"Traumatic Glaucoma" is one of those terms that sounds far worse in a medical textbook then it is in practice. Blunt kinetic force, channeled through an enraged fist, for example, will positively wreck anything- physics doesn't care too much for intentions. Neither does sport, so long as one intends to win. Jian found this platitude ringing throughout his whole being as his own bodily fluid drenched forehead hit the mat in slow-motion, hard. Blurry thoughts, not of his family or loved ones, but only of the bell sounding in his defeat, the roar and subsequent shocked whispers of the crowd. The taste of blood. The distinctly unfamiliar slickness dripping down the inner corners of his eyes- he wasn't conscious for the choked gasps of the EMTs. His vision fading as a ref called out desperately for a doctor, Jian's last real thoughts before slipping into a coma,
My title...
I thought I was supposed to win.
Part One
some rough anime backstory for you, racer x
Tommy2Hands on
+1
Tommy2Handswhat is this where am iRegistered Userregular
So, I happened upon a youtube video of the boss fight in MG: Rising with Monsoon. It was like, 20 minutes long and I didn't even care.
I never played Metal Gear games 'cause from the demo I got with Zone Of the Enders sold it as like a serious military spy thing and that just ain't my cup of tea. Man, what I have missed.
Far out in the middle of that damned prairie was a town called Knowhere. Town sprung up out there after enough poor bastards got lost out there to call themselves a community. And that community grew. By the time the Harvest came around again it had grown to ma’be a few dozen? A hundred? Who can say. All I really know is that it got jumbled enough that they stopped building out and started building up. Started looking like one of them big cities, buildings at least two buildings high.
Startin to drift off topic. As I was sayin, it was the time of the Harvest again. Ya see, the Amanita had a way with the plants. Made them grow unnaturally fast. Must have been sumthin to do with all them fungi on their backs. They broke a deal. Every few months they grow Knowhere all the food they’ll need, and they get whatever it is they decided they need this week in return.
Well it was about that time again. People gathered up in Owens, and are waiting on Sherif Morse to grace them with his presence so they get the trade over with. Probably was taking his sweet time with his trousers round his ankles somewhere.
So, I happened upon a youtube video of the boss fight in MG: Rising with Monsoon. It was like, 20 minutes long and I didn't even care.
I never played Metal Gear games 'cause from the demo I got with Zone Of the Enders sold it as like a serious military spy thing and that just ain't my cup of tea. Man, what I have missed.
metal gear exists in a really weird place conceptually
it completely straddles the line between self-serious and self-parody
the answer to the question "is this a joke or is hideo kojima for real" is always yes
it's a quirk that can make the series sort of unapproachable for some people, until you get a feel for its tone
"Oh. Oh oh oh! Cain't wait, cain't wait, cain't wait."
He licks a finger and slicks his hair back in one smooth motion. The good Doctor always enjoyed the harvest. So full of possiblities. Important to git in early though. Quickly swipe all odd and ends. When you deal in salves an cure-alls you want to keep a full supply of...unusualities. Show a man something he never seen before, and all a sudden he ripe to believe any of hokum you lay on him. A gold tooth gleams in the midday sun.
HYDRAdDominion ▥▥▥▥▥▥▥▥▥▥ main {Daemon; IcePick; Geist; Mizaru Wordfilter; Glottech; Rán's Net Qlip Isolator; Egregoroi.qsp }
The records will show on camera # 25 the feed did cease for 7 milliseconds. On a successful automatic reboot the room it observed was occupied by a previously absent figure.
Male. Its torso puckered with surgical scars from implants and unknown surgical operations. Its waist terminated in a mass of cables. When it moved, they seemed to flow like cloth and crawl like snakes.
Its head was cleaved off at the bridge of the nose, revealing a cross-section of the brain and sinuses. It's lower jaw seemed to be composed of a black, glass-like material from which flowed a stream of code like a waterfall of saliva.
Above it, a holographic bar-code revolved, wrapped around on itself like a crown.
It stood in front of Mr. Monet, nodded once, then spent 5 seconds standing over the body bags before disappearing.
Hack camera to hear the mission brief. Ready to rock.
MGS1 is a moody rumination on how the lack of government oversight has allowed for untold numbers of nuclear bombs to go unaccounted for, possibly stolen by terrorist groups
it is also a story about a crazy british man that wants to rule the world with a chicken mecha because he's a supersoldier clone that got all the worthless recessive genes while his brother got the cool dominant ones, and the entire thing is being manipulated by a Soviet cowboy working for the American president, who's also a clone
"-is your target, Sergeant Purvis Mayfield. Former Sergeant Purvis Mayfield. Treason strips you of your rank, don't you know." A decrepit old face stares out from the screen, a band of thin copper wires running from under the man's left eyelid into his nostril. The projector image flickers as someone in back jostles the cable. Here we are in the year 2031 and we're still using old-fashioned projectors.
"I doubt any of you meatheads have ever cracked a book in your life, so take a second to study this face." Pfft. No one reads anymore. Why would you? With a network of nanites connected wirelessly to the Internet, stimulating your braincells to provide any knowledge you may need on the fly, what's the point of something so inefficient as reading? The captain crosses his arms, tapping his pointer idly while your nanobots cross reference the target's face with online articles to get caught up to speed.
Captain Gregory Blake, formerly known as Jacknife Kangaroo prior to his promotion out of the field, idly picks at a splinter on his wooden pointer. The nanomachine download and brain stimulation is nearly instantaneous in a place like Langley, Virginia where there's a strong cellular reception, but it takes a few seconds for the subject to become conscientious of their new knowledge. "Ready? Alright."
Cpt. Blake could just upload the mission briefing to TIGERSHARK's internal network so that you could get the details immediately, but he's old-fashioned. Lots of folks his age are.
"The idea that Mayfield's croaked is a load of horse shit. I was right there with him back in The Big One, and look at me." The captain inhales deeply to puff out his chest, his electric lungs whirring as they expand. He coughs suddenly, and reaches up to adjust the dial jutting from his throat.
Nanites could keep his real lungs functioning far better. Too bad no one told him that before he had his real lungs removed.
"We've been suffering a sudden supply shortage from our friends in South America." Kangaroo clicks his pen and the projector shifts to a photograph of a village. "This is the village of Yaviza, located in what was formerly southern Panama." He pauses to let your nanites look up the term. "For the past 5 years, it's been used as a rest-stop by the South American caravans. Ever since last month, however, every shipment stops checking in near this geographical area. We've taken some aerial photos, and wouldn't you know it..." Click. A satellite image of a military compound "Someone plunked down a god damn base right in the middle of our shipping route!
"We've sent in several attack drones to clean out the bastards, but there's an electromagnetic field in place around the base that stops them all dead. One of them managed to get this photo before crashing." Click. A distant photograph of the man from the first slide. He's either holding a gun or he's replaced his hand with a gun, the picture isn't clear enough to tell.
"In retrospect, it makes sense, opportunity-wise anyhow. Mayfield used to have a summer home in the region, and he has the money to build this kind of encampment. As for why, who the fuck knows. All we know is that he's in our way, and he needs to get out of our way.
"Your goal is to cripple his base's combat capability, and secure the shipping route to keep the supply lines into America in-tact. If possible, capture Mayfield alive so he can be interrogated, but do not consider that a top priority.
"The difficult question is what plan of attack you should implement. There are a few options on this front, none of them great. That EMP field will severely hinder your ability to make a direct attack. Those nanites you rely on so heavily will crap out the second you enter it, and any of you with ro-bit parts are gonna be dragging dead weight until that field can be shut down. The alternative is subterfuge. Whatever soldiers Mayfield's got, he must be drawing from the local population. We can reprogram your nanites to break down your muscle tissue and regulate your melanin production. By the end of the week you'll be indistinguishable from any emaciated Panamanian villager, and can slip into the village undetected to perform recon and try to cut Mayfield's legs out from under 'im. Naturally that course of action will leave you severely weakened and reduce your edge in combat. You'd be relying purely on your skills as spies."
Apart from giving everyone a 24/7 connection to the Internet, nanites are capable of breaking down and constructing nearly anything. Given the proper raw materials and an accurate blueprint, there's barely anything they can't build. Some of the more adventurous members of TIGERSHARK have tried to use this capability to build biological weapons into their bodies. Bone swords, finger-guns, that kind of thing. The nanites are certainly up to the task, but that kind of craziness rarely plays nice with the human nervous system. Not that that stops some people.
"Should anyone else care to propose an attack method, the floor is now open."
also the upshot of that stupid paragraph is that if your character is in an area where their nanites get good reception, then they can know anything that you can google
whether or not they understand it is a different matter
Eden del BosqueBlade Jaguar(Swords +1) (Stealth +1)
"Not all of us are so reliant on nanites," Eden says as she plays with a strand of her long, black hair. "I propose a more balanced approach. I--and anyone else whose performance would not be severely impacted by the EMP field--will infiltrate the base to shut down its defenses. Meanwhile, the rest of the team causes a commotion outside the field. Something big enough to draw guards away from their post, making it easier for the saboteurs to find safe paths through the base. How does that sound?"
"Not all of us are so lucky. Muscle degeneration doesn't sound at all pleasant.
The cybernetic Salamander that was sitting on Dan's shoulder climbs back down into his quiver as he stands.
"We go with Blade Jaguars plan. Situate ourselves (he points to a covered position on a hill above the compound) here. Scout out what we are dealing with. Blade Jaguar and I can sneak in under the cover of night, and disable the shield. If anything goes wrong I light of a signal flare, and you all raise hell."
He sits back down.
"That is, unless, someone can figure out how to poke a hole in that emp shield."
Albatross isn't blind, he just doesn't like losing access to the information his visor provides. He's gotten so used to having 3 or 4 viewpoints at a time that he can't handle having just one
Tommy2Handswhat is this where am iRegistered Userregular
edited February 2014
[Sprunk Cohle] [Bes'][Doge]
I: Amulet
Sprunk yawns, stretching his hind legs in the warm, afternoon sunlight. He picks himself up out of one of his usual basking spots, taking a moment to sniff the air, as well as the well-worn garbage indent left by his tail-end.
'bout that time of year again. All the people gatherin' up
I wonder if any of'em has anything to eat
Lazily, Sprunk enters the growing crowd, tryin' his best to sniff out something delicious
Input number to display or exit to quit.
Remote Server> 1
Name: Eden del Bosque Code: Blade Jaguar Age: 28 Gender: Female Ethnicity: Hispanic American Background: Born in Flagstaff, Arizona. Developed interest in hunting with bladed weaponry early in life, possibly due to a traumatizing experience with a snake. According to interviews conducted with Eden, she was exploring a lava tube when she encountered and was bitten multiple times by a rattlesnake. In a state of panic, she found a nearby rock and managed to cut the snake's head off with the rock's sharp edge. Fighting through the pain, she quickly climbed out of the cavern and called for rescue services. They arrived in time to administer antidote before any permanent harm was caused. Since then, she has carried at least one--usually half a dozen--bladed weapons on her at all times. She claims they bring her comfort.
Several acquaintances have linked a teenage Eden to the sudden and mysterious deaths of several drug dealers and gang leaders before she enlisted in the military, but no sufficient evidence exists to verify these rumors.
+1
Tommy2Handswhat is this where am iRegistered Userregular
Albatross isn't blind, he just doesn't like losing access to the information his visor provides. He's gotten so used to having 3 or 4 viewpoints at a time that he can't handle having just one
Rámon Gabrielle Kanagawa Titanium Flea(Crazy Legs +2)
Loco
Crusher
Rising
Whiplash
Bulletproof
Massive
Shocker
Lucky
+1
Tommy2Handswhat is this where am iRegistered Userregular
kilroy tell me if I'm wrong here but is the panoptic visor more of a support thing then an active combat visor
tryin to establish for myself what Hexnocular Vision goggles do exactly
I was originally thinking visibility into alternate wavelengths a la mantis shrimps but also being able to fish out vulnerable points would be nice for close quarters boxing
Pretty much yeah, the visor would let you analyze and identify stuff and more probably give you a lead on what someone is about to do as you process their movements much faster.
Jennie waits at the edge of the crowd, leaning against her horse. Abram, she named him. His coat is black as night, and his muscles spoke of a lifetime of hauling...well, pretty much anything and everything. He wasn't a fast creature by any means, but he could carry a mountain for three days straight if he had too.
"How many fights you think we'll have to break up this time?" she asks him. "Less or more than last year?"
Abram brings his head over to her and rubs his nose on her arm.
"Aw, who am I kidding? It's never less."
As she looks out into the clumped mass of eager villagers, she notices a dog weaving his way through, occasionally stopping to beg for scraps. Jennie smiles, then rummages through her saddle bag and picks out a piece of jerky. She whistles at the dog and waves the jerky in front of her.
Posts
(large gif)http://i.minus.com/ikXTROfAvSwtR.gif
Edit: changed GIF to link.
You should probably link it.
"Traumatic Glaucoma" is one of those terms that sounds far worse in a medical textbook then it is in practice. Blunt kinetic force, channeled through an enraged fist, for example, will positively wreck anything- physics doesn't care too much for intentions. Neither does sport, so long as one intends to win. Jian found this platitude ringing throughout his whole being as his own bodily fluid drenched forehead hit the mat in slow-motion, hard. Blurry thoughts, not of his family or loved ones, but only of the bell sounding in his defeat, the roar and subsequent shocked whispers of the crowd. The taste of blood. The distinctly unfamiliar slickness dripping down the inner corners of his eyes- he wasn't conscious for the choked gasps of the EMTs. His vision fading as a ref called out desperately for a doctor, Jian's last real thoughts before slipping into a coma,
My title...
I thought I was supposed to win.
Part One
some rough anime backstory for you, racer x
warning
anime
i never said anything about burn scars but that's otakus for you i guess
I never played Metal Gear games 'cause from the demo I got with Zone Of the Enders sold it as like a serious military spy thing and that just ain't my cup of tea. Man, what I have missed.
Far out in the middle of that damned prairie was a town called Knowhere. Town sprung up out there after enough poor bastards got lost out there to call themselves a community. And that community grew. By the time the Harvest came around again it had grown to ma’be a few dozen? A hundred? Who can say. All I really know is that it got jumbled enough that they stopped building out and started building up. Started looking like one of them big cities, buildings at least two buildings high.
Startin to drift off topic. As I was sayin, it was the time of the Harvest again. Ya see, the Amanita had a way with the plants. Made them grow unnaturally fast. Must have been sumthin to do with all them fungi on their backs. They broke a deal. Every few months they grow Knowhere all the food they’ll need, and they get whatever it is they decided they need this week in return.
Well it was about that time again. People gathered up in Owens, and are waiting on Sherif Morse to grace them with his presence so they get the trade over with. Probably was taking his sweet time with his trousers round his ankles somewhere.
Anyways. That how this story starts.
metal gear exists in a really weird place conceptually
it completely straddles the line between self-serious and self-parody
the answer to the question "is this a joke or is hideo kojima for real" is always yes
it's a quirk that can make the series sort of unapproachable for some people, until you get a feel for its tone
http://www.audioentropy.com/
"Oh. Oh oh oh! Cain't wait, cain't wait, cain't wait."
He licks a finger and slicks his hair back in one smooth motion. The good Doctor always enjoyed the harvest. So full of possiblities. Important to git in early though. Quickly swipe all odd and ends. When you deal in salves an cure-alls you want to keep a full supply of...unusualities. Show a man something he never seen before, and all a sudden he ripe to believe any of hokum you lay on him. A gold tooth gleams in the midday sun.
▥▥▥▥▥▥▥▥▥▥
main {Daemon; IcePick; Geist; Mizaru Wordfilter; Glottech; Rán's Net Qlip Isolator; Egregoroi.qsp }
The records will show on camera # 25 the feed did cease for 7 milliseconds. On a successful automatic reboot the room it observed was occupied by a previously absent figure.
Male. Its torso puckered with surgical scars from implants and unknown surgical operations. Its waist terminated in a mass of cables. When it moved, they seemed to flow like cloth and crawl like snakes.
Its head was cleaved off at the bridge of the nose, revealing a cross-section of the brain and sinuses. It's lower jaw seemed to be composed of a black, glass-like material from which flowed a stream of code like a waterfall of saliva.
Above it, a holographic bar-code revolved, wrapped around on itself like a crown.
It stood in front of Mr. Monet, nodded once, then spent 5 seconds standing over the body bags before disappearing.
it is also a story about a crazy british man that wants to rule the world with a chicken mecha because he's a supersoldier clone that got all the worthless recessive genes while his brother got the cool dominant ones, and the entire thing is being manipulated by a Soviet cowboy working for the American president, who's also a clone
http://www.audioentropy.com/
Can you say, "apple?"
Apple. App-le. A-. A-. A-. App ull. Appull. Apple. Apple.
Very good.
Blink.
"-is your target, Sergeant Purvis Mayfield. Former Sergeant Purvis Mayfield. Treason strips you of your rank, don't you know." A decrepit old face stares out from the screen, a band of thin copper wires running from under the man's left eyelid into his nostril. The projector image flickers as someone in back jostles the cable. Here we are in the year 2031 and we're still using old-fashioned projectors.
"I doubt any of you meatheads have ever cracked a book in your life, so take a second to study this face." Pfft. No one reads anymore. Why would you? With a network of nanites connected wirelessly to the Internet, stimulating your braincells to provide any knowledge you may need on the fly, what's the point of something so inefficient as reading? The captain crosses his arms, tapping his pointer idly while your nanobots cross reference the target's face with online articles to get caught up to speed.
Sergeant Purvis Mayfield was a hero during the Second World War, where he participated in several key conflicts in the lead-up to VE Day. After returning home, he started a family, and, taking advantage of the G.I. Bill, attended school to obtain degrees in medicine and engineering, applying his knowledge to found a company that designed prosthetic limbs for war veterans and amputees, becoming a millionaire in the wake of the Korean and Vietnamese Wars. His company was the first to develop truly cybernetic prosthetics, and posted record profits during the 2010s and early 2020s, until the Cybernetics bubble popped in 2023, when cybernetics were largely supplanted by modern nanotechnology. Sgt. Mayfield was reported missing in 2029, and given his highly advanced age, is presently presumed dead.
Captain Gregory Blake, formerly known as Jacknife Kangaroo prior to his promotion out of the field, idly picks at a splinter on his wooden pointer. The nanomachine download and brain stimulation is nearly instantaneous in a place like Langley, Virginia where there's a strong cellular reception, but it takes a few seconds for the subject to become conscientious of their new knowledge. "Ready? Alright."
Cpt. Blake could just upload the mission briefing to TIGERSHARK's internal network so that you could get the details immediately, but he's old-fashioned. Lots of folks his age are.
"The idea that Mayfield's croaked is a load of horse shit. I was right there with him back in The Big One, and look at me." The captain inhales deeply to puff out his chest, his electric lungs whirring as they expand. He coughs suddenly, and reaches up to adjust the dial jutting from his throat.
Nanites could keep his real lungs functioning far better. Too bad no one told him that before he had his real lungs removed.
"We've been suffering a sudden supply shortage from our friends in South America." Kangaroo clicks his pen and the projector shifts to a photograph of a village. "This is the village of Yaviza, located in what was formerly southern Panama." He pauses to let your nanites look up the term. "For the past 5 years, it's been used as a rest-stop by the South American caravans. Ever since last month, however, every shipment stops checking in near this geographical area. We've taken some aerial photos, and wouldn't you know it..." Click. A satellite image of a military compound "Someone plunked down a god damn base right in the middle of our shipping route!
"We've sent in several attack drones to clean out the bastards, but there's an electromagnetic field in place around the base that stops them all dead. One of them managed to get this photo before crashing." Click. A distant photograph of the man from the first slide. He's either holding a gun or he's replaced his hand with a gun, the picture isn't clear enough to tell.
"In retrospect, it makes sense, opportunity-wise anyhow. Mayfield used to have a summer home in the region, and he has the money to build this kind of encampment. As for why, who the fuck knows. All we know is that he's in our way, and he needs to get out of our way.
"Your goal is to cripple his base's combat capability, and secure the shipping route to keep the supply lines into America in-tact. If possible, capture Mayfield alive so he can be interrogated, but do not consider that a top priority.
"The difficult question is what plan of attack you should implement. There are a few options on this front, none of them great. That EMP field will severely hinder your ability to make a direct attack. Those nanites you rely on so heavily will crap out the second you enter it, and any of you with ro-bit parts are gonna be dragging dead weight until that field can be shut down. The alternative is subterfuge. Whatever soldiers Mayfield's got, he must be drawing from the local population. We can reprogram your nanites to break down your muscle tissue and regulate your melanin production. By the end of the week you'll be indistinguishable from any emaciated Panamanian villager, and can slip into the village undetected to perform recon and try to cut Mayfield's legs out from under 'im. Naturally that course of action will leave you severely weakened and reduce your edge in combat. You'd be relying purely on your skills as spies."
Apart from giving everyone a 24/7 connection to the Internet, nanites are capable of breaking down and constructing nearly anything. Given the proper raw materials and an accurate blueprint, there's barely anything they can't build. Some of the more adventurous members of TIGERSHARK have tried to use this capability to build biological weapons into their bodies. Bone swords, finger-guns, that kind of thing. The nanites are certainly up to the task, but that kind of craziness rarely plays nice with the human nervous system. Not that that stops some people.
"Should anyone else care to propose an attack method, the floor is now open."
http://www.audioentropy.com/
http://www.audioentropy.com/
whether or not they understand it is a different matter
http://www.audioentropy.com/
"Not all of us are so reliant on nanites," Eden says as she plays with a strand of her long, black hair. "I propose a more balanced approach. I--and anyone else whose performance would not be severely impacted by the EMP field--will infiltrate the base to shut down its defenses. Meanwhile, the rest of the team causes a commotion outside the field. Something big enough to draw guards away from their post, making it easier for the saboteurs to find safe paths through the base. How does that sound?"
Bert shrugs, "Hey, I could go either way. The whole muscle melting thing doesn't affect my combat specs too much either."
"I support any course of action that does not require me to enter the EMP field," Albatross says. "I can't see in there."
Steam | Twitter
Dan Bixel Recurve Salamander (Archer +1) (Recon+1)
"Not all of us are so lucky. Muscle degeneration doesn't sound at all pleasant.
The cybernetic Salamander that was sitting on Dan's shoulder climbs back down into his quiver as he stands.
"We go with Blade Jaguars plan. Situate ourselves (he points to a covered position on a hill above the compound) here. Scout out what we are dealing with. Blade Jaguar and I can sneak in under the cover of night, and disable the shield. If anything goes wrong I light of a signal flare, and you all raise hell."
He sits back down.
"That is, unless, someone can figure out how to poke a hole in that emp shield."
All in one night
Its like Christmas!
"Heh." The man leaning against the wall laughes a petty laugh. "Is someone scared of the dark?"
the only difference is that Jian ain't scared of the dark
E: FUCK YOU ROB ARGH
Steam | Twitter
I: Amulet
Sprunk yawns, stretching his hind legs in the warm, afternoon sunlight. He picks himself up out of one of his usual basking spots, taking a moment to sniff the air, as well as the well-worn garbage indent left by his tail-end.
'bout that time of year again. All the people gatherin' up
I wonder if any of'em has anything to eat
Lazily, Sprunk enters the growing crowd, tryin' his best to sniff out something delicious
Input text string to search:
Remote Server>eden
...
...
...
1 result(s) found:
[1] Eden del Bosque
Input number to display or exit to quit.
Remote Server> 1
Name: Eden del Bosque
Code: Blade Jaguar
Age: 28
Gender: Female
Ethnicity: Hispanic American
Background: Born in Flagstaff, Arizona. Developed interest in hunting with bladed weaponry early in life, possibly due to a traumatizing experience with a snake. According to interviews conducted with Eden, she was exploring a lava tube when she encountered and was bitten multiple times by a rattlesnake. In a state of panic, she found a nearby rock and managed to cut the snake's head off with the rock's sharp edge. Fighting through the pain, she quickly climbed out of the cavern and called for rescue services. They arrived in time to administer antidote before any permanent harm was caused. Since then, she has carried at least one--usually half a dozen--bladed weapons on her at all times. She claims they bring her comfort.
Several acquaintances have linked a teenage Eden to the sudden and mysterious deaths of several drug dealers and gang leaders before she enlisted in the military, but no sufficient evidence exists to verify these rumors.
Jian would find this hilarious
@Speed Racer can i make post
Neo, I have to ask.
Is Ramon an anime version of Riddick?
Albatross replies without bothering to turn toward Rámon.
"Of course not," he says. "I have access to thermal infrared, radar, and lidar imaging."
Steam | Twitter
HE IS NOW
Also I need a better adjective before Flea
Rámon Gabrielle Kanagawa Titanium Flea (Crazy Legs +2)
Loco
Crusher
Rising
Whiplash
Bulletproof
Massive
Shocker
Lucky
tryin to establish for myself what Hexnocular Vision goggles do exactly
I was originally thinking visibility into alternate wavelengths a la mantis shrimps but also being able to fish out vulnerable points would be nice for close quarters boxing
speed?
it's basically a world map and mini map
on my face
Steam | Twitter
Pretty much yeah, the visor would let you analyze and identify stuff and more probably give you a lead on what someone is about to do as you process their movements much faster.
i: handmade whip
Jennie waits at the edge of the crowd, leaning against her horse. Abram, she named him. His coat is black as night, and his muscles spoke of a lifetime of hauling...well, pretty much anything and everything. He wasn't a fast creature by any means, but he could carry a mountain for three days straight if he had too.
"How many fights you think we'll have to break up this time?" she asks him. "Less or more than last year?"
Abram brings his head over to her and rubs his nose on her arm.
"Aw, who am I kidding? It's never less."
As she looks out into the clumped mass of eager villagers, she notices a dog weaving his way through, occasionally stopping to beg for scraps. Jennie smiles, then rummages through her saddle bag and picks out a piece of jerky. She whistles at the dog and waves the jerky in front of her.