Greywind

Why is tracking tedious? Seriously. The only one that should be doing a lot of it is the GM. The players can do their bookkeeping when it is not their turn.

Aid: Only works on Teen Champions

Have you tried Christopher Franke's Babylon 5 soundtracks? Personally, after 16 years working in factories, I can't handle music playing during a game. Can't much handle the jibber-jabber of players talking about anything not game related. Pretty much why the extent of my RPGing lately has been writing.

Anton Darque stepped through a portal of his own making into the cool Nebraska evening. He glanced around in order to get his bearings. Magic had been done near. He could feel it in every fiber of his being. The portal behind him closed with a pop. He started walking unhurriedly down the dirt lane. Before long, Darque saw a sign hanging above a lane that led to a house. The sign read, “Asher, too”. Lightning's home, Darque thought, his lips a grim line. He turned towards the lane. “Where are you going?” Darque was surprised by the voice. He had not seen anyone on the lane itself or nearby in any of the fields as he walked, and yet, there, sitting on a hay bale, was a young man with a blade of grass stuck between his teeth. “Who dares address me?” Darque demanded. The younger man looked somewhat amused. “I do, obviously.” Darque took in younger man's appearance, judging him as a possible threat. He wore boots and brown pants with creases down the front. The linen shirt he wore was off-white. The sleeves were rolled up below the elbow.. A workman's shirt, came an unbidden thought. Suspenders held the man's pants in lieu of a belt. The man's hair was cut short and neat. His facial hair was fashioned into a Van Dyke, with the beard bordering on a ducktail. Darque's hands tightened on his walking stick. Sunlight danced off the faceted crystal set in its head. “Who art thou?” “A watcher. For now.” “I have business within,” Darque said, using the end of his cane to point at a large tent set up in a field. The man stood slowly, brushing his hands off on his pants. “Then, I am afraid that I am no longer simply watching.” Darque clenched his teeth, “Who art thou? Why art thee not watching from within?” “I was not invited. You keep slipping into formal speech. I do hope that is not a sign of agitation. As to who I am, I am a successor. A worthy one, I hope.” “Let me pass!” “That I cannot do, as things stand,” the man said quietly. “My daughter is within. I can feel her.” “Aye, Angelique is within. With friends. Feel the enchantments. I do not warrant the familiarity of using your first name, but I will not deign to use your self-proclaimed title. Darque, I am not your enemy, but ye will find me in opposition if ye attempt to pass your mantle within.” “My mantle? You wish me to pass on without my power?” The man let out a heavy breath. “You mistake me, Darque. I do not wish you to pass at all. If you insist on doing so, you must do it without your power. I told you to feel the enchantments laid. The Spellbinder is within. Your daughter is within. If you seek to penetrate the barrier with your mantle, you will face them, along with myself.” The man shrugged his shoulders. One hand was held in a loose fist. The other, with fingers splayed. “And others.” “Who are you?” demanded Darque once again. “My name is my own. You can call me, Arcane.” “Arcane? You are the successor to that old fool?” Arcane's only response was a nod of his head.

Regardless of which version you use, there's a mental disconnect with a character's personal armor and the defense of a vehicle.

It wasn't the writers. It was the editor.

Too much trying to turn what is supposed to be a game into reality.

“Slimeball in the side pocket!” A crimson beam caught the guy in his tactical vest and slammed him into the wall. He slid to the floor and lay still. “How many more?” Pulsar asked. Machine gun fire answered him, only to abruptly end. “I think that's all of them,” Dove answered. She used the end of her Tharian battle pike to shove a gun away from a fallen thug as she stepped over him. “Someone notify the captain that the trash is ready to be picked up.” Ash knelt down and examined the frayed weave of the tactical vest and the cracked ceramic plate beneath. “Being a little hard on them, aren't you, Pulsar?” Shrugging, Pulsar said, “He's still alive. If he wanted safer employment, he'd be flipping burgers.” “Flipping burgers doesn't pay as well as running guns,” Lightning said. “I found one case of military-grade hardware.” “Good to hear, Lightning,” Captain Franklin Stone said, leading a small squad of armored police. “One case of five. If we can get one of these boys to sing for us, maybe we can find where the others are. How many tangos down?” “Seven,” Lightning said. “Unless you want to count the two hanging from the hoist. They aren't exactly down, but they aren't shooting, either,” he said with a grin. “You four against nine? Little bit of overkill.” He looked to his men. “Round them up. Cuff them. Check to see if any are in need of immediate medical attention. Second squad, make sure there aren't any runners or surprises outside.” Pulsar knelt and examined the weapons crate. “What are you looking for?” Ash asked over his shoulder. “Just making sure,” he said quietly. “So what has gotten into you tonight?” Dove asked. The battle pike in her hand retracted into a cylinder about six inches long. She slipped that into a sheath behind her back that ran along her belt. Standing up, Pulsar shrugged again. “I would rather be somewhere else.” Ash hoisted herself up on a nearby crate to sit. “Did you find,” she glanced around to see where the officers were with their charges. Only Stone was close enough to hear. “A dress for Hellfire?” she finished. Pulsar rubbed the back of his head. Ash knew under his mask he had a sheepish grin. “I, ah, sort of lost track.” “Lost track?” Dove teased. “That isn't like you. What was it that distracted you?” “I almost met a girl.” “Almost? What happened?” the winged woman asked. “I got a call. 'Help us, Pulsar-wan. You're our only hope.'” “I didn't say that,” Lightning complained. “Lightning up, Speedy,” Ash said. “Ooh, bad pun time,” Lightning put his hand to his chest and pretended he was in pain. “Who is the girl?” Ash asked. “And what did you do to try to impress her?” Dove asked. Sighing, Pulsar said, “I don't know. She was one of the models.” He looked at Dove and said, “I bought the dress she was wearing.” “We've got Crime Scene coming in to process the area. We've got a wagon outside for your playmates,” Stone informed them. “There's really no reason for you guys to hang around here.” “Poker Friday, Captain,” Lightning said. Stone nodded in response. “Are you sure you want to take that chance?” he asked of Pulsar. Flying up a few feet, Pulsar said, “If you're out on that wire you might as well dance.” He rolled over and accelerated out through one of the large doors meant for trucks, and out into the night. “I...I...” “What?” Dove asked “I can't believe he threw a quote at me like that, that I can't place. What movie did it come from?” “Try 'Song Lyrics' for one thousand, Alex,” Captain Stone said. “Song lyrics?” Lightning said, dumbfounded. “I can't believe he cheated like that.”

Well, there's always Neverwinter Online for a fantasy fix.

Promises, like a politician.

Yep. They're that tough.

I deal with it as "shit happens".

Maybe he made his blowgun out of a vuvuzela.

Wolverine used his claws just fine when Magneto restrained him. Going through his own body probably hurt like a bitch, but he got free.

I got in the habit of leading from the front once I knew the path they would take and pre-emptively cleared the way when I could.

Thing was a 50-60 in his first appearance. Over time I worked up to a steady 60. Then he went all spikey and his STR went up. Colossus was a good 75 from his first appearance until his death.

Where what you are escorting is slow and/or deliberately leads you into aggression zones?

Refer to the first Hulk movie. He dealt with tanks while enraged.

Because Reed dabbles in EVERYTHING

I have tried dice-less systems and games. They usually end up favoring the story that the GM wants to tell over the interactive.

Rouge

Unless something has changed, Counterstrike falls on the blocker's next phase. Not immediately following the block.

Or get a hex map with larger hexes and you can keep the figures intact in case you might actually play HeroClix some time.

That's where HeroClix comes in handy. Sure, they look like someone else's character, but at least they are painted.