Overused and Overdone

Ok, Waffles is back for awhile, and it seems with his return that My Spastic Inhibitions are also coming back. So, another post to breath some life into this blog;

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In the world of Role Playing it is inevitable that ideas will used more than enough. It seems creative, original plots are faded into the past. You would think that clichés might be bad, but as Clovis taught me, even a horrid cliché can be turned into a wonderful masterpiece with enough innovation. This brings me to the topic at hand:

I see more and more of a flurry of overused ideas that are just crap. I know the value of said ideas depreciates over time, but these writers need to at least match the former glory, yet the quality falls well short of the bar. I really think this might be the reason the wars at Vets bore me. It’s the same old thing over and over again.

I was even nearing the annoyance point back in my hay day, so these wars that the Emperor gets dragged into these days are just overused and overdone. Maybe someone will pique my interests and actually make something somewhat original or at least up to par.

~Corbs

Wow...

Did I ever intend to be gone this long? Probably not, and of course in my absense, the blog has kinda died, but I guess I partly expected that to happen. Maybe my returning somewhat can change that. We'll see.

- W. Visarett

Simon Says

I always got nervous whenever a call came in. Don't know why, I just did. I'd wonder whether this flight would be my last, and whether or not anybody'd miss me, or remember me, when I was gone. Probably not, but I couldn't help the nervousness. I'd seen a shrink about it once, too, but he said it was all perfectly normal. I didn't much care for his pompous attitude, or his analysis of me, and told him to shove it after paying the man. I can't stand shrinks.

I was a pilot; ex-military. Used to fly combat missions at the wheel of a fighter out there among the stars. But that was then, when there was a government that stood for truth, liberty, justice and freedom for all, and did their damndest to guarantee those "freedoms." Then came the last war. It decimated the governments, or those that were left. None could finance themselves any longer, and people were downright pissed about being taxed to the point where they could no longer afford to buy groceries at a local store.

That was when the big corporations and companies took over. Government just up and left, selling off whatever they could to whomever they could. Those big corporations started buying up stuff faster 'an anything you ever saw, especially military firepower. Fact, once the government went down the tube, so too did the military. Didn't much matter to me, I'd gotten out two years earlier. Well, the corporations started buying up the armies, weapons, all sorts of things up to and including weapons projects and the scientists running 'em.

I picked up what I could, too. Got me an old gunship surplus style, cheap too. I spend my days fixing up the old bird, making her flight-worthy. Still have a long way to go. Need to find some proper engines. But, back to the corporations, they started their own little war amongst themselves. They even tried to pick me up, offering a good wage. I turned them down. Heard from a friend you could go merc, or something like that. Act as a charter pilot, make an awesome amount of money, especially if you're the best. And I was the best.

I'd act as a pilot in dangerous areas, ferrying the execs around like so much cargo. Problem is, other companies like to hire mercs to go after these execs. You're not the real target, but they shoot at you anyway, just to make you keep your head down. Fact that I've lived as long as I have says a lot about me. I'm just that damn good. The exec's pay good, and pay even more to have you wipe the information recorded about that flight, and whatever they may talk about from the little black box that records flight data, and all conversations aboard.

Sometimes I put a backup box in there, just for fun. Wipe one with info while keeping the other; I sell the other for a couple mil on the black market. It's a living, and a good one. Of course, when you're making that much money, the mercs feel obligated to try and get it off your back, along with clothes and anything else they can manage. So, if truth be told, I had to find me a partner, just someone to watch my back long enough to give me fair warning. That's when I found her, Jenna.

Cute girl, and I mean really cute. Tall, slim, brunette with the quickest hands you ever saw. Loves her hand-to-hand, a pretty good pilot, and an awesome shot, especially when you're in a tight fix. But, back to the call, some exec for Naigato Corp wants a ride from Bastion, world in the Vesix system, to the de la Pax asteroid belt over in the Natba system. He's offering a lot of money, and when I checked him out, turns out that he's offering only slightly more than his head is worth to the other big corporations. Sounds good to me, the money at least.

I thought I might as well take the job. I mean, I need he extra cash to finance my little hobby, that being the restoration of that little gunship of mine, or at least getting it flight-worthy enough to take for a spin on two. When I got the call, I had been at the "office," which is code for me working on that gunship out in the hangar amid all the scents and smells of hydraulics and lubricants and the sounds of power tools.

I had my head under a piece of engine cowling when Jenna walked in--well, more like stalked in with a face of predatory glee--this big smile on her lips that just made a man melt inside--and stiffen elsewhere.

"What is it, Jenna?" I asked glancing out from under the cowling, a tad annoyed that the installation of these engines I was trying to get in would be delayed further.

"Oh, nothing, Simon," she said effecting innocence, but I knew what it was. "Just a call..."

"What?"

"Some exec, high guy with loads of power, wants a lift from Bastion to de la Pax."

"What company and how much?" I asked. If the company were a big one, they'd offer a bit more to keep that exec alive. I still wondered why they all just didn't get one of their big ships to take 'em, but why question it when I can make a good living off what they're doing already, eh?

"Naigato Corporation. Payment is three mil, a third at start of flight; rest given over once it's all complete. Exec's a short little Asian bastard by the name of Henry Fujikawa."

"Fujikawa? Isn't he the guy who perfected Slipspace travel?"

"Different guy, but does it really matter?"

"Nah, guess not."

"So, we taking the offer?" Jenna was almost jumping and she really wanted to add some more cash to her already overflowing accounts.

"Yeah, yeah. Just let me clean up a bit," I returned, pulling myself out from the innards of my toy and slamming the cowling shut. Someday I'd be able to get my little baby together, but it didn't look to be today.

* * * *

I got myself cleaned up and suited up in proper order, putting on my old olive colored flight suit. Thing had seen some wear and tear over the years but it was still functional enough. Jenna came walking up wearing her own immaculate black flightsuit, something that clung to her body to reveal as many curves as it could while still remaining functional. She had the zipper pulled down enough to give a fair view of her cleavage, too. Not too badly shaped up top despite her not being so large, or so was my opinion of Jenna.

"Nice hair," Jenna said, appreciating my form.

I was tall, a good six feet three inches with broad shoulders. Was slim, built, and had the prettiest blue eyes you ever saw. Course, that's what the last woman I was with said. Although, she was also a bit obsessive, said something about wanting to rip the things from my sockets and keep them as a keepsake. That's when I ended it with her. I don't need women being too clingy. My hair, which Jenna had commented on, was a brown and rather messy. I never combed it; never saw a point in it. She liked to make remarks, but I shrugged 'em off. Best thing to do is just not anything get to you and you'll get by fine.

We walked toward the 'Wayward Epitome,' my little charter ship. She was based on a gunship herself with some sleek lines, big engines and a whole lot of firepower to back me up. I had her custom built on credit once I got out of the military. She was a sleek ship, her only wings being a set of four stabilizer fins put at ninety degree angles from one another and bent at forty-five degrees. Her cockpit was near the fore, and just below the cockpit was a double barreled laser turret, what I referred to as insurance in case things got bad.

She had a singular engine in back, big thing that gave a hell of a lot of thrust, gave you a punch in the gut feeling when you put the accelerator to full. Was a nice thing, got me out of more jams than I could remember. I walked up to the side, patting the hull a moment before swinging under the ships belly and moving toward the gantry set underneath in the middle. My footfalls rang hollowly against the metal, echoed by Jenna as she followed me up.

I turned once at the top and moved down the narrow corridor toward the cockpit leaving Jenna to seal the ship up tight. I heard the whir of hydraulics, the gantry swinging closed as I slotted myself into the pilot's chair. I flipped several toggles and the cockpit viewport spanning HUD shook into life. I felt the vibrations as the engines began to warm up and the generators came fully online. Power surged through the ship and I felt a profound feeling of power run through my veins. It was all for the flying.

Jenna sat herself down to my right in the co-pilots seat, a sinuous smile transfixed on her face.

"Engines warming up, running pre-flight checks," she said.

She loved her work, mostly because she had an overly violent tendency. She loved to cause pain to others that weren't classed under her belief as a 'good person.' I was one of those 'good persons,' at least according to her I was.

I made some last minute checks before beginning to bring the engines fully online. A purr ran through the ship as they rumbled into mechanical life.

"All weapons charged and ready. Shields on standby, fully charged. Everything's set. Lets roll."

"Yeah," I said gripping the antigrav controls and slowly bringing them online.

The Wayward lifted up off her struts and I could feel the power from her generators pulsing through the ship causing the decking to vibrate. The motion was smooth, and I had to admit, I was a damn good pilot. Most newb's to the whole thing made takeoff's jerky, so much so that some people would vomit because it'd set all their internal organs off-kilter, mess up their balance to the point where they couldn't hold in their nausea.

I, on the other hand, was a seasoned pilot. Fully capable, and the Wayward performed beautifully under my control. She lifted up and exited the hanger. I brought her nose about in a fluid motion, pointing it skyward and hit the thrusters. There was the faintest feeling of being pushed back in my seat, but the artificial gravities compensated so I only felt the mildest of g's, and then even those g's were gone.

Into the wild blue yonder and beyond the scope of atmosphere up into the reaches of space. We pulled into a semi orbit before breaking off, Jenna imputing coordinates for us to meet up with this Henry Fujikawa and hopefully collect pay. I wanted my money and fast.

In the next several moments the Wayward Epitome slashed into slipspace, leaving no sign she had ever been in the system except for a few drive emissions.

* * * *

I walked down the gantry, Jenna at my side doing her own little provocative strut that got a good number of the men around staring at her. Couldn't help it, seeing a woman moving like that. Her motions were a kind of hypnotic ululation that kept every eye on her, male and female alike. To me, though, I'd become accustomed to it so paid little mind to it. I couldn't help but wonder just how much some of those men would give just to be me right now, walking confidently next to this brimming beauty.

We got only so far down the gangplank before we were stopped by a short, stocky Asian man. He eyed us for a moment, then in accented English said:

"Mr. Fujikawa will arrive shortly. Please wait here."

I nodded as the little balding Asian eyed Jenna. She smiled and I saw his eyes bug out for a moment. He flushed red and turned away, taking a kerchief from his pocket and moping at his now sweat-beaded brow.

I looked about a bit at all the other Naigato Corp vessels spread around the hanger, cataloging the private army this guy had and shook my head. With that kind of firepower you'd think he'd just take his own ship and head from one end to the other, but I guess it was just cheaper to use us charters. And who's complaining, really? What with the kind of money I'm getting, I should quit yapping about it and just grin wider.

Another Asian showed up, a tall, slim sprout of a man with the closely cropped black hair that the Asian populace seemed to favor these days. He wore a black business suit as though it were a badge of honor or a uniform of some type. His brown, almond shaped eyes had the beady look to them that gave me the creeps, and I'd soon find out just how justifiable that premonition would be.

He looked at me with a hardened stare, but Jenna he showed a kind of warmth, but that could be expected. She was female, gorgeous, and seemed the kind to put out. I thought rather wryly to myself that this Henry Fujikawa could bark up that tree all he wanted, he wouldn't get nothing, and I should personally know, I've been working with Jenna for years now.

"Is your ship ready?" Fujikawa asked in his accented English. I nodded, and he smiled at least somewhat pleasantly. "Then we have only to get my small cargo and myself aboard then we can leave."

I nodded again. I oversaw the small workforce assigned to putting the three crates in my cargo hold while Jenna "helped" Fujikawa strap himself in. I went to the cockpit shortly after, joining the two and smiled pleasantly at Fujikawa only to obtain a sort of menacing look in return.

"Oh-kay," I said raising my eyebrows and rolling my eyes at the same time as I slipped into the pilots' seat. Jenna knew the voice and shot me a look.

We began cycling through the preflight check when Fujikawa asked, "Isn't this a Gribalt Nalhx?"

He was referring to the ship. "Yeah," I responded, "Custom. Been retrofitted from what I do." "Ah, so everything is state of the art, is it?" "Yeah. She's my baby. Take real good care of her. Most of the money I get goes into making her better." "Yeah, and the other half to those slutty girls out on Vuurn Kral five," Jenna said rolling her eyes. Now it was my turn to shoot her a look amidst a slight snicker from Fujikawa. I didn't need the kind of backlash Jenna was giving me, not now with a bloody Asian bastard behind me and just waiting for a moment to pounce. These Asians, they hate any kind of weakness--it's why their companies are so damn powerful. You show any kind of weakness, and bam! They take you out, assimilate you like some super-organism. Sometimes I even wonder if they're truly hive-minded. I ran my hands along switches, bringing everything online as quickly as possible while Jenna ran off a checklist, aloud, telling me that all systems were green and go. When the word came through the radio that we were cleared, I threw antigrav coils to their fullest, bouncing the craft into the air almost violently. The ship just jerked up real fast. "Show off," Jenna said as I channeled power from the antigrav's to the engines and rocketed the thing forward out of the hangar bay and straight into space. Had to pass through the twilight, purplish sky of Bastian while I was at it, and if I'd ever been the kind to be a tourist, this might've been a nice little world. Too bad I wasn't, just meant I didn't care jack all for the world, just the money. Five minutes later, we were space-borne, the big engine glowing insanely in the depths of space as I ran the ship around in a quick orbit of Bastian toward the exit vector Jenna was busily putting together with the aid of the nav comp. "Flight path checks. Punch it," she said. So I did, opening up the slipspace drives and launching us full tilt. This would be the last time I had simply a routine run.

It's Quiet...Too Quiet

Alright, well I'm still here but I'm not sure about my cohorts. I know Waffles is still in the Canadian forces doing who knows what, Tier is busy in RL with other things, and I'm not sure about Lach at all. I haven't really had an inhibitions involving dueling other than a bit of a question on Vets today. I figured I'd post it at least so I could remember it for later...

Shining Light asks: "My question is this: How exactly do you manage to duel without feeling cheated out by your opponent? How is it that, if your attack misses, you take it in stride? Is trust and honour a huge part in dueling?"

And in reply I had this to say: "RPing can be somewhat like your *comparison if you come upon people such as those at the RE4 boards. Most of the time in this agethose little offsprings aren't as experienced and thus lower to arguing as such whereas places like here, LTU, RP/FF, Spork, RI, and The Duel have somewhat of an understanding between each other and allow damage as earned. If my opponent writes out two word attacks with no emotion, no feeling, I don't even give him the honor of touching me, but if my rival writes out a flawless, beautiful attack I will of course let it hit my character and make it hit hard.

Also, if one feels that their opponent cheezed their way out of an attack a good, experienced duelist will take it in stride because they know that everyone will see the cheeze. It's not about just you and your opponent, but also about the people who read it, and in cases such as tournaments, judge it. The judge and audience will see the cheeze just as clearly as you, so there is really no need to get out of line if you feel you have been wronged, and if by chance no one else feels that you were cheezed, more times than not you probably weren't and you were just overreacting."

*The comparison was that the duels seemed like a styled version of kids with action figures.