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Aftershock PL 6

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Power Level: 6 (90/92)

Trade-Offs: none

Unspent PP: 2pp

Characters Name: Aftershock

Alternate Identity: Christopher Frasier

Age: 22 (born February 6th 1988; Apparent Age 22)

Gender: Male

Height: 5'9"

Weight: 165#

Eyes: Blue

Hair: Light Brown


"The kid was standing right on the edge of the roof. I mean RIGHT on the edge, just his toes on it, facing me in the middle of the roof, like ya see the divers onna board. 'Cept this was above a five-story drop onta pavement, not a diving pool. He wasn't too tall, but stood like he was, know what I mean? Like a rooster that fluffs up ta take up a lotta space, kinda. Wiry kid. Looked like he had some muscle on ' im, but not one of those bulky bodybuilder types. Whipcord, the westerns liked ta call it. Ya got the impression that this kid never liked ta sit still, even though he was really still right then, hangin' over the edge.

Handsome face, clean shaven, 'cept for that stupid little patch under tha lip that the kids are wearn' these days. Brown hair, longer than I'd let my son wear, but not down to his shoulders, all slicked back. In any other town, his getup would have just been...I dunno, outlandish, but this here's Freedom City, an' costumes are dime a dozen around here. This one - well, he was wearin' what looked like WWI aviator goggles, up on his head at the moment. He had on a black T-shirt with a jaggedy white line across it, like the thingamabob they show on the news whenver there's an Earthquake in Turkey or Japan. Seismo-thingy. He had on a pair of heavy fatigue pants, olive drabs, but they had been cut off and hemmed a little below the knee. Long tube socks and a pair of serious looking sneakers - Heavier and more built up than a runnin' shoe, not lookin' like anythin' ya find in Foot Locker. But, again, this is Freedom City, and even superheroes gottta shop somewhere. Black gloves with no fingers. Looked like leather, and they wuz long, goin' up his arm over his sleeves. He had a coat on, a light trenchcoat, another Army-Navy store grab, I guess; it was olive too, but also looked like it had been cut off, just above the knee. I remember thinkin' that someone had done a nice job of hemming it. Wierd the things you remember.

So, there's this kid, up on the roof of the building I'm the Super for. That's superintendant, not superhero. Guess in this town ya gotta specify. This kid, lookin' like a jumper. 'Cept when I get up there, he don't look like he's upset or scared or whatever. He's gotta look in his eye like this is gonna be the time a' his life. As I start talkin' and walkin' toward him, he gives me one big blue-eyed wink, settles his goggles on, and does a backflip offa the @#$% building! I run over, look over, and he's layin' flat on his back onna sidewalk, laughin' ta beat tha band. He looks up at me and does one a those fancy flips ya see in the Bruce Lee Movies - kickin out his legs and comin ta his feet. The kid looks around a sec, looks back up at me, bends his knees...and jumps back up the five stories he just dropped.

Cocky little guys just looks at me, sez "Thanks," Then turns around and jumps over the street to the next building. I guess I'l llook for this one on TV, so I can tell the guys at the Slovak Club I met him when he was just startin' out...

(Since this time, Chris has added a lower-face covering, similar to the cold weather gear tha covers from the nose down, over the neack and spreading on to the shoulders, but in black and of much lighter material. Betwwen this and the goggles, his face is pretty thorougly concealed.)


Christopher's upbringing was fairly unremarkable. He split time between his parents, who had been divorced as long as he could remember. His father worked downtown as an investor at Eastern Seaboard Bank and lived in Kingston, remarrying when Christopher was nine. Chris's half brother Tyler is eleven years younger than he is. After Chris came out of the coma, Tyler no longer resents him as he did when younger, now nearly idolizing him. Chris is fond of him, but still subjects him to what he considers to be the proper amount of teasing. Chris's mother Ellen worked her way up from a math teacher to the vice principal of a Hannover middle school over the years. She also remarried - A Russian immigrant and physics teacher at another school -and Chris has a 13 year old stepsister named Oksana. His mother's family lives on the eastern edge of Hannover. Oksana and Chris got anlong famously when she was a child, but, accroding to his mother, as Oksana moves into her teenage years, she gets long with NO-ONE. Her favorite targets in conversation with Chris are his casual (Shabby?) appearance and his proclivity for the word 'Dude'. Chris is convinced that Oksana is quite a bit brighter than he is.

For most of his life, Chris walked the fine line of acceptance, pride, dissapointment, and frustration with his parents. He was bright, and not particuallry challanged academically, but certainly did not seek out challanges or put a great deal of effort into hsi school work. He was atheltic, but never really found a sport or hobby that held his interest, though he tried a wide variety; martial arts, skiing, swimming, wrestling, lacrosse...track and field, particualrly the jumping events, came the closest to holding is interest. But then he began to discover the fun things in life. Girls, parties, girls, and...oh, yeah, girls.

While his grades and activities suffered with the blossoming of his social life, he didn't slide far enough for either of his parents or any of his teachers to be especially alarmed. Just a little dissapointed. Chris graduated, doing well enough to earn entry into Freedom College with an undeclared major, but did not seem particualrly enthusiastic about it. The summer before college, Chris spent a lot of late nights Downtown and in the other hotspots, becoming a fixture in the Rave scene.

The last thing that he remembers about the night before the coma was trying something new - some new designer drug that no-one had ever heard of. Of the thirty teens and twentysomethings that had tried it, only two walked away when the chemical began to take effect.

Those two would come to be known as Rant and Rave.

Of the others, several died, several suffered severe and permenant neurological damage, and Chris - after hours of seizures, sank into the coma in which he would spend the next two years. As the time passed, his parents, united in something for the first time in fifteen years, sued the owners of the club where the incident had happened. The speed with which the ownership settled, and the genreosity of that settlement, lead to some interesting questions about who was backing them, and why. Chris still wonders about that.

Chris emerged - seemingly spontaneously (Unless another agent was acting...?) from his coma in October of 2008. In the course of a year of physical therapy and pyschological evaluation, her began to discover his powers: His first clue was falling down a flight of stairs when he snuck out of his room one night, and not receiveing so much as a bruise. It didn't even hurt. Not a bit.

Chris went back to living with alternating parents for the first three months after his discharge from the rehabilitation center. During the days, when his siblings were at school and his parents and step parents were at work, he would explore the limits of his new powers, and work hard to rediscover the gymnastic and martial arts tricks from his youth.

With what remained of the settlement after Chris's staggering medical bills, his parents set up a trust fund for him. He can't touch the principle until he's thirty five, but for now it pays for his educational expenses and pays a small dividend every month: enough to live very modestly on, but not enough to afford a car or really live it up. Chris had to scrimp and save to afford the few peices of HEROGEAR that he bought from the mail order catalogs that most of Freedom City considers junk mail. If he ever has the leisure to talk with more established heros, he'll defeinately ask where to get the better stuff...

He has re-enrolled, part time, in Freedom College, taking a very light load of general credit classes. He has a small apartment in the northeast corner of Lincoln, near to the Southside. He still visits his parents, visiting one every Sunday afternoon, and alternating. After exploring his powers for while, Chris has decided its time to go out and seriously seek some superhero-type thrills...dude.

Personality & Motivation:


So, I've got my new gear, I've got my costume, and, oh yeah, I've got Freakin' Superpowers! I'm ready to go. It's just after closing time Friday night/ Saturday morning, and I am hangin' out, crouching on a ledge four stories above a street downtown packed with bars. I have a good view of acouple of alleys, and I figure that when the bad guys come out to mug or rob the drunks spilling into the street, bam! I'm here to save the day. Ok, so Patron saint of Closing Time may not be exactly saving kittens and capturing the Crime League, but a dude's gotta start somewhere.

It's been pretty clear so far, when someone right friggin' beside me - did I mention that I was four stories up - clears his throat. I managed not to jump of my perch and look over. Now, I probably shouldda had a better greeting for one of the Freedom League than " 'sup, Dude?", but the Bowman didn't seem to mind.

He tells me that he and others - Foreshadow, the Raven, Midnight, that type - had seen me prowling around. They hadn't really seen me do much of anything - certainly nuthin' bad - so they decided it was time to talk to me. We chatted a bit, while he tried to decide if I was on the side of the angels, and I told him a bit about my powers, my plans (Plans? Dude, I haven't really planned as far as breakfast, but I have some general ideas..) and stuff. He told me to watch my back a little better when I headed home - someone could have easily followed me, found out who I am. Guess I have a lot to learn about having a secret identity. Then he asked me what he called the important question. "Why are you doing this?"

"Dude, why not? No, seriously, that isn't a blowoff answer. I mean it. Out of a craptastic situation I got handed the ability to do some really cool @#$%. I don't think that anyone is gunna pay me to do it, and I'm relly not into @#$%ing with people - so if I wanna get the most outta the whole superpowers gig, it looks like Heroin' time. Plus, tell me truth here, dude - the chicks dig the hero types, right? Tell me that does not infuence your motiva - no? really? Whatever helps ya sleep, dude."

"But no, seriously. There was this thing, a few years ago. Very close to what happened to me." Oh, jeeze. I might have just as well told him this is 'for a friend of mine.' Oh well...

"This thing. Buncha kids at a party. Someone slips them this @#$% - what, language? Seriously, dude? Ok, Rated PG it is, then. - Someone slips them some drug no-one ever heard of. Not even a name for it. Buncha kids try it: Buncha kids die, buncha kids are permenantly fu...messed up, talkin' big time neurological damage - yes I know what neurological means. No need to look suprised when I whip out the vocab-stick - and two go all Supervillian. Powers and attitude. Don't know if the drug gave 'em the attitude, but it sure gave ' 'em the power to do something with it."

I had to pause a sec - I needed to chose my words, to look serious wihtout sounding like a Very Special Episode of your favorite family drama.

"Seems to me that those two - the supervillians - were what they were after - the guys that slipped 'em the stuff. Seems to me that those odds - messin' up or killing twenty eight kids outta thirty - well, the guys that whipped this up probably considered that...ah, waddaya call it...'acceptable losses'. Seems to me that a bunch of kids just wanted a good time, not to be a soldier in the next superhero war. So maybe they weren't smart, but they didn't deserve to fill pine box, know what I'm sayin'? So, sometime, when I know what I'm doin' a bit more, I'm gonna look into to sh...stuff like that. In the meantime - well, there's a lotta people down there that are drunk and stupid, but that doens't mean they deserve to be robbed, or jacked up, or knifed in an alley, or abducted by aliens. So maybe I'll keep an eye on them some nights."

"Other times? Well, I am seriously sepculating that there is a whole awful lot o' fun to be had at this job, dude! Am I right?"

Powers & Tactics:

Against low-level threats, Chris is hard to harm. However until someone tries, he has next to no offensive power himself. He will usually start an encounter by talking, looking for a non-violent resolution - though his first words in such a situation are almost ineveitably "Dude! Chill!". He's not exactly a polished negotiator or diplomat yet. If it comes to violence, he works hard to interpose himself between danger and the helpless, absorbing whatever punishment he can before coutnerattacking. While he has the capability of hanging back and projecting purplish bolts of electricity at his opponents, he usually leaps right in, using his kientic or electrical touch attacks. Against a group of opponents, he will try to Leap or Swing into the middle of them and use his Trip attack, modified to an Area Burst centered on himself, like the Super Strength stunt Groundstrike.

If he decides that he absolutely must enter a situation with some power already at his disposal, he will Swing up to a height of about fifty feet...and let go. This occasionally makes for a dramatic entrance, but he has flubbed a couple. It's pretty embarassing to start a fight by belly-flopping the pavement, even if it only hurts his pride.

Complications: Struggling

Stats: 0+4+0+2+0+2 = 8pp

Str: 10 (+0)

Dex: 14 (+2)

Con: 10 (+0)

Int: 12 (+1)

Wis: 10 (+0)

Cha: 12 (+2)

Combat: 12+12 = 24 pp

Attack: +6

Grapple: +6

Defense: +6 (+3 flat-footed)

Knockback: -0

Initiative: +3

Saves: 4+2+2 = 8 pp

Toughness: +0 (+0 Con, +0 other)

Fortitude: +4 (+0 Con, +4)

Reflex: +5 (+3 Dex, +2)

Will: +2 (+0 Wis, +2)

Skills: 20 r = 5 pp

Acrobatics 4 (+6)

Climb 4 (+4)

Computers 2 (+3)

Escape Artist 2 (+4)

Knowledge: Streetwise 2 (+3)

Knowledge: Popular Culture 2 (+3)

Notice 2 (+2)

Swim 2 (+2)

Feats: 3pp

All-Out Attack

Instant Up

Equipment (1)


Reinforced Line and grappling hook

A SPARE reinforced line and grappling hook


Flash Goggles

Cell Phone

Powers: 37+2+3 = 42pp

Absorbtion 5 (Absorb- Boost Leap/genetic, kinetic; Extras: Energy Storage; Both Types ; Power Feats:Slow Fade(2); [32 pp]

AP: Absorbtion 5 (Absorb - Heal/genetic; Extras: Energy Storage; Both Types ; Power Feats:Slow Fade(2); [1 pp]

AP: Absorbtion 5 (Absorb - Boost Strike (Kinetic)/genetic, kinetic; Extras: Energy Storage; Both Types ; Power Feats:Slow Fade(2); [1 pp]

AP: Absorbtion 5 (Absorb - Boost Strike (Electrical)/genetic, electrical; Extras: Energy Storage; Both Types ; Power Feats:Slow Fade(2); [1 pp]

AP: Absorbtion 5 (Absorb - Boost Blast (Electrical)/genetic, electrical; Extras: Energy Storage; Both Types ; Power Feats:Slow Fade(2); [1 pp]

AP: Absorbtion 5 (Absorb - Boost Trip (Area)/genetic, kinetic; Extras: Energy Storage; Both Types ; Power Feats:Slow Fade(2); [1 pp]

Super Movement 1 (Swinging) [2 pp]

Speed 3 (Speed/genetic, kinetic) [3 pp]

DC Block:

Blast 6 --- 21/Toughness --- Bruised, Staged

Strike 6 --- 21/Toughness --- Bruised, Staged

Trip 6 --- Better of Strength,Dex, or Acrobatics vs. Power Check

Costs: Abilities (8) + Combat (24) + Saves (8) + Skills (5) + Feats (3) + Powers (42) - Drawbacks (00) = 90/92pp

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Backstory and all that fluffy mess looks pretty good.

Stats, good.

Combat, good.

Saves, you forgot to actually list where you spent the points.

Skills, I'm actually counting 18 ranks, not 20. So you've got 2 more to spend.

Feats, good.

Powers, got a problem here.

Absorption is 4pp/rank by default, 2 extras jacks that up to 6pp/rank, 6 ranks = 36 pp + 7pp (2 PF's and 5 AP's) = 43 points.

So, if my math is right, your character has spent 102/90 power points. Point shaving time.

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Thanks for the catch. I've adjusted - Absorbtion down to 5, Swinging to 1, dropped a couple of stats (and adjusted skills to refelct this), and added his computer skill, which I had overlooked.

Would you be so kind as to have another look when you get the chance?


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