I'm there with you on the matter of preference to character over combat. Generally, I even value character over plot, though that's mostly out of my belief that the characters should be the driving force behind the plot (opposed to a GM acting as a hand-of-God, of sorts); that's a discussion for another thread on another day though. I've come to enjoy being able to play my character as person rather than a glorified chess piece. If I want to put my focus into combat, I'll go to a place where I make a competitive challenge in that regard; but those instances don't typically function by way of stats. The end goal, as I see it, for any stat system developed for an RP, is to keep the players/characters relatively in check, so as to avoid battles becoming a long, drawn-out, and more over, ridiculous ordeal where no one is willing to give their opponent(s) an inch in terms of offensive success. I'd say that a good medium could be in the construction of a stat system that's based more within a broader "pay to play" mechanic. Kind of like how LC as the AP/MP stats that diminish when our characters act offensively (replenishing in the next post in the case of AP). I'd say that a similar system could be applied to defensive/evasive actions, which would somewhat relieve the aspect of rigidity. That, as well as giving some concessions to the spell/ability system to give leeway to creative uses thereof; IE - character in burning building uses an Aero spell, which, by effect, creates a flow of air around them, which would, by the nature of air's effect on fire, reduce the risk of damage from the fire directly (just using that because it's the best example I've got).
Glyde's 1,000 Post Spoils: Gains Thunder Upgrades Cure to Cura Assuming the +3 Levels comes with the stat boosts thereof: 2 HP Boosts, 1 AP Boost.
The cavernous corridor stretched out straight before the boy's eyes. Squinting against the dim lighting, to which he was only just getting accustomed to, he spotted a rustic, wooden door some hundred or so feet away. "So this is what you were talking about?" he asked, looking over his shoulder to the shadow-veiled figure behind him. "This is the place? And that's the door?" "Indeed," the figure drawled. His eloquent accent was noticeably mired by the apparent simplicity of the situation. "That door has been opened, but a small pinch. This world, it's connected to the Darkness. Just a little push is all it needs; then, the suffering of this world, your world, to the Heartless' wrath, can be concluded." "Will it hurt anything?" the boy asked. "Like ripping off a bandage, I presume. I quick little sting, and then you're well as can be." The boy nodded, and tread across the catacomb floor. It was slow-going, and only got slower the further he tread. The Darkness creeping out from the cracked-open door, seemed to leave the dimly lit space even darker. The moments passed, and the journey to the door reached its end without incident. The boy, shaking, placed a cold hand upon the rough surface of the old door. Just a push, he told himself. He breathed in heavily, and exhaled even more so. Then he took a second breath. And then a third. On the final exhale, he pressed against the door. With no resistance, in fact, almost as if being pulled inward from the other side, it flung wide open. Darkness emerged like a plume of fire. The boy was quickly engulfed by the torrent. Through a thick mist of Darkness emerged a shining, enveloping white light. Glyde's eyes were opening steadily. The bedroom, the house, the world around him, were out of focus as the brightness of the morning light shot into his eyes. There was no excitement on his part as he awoke: no springing upright; no shouting or screaming; not even so much as a word of cursing. He simply lay, for a handful of minutes, staring up in a transfixed gaze upon the ceiling. He was, as per usual, sweating. "My fault," he grumbled, rolling himself out of bed. "Lies," he muttered repeatedly as he dressed himself. He moved to the door out into the hallway, and stared at that for a moment as well. "Stupid," he said, pointedly. "Foolish, really." He shook his head, ruffling his hair wildly. "No more," he affirmed. That was who he had been. Not who he was, there in that room; certainly not who he would someday become. Glyde Tyler would be a different person; better than keep falling prey to scheming. He opened out the door. Face devoid of a tangible expression. He walked towards the common areas, catching talks between Edna Mode, a familiar-sounding someone, and members of his own party. "They'd probably see it coming, if we just went in there head on, though. We oughta be figuring out who outed our plans to them before we do anything."
My go-to reference point for space pirates, sci-fi and such is usually the anime Outlaw Star. Has dashed of fantasy in it as well, though.
The remainder of the evening found Glyde lingering in an off corner of the living room, catching the bits and pieces of the discussions between his companions. Drifts of talk regarding Aria's nightmares accounted for the majority of what held the eventual silence at bay. In the moment he thought of bringing up his own sleeping dreams as an anecdote of some sort; he decided against this, chiefly due to the clear difference between his and hers: Aria's were true night terrors, while his were mere reflections of moments past. He had no ground for similarity as far as he could tell. Even if he did... there was little inclination in him to steer her problem into his. Thus, he resolved to a sombre silence as he listened in, taking sips of his hot chocolate until the mug emptied. The treat left him relaxed to the point of drowsiness. Glyde, a s surely as the others, felt worn from the day. For his part, he also felt quite defeated; had it not been for Mr. Incredible being turned on them, he might've been good for a short while longer. As soon as Edna pointed them to their rooms, Glyde was, without word, down the hall and into one towards the end. He would barely recall falling into bed as he fell rapidly into a deep slumber.
I'm all about this in a sci-fi setting. Perhaps within a world with only smaller, sparse landmasses, making it necessary for those seeking treasures to venture out by sea or by sky (personally, I'm leaning towards an airship adventure). Maybe focus on the adventures of a crew of adventure-seekers and treasure hunters; alternatively something where everyone creates their own team to control.
Having had his thoughts on the day's events dismissed until a later time, Glyde withdrew further comment. He kept to his own mind, mulling over his interpretation of the situation while he assisted the effort of clearing up the mess left in the wake of the battle. He remained in the living room even as other departed to their own tasks. Eventually, he managed to push his suspicions to the back of his mind. Although he still felt unnerved by the preceding incidents, he ceased, for the time, with concerning himself over the thoughts of sabotage. He was ripped from all thought on the matter, however, when the sound of the front door being kicked in cut through the relative lull of the encroaching evening. Converging with the rest of the house to the entrance, he found that it was the doing of Torrin, Boreas, and Take, all having returned alive and relatively well from their mission. From the sidelines, Glyde caught the tell of their falling into a trap; the suspicions he had nearly put completely to rest returned in full vigor at its mention. More and more curious, he considered sourly. We're vulnerable here, more than we were before. Still racing through his conspiracy theorizing, he followed suit with the migration into the kitchen, finding himself a slight comfort in a fresh cup of hot chocolate. This much, at least, he told himself, I could get used to. Immersed in the tracks of multiple conversations, he shifted the bulk of his attention to Master Thallasa and Take. "We might not have had to venture out so suddenly as we did either, it seems," he added, tagging into the dialogue. He scowled at the idea that he might have, in hindsight, been able to get his feet under him before they had departed Atmos' world, and possibly have gotten some more comprehensive training. "Or would we have had to leave anyways? Would the council have made that call?"
Glyde rolled his eyes, but calmed down nonetheless against the urging of Thallasa and the others. He stepped away from the window, and leaned back against the wall. For a moment, he maintained his stare towards the city. Then, a flicker of thought flared in his eyes. He looked around the room. Suspicious, don't you think?" He asked, directing his question most to the Master. "They have a mechanism here to stop us using our magic and all. Would have taken some time to get up and running. And how much they planned out ahead of us. It's almost like they anticipated we'd make this move."
"I..." though she had taken hold of him before he could set out from the window, Glyde held his gaze away from Qamar. While his body as a whole reoriented as if to face towards her, he continued to look out towards the city. "I'm fine," he said, after his restoration by way of Cura set in fully. His lips thinned, and his eyes narrowed, almost closing completely. "I'd have been fine. Thank you, but it's better that I start to mend myself up on my own from now on; can't have people spilling magic on my account when I'm capable of setting myself right. "Anyways." He opened his eyes fully, and turned to group still in the living room. "What are we supposed to do about this," he said, pointing his Keyblade down the hill in the direction the villains and Mr. Incredible had ran off in. "We're not gonna just let them get away like that, right? But if that last scuffle was any indicator, we really don't stand much of a chance if Mr. Incredible is under their control now. And you know they're not just gonna take him for a run..."
Come on body, don't give out on me right now. Glyde tried... and failed to budge under the weight of his own weakness. Mr. Incredible's attack on him had left him worse for the wear than he had thought. The task of returning to his feet was laborofus, or would have been if he had been able to make it that far. Instead, he lay in the corner, then turned over onto his right side watching the Helping Hats storm into the living room. The hats set upon the Keybearers without hesitation. Glyde only found himself more at risk, as several slashed at him as they passed around. He took several weak swipes, managing little more than to compel them away and into the path of the more able bodied combatants. With the battle coming to an end for the moment, he propped himself up with his Keyblade, and gathered up his cloak. Shaking at the knees, he forced himself to his feet. In a hobbling fashion, Keyblade thudding against the floor as he used it as a crutch, he made his way towards the broken window. HP: 2/40 MP: 0/20
Throwing my opinion into this years-old topic. Now that I've had some experience in stat-baserd RP systems to compare to my approximate decade's worth of more freeform-based systems, I feel it would be appropriate for me to voice my thoughts, and (lightly) vent on my thoughts on both methods. This train of thought is coming from someone (myself) who has considered utilize numeric applications to moderate combat in my own projects. Though I've never been able to realize the full function of the system that I had constructed, that, and my more recent experiences here have helped to form my take on using stats. It should be noted that the opinion I'm sharing is based, pretty much exclusively, on the application of stat systems within the context of text-based roleplaying, as that seems to be the primary, if not sole, medium through which RPing in this particular section is engaged in. Broadly, I find that stats in this context, like most other methods of moderating RPs, comes with both a beneficial and a detrimental aspect. There are some things that stat-driven setups can achieve that freeform can't; likewise, there are aspects of roleplaying that can be captured more effectively in the absence of numeric systems. The most beneficial element that I've found comes in tow with using stats is the idea of definite limitation. Roleplayers, more often the inexperienced than the epxerience (though the latter have proven just as guilty when they do so), aren't always inclined to remain mindful of the limits of their characters; even people who have supposedly been RPing for five, ten, even fifteen years, will drift into actions that exceed their own character's abilities, or otherwise undermine the abilities of another player's character. Sometimes this is done intentionally, other times it is accounted as an honest mistake on the part of the player overestimating their own character. Either way, it can result in conflict between players and GMs. Stat mechanics can serve to curb most of that potential for overstepping limitations. Having a number given to things like how strong or tough, or how much power they can put out before being drained of mana/chi/whatever energy they function on, establishes a clear, measurable ceiling for just what a character can achieve. It leaves little room for debates on the matter of "my character is stronger/faster/tougher than yours." It removes or at least reduces the x-factor that is a person's code of honor that would otherwise dictate how far their character can go before they falter or fall, and, in a sense, puts every characters strengths and weaknesses onto a somewhat more balanced playing field. Overall, the stats can assist in allowing players to play to their character's strong points against their opponent's weak points without being met with their strengths being mitigated/marginalized. As far as detriments go, I'm in disagreement with the statement from Boy Wonder as posted two posts above this one: I've found that stat systems have more of a tendency to reduce the level of realism of an RP. This largely comes down to the rigidity that systems tend to lean towards. The numbers and how they interact within the practical function of a given system will, almost always, present a smaller pool of effective actions that a player can make in-character. A statistic system simply can't account for enough of the potential actions that a character would realistically be able to take in any and every given circumstance. Mixed with a pool of defined abilities, a numeric system can sharply impede and sideline creative solutions to in-character situations. Case in point from a recent experience: my character was helping rescue civilians from a burning building. From the start, I was clarifying that my character was using a cloak (that he has been portrayed as wearing) as something of a screen to put between himself and the flames; as little as that would be worth, in reality, it would have been a viable means to reduce injury from the fire itself, as it would have meant less direct contact of the emitted heat to the character's body. Within the same situation, it was clarified that using an Air-based spell would have done nothing to preserve the character, where as outside of the limitations of the stats and ability pool, a flow of air pushing out from and/or around a character could have been argued as an effective means by which to project the fire and the heat thereof away from the character, thereby reducing the damage that would have been taken. Part of that, of course, boils down to the willingness of a GM to bend the mechanics of their own system to reward ingenuity on the part of the player. Other limiting factors in stat systems arising from combat stem largely from the restricted set up of movepools, to effect that maneuvers and tactics that could, theoretically, be easily achieved by any character (IE - Dodge Rolling, taunting or distracting opponents, etc.) are frequently employed as defined abilities that (seemingly) can't be utilized by a character until the GM has declared that they can have them; any character portrayed as being in even relatively decent shape, for example, would realistically be able to perform at least a manner of a tuck-and-roll maneuver, even if not a perfect, gymnastic level somersault. Beyond that, numeric systems generally don't tend to be inherently able to account for combative elements of battle such as movement, positioning, and spacing between combatants. Moreover, these systems lean towards probability as the driving mechanic of whether or not and how badly a character takes a hit, which, in the reality of combat, isn't so much at play; even if an attack can't be fully avoided, even "partial" evasion in the sense of orienting oneself to take a hit in a less detrimental way (IE, sidestepping to take a sword thrust to your arm or shoulder instead of your chest, or such that the blade only makes a glancing blow). So in this sort of way, while stats can be used to good effect for keeping peoples' senses of pride out of their in-character play by providing defined limitation to their characters, they also can't account for the vast plethora of variables that are present within reality. Personally, I've found that when it comes to balancing power, one of the better ways to do so while maintaining an RP's friendliness towards creative play, is to establish more simplified power scaling, such as tier lists, which breakdown levels of power and skill based on feats that a character can perform.
Mezmarella's agile and timely movements were enough to set her out of the path of Glyde's would-be attack. With the high leaping maneuver, yet, she had given just enough warning to allot him a window to put himself away from the brunt of her counter. The blow of the kick glanced his non-dominant shoulder as he abandoned any follow-through on his charge in favor of evasive action; a more preferable point of contact than what he suspected would have otherwise been his head. So she's more than just mind games. Feeling pressure after his failed attack, he withdrew to the defensive, hoping to catch her from a more advantageous angle later. There was little he could do to prepare for what came next. Mezmarella called her orders to Mr. Incredible: 'Kill them! Kill all!' Next Glyde knew, a broken slab of marble from the ruined table collided with his stomach, knocking him clear across the room. He would slam into a corner, wherein he keeled over from the pain of the impact. He turned over onto his left side, facing into the corner. With right hand, he held to his abdominal, doing what he could to massage the soreness; with his left hand, discrete and hidden from plain sight, undid the neck strap of his cloak. He wasn't in top form, far from it, really. His best would to feign defeat and hope to catch an opportunity.
Glyde had reached about as close to his boiling point as he had gotten in past week. By the second he had concluded his short rant at Edna Mode, he had neared spitting distance from her, and his face was a noticeable red blush; he could feel a heating sensation behind his face and forehead. He glanced, sourly, at Illiana as she set her elbow upon his head and repeated Edna Mode's critique. At the same time that she removed her elbow, Glyde whipped himself away from her. For someone that didn't seem to take kindly to other people touching her, she was unusually warm to the idea of making physical contact with others at her own discretion. "Double standards," Glyde muttered in a low voice. He backed away from Edna Mode, turning to Mr. Incredible... The wide window of the house imploded at them. Glyde shielded his face from the shards of glass, and slowly took to the sight of a masked man, and a goggle-wearing women, comparably clad to Mr. Incredible. He scattered from the cluster of his companions to avoid the incoming marble table. Taking point to the then-entranced Mr. Incredible's left side, Glyde surveyed the situation... they still had the advantage of numbers; but power... that was a different story. Between the brute force of Mr. Incredible's obvious strength, the detrimental effects of the goggle-wearing woman's brainwashing power, and whatever it was the masked man bought to the fight, the Keybearer's without their magic would have a difficult struggle ahead of them. In a head-to-head against the superhero, no one could stand much of a chance on their own... the masked one... too risky without knowing what he could do... The woman though. From the unfolding action, Tinarah and Aria, at least, had arrived at the same thought. Glyde called upon his Keyblade. Kicking off with a forward roll, he sprung into a charge towards the villain, adding another prong to the attack building against her.
"Okay...?" Glyde observed the small woman's process curiously. His first impression of her actively formed as he watched her jotting down notes and contemplating each of the new guests in her living room. Silently, Glyde pondered what she might be thinking of him. He hadn't exactly been vocal since arriving; beyond his comment on liking his cloak, he hadn't spoken a word since he entered the house. Further, he had scarcely carried himself in any meaningful sort of way... at least, as far as he could account for. Maybe Edna Mode could see something more than what he made clear? Then, it came. Like a dagger across the chest: too timid? All other commentary thrown aside, Glyde's mind narrowed onto this, singular quip. TIMID! Catching the trailing end of other responses to Edna Mode's analysis, Glyde pushed his way closer to her. "Timid, you say? Try 'cautious;' or 'pragmatic.' I'll be damned if I'm gonna be called timid."
Glyde looked to Mr. Incredible as they walked up to the house. The man seemed incredibly single-minded when it came to the idea of heroes and being a hero. All of the denials, and the insistence by everyone that they weren't in need of costumes or identities fell upon ears that had no desire to hear them. Glyde, looking himself over, made an agreeable expression, and nodded. The door opened as they arrived, revealing "The Edna Mode," who's stature was... disarming, considering the manner in which she carried herself. "I'll admit, I could go for some new clothes," Glyde said. "Although," he flapped his slightly burnt cloak a few times, "I've grown particularly attached to this one, metaphorically speaking, of course. "Eh. I don't know. I don't think that look," he motioned towards Mr. Incredible, "would go too well on me. Maybe something a bit more similar to what I'm already wearing, I guess."
I'd say that they're somewhat akin to wraps. Of course, the hotdog itself does not qualify as a sandwich/wrap until it has been placed within a bun.
I see. Cool.
The weighing of opinions mounted among the team, and Glyde's nervousness swelled in his gut. We're all gonna have to go looking for this Magiteck thing while we're still tired out. by the sound of it the group's majority was in favor eliminating the problem right then and there if they could. Glyde's stomach turned as Thallasa approached with her final word. An exhaled with of relief escaped him when she divulged the plan. Those that were feeling weak would be sent to a safe place to rest up while Torrin, Boreas, and Take searched for the device. ... In good time, Mr. Incredible had brought them to the gates of a large mansion, seemingly brimming with technology of all sorts. Glyde made another reeling gesture at the hero's comments regarding new clothes and identities. "Because another identity is exactly what I need right now," he spoke facetiously. The gate before them started opening. "See what we're made of ? Don't tell me we have to fight again anyways."
Glyde: 2 HP Boosts 1 AP Boost Still deciding on what ability he'll take.
"What the?" Glyde looked up and around as two odd characters approached the scene, extinguishing the roaring blaze of the burning building. The denizens of the city all seemed taken with the the strongman and the ice-mage... if that's what they could even be called. When all was done with the building the pair approached them, wading through a sea of adoration that Glyde remained thankful that he wasn't caught in the middle of. He reeled back at the larger man's comments. "Heroes? Let's not just go throwing that word around without reason." Goodness knows I'm not one. "Aah!" A sharp sensation lashed through him; the sound of wild, cackling laughter filled their air from... seemingly nowhere. All of his strength, it felt was being sapped... no, restrained; the magical essences that would typically be recharging... he was far off from an expert in these sorts of things, but he could feel it. "Guess that answers my question," he quipped when the initial pains subsided. "Explosions. Fires. Guys jumping from rooftops. Heartless showing up. Yeah; it's all related." He convened with the rest of the Keybearers, shaking his head at the insistence of Take and Aria to pursue whatever was stifling their abilities. "I'm in agreement with the naysayers on this one," he said. "No sense in putting ourselves in that kind of risk. If we get ourselves killed for recklessness, then that's, well, everything we've been working for going down with us. Not that that my opinion will mean much against everyone else's."
