[Greetings everyone! So, we are getting this ball rolling and hoping you put on a good show! Of course, there is something that we noticed, as we pulled all the data together and looked over your race selections. Now, normally, we would just leave things be, but this is why we did some beta testing! After all, always good to fix the small issues before they can snowball and lose us sponsors and viewers due to things being boring.
And after all, while we get it, your lives are our entertainment, we have responsibilities as well. That, and if you lot are so willing to take on high hit dice races? Well, if you want to start off as boring little shits stomping everything in your path? No, bad mortals, bad. Thats what paying clients get to do to YOU. That, and well, we realize that your a smart and cunning bunch who will find a way around some of what we would do, so we are simply going to go with a nice and simple increase to the EXP needed to level up!
Better tack two extra zero's on the end of things just to make sure! Of course, in the interest of fairness, two zero's will be added to the current EXP totals of all our lovely beta testers, even as we make sure to keep the difficulty going just as planned! After all, your smart enough to get ahead of the curve, aren't you :p [https://forums.spacebattles.com/styles/sbforums/smilies/tongue.gif]
And before you ask, yes, we are going to make sure that all urban centers have some regional visitors!
As a side note, to the people of Australia. You are each being gifted a Shovel, World War Two Allied Forces Infantry Helmet and a BB gun with bayonet from Baron Beepin Da Beeper Da Boop, who wishes you a pleasant Second Emu War!]
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Reg
A part of him mourned the world that was, for he was a teacher. He was in some ways, a man of peace, of learning, who wanted to lift the torch high for future generations. To pass on the lessons he learned. Of course, a part of him, long buried and largely chained by time and responsibility, was eager. Was straining and desired nothing more than to be unleashed, to howl and break the things that would be coming for his family. For the life they had carved out for themselves.
And then the bell tolled, and the world went dark, save for the flickering flames, as the clan embraced Matt's suggestions... for the most part it seemed. Legend and myth swam in the rough wooden compound, as the family changed. It was a slow thing at first, as they spasmed, as they cried and wept, as bodies and minds were rewired for war, for the struggle ahead, flesh, blood and bones reforged, though to a lesser degree than what his eldest submitted himself to. After all, they lacked the time.
Instead, they gripped at power with both hands, desperate for the edge needed to survive. Of course, not all things went... exactly according to plan. Not that he would blame his children. Matt tended to... not be the best at helping. Or describing things he thought were obvious, while his thought patterns were somewhat at strange angles to conventional logic. That and he rambled. And went on tangents. Getting him to focus on anything was a pain at the best of times.
Of course, the fact that Matt's first reaction to the world ending was to do a cattle raid and perform surgery on himself (really, he knew what he was doing, wanted cows, recently did that flesh magic on himself and he didn't think they wouldn't try and pry into where he got the materials for his personal upgrades?) was telling in some respects. As was his muttering to give his 'small and smugly girl laser eye beams.' Of course, Matt's brand of crazy might be a good coping mechanism.
Lucas, after looking more than a little disturbed? Now his middle child was standing beside him, storms echoing from his soul as he breathed in and out, at one with the elements around him, iron flowers blooming behind his eyes, a breeze wrapped around him like a cloak. To be entirely honest, watching Lucas leap around like a ninja, causing drilling blasts of air with his punches as he moved... well, it spoke to him, a smile on his lips, as his youngest laughed.
Jacob, while having the template that reworked the clan for war... he was a Tinker. From the Warcraft RPG. As apparently that actually was an option. Then again, Jacob had seemed to take the existence of magic and the reworking of the laws of physics as personal affronts, and no matter how much Matt said he would fit as an Artificer... that meant accepting magic. And given how stubborn and literal he was, Jacob would have broken before he accepted it. Thankfully, or perhaps not, he had spent the last lesser boon on being able to purchase additional mythos.
Something that was common among the clan, as there was an agreement for all to try and gain the Unkillable Experiments Resolve. Matt had pointed out that, they did not need to make racial switches, rather, that there were other paths. As disturbing as it was, this path meant that they could claw their way to greater longevity, and eventually? Eternity called, from any number of paths. Even if some of the changes and 'patch notes' were... annoying and the source of much grumbling.
But, the night was young yet, as someone broke out Matt's little survival radio (Really, he should have noticed his son going paranoid doomsday prepper. He openly mentioned prepping after all) from the little faraday cage he stored it in. Hopefully, there would be some news or warning.
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The good news was that the living arrived before the dead. Which was not actually that surprising, given how they were literally just next to a village and the clan had been spreading the word. But now? Now there was proof and people were acting, heading into schools and boarding up windows and doors apparently. And these schools could keep the dead out until the morning. After all, the windows were limited and easy to quickly secure.
Even with the bicycles, time passed quickly, and there was no way to tell what was happening in Stanley or Kakabeka Falls, much less Thunder Bay proper or further away. But the first groups of the walking dead came from the north and the east. Not exactly 'small' groups, but then shambling hordes of twenty to thirty each? Those the clan tore apart quickly. So, perhaps it came as no surprise when as the hours passed, more kept appearing. Spawned into the world like it was some sort of demented VR game.
The good news, such as it was, is that everyone Matt put under the knife... well, there was snickering at first, as they hocked and spat at the zombies. Until the loogies caught on fire and began immolating the dead. In some ways, it was disgusting, but as far as effectiveness went? Being able to take down the walking corpses (do not try and see if they can recognize anyone in the hordes, not yet, not until it was safe) was priceless. That they could open up and spewed flames like dragons?
Priceless, as they made sure they could not press against the wall, clearing out swaths. Which meant that they could take breaks, rest, repair and prepare between waves. And then there was that attempt at demented hyena laughter that his eldest tried from time to time, one of the kinds of laugh that spoke to how he forgot to positively express emotions at one point. That, or he just thought it was intimidating instead of stupid. Which of course begged the question, as his sledge hammer pulped another zombies head....
Just what his eldest up now?
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Matt
There was a simple truth, as I vaulted over the walls and into the packs of the dead, laughing all the while. Fortune favors those willing to get their hands dirty, to fight and fight until they stand atop the world via a mountain range of their enemies corpses. What was there to do this night, now that the others have their power, now that my grafts can bring flame... but to rush onto the front lines?
A part of me had always hungered for violence, had driven me towards bloodshed and mayhem. Granted, that could just be justification after the fact, as I laughed, claws out as I moved through the night, hunting down the dead, hoping to thin their numbers before they reached the walls. Because in many ways, there was a truth I was on the brink of embracing. I had never really been a good person. Not a total ass either, but never really what most would call good.
Did this little event, as claws tore into dead flesh, change me utterly, or did it merely bring to the fore something which I supressed with time and effort? Did the monster always howl inside of the cage inside of me, was it something inserted or created? Or was it more of a mirror, something less created and separate and more a part of me that society and civilization says should have been cut out and discarded? All of these? None of these? Then again, did it even matter, beyond the asking of the question and the acknowledgement of the possibilities?
It was, my lips twitching as I lopped the limbs from a corpse trying to kill me, a question where all of it and none of it was true, all from different points of view. It was also meaningless, as the furnace inside of me roared, as I laughed and howled, lighter than I had ever been in my life. "But then my friends," I spoke, the words leaving me as I moved, sliding between hungry fingers and snapping teeth, "is not meaning what we call the imposition of ourselves onto the world around us in a desperate blind bid for it all to make sense?"
Because, as I moved, claws gripping the bark of the tree and sliding in as I climbed, as I leaped from tree to tree, exhilaration lighting my limbs with flame as my heart beat and thundered... life was what you made of it, and the only true law was survival. But, I may as well enjoy myself, even as I heard the thunder, saw Luke from the corner of my eye, as he dashed from tree top to tree top on gale winds. "Matt, you fat fuck, get back inside the walls!" Oh, he was pissed, as he punched down, screaming winds flaying a zombie as he landed on a branch above me.
"Tis funny, little bro, that you mentioned a fat fuck." I gestured down the road, not that far in truth, to something even bigger and fatter than me. "Shall we see which of us manages to get it first?" To be sure there was also the matter of the eighty or ninety zombies around it, but well, EXP FOR THE EXP THRONE!!!
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Luke
If you told him that he would find Matt leaping from tree to tree like some sort of leaping bear even as he dropped down to kill zombies, only to dash back up and into the trees, metal claws digging in and hauling his fat ass up? Truth be told, he would have raised an eyebrow and asked what sort of narcotics you were on. Then again, he was now flying through the air (more like getting very good air time and gliding) and pulling off basic air bending. And then the world went crazy and his mentally challenged older brother did something pointlessly idiotic and reckless. Again.
The truth of it was that Matt was less valuable as a combatant and more as a healer and maker of magical power ups. Sure, maybe also as someone who knew enough obscure d20 tabletop books that he tended to forget things until his memory was jogged, but at the very least they could rely on him to know about his hobby and some of the options there. Frankly, he was a resource. An annoying resource that ran off with his claws glowing like firecrackers to fight the zombies himself... and to grind up EXP.
That is probably what he was doing. But in a way that was reckless and idiotic. But he sighed, as Matt kept moving, as he dropped down to fight and kill on the road itself. Because, the worst thing in a way? Matt's claws seemed to be particularly effective against the dead. He sighed. Because it would be just like Matt to have a reason to not be afraid, a reason to be so confident and not bother mentioning it to anyone. And then he laughed again and all remotely charitable thoughts fled.
Really, so long as he made it back, nobody would say anything if he hit Matt on 'accident' would they?