Archive for November 29th, 2011

Day 29: Kraul

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The 26th century’s greatest warlord was at one time one its most celebrated heroes.  The being known as Kraul hails from the Unified Stellar Conference founder world of Sal H’ar.  Kraul was born into poverty, in a society made on a rigid caste system.  His only way out was to either join a criminal guild, or to enlist in the UIC Starcorp.  He chose the later, and was accepted into the officer’s accademy.  Kraul graduated first in his class, but his early career was marked with a series of unremarkable posts, and misuse by superior officers of his obvious talents.  This all changed with the advent of the UIC/Thrallian War of 2480-85, and his first encounter with General Symane Braxis.  Braxis saw the young captain’s promise and military prowess, and took him as his aide de camp.  Both men rose to prominence during the war, with Kraul having achieved the rank of General.  Things however started to unfold during the peace negotiations.  Kraul was one of the proponents that claimed the terms of armistice were too lenient and restablished borders and conditions to pre war status.  Kraul’s fustration was noticed by a young Thrallian delegate named Durksan Bjurn, who was a bitter, hawkish, aristocratic, upstart who blamed the Thrallian Political establishment for loosing the war.  He began a political relationship with Kraul that would result in his defection and betrayl from the UIC to the Thrallians, and aiding Bjurn to overthrow the Thrall Government and establish his dynasty as Bjurn I.  Kraul then became the Grand Viceroy of the Thrallian army, which he built into a first rate war machine, resulting in a cold war between the UIC and the Thrallians that persisted into 2502.  When a series of attacks on various UIC worlds and space stations ignited The Second Thrallian/UIC War.  This time he and his former mentor Braxis are on opposite ends of the conflict.

#20 – Phineas Phatom

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Phineas lives under the sea, in the Mariana’s trench, to be exact. Staying with his father for the Summer, he enjoys taking one of the deep dive suits for a little “joy ride” to “play outside”.


Day29: Runner

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Looks a bit like Harry Potter and was later transformed into him.

Day 28: LC

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Sort of looks like a girl I know

#28 – The Queen Sylph

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The Vault of the Sky was rent asunder in a titanic spellduel, and many spirits, some imprisoned by the forces of good, some self- exiled to endless meditations were catapaulted back into the known spheres. Queen Vilansys is one of the freed entities, a Sylphen princess and master of sorcery. Her motivations now that she is back in the outer spheres remains a mystery, andno Sylph has come forward with knowledge of her from the annals of time- be she friend or foe, criminal or benign?

… Yup, that’s a rainbow.
Sheesh. My next picture better be as dark as Cthulhu’s stool, or I’m getting way too soft.

#28 Furnace Face

| November 29, 2011 | 0 Comments

Furnace Face : status: villain

neovidual abilities: Furnace Face’s body is completely composed of living flame. He designed a suit that harnesses the heat of his body to melt steal girders and discharge streams of molten metal at his foes. Furnace Face can also channel focused flame blasts from his head when he opens his stove like helmet.


Day 27: Sailor

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Day 26: James

| November 29, 2011 | 0 Comments

Go Ahead and jump

#29 Renée Dupont

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Name: Renée Dupont

Birthday: December 21

Guardian: Tantie

Location: Lyon, France

Handlename: gildedGalatea, previously grandeCanicule

Typing style: tends 2 use short forms like ‘r’ and ‘u’ and lots of punctuation!!!!!


Items are assigned a weight based on size and arbitrary importance and added to the array. When the array is nearly full, for every three items added to the array an item of low weight is ejected, sometimes with enough force to break it. When the array is filled, items with a high weight are ejected with enough force to certainly break them, followed by a period in which more items are ejected at potentially damaging speeds. When this modus is in effect, CAKE cannot be added to the Syllabus at any time and will be rejected with potentially humorous results.

Kind Abstratus: SWORDKIND

First wielded an ancient, scimitar-like weapon taken from the HELLSPAWN CREEPY RUINS. She wields it poorly and without finesse, calling it the ANCIENT PIECE OF CRAP.

She later wields the RAPIER OF ROSES, which she found on her planet, lodged in the statue of a woman who might have been a princess and might have been a witch. It was hard to tell in the light.

Title: The Seraph of Space


Tier 1: an amphibian idol (pre-entry)

Effect: webbed hands, increased durability and a somewhat weathered look

Dream: Derse

Planet: The Land of Ash and Frogs

Consorts: Absent-minded, olive lions

Associated Element: Fire

Associated Item: Metal

Denizen: Echidna


Manipulation of an object’s size and location. Limited transmogrification abilities. Forge-stoking and frog-breeding duties. Pre-emptive awakening of dream self.


First baptised with the name ‘RAOUL DUPONT’, she realized and accepted that this was NOT WHO SHE WAS. Fortunately for her, her aunt (Tantie) was very accepting of the fact and helped her through it. While she still has a ways to go before she will feel completely certain in her own body (she has to be older to get the surgery), she definitely is much more comfortable now. She is homeschooled by her aunt, at first out of necessity (because children are cruel), and now because of convenience. She travels a lot because she is an ARCHEOLOGIST – but not the exciting why-did-you-touch-the-cursed-ruby-everyone-told-you-NOT-to-touch sort of way. There’s a lot more boring work and more phrase like OH SHIT IT JUST BROKE DID SOMEONE GET PICTURES.

She is not a fan of history so much as she knows it probably through osmosis. She prefers REPTILES, which are the COOLEST ANIMALS on Earth. SNAKES do not deserve the bad rep they get, right, Gadsden? Those AMPHIBIAN CREATURES WHICH ARE SLIMY AND CROAKY do not even hold a candle to how cool snakes are. They are just so weird and gross, and this TEMPLE FROM A BY-GONE AGE which she is currently at is really strange because who would make a temple dedicated to those creatures in the MIDDLE OF AN AUSTRALIAN DESERT. Getting to more comfortable topics which are less likely to induce nightmares, she likes COMICS and CARTOONS from any country (and tends to completely ignore the typical terms for them), just as long as they have a good story and art that doesn’t make her cringe. She met her best friends on an English-speaking Internet forum dedicated to CRANE BOY, the inspiring coming-of-age story of a boy who was having an identity crisis like she was. She also enjoys SLEEPING, even if her dreams are too purple sometimes.

She is the FIFTH PLAYER to play SBURB. She entered the Medium late by smashing a CRUXITE MIRROR.

#28 Brian

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Brian had a favorite game he liked to play.  He called it “cruise chicken.”  He’d take his dad’s ridiculously expensive sedan out on the winding roads that curled their way around the hills and valleys he still couldn’t call home, drive so fast he could barely manage the turns, then set the cruise control.  The mayhem that ensued, especially when there were others in the car, would fill him with a breathless rush that was as good as nitrous.

He never did it when someone said no, he made everyone strap in first, and he always stopped the second someone said so- that’s why it was called chicken, after all.  And it wasn’t like he had a death wish, not really.  Sometimes he was the one to call stop, even.  And the car was so damn full of airbags and crumple zones that it was good money they’d walk out of it even if the car flipped, which it most likely would never do, not being an SUV.

It was more like he had a kill wish.

Not that he wanted to kill anybody.  He really just wanted to kill this world he was in, that he didn’t understand, that he never wanted to understand, that he’d never asked for.  If anyone had asked Brian, he would have said that he had been happy enough living out of a cheap rental and eating ramen too many nights a week.  Before one of his dad’s crazy inventions had hit the fucking motherlode of jackpots.  Things seemed to make sense then.

Now, he wasn’t sure what was real.  He had thought that maybe it was some weird animal brain thing, that they were recreating the rental units they had left behind by occupying only a few spots in the monster house they lived in, but then when he visited other kid’s houses, he realized that everyone pretty much lived that way- taking up residence in one or two places, leaving the rest of the house empty and grand for whatever mythical socializing no one had the time to do.

He wasn’t exactly sure who was real, either.  He was still lost to whatever social games the kids played, but he had enough of a clue to feel like maybe he was almost always getting played in one way or another.  Someone had the graces to fess up to him, in a half-drunk moment, that it couldn’t be helped, since he was both the newest and  the richest of them all.  And that these kids should know that- well, that was just creepy to Brian.  Apparently that was all part of the public record.  One of those things he never wanted to know about.

And his old friends, well, they had gotten awkward, trying hard as hell not to be jealous, not to gawk, not to react, and failing miserably.  It didn’t take most of them long to just stop coming around altogether.  Part of it was as simple as the fact that he just wasn’t around.

He couldn’t even go to his old school anymore, since the private defense contractors which now owned his father’s soul stated “issues” with the school’s safety.  Now he went to a school that was public in name only, funded to the gills not only by the local property taxes, but also by private donations.  No doubt hugely fucking sizeable donations, so that the folks who had a vested interest to seem populist could still claim to send their kids to public school, without them having to get any sort of public school taint on them.  At least that was how his dad explained it.

Brian didn’t care.  He just lived his life feeling like he was on the top of some huge mountain somewhere, and that no matter how hard he tried, he could never really get enough air.  Except for maybe in those moments right after the car spun out and sat shuddering like a horse, stereo still blasting like nothing had ever happened, dust wrapped around the car thick enough to hide the world outside.  Right then he’d take a deep breath his lungs would fill and he’d feel, for the tiniest of instants, like maybe he was touching something real.

#27 Baby

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Considering herself a seasoned ship-hand, having long ago left behind what planetary ties she might have had, Baby had a very short list of needs.  The first was, and would always be, having a crew she could trust and work with.  That was a given, seeing as you were going to be in a tin can a damn long time looking at the same bastard’s faces shift in and shift out.

That was a secret a lot of station and planet-bound folk didn’t really realize.  Skills didn’t matter so much, long as you had a couple brain cells you could rub together, you could be trained to fit where one needed you.  Getting along, well, that was a talent in much more high demand, and one that wasn’t half as easy to drill into a person as mass distribution in a zero-g cargo hold was.

But Baby had a nack for sniffing out team players and trouble makers, and ever since the cap had started trusting her nose as much as he did the fancy sensors and scanners in his interview room, she’d been able to help piece together a well oiled machine.  Which was the first of her necessities.

Her next, most personal need, was decent deodorant.  She had the right not to have to smell herself, and those dry showers might get you clean, but they never really did get out all the smell.

For down time, what there was of it, what she needed was a good story.  Vid, book, whatever, just something to get her somewhere way out past the airlock.

As for the rest, it was basic, four ship suits, (always in varying states of abuse, one always pristine, for those rare moments when she had to represent),  five or so sets of underthings, one nice outfit, and the box of little trinkets which reminded her of the best memories her life had had to give.

The only thing she was out was the nice outfit, Trisha having spewed all over it on the last leave.  Not that Baby had held it against her- those drinks had been laced with something fierce, and it was probably the vomit that had gotten them out of some deeper predatory trouble.  Baby had sensed it circling, too fucked up to do much more than notice it.  But when Trish coated them both, the trouble coming vanished like bad air down a mech-room scrubber.

Not that they couldn’t have handled whatever idiots were coming, even trashed they knew how to throw down and push their panic button implants at the same time.  And anyone, at any time, throws the panic switch on her ship, all hands come running.  That same implant being embedded with a state of the art tracker, and stations being limited in size as they were, no one would get far with a mate, even if he was out cold.  That was a dead man’s switch when a body was at port, since a knocked out mate was clearly in distress.  Most of the time.  They tended to go out in groups when getting fucked up was the plan, so that any accidental passing out could be called in before the sober half of the ship mustered.

So she guessed she could say the was another on her list of her needs- some way to keep her crew safe, and some way to know that they could do the same for her.

The fancy dress, well that would come with the next civilized docking.

So, all in all, she could say she had everything she needed.

#26 Jack

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At some point in his past, Jack had gone by another name.  He didn’t doubt this, as he was only one Jack of many, and it was understood that the name was more of a title than a proper name.  There were numbers attached to it to add specificity when necessary, mostly with admin, and the meds didn’t even bother with the name, just went with the digits, since a med tech with clearance to treat a Jack no longer had clearance to do a damn thing else, given the sort of work they were doing.

Among each other, the Jacks and Jills tended towards nicknames, if they knew each other well enough, or they just went by call-signs, if they were on a basic op that required no deep cover.  Not that they really socialized all that much, down time being rare.

Most of the time when they weren’t on an op they were training, calibrating all the nifty bio that had been implanted in their high performance bodies, and spending untrackable hours in deep trance, prepping for whatever op came next, learning whatever it was they needed to become, completely repressing what didn’t fit the profile they needed to match, exaggerating the characteristics necessary to create whatever persona they were to become once the op went green and they dissociated completely with who they were and became that profile so completely that it took very specific triggers to pull them back into their own minds.

Supposedly they came back from that shit, supposedly they integrated back into themselves fully, but no Jack was stupid enough to forget that once upon a time they had another name, and this upon a time they, none of them, had a clue what that name might have been.  Sure they had memories, after all, memories were a part of what informed one’s self, but they had been burned into a vague collection of events, with all specificity of faces, locations, even languages erased somehow.

If one were a wise Jack, (and no Jack survived long that was not wise) one never asked how the forgetting had occurred, and one prayed to whatever powers he wished that none of those details ever somehow surfaced.  Those were the sorts of details you couldn’t hide in debrief, the sorts of slips the techs looked for, and when you were as fucked to high heaven as you were in debrief, you couldn’t lie, not even to yourself, not about a damn thing.  And remembering the details of your buried past was one of those things that led to retirement, which, when you were this damn deep down the interplanetary special ops rabbit hole, only meant death.

But since one was a wise Jack, one had long ago come to terms with the idea that one lived in a state of perpetual mindfuck.  You sort of lost the need for a well defined identity that went beyond whatever parameters were required of you at any given moment.  You sort of lost the need for a specific name, having taken on so many with so much conviction, only to realize, in the end, that the name signified only some small part of a whole, some sort of self-created caricature, a very well-played imitation of reality.

He took it on faith (mostly because he had no other option), that at one point, when he had known the name his mother had given him, he had signed up for this.  And Jack could see why.  He was a killing machine.  Death in the night, an undetected surgically precise plague, and hell, who wouldn’t find that kind of power damn sexy?

He’d recruited a Jack or two in his day, they all had, so that they had some sort of comfort in the legitimacy of the process (and let’s not be virgins here, that wasn’t an act of kindness, that was just killing off whatever fight they might have found themselves having when doubts began to surface.  Nothing like doubts to fuck a mindfuck, as his favorite psych tech used to say).  He could see himself in the young men he had pulled under, or at least he thought he could.

Hard chargers, one and all.  Prone to hitting hard when and where it counted, with no need to give off warning shots.  Not exactly interested in asking a whole hell of a lot of questions, either, taking it on faith (even before they’d signed the dotted line), that greater minds had already pondered the whys and wherefores, painting green dots on the innocents long before they entered the room.

And Jack could understand the need for men such as himself.  Space was just too damned big, with too many dark corners for a man to get stuck in and caught out on a lie.  Too many damned substances floating around that could rip through any conscious deception like water through tissue paper.  And one hell of an organized and easy to hide black market.  With way too many ties in legitimate worlds keeping the predators afloat.  So if you wanted to put it in a pretty frame, you could say that a Jack was a pirate hunter.

But for himself, even if you had to sneer, he’d prefer to be called death in the night.


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#13 Lucas

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Lucas used to be a normal guy until some mysterious incident I haven’t worked out yet rendered him deaf, but also gave him mind-reading powers somehow. The mind-reading meant that he could still ‘hear’ what people were saying, but the whole shock, trauma and confusion thing led to him flunking the 8th grade (he was 13 when it happened). He’s cynical, shy and grumpy, partly because he thinks that the average person’s thoughts are generally awful, partly because he rather enjoyed being able-bodied, and partly because he gets pretty much no sleep since he can’t turn the power off so he hears people’s thoughts 24/7. He’s really self conscious since now he can tell exactly what people think of him. He also has frequent headaches that get more intense when he’s surrounded by strong emotion.

#27 Healstone

| November 29, 2011 | 0 Comments

Healstone : status: hero

Healstone has the neovidual power of extremely rapid healing. He can also heal those he touches just as rapidly even to the scale of limb regeneration. When Healstone touches a person to heal them he literally extends his power to the person he touches. In a sense the receiver is borrowing Healstone’s power via touch. However , this link by touch flows both ways. Healstone’s body will temporarily take on the exact injuries the other person has suffered , cut for cut, bruise for bruise, experiencing the exact same pain as the person he touches before his power rapidly takes effect- eventually healing them both.

Healstone runs a secret underground network of emergency clinics for active neovidual heroes/heroines where his abilities can best serve his cohorts.


Day 29: Felicia Spasky

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Felicia lives in Portland. She has two part time jobs, one at a Starbucks, and one at a small record store. She doesn’t like chocolate, the Beatles, winter, summer, or you. She likes dogs. Particularly the large slobbery ones.


#28 Star Phantom

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#28 Star Phantom (Sci Fi/Superhero) In the far future, a superhero arises to help solve the problems found in outer space. Traveling from star system to star system in a star craft built into an asteroid, the one only known as Star Phantom and sidekick Nikki try to make the stars safer for everyone.

This is a new drawing of an old character. Why call him “Star Phantom”? Because the name “Space Ghost” has already been taken. The difference is that this hero travels with an adult woman (Nikki — it’s too bad I don’t have the time to draw her picture; she looks very nice in her tight black and white outfit) rather than two teenagers and a “space monkey”. Also, besides a few technological gadgets to make his job easier, Star Phantom’s big trick is to turn his body into a living cloud of hot plasma.

#29 – Miss Sunday

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#29 – Elijah

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Last of the space pilots for now.


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#29 – Oliver

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Oliver is a young martial artist who is currently training for an important event.

#29 Anansa Se

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Anansa Se

On the desert planet of Rane’Ke her name means “she who sees the Tapestry”, but all that Anansa saw growing up was from the lofty windows of the Grand Temple of the Sisterhood. Among the Rane Spider People she considered was considered the most beautiful of all the Sisters, and many powerful males sought her favor. Her thoughts were always far away, seeing the Web of Fate through her prayers but never allowed to venture into the world herself. Then came the day she saw the falling star, and decided that freedom was worth more than the privilege, power and protection she had amongst her Sisters. She set out silently into the unknown. 




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# 27 A Feral Child

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raised by badgers

#30-Mary Mylar

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A girl of laminate. An upbeat, impossible to impress 21 year old. Nothing hits or sticks to her and she can slide through anything. Because of this she’s the best cat burglar ever. And she intends to prove it in her next big jewel heist, something she plans to name in her journey as the Classy Caper of the Calico Canary.

And that’s all of them. I feel bad that I ended up world building with the last 15 but there still all characters. Three don’t have images, and I might go back and change that in the next day, but that is all 30. A day early. I hope you enjoyed my stuff.

# 26

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#29-Eon Enlyo

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The main spokesman for the UN Taskforce. He speaks to the public and reports to the UN themselves about any and all activity the metas make. He’s been bored as of late, though he’s noticed Twist disappearing. Eon’s tried to follow Twist, but despite all of Tinky’s synthetic upgrades, Eon can’t keep up.


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Incurably stubborn and impossible to shut up, he has driven thousands insane and killed and resurrected millions repeatedly over and a few universes with the one diatribe that started the first time he spoke after a car accident and stopped suddenly during the Taskforce’s attempt to stop him. Some believe he talked himself into not existing anymore, but a couple of his former victims have talked about an incurable buzzing in their ears recently.

#27-Flak Finlado

| November 29, 2011 | 0 Comments

An alien musician, slowly climbing his way up the industry as part of Galvantic Records. He is a young talented guitarist (a strange instrument that appeared in his matastisizer, but spends his time fighting the synth-cynics and beat-boomers that have become the fad of the past century.


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The third of the five elements (Twist, Quake, The Unwashed, Suenami and herself) on the planet, Fi-Rei is the first of the two females. Formerly part of the UN Taskforce, she has since separated herself from the humanity, pitying them. The beauty and knowledge provided by the fire powers she has been graced with can lead her to become something beyond human, and she believes she will only find out if her brothers and sisters join her. She has tried to enlighten her fellow elements, but they never accept. No matter how much she appeals both their transcendent or human natures, Twist, Quake and Suenami refuse to join with her. Since that has proven fruitless she has gone to find their lost sibling, the Unwashed, though she keeps the belt to her old costume in case they ever change their minds.


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The fourth of the five elements (Twist, Quake, Fi-rei, The Unwashed, and Suenami.), she has also distanced herself from humanity and her former friends in the Taskforce. She doesn’t see her connection to the water like any of the four. It isn’t a power for good, a tool for genocide or the path to godhood, but something that stops her from ever being close with her husband ever again.

Her connection with her element was strengthened in a failed experiment by Tinky Technicha, and she can no longer keep a solid form. She is forever in a water state, with the only thing keeping her in some semblance of existence is the large Droplet Belt developed by Tinky. Tinky promises to find a way to reverse it, therefore it is assumed she follows Tinky around, but she has been known to disappear to the coastal residence of her ex-husband.

This is the first in the last bunch of characters. I am doing/did all the bios in one night so if I don’t get sketches done I can finish it in some manner. I have a busy couple of days ahead, but I am finishing this in some manner.