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Entry tags:
Posterity
Because I like them, here are the 'description' fields for my three main City of Heroes characters.
The Singer (Magic Tanker, on Liberty)
The man in the glade liked her singing, and her song. It was an old song; she had learned it from her grandmother, and it came through many grandmothers before. At first she was frightened when he showed himself, but he gave her another song, much older still, which had lain quiescent for a very long time. He told her that it would guard her if ever she was threatened.
Years later, when she was grown, evil men came for her, associates of her brother's, and she sang what she had learned from the man in the glade, long ago. The song awoke to life; it shone and span and settled around her, and brought its power and protection to her aid. The men could not hurt her, although they hurt others, and she hurt them.
Now the song sings itself, and she sings nothing else. She has come here. Where else could she go?
Parliament Man (Science Scrapper, on Virtue)
My first memory is of the birds -- sometimes they're men, all shadowed and indistinct, but usually I remember that they were birds, shiny black birds, and then it's all much clearer. They leaned over me as they did things; I don't know everything they did. Sometimes I think they hollowed me out; sometimes I think that some of them are inside me right now, pulling on things to make me move, and that that's what I am. I know they made me new. I know I am not whatever I was before. I am grateful for that.
I looked in an encyclopedia once, at all the pictures, and I think the birds were probably rooks -- big ones, and smarter than anyone thinks rooks should be, but definitely, almost certainly rooks. That's why the name, and the tattoo and everything. I figure I should honour them. So I do those things, and I try to lend my strength to others, the way the rooks gave it to me.
Some people say I'm crazy, but none of them has ever been able to explain the birds.
Scrapyard Tom (Technology Defender, on Virtue)
Tom was born with a superpower: a preternatural affinity for machines. A magnificent inventor, his creations were soon in high demand; he lived well, and pursued his passions.
But not all of his customers truly desired his work -- some wanted the gift itself. Some of the richest and most sinister took his daughter from him, and told him to build a machine by which his talent could be taken from him, and imbued in others, of their choosing. And he did.
Now this new Tom, this broken Tom, is left among the remnants of the old Tom's life. He no longer understands half the gadgets he's left to himself -- what they are, or what they're able to do. But he means to learn...
When you're finished reading Narbonic, you may want to look at Digger, whose archives are open for the exact same reason and duration. Now that I can read it, I think it's pretty neat.
The Singer (Magic Tanker, on Liberty)
The man in the glade liked her singing, and her song. It was an old song; she had learned it from her grandmother, and it came through many grandmothers before. At first she was frightened when he showed himself, but he gave her another song, much older still, which had lain quiescent for a very long time. He told her that it would guard her if ever she was threatened.
Years later, when she was grown, evil men came for her, associates of her brother's, and she sang what she had learned from the man in the glade, long ago. The song awoke to life; it shone and span and settled around her, and brought its power and protection to her aid. The men could not hurt her, although they hurt others, and she hurt them.
Now the song sings itself, and she sings nothing else. She has come here. Where else could she go?
Parliament Man (Science Scrapper, on Virtue)
My first memory is of the birds -- sometimes they're men, all shadowed and indistinct, but usually I remember that they were birds, shiny black birds, and then it's all much clearer. They leaned over me as they did things; I don't know everything they did. Sometimes I think they hollowed me out; sometimes I think that some of them are inside me right now, pulling on things to make me move, and that that's what I am. I know they made me new. I know I am not whatever I was before. I am grateful for that.
I looked in an encyclopedia once, at all the pictures, and I think the birds were probably rooks -- big ones, and smarter than anyone thinks rooks should be, but definitely, almost certainly rooks. That's why the name, and the tattoo and everything. I figure I should honour them. So I do those things, and I try to lend my strength to others, the way the rooks gave it to me.
Some people say I'm crazy, but none of them has ever been able to explain the birds.
Scrapyard Tom (Technology Defender, on Virtue)
Tom was born with a superpower: a preternatural affinity for machines. A magnificent inventor, his creations were soon in high demand; he lived well, and pursued his passions.
But not all of his customers truly desired his work -- some wanted the gift itself. Some of the richest and most sinister took his daughter from him, and told him to build a machine by which his talent could be taken from him, and imbued in others, of their choosing. And he did.
Now this new Tom, this broken Tom, is left among the remnants of the old Tom's life. He no longer understands half the gadgets he's left to himself -- what they are, or what they're able to do. But he means to learn...
When you're finished reading Narbonic, you may want to look at Digger, whose archives are open for the exact same reason and duration. Now that I can read it, I think it's pretty neat.
no subject
Wai. ^___^ How did you get the descriptions? Just copied them down?
I should take some screenshots of my people, before I no longer have access to them. And we should do Colda and Onsh some more.
no subject
I achieved them laboriously, by taking screenshots of my ID page (which, as it's outside of the game's capacity for automatic screenshots, then required a lot of exiting the game and pasting). There's probably an easier way.
-Andy H.