Greywind

There used to be an adage in roleplaying games: the dice never lie.

“So, what did he say?” Sitting on the stairs inside his home, Warren tapped the handset to the old phone against his chin. His back was to the wall with one foot braced against a newel post. Slowly lowering the phone to its cradle, Warren looked around himself. The phone was an antique. It had been found in a box in the basement when they had been cleaning the house the first time. The house was part and parcel of his friendship with Jason. Knowing Warren had wanted it, Jason had bought it and given it to Warren as payment for Warren's help. They had cleaned it up and made it livable. They; Warren, Jason, Kris and Ash. They had all played a part and done their share. The granite counter top that Ash had carried in after the cabinets has been replaced. The floors that had been sanded down, boards replaced where necessary. The paint fight that had ensued when the walls and the house itself was being painted. “Well?” Leah prodded. Warren sighed. “He told me to take Kate out on a date. Dinner, dancing, the works.” “Which tells you what?” Warren felt guilty. “He wants me to think about what could happen if he lets me in.” Leah nodded. “You know he's going to do something.” Leah shrugged, “I do. He cannot let that pass.” Shaking his head, Warren said, “It's not like Jason...” But it was like Jason. The Jason that refused to share his plans if he knew someone would object to it. No matter how much something needed doing that they wouldn't agree with. Like dropping a tactical nuclear warhead on Warmonger. “What's not like Jason?” Kate asked coming down the stairs. She stepped over Warren lightly and then sat in his lap, nestling close to her husband. “Nothing,” Warren said with a weak smile, holding Kate close. “I misspoke. Kate, I was thinking, how would you like to go out to dinner?” Kate looked up at Warren. “Rosie's?” “No. I was thinking Crystal Jade. Maybe we could go dancing. At a nightclub or something.” Smiling Kate looked at Leah. Her face sobered and she turned back to Warren. “What's the catch?” Chuckling, Warren said, “No catch. You dress up for a date and I'll take care of the rest.” Leah smiled her support to Kate when she looked back at her best friend. “Dress up?” “You've got that dress that Jason gave you that you haven't worn. I'm sure one of those other boxes are matching shoes.” “Warren,” Kate's voice took on a threatening tone. “Just you and me,” Warren said, pulling Kate closer. “A real date. I haven't seen that dress out of the box, much less on you.” Kate bit her lower lip and thought before nodding. “All right. But just for you. When are you planning on doing this?” “How about tomorrow? You can have the day. You and Leah can get your hair done,” he said quietly. He stood up, holding Kate, and descended the stairs, setting her lightly on her feet at the bottom. He gave her a kiss and turned towards the door. “Warren? Where are you going?” Kate asked. “For a run.”

Which is why some GM's use active damage caps.

Depends on when each happened in their histories. Sue's trick I recall being in the late 70s. When did Hulk survive in space? I also recall Hulk passing out from lack of air while riding on the back of a fighter in his first movie.

Easier to make a janitor droid trip over his mop bucket.

Usually ending with the perp being shot in the back by the police.

...I thought the first Mad Max was a documentary

Maybe she thinks of herself as a modern day Veronica Lake.

And yet, most of us create characters just for the fun of it

I'd suggest you read the section of the 6th book I quoted earlier. It does not follow the rules.

I'm not your son. You aren't Steve Rogers. It has to follow the game mechanics and the rules. That is the point.

Only if the GM is an asshole.

Yes, but if your Damage Classes are reduced, so are the number of dice you're chucking.

And it also has to be obvious, the source has to be readily perceivable, as does the target/effect. If someone can sit and drink tea without the power effect being noticed at the source, then there is some type of obfuscation going on. I'm not talking about the invisible kind, either. And if the extent of knowing who is doing it, is the GM saying "because I told you it was" with no other explanation is a GM I won't play with again after I pack my stuff up and walk out.

Chalk that up to the price of doing business.

You know it's Vader because he's the ONLY ONE there with Luke. Full stop.

Accidental Change? Incantation? Accidental overdose of gamma radiation?

...and violate the GM's damage cap. Nice going. Game balance. Otherwise you get someone that will hit you, run away, and you waste your turn trying to catch up to them.

Mach 5 is non-combat speed. Jets don't do combat at that speed.

Probably because the Speedster and the Power Armor Guy can't do combat at those speeds. Breaking the the sound barrier inside an urban setting does nasty things to, like, windows.

I think the gestures aspect, both Vader and Maul, helped their focus. Vader was going for a small area effect, while Maul just needed it, probably due to not as much training as Vader had.

And as for Jedi, refer to the fight between Vader and Luke just prior to Luke losing his hand. Vader just stood there. There were no obvious gestures on Vader's part. If they had been in a crowded area, how would you have known it was Vader tossing the stuff at Luke? THAT would be Invisible Power Effects.

Stun on a skel? I'd go with automaton. They don't take stun. Only body.

Glass clinked against glass. Arkayne slopped brandy over the rim of his glass in an attempt to pour. What was it about the working of subtle magic that left him so fatigued? Calling up more powerful spells, destructive spells, was far easier to him. Unfortunately for him, his plans and goals rarely required their use. “Interfering again?” a woman asked, taking the decanter from the mage. Her long blonde hair was tied back in a loose ponytail. She poured out a measure of brandy and handed it to Arkayne before wiping up the spillage with the towel she had draped over her shoulders. “Attempting to give the boy a measure of happiness.” “As I said, interfering. Leave off, Old Man.” Arkayne sighed and sank into an armchair. “I can't, Adalene. It isn't time yet for what I have in mind. He needs a distraction to keep him from looking closer to home.” Turning to face Arkayne, Adalene asked, “Why? What did you do?” “Simply provided a spark. I left it to see if it would start a fire,” he said, pulling a pipe out of his jacket pocket. Adalene gave him a look of annoyance, whether at his actions or the pipe, even she was not sure. “No smoking in here. When you're done with your drink, either see yourself to a guest room or see yourself to the door, Old Man.” She turned away and headed for her library. Watching her movements in her short robe, leotard and tights, Arkayne sighed again. “Were I a younger man,” he said wistfully.