Yes .
All PS3 copies. If you preorder you get a Special Villains Challenge Map (Scarecrow and his army of skeletons), though.
What system are you buying it on and do you plan on preordering? Either way I'd say Batman: Arkham Asylum.
I think this could be something I could use for some practice, might help to see how some characters I had in mind for various writings can act with other characters in random circumstances. I'll give it a shot. If you want anymore detail on anything, I will comply. Character name: Johnny "Nails" Kerr Gender: Male Age: 28 Personality: As his name suggests, emotionally unstable in his opinion. He feels he is crazy, sometimes tries therapy and suggestions, but it never works out. Has doubts in humanity. Bio: Johnny's father was a abusive drunken man, who was eventually judged criminally insane. Johnny loved his father, though. Loved him so much he faked his own insanity to get into the asylum his father was being held in. There he learned it was not the people in metal cage that were troubled, but there captors. Used for experiments, Johhny was told by the screaming down the hall that his father's usefulness had dried up. It was Johnny's turns then. and out of the blood and chemicals Johhny died and "Nails" was born. The experiments granted him some power, though. Using these powers and the trust he had gained from some of his "friends" he staged a riot and broke out. Powers: Has extendable nails that he can break loose from his finger tips and he can use as weapons. Can also keep attached and use them as they are. If they break off, they will cause him some pain but will regrow quickly. Appearance: Gray hair from long periods of electro shock therapy and paranoias along with other experiments, asylum white patient uniform. Weapons: Nails, two knives he usually concelas or carries openly. --- Name: Bane Gender: Male Age: 35 Personality: Depends on time. He understands people "like" him and tries to become friends with them. Bio: Bane's father commited a crime when Bane was young, Bane never learned the exact nature of it. Due to the laws, he and his mother were sent in place of the father. The mother died, weak of will to live on. The warden started to call the son "Bane of his existance" and that became Bane's name around the prison. Slowly he exercised his strengths, but lost his "healthy" mental state. His rage slowly became more readily released, sometimes for no reason. Released fror good behavior, Bane was silenly plotting his revenge on a world that had broken his old self. Powers: Strength, speed, combat skills. Healing from wounds and some diseases faster then others. Appearance: Slim from eating scraps, shaved brown hair, usually wears a brown jacket. Weapons: Tall, slim sword and a pistol he rarely uses. --- Name: Mask Age: 32 Gender: Male Personality: Depends on time. Bio: Had a good life and relationship, though on the second it was steadily worseing making the first go with it. Dying on the inside, he developed the idea that all of society wore "masks." Believeing he had seen these, this was kept in check by his now almost at the brink relationship. When they broke up, he went over the edge inside. Scarring his face horribly, he wore a simple white mask over his face. Appearance: Some might mistake him for a poor begger by his clothes, tatterd remnants of what once might have been a good black suit. Wears the white mask at all times if possible. Carries around a sign for his own reasons asking for money, when he gets none he sometimes believes it proves his point on the face beneath the mask of humanity. Weapons: Combat skills, a wooden sign he carries around. Uses whatever lies around to make up for his lack of powers. Powers: None. Naturally abilities, perhpas physichal capabilities, but nothing really superhuman.
Time to start pulling the money out, USB starts to investigate more than 4,000 account names. Any comments? Link: http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/32474087/ns/business-world_business/
The Man Who Sold the World - David Bowie
Lay Lady Lay - Bob Dylan
Since I've seen people posting stuff like this, I figured I would go and post it to pass some time. The person that sent it got banned on a diffrent site, have fun reading. Hello Dear, My name is Russell LEE Anderson, I am an American soldier,pressently serving in the military of the 1st Armored Division in Iraq. Sir we are being attacked by insurgents everyday and car bombs. I and my clossest coligue managed to secure funds belonging to Saddam Husseins family. The total amount is US$25 Million dollars in cash, mostly 100 dollar bills. We want to move this funds to you, so that you may invest it for us and keep our share for banking,before our arrival,this will be done with trust. I will take 70%,while You take the other 30%. No strings attached, just help us move it out of Iraq,as it is a war zone. If you are interested please endevour to send your full details to my personal mail. iam earnestly searching for a good partner that i can trust and that will assist me in reaciving the funds out of IraqCan I trust you? When you receive this letter, kindly send me an e-mail signifying your interest including your most confidential telephone/fax numbers for quick communication also your contact details. Respectfully, Sgt.Lee Russell
Just bee happy.
Impression of me now if there is one? Do you like songs with long instrumentals or lyrics? Feel the beat or feel the beast? Do you enjoy being asked questions?
OOC: Both are accepted. Thanks for joining and have fun if possible. @water mage: Okay. I'll be getting Xemnas to do something, might set up something later for the plot if it ever needs to be pushed along from inactivity. Thanks for the idea and responding. BIC: Xemnas pondered silently, viewing a projection of Kingdom Hearts. The Heart grew bigger everyday, but some of the members were growing... restless, to say the least. They would have to be dealt with, like pawns. In Xemnas's view, they were all pawns and puppets. Tugging at each other's strings. His had been severed long ago, but at times he fealt he could feel a phantom pull. Feel. What a funny meaning to such a useless word. The members could feel. Why else would they scream when their dreams were not realized and they were sent back to eternal nothingness? He would not be a pawn to his emotion, he would use emotions to pawn others. He had been a pawn before he was a Nobody. Now that he did not exist, he held more worth. With a flicker of his hand and a silent, unspoken command the projection ceased. Xemnas said one word, a word that had been his first and last feeling in the word of hatred and pain his previous self had been born into. "Pain."
Is that why there was blood when I viewd your profile?
The legend is not happy with you stealing the princess.
Something might come out near the end in the midst of the pleasure int his orgy. Guess what it is? Hangover.
The Clock Struck Twelve.
Your car gets slower and the bills get higher.
"Who... am I?" a lone figure dragged himself on a highway, no vehicles in site, in some distance the lights of a small town seemed to call him. "Urgh." He had been running, yes, that was it. From what? Was he running from someone or to someone? To something? From something? Also, his head... It hurt. Bad. His body felt like he had been having a bad hangover and some quack doctor had put some unapproved medicine in his system. Was he getting rid of this drug if it existed or was it getting rid of what was left of him? His sanity? Was he already insane and now he was just wandering through the world of his memories? The ghosts of these memories killed by him, were they killed that way while they were alive? Blood seemed to rise in a stench from his clothes. Oddly, he felt some pleasure seeing it but fealt that was only because something had been done to him. By someone. Concentrating on things such as the blood made the headaches go away. If that would just stay away... He had to see himself. Get some bearings, found out who he was. He was a person, right? "Weapon." The thought came unspoken and unbidden from some recesses of his mind he felt he had closed a door on. Should he have closed it tighter? Somehow, he could visualize that door. It seemed red. Looking harder, he saw it was blood red. The man would have to stop thing of himself as "he." "He" needed a name. "Bane." That would be his name for now. Nothing like bitter irony to get the morning going. It wasn't morning though, was it? It was night. More irony, perhaps. Was he entitled a sense of irony and to be a actor in its play? Maybe. He felt he had been it's director at times. Was he now? Bane leaned against a tree. Rain had passed by before, he knew that because before he could remember things such as running he could remember darkness. Darkness and fluid on his skin. Was it blood? More then likely more then blood. What had they done to him? Did he deserve this punishment? Was it a punishment, or some sick perverse reward? If the people/things thought this was a reward, he would give them a reward. Give them the biggest one of their lives, probably the last one, also. First he must get answers, though. Then there would be "rewards." Plenty of them. They would not be quick, ether. Bane himself would make sure they gave a long acceptance speech to any of their colleges. Even friends and family would do! Then he might give them a reward if they had a hand in it. Had a hand in causing his pain. Pain. Would it ever stop? Some voice inside him clanged that killing was wrong, and he did not silent it. He felt he should be a hero. That he was a hero. If only... it would stop. A bar from that town he had seen was now approaching. How long had he been walking without paying attention? Didn't matter. Looking in a mirror when he entered the bar, he stopped and observed himself. White skin, black hair. Seemed to be wearing a torn black leather jacket. Bane stopped and continued on in the bar, taking his seat next to a bald man, one that stank of beer and gave off his own scent of blood. Not all of it his own. "Hey, man, you got some time? I'll get you hooked up, y'know. You'll be riding the high roads. Getting high with us. It's the life, man. If you don't agree, you know, you can sign the rejection papers for my payers in your blood. Heh," the shaved man said this with a grin towards the end and a flicker of a knife under the bar table caught Bane's eyes. The man was large. Probably thought he could sit on him while he cut Bane open and had his fun for the night. Didn't wasn’t women, just wanted more cash and addicts on his rigs. He probably did order the occasional woman, though. This man had ruined countless lives, what would be a greater last live to sign the epitaph with but his own? 'Kill.' a silent vocie urged. "No," he spoke back firmly in his mind. Enough blood was already on him. Bane would break this man and let him make a better man out of the pieces. He was not a killer. He didn't even know what he was, yet, but he wanted to be nothing like this man. This man could live a decent life if he tried, Bane would give him the chance. "No," this time Bane spoke the word outside of the room and into the bar. It seemed to follow with a echoing of silence that set the stage for tonight’s next act of drama in the bar. "Yes." this was no question, it was a command that was enforced by a glint of a knife under the table. The knife caught the light of a neon light on the wall, and combined with the other man's face it showed what he really was: a greedy wash out. The man was in no position to make those as of now and Bane wouldn't follow orders from whatever town junkie drug maker crawled into a bar. Somehow, the music had stayed on and seemed to feel the silent gap that separated them. Soon, it would be disturbed again by a different kind of noise. Quickly before any reaction could be made and with speed and power Bane did not know he possessed, he grabbed the man by the arm and slung him past the bar's counter, narrowly missing a bartender. Possibly owner, he did not look like this thing was a surprise and in fact happened very often. Should he kill them? Start with the arrogant bartender, with his numbness and see how numb he was to reality. "They deserve it. Kill. Kill. Kill and live through their deaths," the voice in his head spoke so. Was it in his head or was it the voice of reality... perhaps insanity? Back from Bane's thought's, he noticed a display that had been set had crashed, and a bottle of cheap beer had slided off it. It crashed, sending glass everywhere onto the other man's face and body. The cheap beer followed afterwards. "Now he is as ugly on the outside as he is on the inside," Bane thought this smugly with some comfort and noticed his headache was gone. Somewhere in what temporarily seemed to be a different place-perhaps a different time?- Bane heard voices whispering. Bane could barely make out of the silent echoes some, "Where now?"'s and such but one received his special attention. "That guy took down Big Bill!" "Big Bill" let out a groan. Possibly letting out some of the "steam" he planned to use to sit on Bane with. He might would have felt pity if it was a weaker man or one that had done less, but he didn't. Instead, he felt pride and rage he was not aware of before falling before he could examine it fully. The bartender, what happened finally dawning on him-he was old, possibly feeble, a decent excuse-took a key off of a key ring and gave it to Bane. "You have no idea..." Is there anything I could do for you?" the bartender asked. "Looking for information," Bane said confidently. "Always good for lads your age to seek enlightenment, eh? Take the motorcycle out back with this-," the man horridly fished out a key from a key ring from his pants pockets and kept the rest of the object in his hand while giving the key to Bane. This key, where would it lead him? The door of his mind. Once again the question would arise-should he open it? The man finished hurriedly, "Just escort me outside to the parking lot with you, please." the man said this please with a quick look around the bar. "If you want to get the information, this road goes on straight for some length. Go down until you see a sign saying, Koola." Tell the man in the back Phil sent you." The man, Phil, silently pleaded and Bane agreed with a grin. Soon he was on his way. Who was he? This man "Phil" sent him to better know. If he or they didn't, they just might get to feel some of the pain they have all caused Bane. Caused him. Those things and people that hurt him without reason were no better then the commonest junkie. They would be dealt with accordingly. Was there a reason though? The question seemed to join the half-way hushed voices of "Kill." Two hateless eyes observed him. These were motherly eyes, if not wifely. Perhaps a possible connection to Bane? The figure, nothing more then a shadow in the night sky using the stars as eyes, seemed to fade to follow someone.
Mixt gave the roleplay we were talking about earlier a plot. Want it PMed? It looks great, incoorperated everything, I believe.
Worm?
Luxord sighed silently and put his cards back in his pocket. You couldn't gamble on a empty stomache. Nobodies didn't need emotion, why did they have to need food? The point was, he fealt he needed some so he migh as well go. Whisteling along the way, he started on his way to the kitchen.
