard to quantify his attractiveness with mere numbers. His Bluff is (+4/+12 Attractive) but having a rank of Pheremones will tend to make him a lot more successful collecting a following of eager young lasses. I don't think it would be too difficult to make the connection between Pompadour, and The Sinister Pompadour, a supervillain that went on a rampage 7-8 months ago.

Pompadour made his way through the club, checking out the layout and the talent. He was starting to acquire something of a following. When he finally headed towards the bar, he actually found that he couldn't reach it because of the entourage that had encircled him, possessively. At his slightly perplexed frown, several of encircling women procured and offered him an assortment of beverages. He started to try and talk to the women.. but he was having issues with focus. He tried to talk to one, three others jumped in with interruptions. I should be enjoying this. A year ago, not one of these women would have looked twice at me, and now look at them degrading themselves for a chance to be the girl I probably won't call 'afterwords.' A blonde in french braids pushed a pair of panties into his jacket pocket; her eyes smoldered and her nostrils flared. Oh my, my. I think... yes. Yes I am going to enjoy this. Pompadour arbitrarily decided that french braids meant she was uptight. He pulled the garment from his pocket, and tossed it back at her with a show of indifference. The woman let the briefs fall to the ground, her face flamed with shame. She pushed her way out of the enclosure... allowing a darkly handsome man a path into it. Pompadour paused in the act of shaking the man's hand. How exactly do I introduce myself? I don't really envision bothering with a Secret ID, and... he was drawing a blank on the normal name his Agent had picked out for him. Might as well jump in with both feet... His hand finally closed around the other man's, in a firm shake. "Pompadour." He was actually kind of glad for the interruption, that had been a rather cruel thing to do to the girl, and he was wondering, again, if he should feel badly for the flock of women clamouring for a chance to be callously discarded by him.

Empty Spaces Pompadour roamed aimlessly from room to room in his new apartment. The place was already furnished, every piece of furniture selected from the finest manufacturer, in colours intended to be as neutral, and therefore bland as possible. The living room was dominated by an enormous flat screen TV. Pompadour picked up the remote and stared at it. Some time later, he was able to actually use it on the TV. There was no cable hooked up yet; white noise on every channel. A state-of-the-art stereo system was prominent in the entertainment center as well. There was probably something specific he needed to do, to get the stereo attached to the building's antenna; the solid concrete construction made it impossible to get a station tuned in. He had no CDs with him. More white noise. He drifted into the kitchen. The crisp white fridge was open and unplugged. Most of the cupboards were empty. Above the gleaming steel sink, he found shelves filled neat stacks of stylishly patterned china and clear glassware. Stainless cutlery glinted in one of the drawers. It made him think of an operating room. His restless, listless feet brought him to the study. He looked at the sealed cardboard boxes that contained the assorted things he'd bought online over the last few months. He fiddled with his new multitool until he found a blade, and set about cutting open packages. Plastic wrapped garments and oddities. He didn't really remember ordering any of it. He blinked a few times. He was sitting at the desk, staring at a hoodie that was covered in tattoo patterns. He wasn't sure how long he'd been spacing out. He tossed the hoodie on the floor. He picked up the massive case containing his Stand-up Bass, and walked to the bedroom. Styrofoam peanuts stirred and settled in his wake. Run to the bedroom! In the suitcase to the left you'll find my favourite axe! Don't look so frightened! It's just a passing phase; one of my bad days! The kingsize bed was smothered in crisp, white and sterile bedding. Probably as comfortable as sleeping on a cloud. Closets, drawers... empty. He opened the case, and gently lifted the expensive instrument. He frowned for a few minutes, idly running his fingers over the strings. He limbered his fingers by running through some basic chords, and finally started to play. He had been working on learning Estranged by Guns and Roses and he tried to wrest the song from the instrument. Something wrong. Something off. He thought, maybe, singing might help and he raised his untrained voice. "So nobody ever told you, Baby - How it was going to be. -So what'll happen to you, Baby? - Guess we'll have to wait and see." His voice echoed back to him, from the empty suite; it sounded weak and hollow. His singing trailed off, and his playing devolved into a jangle of notes. He sighed, and sat down on the bed. He regarded his bass, spinning the big instrument slowly around the spike on it's end. He frowned. This was something he distinctly remembered ordering. The sparkle finish, in iridescent green and gold looked so cool in his head, but now he thought it was sort of pretentious. Turning it, he looked at the mural painted on the belly. A faerie kneeling before a rearing unicorn... the juxtaposed Child's Fantasy and Adult Fantasy images struck his fancy when he commissioned it. Now he thought it looked surreal and vulgar. He carefully put the expensive piece back in its case. He made his way to the bathroom; stared at himself in the mirror. There were no toiletries or linen of any sort to be had, so he used his hands to splash his face and drink from the tap. I have got to get out of here. This place is haunted and the ghost is me. He frowned and dug into his pockets, looking for a card. The lawyer, Gerald Case, had given him an address to a club. If that little weasel thinks it's great, it will probably suck... but at least it's not here. He grabbed his jacket and his keys, and went out.

Homecoming King Pompadour had started to open the door to leave the building when something occurred to him. He backtracked to the security desk, and got directions to the parkade. So... stall 201 should be on the 2nd level, and it should be... that-a-ways. "Huh." This... I was not expecting. He gets it... but he doesn't get it. Pompadour frowned at the car, tapping his chin thoughtfully. He gave the car a thorough checking-over. Well, the downside is that this car is not Rockabilly, but someone who didn't really understand the style might think it was. On the upside, it's a 2008 PT Cruiser custom-chopped to be a street-rod. It's probably worth 60 Grand, and it's probably a sweet ride. All the right papers were in the glove box. He settled into the driver's seat and started the car. He checked the map to his new home, and programmed the address into the cars GPS. After firing the ignition it didn't take long to be sure that the car had something much sexier than the standard 4cylinder engine. The trip from Wading Way to the Mid-Town condo was pretty quick; it was not yet 3:00pm and he had beat the Rush Hour. The building was a newer high-rise, and clearly upscale. There was a doorman on duty at the front of the building. Pompadour parked his car and approached the man. Consulting the map Randolph Craig had given him, he told the doorman "I'm new to the building, in 1204. Is there anything special I need to do to get in?" "Ah, Mr. Mason. I've been expecting you. Here is your remote for the underground parking. After hours, you will also need your key to enter the elevator. The same key that opens your suite will also open the main door here and the elevator in the parking lot. The entrance is around the corner here, on the South side." Pompadour thanked the man, and returned to the car. The trip through the parkade and up the elevator to his floor was uneventful. Pompadour found his apartment on the North-West corner of the building. Each floor seemed divided into 4 suites. He walked through the suite. There was a large living-room and a dining-room off the well appointed kitchen. Behind the kitchen a pantry/utility room housed stacked laundry units; washer and dryer. Across from the kitchen, there was a study and a guest room, a full bathroom that was across from the study and down from the kitchen. The Master Bedroom had a walk-in closet, and an attached bathroom that offered a dual-shower and a whirl-pool soaker. Nice. In the study, he found a neatly laid-out stack of things he had bought on-line while in Therapy, most conspicuous of these being the custom Stand-up Bass he had ordered. There were some other things that he hadn't bought, and he leaned in to inspect these items. Ah... gifts from Mandy. PDA-slash-Cell phone, fancy-manly-tool-thingy... Mag-lite. There was already a text message on the phone, from Mandy. Simply "welcome home."

hmmm.... Well, if the assumption that a character with no particular wealth can have a home (of some description), transportation (of some description) and the other basic necessities, then perhaps that poor shmuck should get a rebate, provided that the motorcycle is their regular vehicle. If you want a "super hero cycle" that roars around the city, and isn't traceable to your Secret ID, and is the standard way in which your hero gets around, then that's ep well spent.

Is there currently a waiting list for these? And, if so, where would Pompadour be on it?

So, I did post on Friday, as promised.

What I'm describing wouldn't necessarily be a temporary purchase. For example, when Bruce Wayne is grandstanding, and buys that Hotel in Batman: Begins, he's doing a Wealth Stunt... but the hotel is a permanent acquisition. It doesn't affect his wealth level (Silly), it just affects his cash-flow for the scene. If Doctor Otaku nullifies a heroes Flight, and is getting away, running into a motorcycle shop and buying a crotch-rocket with your platinum card is also a wealth stunt... again, you bought it, you can keep it... but if you have levels of wealth you already have as many vehicles at home as you want, does one more Kawasaki really change your characters lifestyle much? This is how I envision levels of wealth operating like Hero Points. I was also thinking that a bit more definition on the wealth levels would be useful... :arrow: Wealthy -should mean your character has assets in the "few" million dollars, and can have cash or credit instantly available up to about half a million dollars. :arrow: Rich -should mean your character has assets in excess of 20 million, and can have cash or credit instantly available up to a few million dollars. :arrow: Just Silly -should mean your character has assets over 100 million dollars, possibly over a billion. The character should be able to purchase large properties (office towers, shopping malls), small corporations, and commercial vehicles (jets, yachts, those funky 3 story tall dump trucks they use for strip mining), out of discretionary funds.

Battle Plans After the paperwork barrage had ended, Ms. Karlson ushered the two men from her office. While Mandy wrangled them out the door, her receptionist came in to offer Pompadour some refreshments, as well as some hot-eyed glances and less than subtle lip-licking. He sent her off in search of Cherry Coke. Mandy returned, frowning in the direction her assistant had gone. "That brings to mind a few topics we should discuss. I'm gonna come right out and say it... It's taking a lot of willpower on my part to keep from jumping on you with my skirt pulled up around my ears. But I don't, and I won't because I'm a professional. You have... quite an effect on women," she frowned. "And men too, actually. Gerald wants to be your bromance, he wants to go clubbing, play golf, and shop for clothes with you. I nearly vomited listening to his plans." Mandy made a point of intercepting the receptionist at the door, and sending her back out to the front office. She set a tray of glasses, ice, and cola on the table, and sat down across from him. "So... specifically, please do not knock-up Cassie, and more generally -when it comes to other women, try and keep it in your pants." "Cassie?" Asked Pompadour, pouring cola over ice. Mandy sighed. "My assistant. The eager little kitten that's been drooling over you all afternoon?" Pompadour wasn't sure if he should be embarrassed that he hadn't bothered to get her name. "Never mind that. You called me, many moons ago, because you want to be a Big Star; A-List, Red Carpet, Groupies, Limos, and the rest of it. You have the raw talent, I have the know-how, the only thing between you and your goals is some hard work, and some discipline. If you get yourself caught up in paternity suits and pointless marriages, you'll be just another K-Fed. Don't waste my time, don't waste your potential." She raised her own glass of bubbling black soda, "Shall we toast to your future?" She maintained eye contact continuously through the ritual of clinking glasses together, clearly evaluating his commitment. "Alright. I'm negotiating with all the tell-all mags. The highest bid that agrees to give me final editorial gets an exclusive story. We'll arrange an interview, show them what a nice, stable guy you are now, and you can talk about how sorry you are about what happened. The following week, the other magazines will get a press release and a polite note from Gerald about unauthorized deviations from what we've prepared for print. I'm also in talks to get you onto Tyra." Pompadour carefully wiped up the soda that had spurted out his nose. "You think that's likelier than air spontaneously turning into gold?" Mandy nodded. "First, Tyra is a pro. Second... as much as she was terrified when you had her captured, I know for a fact she was just as turned on. I know that seems pretty improbable, but my first hand experience has taught me that women are crazy... anyways. Trust me, it won't be a big deal. You show up, make nice, charm the Blahniks off her, and give her a big ass cheque for her pet charity. Big hug, photo-op, and it gets posted on You Tube." "Anyways, I think that's where we should leave it for today. I have another appointment at 3:00. When you come in again, we can talk about your career as a super-hero." Pompadour made use of yet another napkin. "My what now?" "You have super powers, you can be a super hero. Great press. We'll talk about it."

I definitely favour the idea of going to a 3 Tier Wealth system (or I guess it would still be 5, if we count "Dead Broke" as a level, where your character has limited access to shelter, transportation, or sometimes both, also normal "middle class" wealth). I also really like the idea of your Wealth level functioning like a pool of hero points, except limited to things that could be influenced by Wealth. The bouncer tells you to take a hike, you blow a WP and re-roll your diplomacy. Or for acquiring something on the spur of a moment; I want the party to be on a yacht so I blow a WP to make it happen. Certain WP expenditures would be dependent on how many Wealth levels you have (or require more points to pull off). Eg. If you want to pull a Bruce Wayne, and buy a hotel on the spot, you need Silly wealth, or you have to burn all 3 WP. If you've already rented a 80' Yacht, and bought a $55,000 engagement ring this thread, you don't have the cash on hand to buy a hotel. Although, you could still buy a couple of airplane tickets or a fairly standard new car.

If you want to be an A-Lister, you have to act like an A-Lister. You're seen at the Right Places with the Right People, by the Right People. Failing that, you keep your goings on discrete. Pompadour's agent laid down the new reality of his lifestyle pretty firmly. The weaselly lawyer she had retained on his behalf had been eager to supply the address of a 'hot club with max hush-factor.' The man had been eager to impress Pompadour with his 'cred' and street savvy. Pompadour didn't feel ready for the Millennium, so he headed for the supplied address. Given Mandy's plans for a media campaign, his days of relative obscurity were numbered. He parked his car a few blocks away, and walked a few blocks to check out the neighbourhood. The club might be discrete, according to the lawyer, but the streets surrounding the club were plastered with hand-bills advertising it. He took note of a man loitering on the street -too well dressed to be a vagrant, sober so he's not party-people, and he was watching the street like a hawk... but he wasn't lurking in the shadows, so probably not a mugger. Interesting... On a hunch, Pompadour walked a circuit around the club, and spied similar men keeping a watchful eye out on the corners and streets around the club. Police stake-out? That would be a very bad beginning. Frowning, he approached the club's doorman anyways. Glancing down the street, "Don't look now man, but someone's watching your club" he told him. "Tha's right bro. We be watchin' our club. Our guests like they privacy." Pompadour smiled at the man, "Yes. Yes we do." He palmed the bouncer a pair of 20s and stepped into the club. Pompadour looked around the dark club, his eyes were already adjusted from his walk around the block. He realized that he didn't really have a lot of experience with clubs. His first impression was that it wasn't really his kind of place, but then he realized that... really, he wasn't really sure what 'his kind of place' was. Pompadour couldn't imagine Mandy's lawyer in here, either. He also had an odd notion that maybe the club should be more crowded. The place was busy, but not the hip-to-hip packed he remembered college clubs being. On the other hand, he couldn't complain about the scenery. There were plenty of attractive young women wearing an assortment of predatory costumes. The first girl he passed, wearing a skirt that might be more accurately described as a scarf, paused briefly to brush against him and boldly suck on his earlobe -hardly breaking her stride. He admired her candid brevity, and the rear view, as she slinked away. He continued his exploration of the club.

Not to put too fine a point on it, but I did tell you that I was going to be at a funeral this morning and anticipated that I'd be useless for the rest of the day, and would probably post Friday.