We are a literate, intermediate to advanced AU Transformers RPG Based off of the first season of TFP with dashes of other incarnations sprinkled here or there. Characters from any continuity are welcome however must be restyled to match the TFPrime universe.
Active, with ongoing plotlines, we are always willing to integrate new characters into storylines once incorporated into the setting.
Huh. She could almost start to like this person, Decepticon or not.
Welcome to the sisterhood. She had her avatar wave. The best way to get stronger is to fight. Come with me. She started walking, out of the relative safety of the field and toward the nearby forest area. We're both still pretty low level, but this is an easy area. You should be able to gain a few levels.
Sunstrider Isle was perfect for Foucalt's blood elf, less so for Soledad's goblin, on account of the available quests. But you didn't need to be on a quest just to get your feet wet, so to speak - Soledad decided to save that for Lesson Two. Hey, look - a mana wyrm. Let's see what you can do, shall we?
Kickback cued up what little available offensive capabilities his starter character had.
Watching, Foucault emoted. Seeing pattern it makes. Judging distance and fast moving, looking for weak spot. Kill only when right time.
True enough, Foucault's blood elf was hanging back, moving in, moving back, testing the mana wyrm's responses and methods of attack. After a moment or two of this exploratory prodding, Foucault struck quickly, seeming to find just the right angle to attack without being attacked back. The low level creature died fast and hard.
Whatever Foucault was on the other side of the screen, "she" was a fast learner with a killer's instinct.
Foucault emoted again. There! Finding best attack. Easy killing of this creature from now on.
Last Edit: Feb 22, 2013 10:09:19 GMT -5 by Deleted
Impressed, Soledad made her avatar bow and applaud. Clearly an alien robot soldier was no ordinary newbie. Soledad would have charged in with weapons blazing, not taken the time to analyze the enemy first. ...Come to think of it, maybe that's why she spent so much time looking for her corpse.
You're a natural, she told him. Thing about monsters, though? They're rarely alone.
That said, she turned around, aimed, and threw a fireball into a small pack of mana wyrms approaching from behind, scattering their formation. She might have been showing off just a little.
Again Foucault moved and teased and tested the gaggle of low-level monsters, making the swarm follow "her" avatar, while observing BulbasaurDealer's methods of attack as well. When Foucault was apparently satisfied with "her" knowledge of the swarm's movements, "she" settled into a time honored tradition:
Circle-strafing.
Running around the swarm and forcing the monsters to constantly realign themselves to track Foucault's avatar's position, "she" begin hurling attacks into the mass of mana wyrms, picking them off. The technique was working well - with the exception of BulbasaurDealer being a secondary target to the swarm.
If you are moving AI is always moving too. Trying find to you, Foucault emoted, trying to pass on what "she" had learned to "her" new friend. When finding after you they are missing you. So if moving always, monster are hitting us less. Can herd into middle and then kill. Is good to you?
Circling around behind the swarm as they followed Foucalt, Soledad smothered a giggle. I can't believe I'm learning battle tactics from a Decepticon, she thought. I wonder if I could put this on a resume.
Because Foucalt knew how to kill, that much was obvious. The warlock was running circles around the wyrms, taking potshots into the crowd of them as they milled confusedly. If 'confused' was the right word - surely such limited, singleminded AI didn't get confused as such. But, whatever. It was working. Soledad joined the dance of pixellated death, running in the same direction as Foucalt at the opposite side of the swarm from him/her/alternate gender pronoun.
This is kinda hard, she complained as the last wyrm vanished in a puff of experience points. I've only got two hands!
Kickback certainly did not mind the exchange of knowledge and technique between himself and the native. It was equal for now; it always had to be equal at first - getting something for nothing immediately was both suspicious and incredibly unlikely.
He confessed to himself that this activity was not as tedious as he had initially envisioned. The opportunity, even virtually, to "flex his muscles", was refreshing. It was the original Insecticon caste he was born into, before maturing into a seeder - the predatory caste that stalked and killed the unwary, dragging them, sometimes still screaming, into the bowels of the hive to be consumed by hungry new hatchlings.
The more he learned from BulbasaurDealer and the more he taught, the more of his behavior he painted across the native behind the avatar. If the human absorbed enough, he could potentially pick it out among the others - it would act more like him than the other humans.
He was coming to like this human. If he could positively identify it later, he would be sure to spare it from the other Decepticons.
It would be a nice change to have a pet instead of being one.
Only two hands? Kickback grinned. He began to type a response to see how BulbasaurDealer reacted.
Foucault: Remind yourself enemy is only program code. Can only do as programmed. If finding you limits of program code, is easy to control drone. Two hands is being enough. I am doing with two hands on computer and two hands on food.
Soledad - paused. Had she known any Eradicons with four hands? Had she seen any other Decepticons with four hands?
...No. No she had not. As dire as her situation had been, she would have noticed someone walking around with extra limbs. Just who the hell was she talking to?
i]LOL, that's talent,[/i] she sent. Like hell was she going to give a Decepticon the reaction he was looking for. Even if he was pretty awesome at WoW. She switched briefly to her browser, checking a map of the area before switching back. Come on, this way. We can start making our way to Silvermoon City, and spend some of the money we just got. ...Don't ask why monsters have money, or where they keep it. It's one of the great mysteries that has never been solved. Behold Soledad's distract-fu.
Power-getting is much better, Foucault complained. But if spending moneys is important to you, we will go. His avatar dutifully followed along.
Kickback was quickly researching guides, calculating time spent grinding for levels, and taking a highly analytical approach to what was supposed to be a pleasant distraction or entertainment. One man's statistical analysis was another man's ball game.
He reminded himself he would not have much longer to indulge in this activity; soon he would have to return to the business of getting to know each and every inch of the ship, along with gathering personal intelligence files on every single member of the crew.
Then would come the arduous task of analyzing the enemy, and then the local populace and its culture in completion.
Once he had finished setting up all his dominoes - finding the strings in the tapestry to pull - he could begin the process of knocking everything down.
Better equipment leads to more efficient leveling-up, Soledad responded airily. As you get stronger, so should your equipment. Unless you're doing one of those challenge runs where you try to get to level 85 with all the same equipment. I don't know anyone with that much free time though. Hell, Soledad didn't have the free time for that, and she had no school and no job.
Unless playing online roleplaying games with four-handed alien invaders counted.
They met two more swarms of mana wyrms, which were dispatched with as much efficiency as the first one had been. Foucalt gained enough experience points from the battles to go up a level, an accomplishment Soledad celebrated with an avatar-dance. Then... they climbed the crest of a hill, and Silvermoon City shone before them.
Soledad couldn't resist a little hop of glee. I can't stay online too much longer, she told Foucalt, but let me show you around the city a bit first?
BulbasaurDealer, you have helped Self. Not forgetting this I am. Someday, when BulbasaurDealer is most needing help, Self will help you. Is promise.
And when he had finished typing that, he meant it. Kickback decided he would have to speak to the Eradicons to see if any of them had been playing with this human before. He would need to know more about him or her.
Maybe it was a perfectly innocent offer. Maybe this Decepticon had just picked up a sense of honor somewhere along the way. But something about Foucalt's promise made a shiver work its way down Soledad's spine. Let me never be in a position where I need Foucalt's help, she half-prayed.
Silvermoon was the main city of the blood elves, and there were a few NPCs that could give Foucalt quests. Soledad proudly pointed them out, along with the small handful of warlock trainers. Quicker ways to get stronger, she explained. And learning new skills.
A lot of games have a centralized armor and weapon shop where you can get anything you need, she explained further, leading Foucalt to the other side of the street. But here there's different merchants for plate armor, mail, cloth armor, and different types of weapons. She trotted over to the Apprentice Tailor in illustration. For example, I'm a mage, so I'm too wimpy and fragile even for leather armor. I have to stick with cloth. Her avatar coughed to express her chagrin. But I'm meant to hang back and throw fireballs, so I shouldn't be charging into situations where I'd need that stuff anyway. It all depends on what works for your character.
Foucalt's avatar vanished. Soledad took a moment to flop back in her chair and get her breath back before doing the same.
So that was my first intel mission. I guess it went pretty well.
The inflow of posts on the message board had slowed down, and Francis was still logged off. It was probably already all over the Eradicon gossip mill that their human prisoner/pet project/friend was still alive and haunting WoW message boards, but Soledad only had five minutes left on this computer and couldn't try to contact anyone else. She logged out of the message board too and paused, staring at the empty browser, wondering if she should check her mother's Facebook page just to see...
...no. Soledad clicked the little red X and pushed herself away from the computer. No good could possibly come of it, even for idle curiosity's sake. Whether there was something about her on her mother's timeline or nothing at all, it was certain to hurt.
Steeljaw's encryption key in hand and backpack full of library books, Soledad headed outside, where her escort was dozing in the bright midday sun.