#giant vat of glowing ooze

[therobotmonster]

On the subject of comic books and emphasis.

Getting some use out of my Tyrannomax extras.

[dmsden]

Exploring the Options - Making D&D’s other pillar more robust

Hullo, Gentle Readers. This week’s Question from a Denizen comes to us from ididitforthedogs, who asks, “The three pillars of DnD are combat, socializing, and exploring. Do you have any tips on how to build a good exploring section? My group does theater of the mind so it's not like we have a grid to use.”

In my experience, this can be an area where a lot of DM’s fall down a bit. Combat is pretty straightforward, and social interaction is baked into the whole “Role-Playing Game” thing. But what about Exploration? How do we make it interesting and exciting, to bring it online with the other pillars?

My first piece of advice is to avoid uninteresting terrain. If there’s a journey happening, and there’s nothing particular of interest for your PCs to encounter, simply state, “You travel for three days through the dense forest and emerge from the other side, no worse the wear for your experience.” I like to roll for random encounters before the journey even begins and to move things along to the interesting bits. If there’s nothing particularly exciting for the PCs to find in the forest, don’t belabor the point. Get to the good stuff!

The flip side to this is to make sure there’s interesting terrain for your players to encounter. Even in our own world, it’s hard to drive for more than a few miles without finding a natural feature of interest, a roadside attraction, or a store worth browsing. D&D is a fantasy world, potentially brimming with rivers made of lava, waterfalls that go up, forests of giant mushrooms, yawning caves, fairy glens, ancient ruins, and the like. But I have two rules when it comes to this kind of thing:

1. If the PCs are already on their way someplace interesting, don’t offer them too many distractions. The players may be wanting to get on to the Goblin Lair; they don’t necessarily need you to dangle an entrance into the Underdark. While that may be of potential interest, it threatens to derail the narrative, especially if it divides the players in their desire to continue towards their original goal. Instead, save the Underdark lair for when they’re returning to town to pick up their reward. Then they’ll have a potential new goal.

2. If you add something interesting to a journey for the PCs to explore, make their be some reward for taking the time to explore. I’m not saying put treasure into every curious corner of your world; a reward doesn’t have to be treasure. Perhaps eating the giant mushrooms gives the PCs a vision of an enemy they wish to confront. Maybe they can harvest glowing moss from near the lava river that they can use as a light source temporarily. Maybe they meet a merchant who’s also fascinated by the ancient ruin, giving them a chance to pick up some healing potions at a decent rate. In my campaign, information is often a reward. Stopping to examine some curious aspect of the landscape might yield a historical tale from a local, or advice on where to look for healing herbs, or the like.

When the PCs get where they’re going, Exploration should be just as important. One strong caveat I give in building dungeons is to make Exploration have significant choices. Let’s say they arrive at the Goblin Lair. Upon entering, they find three tunnels. If that’s all the information the PCs get, they don’t really have any significant decision to make, as all three tunnels are the same to them. Instead, you might tell them that one tunnel seems clean and well-used, with the stone looking well-worn by many years of foot traffic. The second tunnel might be eerily clean, with all dust and debris curiously absent. A third tunnel could be slowly descending, dusty and seemingly not used in many years, with a smell of decay wafting up from it. Now the PCs have choices to make that offer significant differences. The first tunnel sounds like it’s used by the goblins regularly. The second tunnel might be clean because of oozes that the goblins feed regularly to keep in check. The third tunnel might be a lair for undead that the goblins have learned to shun. Whatever the answers to the riddles posed by the information you’ve given them, the PCs can develop their own thoughts, and the choice they make will have some meaning.

Not every room needs to be significant, but there should be something of interest in any given area the PCs explore. Even a disused and empty room might have some kind of debris that helps tell a story. Is the dungeon the site of an ancient massacre? The PCs might find rusted and broken armor and weapons in otherwise empty rooms. Is it a cult’s temple? Empty rooms might be storehouses for robes, hanging on pegs, or storage chambers with food for the cultists. You can add broken potion bottles, alchemical burns on stone, walls, ceiling, or floors covered in ancient murals, rooms made of odd materials, rooms with odd magical properties, and the like, before you even think of adding traps, puzzles, tricks, and oddities.

Even if your party doesn’t have a rogue, you should occasionally add locks, secret doors, and traps into your games where they make sense. One thing I always say is not to put anything of crucial value behind a lock, trap, or secret door (or riddle or puzzle for that matter). If your dungeon can’t be finished without overcoming one of these, then there’s a chance your players won’t be able to finish it, and they’ll be disappointed. Instead, use these things to hide side bits, extra treasures, and maybe an encounter or two. Never allow your adventure to dead end.

I can strongly recommend adding oddities in to spice up the Exploration portion of your adventure. Once upon a time, they were super commonplace in the so-called “funhouse dungeons” of yesteryear. Rooms full of large vats of different colored liquids, old wizard labs with strange reagents, fountains with random magical effects, and enchanted stones that slowly scintillate different colors are all possible in dungeons. Dungeons can have, to use our beloved phrase from Starlord, “some weird shit!” And examining these, experimenting with them, and learning about them, all fall squarely under the Exploration heading.

I hope this article helped inspire you, friends. Until next week, may all your 20s be natural.

[jadethest0ne]

Alive

Summary: “Donnie is in trouble. Shelldon had seen the containers begin to tip over. Donnie isn't in a position to get out of the way in time. The thought that immediately rushes through Shelldon's head? Gotta save Donnie. So he moves as quickly as he can. He is a fast drone. Nearly won at the drone races, after all. Donnie had saved him then. Donnie had given Shelldon life to begin with. And Shelldon would do anything to return the favor. “ Word Count: 3435 Rating/Warnings: General Audiences; Injury, Self-Sacrifice, Hurt/ Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending Notes: Oh look, I can write prose, too, I guess. It’s just been a while... Read on AO3. Related to this idea.

-------------

"Is this the safe, Draxxy?" Mikey flashes an excited smile in the direction of the formerly villainous yokai as he gestures at an unassuming, yet still obviously solid looking container hidden under some sheets amongst the machinery in Draxum's old lab.

The yokai lets out a grunt of affirmation. "Yes it is. Now move aside while I input the code."

Mikey skips out of the way to stand beside his purple-adorned brother who had accompanied them.

Donatello was not particularly pleased to be asked on a mission with their now semi-reformed creator, but he was needed "in case anything science-y happens", in Michelangelo's words. Truth be told, they really only needed the help of Shelldon, who is perfectly capable of being by himself, thank you very much. The drone in question hovers by his own creator with an easy expression on his robotic features.

"So you left a whole jar of ooze in your lab where just about anyone could get their hands on it?" Shelldon remarks, sharing a sarcastic smile with the softshell.

"Not very smart for a warring warrior scientist," Donnie monotones, and both he and Shelldon share a fist bump of sorts, looking smugly at the sheepman.

Draxum lets out an irritated humph and says, "I kept it in a secured location where no one could easily find it and kept it locked up. See, it's here." He gestures at the now open safe with a container filled with glowing green liquid inside. "Have your drone pick it up for me and we can be on our way. When we get back, I can find a way to safely handle and dispose of it."

Donnie lets out a dry "uh huh" and waves to the drone. "Shelldon, if you would be so kind."

"No problemo broseph," Shelldon says, floating over to the container and securing it with a clamp on his back.

"I just need to finish shutting things down and wiping the information from my systems. Then we can be out of here before the police resumes their rounds of investigation,” says Draxum.

He walks over to some computers and begins typing away.

Donnie's eyes remain narrow and unhappy as he pulls aside Mikey and mutters to his youngest brother, "Remind me again why we're helping him wipe his records of this place? It's like we're helping him get rid of evidence."

"It's not that," Mikey's voice changes to that of his Dr. Feelings cadence, "I thought it'd be a good way for Draxibald to cleanse himself of his past, by letting go and deleting all of his evil experiments." His voice shifts back to something more natural and cheery. "Besides, this way no one else can find this information and use it for bad stuff ever again!"

"Fine," Donnie huffs out.

Mikey looks at his older brother with some concern. "What's wrong?"

Donnie looks away. "It's nothing."

"Donnie."

Something seems to catch Donnie's attention then. "Hey, look at that."

"Donnie, what did we say about avoiding your feelings?"

"Scoff! I'm not avoiding anything," he says, crossing his arms defensively, obviously avoiding something.

Mikey raises his brow, unimpressed.

Donnie ignores this and points to a corner of the lab. "Really though, look at that."

Mikey's narrowed gaze shifts to one of awe as he follows Donnie's pointed finger to a couple of large containers filled with aged looking yellow liquid with some solid forms floating inside. Though shriveled and pale, the forms were unmistakably that of large sea turtles.

Shelldon lets out a long "Wooaaaaah" at the sight and quickly hovers himself over in that direction. “Neato!” he exclaims.

Mikey and Donnie follow, also looking on in amazement at the sheer size of the turtles. They are much larger than the two youngsters. Even larger than Raph. And the size of the containers holding them must require gallons upon gallons of liquid to accommodate their giant bodies.

Upon closer inspection, however, the site is a little less wondrous as the large turtles are obviously dead and preserved in the large vats. Mikey's face scrunches up in discomfort and quickly clings to his brother, whose snout wrinkles in disgust.

"Planning on mutating more than just us, huh, Draxum?" Donnie calls over to the scientist.

Draxum looks on, expressionless. "I had at one point considered making a more solely aquatic group of warriors, but I was worried that the size of the leatherback turtle would be too difficult to deal with. Now please step away from there. I'm going to cut power to the specimen preservation units and they may become unstable."

Not eager to stay near the somewhat morbid sight, Mikey scampers over to where Draxum is. Donnie lingers, however, giving the specimens another once over before slowly turning away.

That's when the shift happens.

It is all too quick. A hiss of escaping steam. A light clinking of glass as the containers tip over.

Donnie isn't nearly out of their range and he looks on in horror as the large containers loom over him.

He barely registers his brother screaming his name before he feels a sudden thud against his side, and he is pushed out of range by the small purple figure that is his drone.

"Shelld--" Donnie isn't able to finish his cry before many tons of glass and preservative chemicals come crashing down on his beloved drone.

--------

There is a stillness in the air as the tinkling of glass and the trickling of liquid comes to a halt.  The leatherback sea turtles are all but disintegrated after having been kept for who knows how long in the vats, and their pieces are scattered about in the mess of the oozing yellow liquid. Donnie stares wide-eyed into the middle of the wreckage where Shelldon lays. A large shard of glass has pierced straight through his robotic body. Sparks of electricity buzz out of the small drone, but other than that, he does not move.

The purple clad turtle lets out a strangled yelp as he calls his drone’s name. “Shelldon!” Donnie rushes over to the drone, not caring about the glass or debris scattered about. He reaches out for the small bot, but something catches him around the middle and holds him back, right before he can get to him.

Donnie yells angrily, “no, NO! Let go of me!” He turns around to see Draxum holding him in place with one of his vines.

“I told you the containers were unstable,” Draxum chides, expression flat.

Donnie tries again, “Let me go! I need to check on him!” Donnie squirms in the grasp of the vines trying to reach out for the drone.

Draxum continues, “I wouldn’t touch it if I were you.”

Donnie spits fire back at Draxum, “How dare you tell me what I do with my drone! This is your fault!” His voice cracks as he turns back worriedly to Shelldon. “I need to see if he’s--!”, but Donnie is cut off by a gentle touch on his shoulder.

“He’s right, Dee,” Mikey says sadly. “Look.”

Donnie’s watery eyes focus on Shelldon. The ooze container that was clamped onto his back earlier had shattered and the mutagen now covered the drone’s entire body, seeping into his cracks, causing his normally pink glow to be tinged with a sickly green.

Donnie stops struggling, but his hands still linger in the air over Shelldon’s body. Hovering and unable to touch him. To either help or provide comfort.

Draxum slowly releases Donnie from the vines. Mikey goes to stand next to him, holding onto his brother’s arms lightly - half in a hug and half to prevent him from getting any closer to the dangerous ooze-covered drone. Donnie’s hands lower in shock and defeat and he leans a little into Mikey’s touch.

A robotic whine then comes from the scene in front of them. Shelldon’s head twitches and his eyes open, but the light that illuminates them flicker unsteadily.

“Shelldon?” Donnie says hopefully.

Shelldon’s gaze focuses on his creator, but his eyelids droop a little and he stutters out a weak laugh. Did he always sound so robotic? Donnie wonders vaguely. “I, uh.. really beefed it this time… didn’t I, Dee?” Shelldon says in an attempted lighthearted tone.

Donnie shushes him and leans down towards him. He wants to hold onto his drone so badly; to pat his head, to give him a scritch behind the ears and tell him he’s okay. But he forces himself to keep hold onto Mikey’s grip instead. He plasters a smile on his face and uses the uncharacteristic soft tone that he only seems to use when he is sorry about something. Or when he’s scared. “No, no buddy, you did- You did great!” His lower lip trembles. “You saved me!” He holds a hand to his chest for emphasis. The hand forms into a fist as if to put a clamp on his breaking heart. “And- and I’ll make sure to- to bring you home, and fix you up, and I’ll even let you charge until noon!” It’s getting harder to smile.

Shelldon blinks, or perhaps it's the lights in his eyes flickering on and off. “My core is damaged, Dee…. Contaminated liquid… leaking into my memory systems… Probability of recovery is minimal...” Shelldon’s normally laid back tone being replaced by more purely technobabble sounds unnatural and unnerving to Donnie. But he doesn’t remark on it. Instead he shushes the drone again. “Shh, don’t, talk more, you’ll drain your power.” His smile stretches into something almost hysterical and his voice pitches higher. “I can fix this! I can fix anything!”

“Yeah…” Shelldon’s eyes droop tiredly, and he says, as if from rote, “You are the greatest turtle, Donatello…” The flickering of the lights behind Shelldon’s eyes stutter once more before fully going out.

Donnie sinks down to his knees. Mikey follows him to the floor, supporting his weight. Tears start streaming from Donnie’s eyes and he buries his face into his younger brother’s shoulder. Mikey clutches Donnie’s shaking form tightly as his body is wracked with quiet sobs. Small tears form on the box turtle’s own features, but he holds onto his older brother and tries to whisper words of comfort as best he can.

The quiet sadness is broken by Draxum’s voice. “Why are you crying over a piece of technology? You can always make a new one.” It is all too cold and uncaring.

Donnie stiffens in Mikey’s grip, and Mikey stares wide eyed at the sheepman. Donnie lifts himself out of Mikey’s hug. “‘Make a new one?’” He straightens himself up. “‘Make a new one,’ he says!” He turns to look at Draxum, hot and angry tears pouring from his eyes. “Make a new Shelldon? His memory chips will be flooded! Corrupted by YOUR ooze! I can’t get that back! How DARE you suggest that I REPLACE Shelldon?!”

Draxum’s expression falters slightly, suddenly aware that a nerve had been touched. But unsure of exactly what he had done wrong, he remains stoic. “It’s just a drone. Don’t you have more?”

Donnie’s eyes widen and his face contorts in rage. “He is not just a drone! He is Shelldon! He is our family! He’s my---” He shuts his eyes and grinds his teeth, throat constricted with emotion. “But of course,” he continues, in a low and dangerous rumble, “someone who only sees his creations as weapons to use for his own gain wouldn’t understand.”

He glares at Draxum challengingly. Draxum’s eyes widen a hair and he stares back, not saying a word.

Mikey is left watching them, eyes shifting nervously between the two, unsure of what to do or say, with no small amount of grief tinging his own heart. But then a glowing something catches his eye.

"Omigosh, guys, look!" he whispers with astonishment.

The two scientists pull their gaze away from each other and look over to what Mikey is staring at.

The ooze that had covered Shelldon's body is now giving off an otherworldly glow, and is seemingly pulsing with energy.

Draxum leans closer with his own look of astonishment. "Fascinating," he exclaims. "The ooze seems to be trying to initiate a mutation..."

Mikey looks at the sheepman curiously. "You mean he could be mutated?"

Draxum lets out a thoughtful hum. "The ooze shouldn't be able to mutate inorganic material... Yet nothing's ever been exposed to this large of a dose before... And perhaps it is also reacting due to the leatherback samples that the drone has been exposed to..."

Mikey perks up. "Could this help save him, then?"

Draxum closes his eyes and shakes his head, "No. Even if it is able to mutate the drone, there is no way it would be a stable mutation. The only organic DNA available is from these leatherback specimens which have been long dead and are now largely destroyed."

"What if we combined it with DNA from a stable mutation?"

Draxum and Mikey turn to Donnie who had remained quiet during the whole exchange. Donnie's expression and voice are strained, as if not wanting to indicate hope, but his jaw is set in quiet determination. "What if we used my DNA to help stabilize the mutation?"

Draxum put a hand to his chin, scientific intrigue getting the better of him, "Hmm... that could potentially work..." But he quickly waves his hand as if waving away the thought. "No, starting up my machines again could alert the police and I'm not risking getting arrested again for some drone."

Donnie is about to retort, but Mikey beats him to it. "Please, Draxum!" He places a hand on Draxum's own. "Shelldon's not just a drone. He's family!"

Draxum looks at Mikey, expression faltering under the young turtle's imploring gaze. His eyes move over to Donnie whose determined look is more firmly set on his face.

The yokai lets out a defeated sigh and says, "If we're going to do this we must be quick about it. And then leave as soon as it is over and I've shut everything down."

The two turtles share a triumphant smile. "Well, we are ninjas after all," Mikey says smoothly. "Speed and stealth are our middle names."

Draxum rolls his eyes before turning to the purple brother. "To make this work you will have to go through the same procedure as your father did when I transferred his DNA to you." He locks eyes with him and gives him a serious look. "It will be painful. And I cannot guarantee that it will work, or that it will be the same Shelldon that you know."

Donnie stiffens, but clenches his fists at his sides and does not falter. "I don't care. I have to try."

Draxum's eyebrows arch and a small hint of a smile pulls at the corner of his mouth. He looks almost impressed? Proud, even? But the moment is over and he turns to his machines saying, "Let's get started."

--------

The machines are turned on, and using his vines, Draxum maneuvers Shelldon's broken body into a liquid container. Donnie is strapped below it, and he vaguely wonders if this is what it was like for Splinter. Because if he's honest with himself, he's terrified. But looking up at the drone that had saved him, he swallows his fear and nods to Draxum. Draxum nods back and starts the machine.

Shelldon is not just a drone. Shelldon is family. Shelldon had saved him. And Donnie would do just about anything to return the favor.

Draxum was right about one thing though - the procedure was very painful.

-------- --------

Donnie is in trouble. Shelldon had seen the containers begin to tip over. Donnie isn't in a position to get out of the way in time. The thought that immediately rushes through Shelldon's head? Gotta save Donnie. So he moves as quickly as he can. He is a fast drone. Nearly won at the drone races, after all. Donnie had saved him then. Donnie had given Shelldon life to begin with. And Shelldon would do anything to return the favor.

--------

Everything is dark. Like a blank screen with nothing on it.

His memory is fuzzy. It's not usually like that. His memory systems are normally flawless. But right now he's struggling to remember just what happened and why he currently feels like his battery is drained almost all the way. Like he can't get out of sleep mode. Not cool. Flashes of a lab, some large containers, and a humanoid turtle in purple cross his mind. That turtle is important, he's pretty sure. Something twinges at his core at the thought of him. Who was he again..?

He hears a voice.

"Shel...n… cn… y... he.r.. me?

The voice is familiar. It's nagging and he's pretty sure that it's ruined his fun on more than one occasion. Yelling at him to stop charging so late or to stop drone racing around the lair. But it's... comforting. Safe.

He tries to concentrate on it.

"Shelldon!"

Shelldon? Was that the purple turtle's name? No, he's pretty sure that's his own name. Man, his memory is really jacked today.

The nagging, fun-ruining, safe voice is still there, calling him. It sounds desperate, and a part of Shelldon is desperate to answer it. It is important, like that turtle. Is this that turtle? The turtle... The greatest turtle. Something in his thoughts click into place.

Shelldon opens his eyes. He looks up at the purple-adorned softshell holding onto him. There's a lot of pain and worry in the turtle’s eyes, and Shelldon is reminded of why he went through the trouble of saving his beloved creator.

When he speaks his voice is quiet and weak, and without any hint of mechanical reverb, but the name is now clear in his mind. "...Donnie?"

Donnie's expression turns into one of pure relief and joy. Tears form in his eyes, but he smiles widely and lets out a hiccupy laugh. "Shelldon! It worked! I can't believe it worked! You're okay! You're alive!"

Shelldon is enveloped in a tight hug. It is impossibly warm; one hand cupped lovingly behind his head. Shelldon still feels weak, so he can't do much to hug back. But he sinks into the touch. Donnie always did give great hugs, even if they were rare, but this one feels different. It is warm and soft, but not in a way that Shelldon could calculate by numbers. No temperature reading comes to mind. No pressure sensitivity indication. Just. Warm. And soft. And somehow that means more. It feels like more.

Suddenly Shelldon becomes aware of a word that Donnie had used. Alive.

Shelldon looks around. He sees Draxum and Mikey off to the side. Mikey has a bright smile on his face, his hands clasped in front of him. Draxum looks almost downright flabbergasted, as if he doesn't believe what he's seeing.

Shelldon blinks for a second and tries to move. To take stock of the rest of his body. He had been sure he was damaged in that accident. And everything feels off. But for some reason his systems aren't sending him any indications of the damage.

Donnie, perhaps sensing the movement, releases Shelldon from the hug, but still holds onto him for support. From this angle, Shelldon is able to actually take a look at himself.

He looks down, but what he sees confuses him. There are no rotors, no purple metal. What? There's a yellow plastron. Dark green arms with three fingered hands. Legs. These aren't Donnie's. The color is wrong. And besides, Donnie is holding him and he is in Donnie's lap. The arms move and Shelldon realizes that the one moving them is himself. He can feel them. He wiggles the fingers then brings them to his face. It is fleshy. Scaly. Turtle-like.

That word that Donnie used comes to mind again.

He looks to Donnie again, eyes wide with wonder. "I'm... alive..?"

Donnie cracks a half smile and huffs out a tired laugh. "You're a real boy now, Shelldon."

Shelldon's mind has trouble wrapping around the concept. It's a lot to take in. He quickly becomes aware of various new sensations. Breathing. Touch. The absence of ones and zeros. The presence of intangible emotions. It is very overwhelming, and along with the tiredness - that's what it was, not low battery - that he felt earlier, it is almost too much. His body starts to shut down - no, fall unconscious - again.

But he likes this word.

Alive.

And all he can say before he passes out again in Donnie's arms, with a wobbly smile on his face, is "Radical!"

[anip-ocs]

Find the Colors Tag

I’m gonna pretend I got tagged by @shelbytakaiwrites because I love tag games and this one looked cool

I have a buncha rainbow colors in my wip, here’s a few excerpts with them!

Red:  It was common knowledge that iron was in the blood. It was necessary for life, it was what made the blood red. But teachers made it very, very clear that there weren't tiny pieces of metal floating around in the blood. However, in Brian's case, the teachers were wrong. There were legitimate, tiny pieces of metal in the blood.

Orange: Just as Alana passed in front of the monster again, it charged forward and snapped through the vines, barreling towards her. Ken dove to push her out of the way, turning to face the monster. But before anyone else could do anything, an orange arrow shot between them and the monster, causing it to rear back and face the new adversary. There was a--a boy?--standing a few feet back, wearing a long hooded cloak and a white mask. Underneath the cloak he wore black pants and a black shirt, with red Converse. In his hands was a bow, seemingly made of a spectral glowing orange energy. With a gesture of his hand, another orange arrow appeared in his hands, and he notched it into the bow and took aim, standing eerily still even as the stampeding beast rocked the earth below his feet. A split second later, and the monster was dead, green blood oozing out of a new wound right between its eyes. It and the arrow began to disappear, and the masked figure turned to leave without a word. “Wait! Who are you?” Ken asked, running to catch up with the boy. Just before he could lay a hand on his shoulder, however, the cloaked figure vanished with a flash of orange.

Yellow:  The tornado was approaching. Locked in a cage with it, the thing seemed almost... sentient. He could almost imagine yellow eyes glaring down at him, a gaping mouth ready to swallow him up.

Green: With a roar, Alana suddenly became a giant green dragon, a pink gem emblazoned onto her forehead. Her claws alone were taller than... than she ever was as a human. Her serpentine tail flicked behind her angrily as she stalked forward.

Blue: One of the most noticeable, and eye-burning features about the creature was its blue skin and orange splotches, not to mention the orange mouth, spikes, and eyes. It looked like the Florida Gators decided their mascot wasn’t cool enough and barfed their school colors all over the poor creature before tossing it into a vat of nuclear waste so it could be mutated into… this thing. It wasn’t a very pleasant sight to set your eyes on. Geez, Puppeteer, if you’re going to make a monster, at least have the audacity to make it look appealing.

(Alternatively)

“You there!” an all-too-familiar voice shouted. He turned to see an older man, wearing a white labcoat with a blue logo emblazoned on the pocket, blood spattering the arms and chest. A chainsaw appeared in his hands and he stepped forward. “Get back here!”

Purple: “Right! That reminds me--last week I figured this out!” Brian said. He held up his hand and closed his eyes and… the tips of his fingers began to glow purple, then his whole hand. A few seconds later, all of the robots were also glowing purple, and had stopped what they were doing. “Whoa, wait, are you controlling those?!” CJ gasped, eyes wide. “That’s so cool, dude!” “That’s amazing!” Alana added, jumping up and down. Brian grinned and opened his eyes, which were now purple as well. 

Pink: "Hey, you guys!" the four students turned to see none other than Brett Mage approaching them... with eight slips of pink paper. He leafed through them and handed over six. "You guys got detention. Mrs. Ginny's sub told me to give you these."

The Yakk list:

@ravenpuffwriter @writerofwriting @dreamswithadashofspice @ejmcmoon

[titleknown]

A Sampling Of The Members Of The Game Bosses Union:

King of Spikes: You know those bosses that’re the king of minor mooks, like King Moblin or Goomboss? Yeah, this guy is that for death spikes. Complete with crown and pompous mustache and buffoonish; blustering personality. And he has ultimate control of his “subjects,” and wants to ultimately cover the world in spikes. There’s a reason he’s considered creepy and unsettling by everyone despite his demeanor

Cephimani Prime is, you know those head-n-hands bosses that’re just a giant head and hands, usually mechanical or inorganic in some way? Like Gholdan from Zelda, Wham Bam Rock from Kirby, Andross from Star Fox, ect?

Well, Cephimani Prime is the first of those from across the multiverse, skeletal in the way machines without a covering tend to be, at once a machine that’s at once incredibly advanced, but also shockingly simple to produce, designed to work with simple technologies in innovative ways to produce the base for any number of impressive fighting machines.

It’s not the strongest at its base level, in fact it has several glaring weak points unarmored, but it almost always comes armored in whatever advanced-level tech the surrounding area has to offer.

It’s constantly getting destroyed, but also constantly getting rebuilt, as its basic blueprints are scattered all across the multiverse, and even may have been the ones the creators of those others ripped off (Whether consciously or unconsciously) there.

Tho, weirdly, nobody really knows who first designed it, and the fact that each instance somehow seems to share memories has some unsettling implications, despite its robotically obsequieous personality…

Thelemas Rotas comes from a world where a structure called The Wheel of Fate keeps creating these random magical events, that always seem to come in a cycle of rise and ruin but with lots of little things randomly shifted. One Queen from an ancient kingdom decided to find out why, running her kingdom ragged to try and find the reason why; ultimately  and found out about the wheel. And became stockholm syndromed to it. And ultimately fused to it, despite a group of her most loyal soldiers and court members trying to stop her in the end. And then she kept coming back, reincarnating in different bodies that slowly grew aware of their previous incarnations and their connection to the wheel and their destiny to keep it going, doing so with its dread powers and the armies of monsters coming from that age’s zeitgeist to her, until one group of prophecy-breaking heroes went to break the wheel,

But that is for another story. As of now, she wanders the multiverse as a monster-for-hire, commanding biological abomination sand using the random powers of her wheel, both changing to fit the zeitgeists of the places she goes. She beautiful but cruel and is deeply haughty and conceited about her metaphysical role in things, even when she barely applies to the world she’s on, even if she has little relevance to, going bonkers and stabby and resorting to wildly dangrous shit when her plans begin to fall apart, with snow-white hair and porcelain pale skin, usually wearing a wildly-overdesigned but strangely memorable outfit. Her god-monster form is suspended across a gigantic Wheel Of Fortune with various occult symbols on it, her eyes constantly changing colors like card suits and her body flickering through space like a Jacob’s Ladder monster.

Cosmos Ophiuschus is a magically powerful model of the planets in an ancient kingdom repurposed by an invading despot into a war machine, which they kept around despite her defeat because of its usefulness, and it stayed around even after the empire fell. She looks like a serpent with a body made of spheres, with a head of fire representing the sun and the sheres making up the rest of her body being based on planets, with them each granting it a power based on the planet, IE Mercury creates speedy meteor shots, Venus emits poison gas, Saturn shoots buzzsaw rings, Jupiter creates storms, ect.

This can be troublesome when the spheres are cracked by attacking enemies, and thusly can no longer be used until she goes to heal. And she can heal, via the magic of the planets that make it up, as well as having the ability to shift those planets to the abilities of any planets it might encounter in any other solar system, with related abilities.

She’s about animal intelligence; and in general is not a very smart noodle, but it does always show up wherever its services might be called upon, including Union meetings, and the most likely theory is that it is compelled by the music of the spheres…

Boss Benkei was once a great gangleader robber-king of a world-spanning crime empire who fell deeply in love with a former rival-turned-partner, a man by the name of Moto. Moto was cursed to death after they killed the wrpmg, and he became a little… off after that. Now the might of his empire is focused on creating “power-ups”, items with the ability to enhance (Whether temporarily or permanently) the subject’s abilities, and has their production and use by his legions as the main focus of his operations, renting them out to those who can afford it.

His ultimate goal is to produce the one thing that can bring a person back from not just death, but a state beyond death with which Moto was sent. He looks like a beautiful; muscular middle-eastern man, with a boisterously dour personality. He only uses a permanently-shining super-sharp sword of bronze his main weapon/casting implement, because ultimately with his power-ups that’s all he needs.

Nobody really has any idea where The Bulleteer comes from, or even what gender they are, all they know is that they’re eerie, a slender figure in a red leather suit with a long flowing cape; a bullet-shaped helmet and the ability of flight, speed and to control “bullets”. Well they call them bullets, they’re more like glowing, living spheres. They do not consider morality much, only challenge, and mainly exist to challenge people in the art of racing and bullet-dodging.

Xerex, The Mirror Machine, is essentially a giant ancient technolgy mirror/copy-machine on legs who can copy from reflections of anything in its viscinity, and Mimess; the humanoid beetle with a very soft exoskeleton who can alter her physiology to mimic any being in her viscinity via a complex system involving a large array of senses, even electromagnetic sensitivity.

Xerex is very pompous, being made as “The Ultimate Weapon” of a decadent empire, while Mimess has an explosive finicky temper due to being insecure about her own physical fragility due to the same malleable anatomy that allows her her powers. That, and the fact their powers overlap, means they can’t stand each other…

Hookhead is just a giant asshole fish, bane of fisherman and swimming beast alike. A huge mean mixture between alligator gar and some kind of coelocanth with pblack scales, this thing’s been mutated by decades of pollution in his home stream into a vicious thing that practically oozes a rainbow of pollution and toxins, with the ability to control it thanks to the likely psionic powers gained from the place in his brain altered thanks to the massive goddamn hook in his brain.And, to clarify as his creator, yes he was concieved as an idea for a fishing-game-y boss, as well as one for @pettamapossum’s special-interest-cult-classic Finny And The Seven Waters.

Shin Rung is one of the greatest living masters of Ryuken Martial Arts, it is said this red-bearded bald-headed old man once defeated death itself after he was betrayed and murdered by a student of his, and as a reward; his hands and feet are invincible; even as they constantly bleed.

His weapon of choice is as unorthodox as it is deadly, namely a ladder made entirely of blades, from the rails to the rungs, razor sharp and utilizable in thousands of different ways; and that is before the ki attacks through it are used. It is far too heavy for most people to pick up even if they could touch its razor-sharp blades, but to see Shin Rung use it, one would think it is light as fog on a lighthouse-beam.

He fights not for money or for power; but only for self improvement and to one day find a worthy opponent. It is said that in training under him; the final test is to land but a single blow on him. Almost none have succeeded...

\\*Edge Hellblood 666: Antichrist Primadonna*//

The 666th attempt at cloning Satan from a vial of his blood and a single feather, who escaped in a conflagration of blood and fire five whole minutes after his vat was opened, this charmer is what one would call a lord high edgelord.

His left horn is a tiny nub while his right is massive on his head in a way that recalls a waxing moon, he has five wings that form a pentagram-like shape on his back, his hair streams like rainbow glitching VHS footage, his left eye is white while his right eye is black, his claws are bright silver and he is as beautiful as he is pretentious. Which is very.

He’s very much petulant; picky but bombastic in his plans and in his lifestyle, working to “strike back at a world that rejected him,” despite the fact that honestly he has endured far less hardship than a lot of the beings under his employ. Though as much as he rants and raves at the failures of his employees, he’s quite good to them, providing them many favors and second chances; and even what little sympathy/emotional support a stunted being like him can for their hardships. Basically think Bowser/Skeletor meets Sephiroth and you’ve got a pretty good idea of what working with him is like.

In addition to the powerful magical and occult potential and knowlege he has as a clone of Satan, he can command demons and dark spirits. Granted, they do not respect him at all and say they are simply “humoring” him, but they do still follow orders.

He also has a pet called Wormy, who looks like a pitch black bug-eyed tsuchinoko with a bright red apple-like growth coming out of the top of his head. Wormy is actually the 616th attempt at cloning Satan, and if you know your tropes you can probably guess he’s far more evil/powerful than Hellblood…

A curiously concealed knight whose armor looks like a neon sign, complete with blank spaces in between the tubes despite being fully three-dimensional, the enigmatically bombastic Neon Knight travels around working for whoever will hire her, with abilities usually based around the flashy neon/city-lights aestetic and Holy damage and lairs (Which she’d developed some clever tricks for quickly gussying-up) based on a lit-up city at night. She’s generally morally good but usually ends up either easily mislead or working for the good guys who happen to be on the wrong side of a “hero”.

Her most distinctive ability is her Neon Lance, which she uses while riding her neon-looking horse/motorcycle-hybrid to dash quickly into foes; once it’s clear the fight is getting serious. When asked about the reasons for her work, she simply says “I’m on a mission from god…”

These characters and members of the Union; collected here from multiple posts with a few new ones, are all free to use as long as I, Thomas F. Johnson, am credited as their creator. One of these days Imma have to draw ‘em, tho y’all can feel free in the meantime…