I played the ME3 squadmate prediction debate game about 5-6 months ago. I'm done with all that speculation. Like you said Mondo, we just don't know. Bioware may not even have all of the details worked out yet. Who knows.
Into the Bad Girl: Jack Fans
Débuté par
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, févr. 05 2010 03:24
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#13752
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Posté 29 août 2010 - 12:34
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#13753
Posté 29 août 2010 - 12:38
Mondo47
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adriano_c wrote...
**snippetty-snip**
1) FTL - Faster Than Light; mainly regarding the relativistic speeds required to travel the great distances in the games... or in reality for that matter. Einstein himself said that the speed of light wasn't a barrier that couldn't be broken, simply the fastest speed demonstrable in the physical universe at that time (and still is I should add), so maybe there are faster things - he didn't know about them, I'm certainly not about to trust someone on the internet as to whether the light barrier is unbreakable without actual proof other than a long string of theoretical mathematics - in fact, I don't even fully trust Einstein to be right - it all remains to be seen
2) Ok, the more forward in time was something of a bump down to earth, as was the loss of "the party". I expected 'The Continuing Adventures of The Grey Warden' too, but since mine's dead, hey - no skin off my hump. At least we know that the stories are more to do with the events in a world than a single character or group o f characters... more happened in Middle Earth than some little dude nicking a ring then another little dude chucking a ring in a volcano. Mass Effect though is definately Shepard's story - whether he lives or dies (unless of course it takes the Reapers a few decades to get there - equally possible).
3) See above
Modifié par Mondo47, 29 août 2010 - 12:52 .
#13754
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Posté 29 août 2010 - 09:16
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This chapter holds the record for most words written, so I'll warn you.
.....Yep.
Here's chapter 8 of Son Of Mindoir.
_5:11, P.M. _
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“Keep fighting the good fight” was what the members told him, passerby.
“We’re proud of you.”
It was something that James barely understood. Because the hero they saw was long gone. As much as the people wanted him to be exactly as he had been, two years ago, experiencing death – and surviving it – does not welcome keeping together. It was that sole fact that caused James’ life to take somewhat of a downward spiral, at least, in his eyes. Because before death, he had it all.
A fine ship, a team of soldiers and battle-hardened warriors that he could place his trust in, completely, friends, a clear mind, and one goal. To stop the Reapers. The Old Machines. Nazara – who was known before his – or it’s – time as –Sovereign, was only the first of what was to come. And if one of them could obliterate almost all of the Citadel fleet, the galaxy would meet a grim fate, staring down the purple plates of hundreds more. Thousands. Maybe even millions. To that end, James sought to unify the Milky Way, as it would be the only way to combat the threat of dark space.
While he was sure the going was going to get tough, he did not think that the battle would cost him his life. At least, not so soon.
Regretfully, he had to thank The Illusive Man, for that.
But the thoughts of the past where not to be concerned of. Not now. This was the present. And in the present, everything was reversed. The small, exceptional ship became a great, large ship, housing twice the population its previous adaption had harbored. A team of soldiers and warriors became that of mercenaries, extremists, and criminals, all of which gave him the notion to look over his shoulder, whenever he’d pass them by. In place of a clear mind, he now had hundreds of doubts. None that he could see, and those that he could, he struggled to comprehend. In place of unity, became the mind of a survivalist. Unity was an impossible goal. Peace, Eden, and galaxy-wide utopia, even more so. Eventually, someone will get greedy, someone will come to distrust another, someone will get desperate, someone would garner a new perspective, and eventually, a war would break out. Peace only served to delay the inevitable. And James was tired of delays.
Instead, he’d scare them into helping. He’d strip down their pride, glory, and wealth, and force them to submit to his cause. To their cause. He’d tell them that, if they were not to join, that the Reapers would “eventually do to all of us, what I’m going to do to you.” If the proposal was rejected, it would be one less heat sink he’d need to carry.
“Whether you love me or hate me, you know I’m right. This entire galaxy has to work together if we want to survive the oncoming invasion. It’s going to take the strength of every known species to combat this threat, and it’s going to take extreme dedication to overcome the odds, and destroy them.”
“I’m not asking that you hold hands and skip towards the stars. I’m not asking you to make up for what you’ve done, or what your enemies did. I’m not asking you to like, love, embrace, or hold anything close. NOTHING of the sort. All I’m asking for? All I want you to do?”
“Survive.”
“Krogan! If your enemies die, who’s left to hate? The turians, salarians – all gone. There’d be no one left to fight…But there’d be no one left to cure you, either. Letting your pride get in the way of your judgement will only serve to make your extinction quicker than the rest of us, and trust me…THERE IS NO GLORY IN THAT.”
“Asari! You value peace above all else? Then why is it that you enlist as mercs? Use underhanded tactics to achieve your goal – oh make no mistake. Behind your false nobility is the revelation that you’re JUST. LIKE. US. The sooner you realize that, and stop taking a backseat to the war that’ll claim us all, the sooner we’ll be able to defeat the Reapers.”
“Salarians! You think you’re smarter than us, huh? Is that what you’re letting off? If that’s the case, YOU should be in on this fight already! Smart minds like yours should already have found the threat out, and found some way to stop it, before their plans came to fruition. The fact that you’re just as dumbfounded as the rest of them – save for ONE doctor -- serves to prove just how small of a pedestal you actually stand on. You’re smarter than us? Then PROVE it.”
“Turians! The First Contact War is OVER. I repeat: The First Contact War is OVER. We fought a fight – so what? We ALL fight wars! We ALL hate each other. But sometimes, even enemies know they have to work together. I know that. You know that, and a certain turian vigilante I know knows that. I’m not asking you to like us. You probably never will. I. Don’t. Care. But I’m man enough to admit that in this war? I can put aside my hate – if I even had it – to work with those I want to kill. The question is this: Are YOU man enough?”
“Quarians! You want to survive? First thing you need to do is STOP. FIGHTING. THE GETH. Koris spoke the truth, and I stand with him. If the others don’t like it, then so be it. But regardless of whether you do or don’t, they ATTACKED…Because YOU tried to kill them! If you keep us this war, you’ll die before you can ever call a world your own. You’ll die, and the geth will rebuild, simply because they CAN. And death to one race favors NO ONE. Not you, not the geth. Not the krogan, not the asari. Not the turians, salarians, humans. And most of all, NOT ME.”
“And don’t think I’m leaving out the humans just because I’m one of them. We’re so hell-bent on proving that we’re better than all of you – we have an extremist organization to compensate that. But if you think that group accounts for all of us? If you think we hate you? If we think we’re better than you..Wait until you see what we do to ourselves. I know a former Cerberus operative that willingly adhered to all of Cerberus’ actions – even if they crossed the line. And anyone who didn’t were subject to being ridiculed – even the experiments. The experiments who’ve been wronged, time, and time, and time again. To my knowledge, there are only FOUR humans who joined to make a difference, but were under no illusions to the true nature of the organization they followed. FOUR. THAT IS EXTREMELY PATHETIC. We humans need to band together, and stop this…THING that we’re doing. It’s helping NO ONE, and it’s going to get us KILLED.”
“You all may not think that this needs to be done, but unlike the rest of you, I’m a realist. Ignorance is bliss up until it gets you killed. If you want to die, then by all means, walk out that ****ing door! But if you want to live? If you want to find glory, if you want peace, if you want to prove intelligence, if you want to bury the hatchet, if you want to build a house on the homeworld, and if you want to prove that your presence in this damn galaxy actually ****ing MEANS something!? Then help me stop the Reapers. Because if we all end up dead…NONE of us will get what we want.”
“And that..Is being real.”
It was amazing, to James. The speeches he could pull together, in the spur of the moment. But everything he said – or rather, thought – was something he’d need to hold off until, by some random moment, all of those species ended up together. For now, a different speech had to be done. Shortly after his arrival, he was called upon by Lori to make a speech that would rouse the newcomers – and some old faces – of the colony they lived on. James stood upon the edge of the stage, his eyes scanning over the dozens of men, women and children that gathered to lay eyes upon their resident hero.
He would begin to speak.
“My name is James Shepard…And I am the son of Mindoir.”
_8:15, P.M. _
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“Lady, that is your 75th shot of liquor – you need to give it a rest!”
“**** you, bar boy. Hit me again.”
Jack sat upon an elevated bar stool, her right hand wrapped around the make of an empty glass cup. Red lipstick stained two sides of its rim, and a crack formed between them both; the result of the current force of the grip she applied to it. Dark brown hues glared at the pattern of the table she sat at. The dark forms of it looked more like tiger stripes, than anything else.
“I’m cutting you off. ‘Sides, you haven’t paid for any of those drinks, to begin with.”
“Put it on my ****ing tab.” Jack had said, looking up the man’s chest. Eyes would narrow to slits, in an attempt to read the tag that had been stapled onto the fabric of his clothing. “Dorian, huh?” Jack said, now looking up to see just who she was talking to. The man had a cocky build, and an uncolored rose, chained by barbed wire, had been tattooed across the side of his neck. He was old – probably in his late 40’s – but sported a full head of hair, with no gray streak tainting the natural, light brown color of its strands. His eyes were the same as hers; dark brown. But behind his eyes were nothing but simple dedication. To his job, apparently.
“You said it was thirty?” Jack continued, pushing the glass towards him. “Hit me up with ale. Think I’ll tie it up.”
“Drink anymore, and you won’t be able to get home.” Dorian replied.
“****, I don’t even have one. All the better right?”
“And you said you were paying?”
“Yep.”
“But at the same time, you admit that you don’t have a home?”
“I’m here with somebody.”
“And who would that be?”
“Proddy little ****er, aren’t you?”
“I am when I’m concerned about my job.”
Jack snorted, and motioned her hand toward the glass she passed to him. “Don’t worry about creds – it’s coming. Just keep pouring the damn drinks.” Dorian shook his head, and reached for a bottle of ale. “You’d better be telling the truth – I’m not getting fired, over this.”
As Jack awaited her next shot, a group of men had walked into the lounge conversing loudly about women, and how they ****ed them every which way. Seemed like a game of one-upmanship. Out of curiousity, Jack’s eyes had scrolled over to the event, watching as the men took their places at next to the door, hounding each and every female that came their way.
“Aw, ****.” Dorian had said, whilst finishing. “Those damn kids…”
“You know ‘em?”
“I could write a book about ‘em, girl.” Dorian had set the glass to the side, and crossed his forearms together, resting them against the counter. “Long story short, they’re just goddamned bullies with hormones bigger than a krogan’s hump. Typical highschool jocks – you don’t want to get involved with them.”
“Vice versa.” Jack replied.
“What?”
“Vice versa. They don’t want to get involved with ME.”
“Yeah? You keep looking their way, they’re gonna find out.” Dorian’s knuckles had tapped the counter, alerting Jack, and causing her to turn to him. “Your drink’s ready.”
One of the ‘jocks’, a young, tall, well built man in his early 20’s, had caught the sight of Jack grabbing the bottle of ale – rather than the glass, and chugging it in its entirety. He had blond hair, wild and shaggy, and sported a jaw strapped goatee. He wore a jersey – like the rest of the crew – unknowingly supporting his status as a typical jock. But he was more concerned about the guy drinking the bar out of business. As if he owned the bar, himself. He’d push off the wall, moving past his comrades, to head for the counter. Jack had just gotten finished drinking the ale, smacking the bottom against the counter, when he leaned on the side of the counter, attempting to get a good look at the person doing it.
“You see, Dory? This is the kind of shenanigans that I don’t allow, in my bar.” He’d say, looking to Dorian.
“You need to head back to your people, Eric.” Dorian replied. “We don’t need anymore trouble than we’ve already got, out of you.”
“I’m not the one causing trouble.” Eric would reply, pointing to Jack. “This little gu—I’m sorry, lady here’s running you out of business, as we speak, and you’re telling me not to cause trouble? No wonder the governor won’t hire you.” He laughed, and then looked towards Jack. Or rather, her lack of hair. Brows furrowed, and a disgusted look would follow. She could feel him eyeing her, and she knew what he was doing.
“Enjoying yourself?” Jack asked, eyes still on the bottle.
“Not..Really.” Eric replied. “You..Might have just ruined my night – does this girl even live here?”
“My name is Jack.”
“Jack?” Eric had said, laughing before her name even slipped from his mouth. As this was going on, another man would enter the bar. He had an shaved head, and scruff across his face; all of a brownish color. He had an athletic build, and looked to be in his early thirties. He pushed past Eric’s crew, and took a seat at the counter, on the far side of Jack’s right.
“Eric. Seriously. Go home.” Dorian had said, sternly. Eric had dismissed his warnings, and continued his talk.
“Seriously, this is a ****ing ******, if I EVER saw one. Look at her. Tattoos up her bald damn head, AND your name is Jack? Where’re your parents? Do they even like you, anymore?”
“If you want to fight, maybe you should just ****ing say so.”
And then the lounge had gotten quiet. Eric’s crew had looked towards her, as did the man to her far right. Dorian had shaken his head, and moved to the opposite side of the counter, to try and prevent the fight before it started.
“C’mon, now. Nobody needs to get hurt.” He pleaded.
“You heard Jack.” Eric had said. “She wants a fight. And I never say no to women. BOYS!”
At that, the crew had come to surround her and Dorian, who had jumped into it, to try and defend her. As the men drew closer, Jack had leapt from her seat, and pushed past the bartender, getting into stance to fight. “I don’t need your help.” She’d say to Dorian, who stood with her, nonetheless. “Wasn’t helping you.” He’d say, jokingly.
“Heh..Proddy little ****er, aren’t you.”
“I am when I’m concerned about my job.”
The men were only a few inches from striking distance. In that moment, Jack had remembered something. She’d remembered why she was here – and more importantly, who she came with. ‘****…Can’t kill these ****ers.’ She thought. ‘But at least I can send ‘em home with just a few bruises.’ It was time to act. One man was about to take a swing at the biotic…
But was knocked unconscious from the empty bottle of ale being shattered across the back of his head.
When the men turned, they laid eyes upon the assailant. The man with the shaved head had stood behind him, the barrel of the bottle being the only thing gripped, in his right hand. It was evident that he was getting in.
“**** you waiting for?” Jack had shouted, with a grin across her face.
“Let’s get this **** started.”
_9:40, P.M. _
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“Great speech.” One would say.
“It’s an honor, having you here.” Said another.
James had been stationed at the entrance/exit of the ballroom he’d gave his speech in. It was as he expected. Drinks and classy food. The occasional meeting the higher powers. Conversing with said higher powers. Mingling with the guest in overall. Taking about war, and the consequences. And whether or not James felt ashamed of what he had and had not done, during his career, in the Alliance. The last made him want to punch out anyone within arm’s reach. But any soldier would have felt the same, discharged, or not.
When the last of the population was escorted from the building, James had moved to the now empty ballroom. He took a seat at one of the tables, yet to be washed, and the dishes yet to be retrieved. He’d unfasten the collar of his jacket and shirt, and had gave a relaxing sigh. ‘It’s over.’ he thought.
“Shepard?” A familiar voice would call. When James had turned, his eyes met with Lori’s, standing three tables away.
She, too, sported an athletic build, and lightly toned muscles – something unnoticeable, behind the suits she often wore, but she was now wearing a beige dress, with heels to match. Her height was just a few inches away from matching James’, as were the other women he’d meet. She had a tanned complexion – though it was very light – which complimented her light brown hair, that went down to the ends of her shoulder blades. Her most noticeable feature – like a certain person he’d been involved with – was her eyes, with had been icy blue – the same as his. She’d wore expensive jewelry – of course -- with diamond loop earrings, and a small cross, around her neck. He didn’t much care for it. It reminded him of Miranda, in some way.
Luckily, Lori was nothing like her.
“Sorry if I’m bothering you. Just wanted to make sure you were good.” Lori had said, apparently believing he wanted to be left alone. James was quick to reassure her. “No, it’s okay. I mean, the party, yeah – I’m glad that’s over.” He’d say, with a laugh. “But I’m good.” James had cocked his head over to the side, pointing to the chair sitting on the other side of the table he had been sitting her. “Why don’t you come sit down? Must be tired, directing the party, and all.”
“Ah, no. I mean, I need to get—“
“A few minutes to yourself won’t kill anyone. C’mon.”
After a small stream of thought, Lori decided to take him up on his offer, closing in the distance to take a seat, beside him.
“Okay,” Lori had said. “But I can only be a minute. They need me, back at the office.”
“I won’t take up too much of your time.” James replied, shaking his head, while doing so. “You said you went to high school with me?”
“Well, yeah. But we didn’t talk.” Lori had said, shrugging. “It was more like…Well..”
“You just knew my face?”
“Yeah, that’s it.”
“So what classes did you take?”
“Eh…Art, mostly. The others were just the same. Basic stuff. Didn’t prepare me for this, though.”
“You mean leading this colony?”
“Right. No one told me how to handle things, in this colony’s situation. They pretty much told me to return and rebuild. So I did. Can’t believe I made a good job of it.”
James had smiled, a bit. But before he could speak, Lori’s omni-tool began beeping. She looked towards it, sighed, and shook her head. “I’m sorry – I have to go. We can talk later.” Lori had pressed up from her seat, and turned to leave the premises. As she had been walking, James had called out to her.
“Hey!”
As if she were a prey in the forest, Lori had stopped short of the door, and quickly turned her head back to James.
“Tuesday, maybe? It’s my last day here, so..”
“…Yeah. Yeah, sure. Tuesday.” And with that, Lori had turned to leave the ballroom.
Alone, James began to relax, for whatever minutes he could garner from this moment. He knew what he’d have to do, once he had gotten home. Hopefully, when he did, Jack wouldn’t care too much about his time away, though he’d understand, if she did. In reality, he realized he wanted her to give a damn. God know he didn’t think he was prepared. Maybe he’d never be. But he could try. He had to try.
He owed her that much.
‘Alright’ James had said, to himself, getting up from the chair he’d rested upon.
‘Time to go to work.’
_10:19, P.M. _
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“THIS AIN’T OVER, ****!”
Was the last words Eric said, before he turned tail, and ran, along with the rest of his crew. It had been a while, since then. And during that time, Jack had done the unthinkable.
She made friends.
The three of them, Jack, Dorian, and the Man with the Shaved Head, had all been sitting at the counter – though Dorian had done so, on the reverse side; he was still the bartender. Glasses were raised high, as the three had gone through their 30th drink, and Jack’s 105th.
“Cheers!” The biotic had said, right before downing the glass, in one drink. The others had done so as well, but were distracted by Jack’s grip on her drunkenness that they were unable to complete the task as quickly as she did.
“That’s the 15th time you’ve said that, Jack.” Dorian had said, placing his glass towards the sink behind the counter. “You’re really that ecstatic about sending those kids running?”
“Hell yes. Good for relieving stress, y’know? Plus, those ****ers’ll think twice, before they try that ****, again.” Jack had motioned her hand towards her glass, but Dorian shook his head. “We’re all out.”
“****, already?”
“You’re surprised all our alcohol’s gone?”
Must’ve been a short ****ing supply.”
“Well, either that…Or some girl drank everything the store had. Don’t know which is which.”
Dorian had looked to the clock, behind him, and suddenly realized that the lounge was past its closing time. At least, for today. “Ah, hell.” He’d say, moving towards a door leading to an empty office. “I gotta close shop. You two need to pay up, by the time I get back, you hear?” With that, Dorian had made his way into the office, closing the door behind him.
As if on cue, the Man with the Shaved Head began to speak.
“So your name is Jack, right?”
She’d nod. “Yep.”
“Funny. I mean, you look like this one person. Was a bit of a wild card, too. Believed she got locked up on Purgatory, a while back. Heard it’s gone, now.”
“News slips fast, huh?” Jack had said, stretching her arms, and yawning. “Reason I look like her? Is ‘cause I AM her.”
“No ****?”
“Anything in that report mention something about a ‘dangerous biotic’?”
“Yeah, why?”
As a demonstration, Jack had become surrounded in dark energy, erupting from her skin like flames from wood. She turned her gaze to one of the bottles in the rack, past where Dorian had once been sitting, and pulled it into her grasp. The bottle clinked, once inside her grip, followed by a short splash.
“Goddamned liar.” Jack had said, popping the cap off of the bottle to take a swig of the newfound alcohol. The entire display left the man’s mouth agape.
“Nice.” Had been all he said.
“Glu y thn so.” Jack’s mouth had been full of alcohol, evident when the words she spoke were unable to be deciphered, even by the most efficient.
“Come again?” The man had said, to which Jack had swallowed the drink, finishing off any remaining alcohol the lounge had.
“I said, I’m glad you think so.”
Jack had sat the bottle against the counter, and belched as loud as she possibly could.
“****.” Jack had cleared her throat, afterwards. While she had done so, the man had checked his watch, and, upon a startling realization, had leapt off of his own seat. He then had tapped into his omni-tool, to write in his payment to the console, at the corner of the desk. After which, he moved to head out the door. Jack had spun, on her barstool, to catch him going, and called after him.
“Where you goin?”
“Ah.” The man had stopped, rubbing his chin. “I was supposed to find somebody here. Can’t wait on them, any longer, so I’m heading out. The shuttle off world leaves, in a about a half hour.”
“And we were just getting along.”
“Sorry I have to cut this short. Hey, I plan on coming back, so if you’re still here? Maybe we could chat, sometime.”
“Yeah, sure.” Jack had said, smirking. The man had nodded, and had exited the lounge before Jack had gotten the chance to ask for his name. In the current silence, Jack had pondered about today’s events. She’d drained a bar’s entire supply of alcohol, and damn near ate all there was to eat. There had been a stack of porcelain plates near the sink to verify that. She had a good fight against a couple of weak little ****es, and made a few friends, along the way. And now, and from here on in, She’d have Shepard all to herself.
Shepard…
“OH ****!” He must have been home, by now. Jack had tapped into her omni-tool, writing the payment from Shepard’s account, and had moved to exit the door. Didn’t bother to close it.
The screen on which the history of payment had been listed had a severe lag to it. As such, the information needed for the cashier to collect the lounge’s due did not show up until after 3 minutes time, depending on the moment the information was received.
The lag had temporarily fixed itself the minute Jack had written out her payment. By random, her information had come up, first.
At the bottom of the screen, two names were seen.
One had been James Shepard.
The other…
Randolph Toombs…
.....Yep.
Here's chapter 8 of Son Of Mindoir.
_5:11, P.M. _
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“Keep fighting the good fight” was what the members told him, passerby.
“We’re proud of you.”
It was something that James barely understood. Because the hero they saw was long gone. As much as the people wanted him to be exactly as he had been, two years ago, experiencing death – and surviving it – does not welcome keeping together. It was that sole fact that caused James’ life to take somewhat of a downward spiral, at least, in his eyes. Because before death, he had it all.
A fine ship, a team of soldiers and battle-hardened warriors that he could place his trust in, completely, friends, a clear mind, and one goal. To stop the Reapers. The Old Machines. Nazara – who was known before his – or it’s – time as –Sovereign, was only the first of what was to come. And if one of them could obliterate almost all of the Citadel fleet, the galaxy would meet a grim fate, staring down the purple plates of hundreds more. Thousands. Maybe even millions. To that end, James sought to unify the Milky Way, as it would be the only way to combat the threat of dark space.
While he was sure the going was going to get tough, he did not think that the battle would cost him his life. At least, not so soon.
Regretfully, he had to thank The Illusive Man, for that.
But the thoughts of the past where not to be concerned of. Not now. This was the present. And in the present, everything was reversed. The small, exceptional ship became a great, large ship, housing twice the population its previous adaption had harbored. A team of soldiers and warriors became that of mercenaries, extremists, and criminals, all of which gave him the notion to look over his shoulder, whenever he’d pass them by. In place of a clear mind, he now had hundreds of doubts. None that he could see, and those that he could, he struggled to comprehend. In place of unity, became the mind of a survivalist. Unity was an impossible goal. Peace, Eden, and galaxy-wide utopia, even more so. Eventually, someone will get greedy, someone will come to distrust another, someone will get desperate, someone would garner a new perspective, and eventually, a war would break out. Peace only served to delay the inevitable. And James was tired of delays.
Instead, he’d scare them into helping. He’d strip down their pride, glory, and wealth, and force them to submit to his cause. To their cause. He’d tell them that, if they were not to join, that the Reapers would “eventually do to all of us, what I’m going to do to you.” If the proposal was rejected, it would be one less heat sink he’d need to carry.
“Whether you love me or hate me, you know I’m right. This entire galaxy has to work together if we want to survive the oncoming invasion. It’s going to take the strength of every known species to combat this threat, and it’s going to take extreme dedication to overcome the odds, and destroy them.”
“I’m not asking that you hold hands and skip towards the stars. I’m not asking you to make up for what you’ve done, or what your enemies did. I’m not asking you to like, love, embrace, or hold anything close. NOTHING of the sort. All I’m asking for? All I want you to do?”
“Survive.”
“Krogan! If your enemies die, who’s left to hate? The turians, salarians – all gone. There’d be no one left to fight…But there’d be no one left to cure you, either. Letting your pride get in the way of your judgement will only serve to make your extinction quicker than the rest of us, and trust me…THERE IS NO GLORY IN THAT.”
“Asari! You value peace above all else? Then why is it that you enlist as mercs? Use underhanded tactics to achieve your goal – oh make no mistake. Behind your false nobility is the revelation that you’re JUST. LIKE. US. The sooner you realize that, and stop taking a backseat to the war that’ll claim us all, the sooner we’ll be able to defeat the Reapers.”
“Salarians! You think you’re smarter than us, huh? Is that what you’re letting off? If that’s the case, YOU should be in on this fight already! Smart minds like yours should already have found the threat out, and found some way to stop it, before their plans came to fruition. The fact that you’re just as dumbfounded as the rest of them – save for ONE doctor -- serves to prove just how small of a pedestal you actually stand on. You’re smarter than us? Then PROVE it.”
“Turians! The First Contact War is OVER. I repeat: The First Contact War is OVER. We fought a fight – so what? We ALL fight wars! We ALL hate each other. But sometimes, even enemies know they have to work together. I know that. You know that, and a certain turian vigilante I know knows that. I’m not asking you to like us. You probably never will. I. Don’t. Care. But I’m man enough to admit that in this war? I can put aside my hate – if I even had it – to work with those I want to kill. The question is this: Are YOU man enough?”
“Quarians! You want to survive? First thing you need to do is STOP. FIGHTING. THE GETH. Koris spoke the truth, and I stand with him. If the others don’t like it, then so be it. But regardless of whether you do or don’t, they ATTACKED…Because YOU tried to kill them! If you keep us this war, you’ll die before you can ever call a world your own. You’ll die, and the geth will rebuild, simply because they CAN. And death to one race favors NO ONE. Not you, not the geth. Not the krogan, not the asari. Not the turians, salarians, humans. And most of all, NOT ME.”
“And don’t think I’m leaving out the humans just because I’m one of them. We’re so hell-bent on proving that we’re better than all of you – we have an extremist organization to compensate that. But if you think that group accounts for all of us? If you think we hate you? If we think we’re better than you..Wait until you see what we do to ourselves. I know a former Cerberus operative that willingly adhered to all of Cerberus’ actions – even if they crossed the line. And anyone who didn’t were subject to being ridiculed – even the experiments. The experiments who’ve been wronged, time, and time, and time again. To my knowledge, there are only FOUR humans who joined to make a difference, but were under no illusions to the true nature of the organization they followed. FOUR. THAT IS EXTREMELY PATHETIC. We humans need to band together, and stop this…THING that we’re doing. It’s helping NO ONE, and it’s going to get us KILLED.”
“You all may not think that this needs to be done, but unlike the rest of you, I’m a realist. Ignorance is bliss up until it gets you killed. If you want to die, then by all means, walk out that ****ing door! But if you want to live? If you want to find glory, if you want peace, if you want to prove intelligence, if you want to bury the hatchet, if you want to build a house on the homeworld, and if you want to prove that your presence in this damn galaxy actually ****ing MEANS something!? Then help me stop the Reapers. Because if we all end up dead…NONE of us will get what we want.”
“And that..Is being real.”
It was amazing, to James. The speeches he could pull together, in the spur of the moment. But everything he said – or rather, thought – was something he’d need to hold off until, by some random moment, all of those species ended up together. For now, a different speech had to be done. Shortly after his arrival, he was called upon by Lori to make a speech that would rouse the newcomers – and some old faces – of the colony they lived on. James stood upon the edge of the stage, his eyes scanning over the dozens of men, women and children that gathered to lay eyes upon their resident hero.
He would begin to speak.
“My name is James Shepard…And I am the son of Mindoir.”
_8:15, P.M. _
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“Lady, that is your 75th shot of liquor – you need to give it a rest!”
“**** you, bar boy. Hit me again.”
Jack sat upon an elevated bar stool, her right hand wrapped around the make of an empty glass cup. Red lipstick stained two sides of its rim, and a crack formed between them both; the result of the current force of the grip she applied to it. Dark brown hues glared at the pattern of the table she sat at. The dark forms of it looked more like tiger stripes, than anything else.
“I’m cutting you off. ‘Sides, you haven’t paid for any of those drinks, to begin with.”
“Put it on my ****ing tab.” Jack had said, looking up the man’s chest. Eyes would narrow to slits, in an attempt to read the tag that had been stapled onto the fabric of his clothing. “Dorian, huh?” Jack said, now looking up to see just who she was talking to. The man had a cocky build, and an uncolored rose, chained by barbed wire, had been tattooed across the side of his neck. He was old – probably in his late 40’s – but sported a full head of hair, with no gray streak tainting the natural, light brown color of its strands. His eyes were the same as hers; dark brown. But behind his eyes were nothing but simple dedication. To his job, apparently.
“You said it was thirty?” Jack continued, pushing the glass towards him. “Hit me up with ale. Think I’ll tie it up.”
“Drink anymore, and you won’t be able to get home.” Dorian replied.
“****, I don’t even have one. All the better right?”
“And you said you were paying?”
“Yep.”
“But at the same time, you admit that you don’t have a home?”
“I’m here with somebody.”
“And who would that be?”
“Proddy little ****er, aren’t you?”
“I am when I’m concerned about my job.”
Jack snorted, and motioned her hand toward the glass she passed to him. “Don’t worry about creds – it’s coming. Just keep pouring the damn drinks.” Dorian shook his head, and reached for a bottle of ale. “You’d better be telling the truth – I’m not getting fired, over this.”
As Jack awaited her next shot, a group of men had walked into the lounge conversing loudly about women, and how they ****ed them every which way. Seemed like a game of one-upmanship. Out of curiousity, Jack’s eyes had scrolled over to the event, watching as the men took their places at next to the door, hounding each and every female that came their way.
“Aw, ****.” Dorian had said, whilst finishing. “Those damn kids…”
“You know ‘em?”
“I could write a book about ‘em, girl.” Dorian had set the glass to the side, and crossed his forearms together, resting them against the counter. “Long story short, they’re just goddamned bullies with hormones bigger than a krogan’s hump. Typical highschool jocks – you don’t want to get involved with them.”
“Vice versa.” Jack replied.
“What?”
“Vice versa. They don’t want to get involved with ME.”
“Yeah? You keep looking their way, they’re gonna find out.” Dorian’s knuckles had tapped the counter, alerting Jack, and causing her to turn to him. “Your drink’s ready.”
One of the ‘jocks’, a young, tall, well built man in his early 20’s, had caught the sight of Jack grabbing the bottle of ale – rather than the glass, and chugging it in its entirety. He had blond hair, wild and shaggy, and sported a jaw strapped goatee. He wore a jersey – like the rest of the crew – unknowingly supporting his status as a typical jock. But he was more concerned about the guy drinking the bar out of business. As if he owned the bar, himself. He’d push off the wall, moving past his comrades, to head for the counter. Jack had just gotten finished drinking the ale, smacking the bottom against the counter, when he leaned on the side of the counter, attempting to get a good look at the person doing it.
“You see, Dory? This is the kind of shenanigans that I don’t allow, in my bar.” He’d say, looking to Dorian.
“You need to head back to your people, Eric.” Dorian replied. “We don’t need anymore trouble than we’ve already got, out of you.”
“I’m not the one causing trouble.” Eric would reply, pointing to Jack. “This little gu—I’m sorry, lady here’s running you out of business, as we speak, and you’re telling me not to cause trouble? No wonder the governor won’t hire you.” He laughed, and then looked towards Jack. Or rather, her lack of hair. Brows furrowed, and a disgusted look would follow. She could feel him eyeing her, and she knew what he was doing.
“Enjoying yourself?” Jack asked, eyes still on the bottle.
“Not..Really.” Eric replied. “You..Might have just ruined my night – does this girl even live here?”
“My name is Jack.”
“Jack?” Eric had said, laughing before her name even slipped from his mouth. As this was going on, another man would enter the bar. He had an shaved head, and scruff across his face; all of a brownish color. He had an athletic build, and looked to be in his early thirties. He pushed past Eric’s crew, and took a seat at the counter, on the far side of Jack’s right.
“Eric. Seriously. Go home.” Dorian had said, sternly. Eric had dismissed his warnings, and continued his talk.
“Seriously, this is a ****ing ******, if I EVER saw one. Look at her. Tattoos up her bald damn head, AND your name is Jack? Where’re your parents? Do they even like you, anymore?”
“If you want to fight, maybe you should just ****ing say so.”
And then the lounge had gotten quiet. Eric’s crew had looked towards her, as did the man to her far right. Dorian had shaken his head, and moved to the opposite side of the counter, to try and prevent the fight before it started.
“C’mon, now. Nobody needs to get hurt.” He pleaded.
“You heard Jack.” Eric had said. “She wants a fight. And I never say no to women. BOYS!”
At that, the crew had come to surround her and Dorian, who had jumped into it, to try and defend her. As the men drew closer, Jack had leapt from her seat, and pushed past the bartender, getting into stance to fight. “I don’t need your help.” She’d say to Dorian, who stood with her, nonetheless. “Wasn’t helping you.” He’d say, jokingly.
“Heh..Proddy little ****er, aren’t you.”
“I am when I’m concerned about my job.”
The men were only a few inches from striking distance. In that moment, Jack had remembered something. She’d remembered why she was here – and more importantly, who she came with. ‘****…Can’t kill these ****ers.’ She thought. ‘But at least I can send ‘em home with just a few bruises.’ It was time to act. One man was about to take a swing at the biotic…
But was knocked unconscious from the empty bottle of ale being shattered across the back of his head.
When the men turned, they laid eyes upon the assailant. The man with the shaved head had stood behind him, the barrel of the bottle being the only thing gripped, in his right hand. It was evident that he was getting in.
“**** you waiting for?” Jack had shouted, with a grin across her face.
“Let’s get this **** started.”
_9:40, P.M. _
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“Great speech.” One would say.
“It’s an honor, having you here.” Said another.
James had been stationed at the entrance/exit of the ballroom he’d gave his speech in. It was as he expected. Drinks and classy food. The occasional meeting the higher powers. Conversing with said higher powers. Mingling with the guest in overall. Taking about war, and the consequences. And whether or not James felt ashamed of what he had and had not done, during his career, in the Alliance. The last made him want to punch out anyone within arm’s reach. But any soldier would have felt the same, discharged, or not.
When the last of the population was escorted from the building, James had moved to the now empty ballroom. He took a seat at one of the tables, yet to be washed, and the dishes yet to be retrieved. He’d unfasten the collar of his jacket and shirt, and had gave a relaxing sigh. ‘It’s over.’ he thought.
“Shepard?” A familiar voice would call. When James had turned, his eyes met with Lori’s, standing three tables away.
She, too, sported an athletic build, and lightly toned muscles – something unnoticeable, behind the suits she often wore, but she was now wearing a beige dress, with heels to match. Her height was just a few inches away from matching James’, as were the other women he’d meet. She had a tanned complexion – though it was very light – which complimented her light brown hair, that went down to the ends of her shoulder blades. Her most noticeable feature – like a certain person he’d been involved with – was her eyes, with had been icy blue – the same as his. She’d wore expensive jewelry – of course -- with diamond loop earrings, and a small cross, around her neck. He didn’t much care for it. It reminded him of Miranda, in some way.
Luckily, Lori was nothing like her.
“Sorry if I’m bothering you. Just wanted to make sure you were good.” Lori had said, apparently believing he wanted to be left alone. James was quick to reassure her. “No, it’s okay. I mean, the party, yeah – I’m glad that’s over.” He’d say, with a laugh. “But I’m good.” James had cocked his head over to the side, pointing to the chair sitting on the other side of the table he had been sitting her. “Why don’t you come sit down? Must be tired, directing the party, and all.”
“Ah, no. I mean, I need to get—“
“A few minutes to yourself won’t kill anyone. C’mon.”
After a small stream of thought, Lori decided to take him up on his offer, closing in the distance to take a seat, beside him.
“Okay,” Lori had said. “But I can only be a minute. They need me, back at the office.”
“I won’t take up too much of your time.” James replied, shaking his head, while doing so. “You said you went to high school with me?”
“Well, yeah. But we didn’t talk.” Lori had said, shrugging. “It was more like…Well..”
“You just knew my face?”
“Yeah, that’s it.”
“So what classes did you take?”
“Eh…Art, mostly. The others were just the same. Basic stuff. Didn’t prepare me for this, though.”
“You mean leading this colony?”
“Right. No one told me how to handle things, in this colony’s situation. They pretty much told me to return and rebuild. So I did. Can’t believe I made a good job of it.”
James had smiled, a bit. But before he could speak, Lori’s omni-tool began beeping. She looked towards it, sighed, and shook her head. “I’m sorry – I have to go. We can talk later.” Lori had pressed up from her seat, and turned to leave the premises. As she had been walking, James had called out to her.
“Hey!”
As if she were a prey in the forest, Lori had stopped short of the door, and quickly turned her head back to James.
“Tuesday, maybe? It’s my last day here, so..”
“…Yeah. Yeah, sure. Tuesday.” And with that, Lori had turned to leave the ballroom.
Alone, James began to relax, for whatever minutes he could garner from this moment. He knew what he’d have to do, once he had gotten home. Hopefully, when he did, Jack wouldn’t care too much about his time away, though he’d understand, if she did. In reality, he realized he wanted her to give a damn. God know he didn’t think he was prepared. Maybe he’d never be. But he could try. He had to try.
He owed her that much.
‘Alright’ James had said, to himself, getting up from the chair he’d rested upon.
‘Time to go to work.’
_10:19, P.M. _
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“THIS AIN’T OVER, ****!”
Was the last words Eric said, before he turned tail, and ran, along with the rest of his crew. It had been a while, since then. And during that time, Jack had done the unthinkable.
She made friends.
The three of them, Jack, Dorian, and the Man with the Shaved Head, had all been sitting at the counter – though Dorian had done so, on the reverse side; he was still the bartender. Glasses were raised high, as the three had gone through their 30th drink, and Jack’s 105th.
“Cheers!” The biotic had said, right before downing the glass, in one drink. The others had done so as well, but were distracted by Jack’s grip on her drunkenness that they were unable to complete the task as quickly as she did.
“That’s the 15th time you’ve said that, Jack.” Dorian had said, placing his glass towards the sink behind the counter. “You’re really that ecstatic about sending those kids running?”
“Hell yes. Good for relieving stress, y’know? Plus, those ****ers’ll think twice, before they try that ****, again.” Jack had motioned her hand towards her glass, but Dorian shook his head. “We’re all out.”
“****, already?”
“You’re surprised all our alcohol’s gone?”
Must’ve been a short ****ing supply.”
“Well, either that…Or some girl drank everything the store had. Don’t know which is which.”
Dorian had looked to the clock, behind him, and suddenly realized that the lounge was past its closing time. At least, for today. “Ah, hell.” He’d say, moving towards a door leading to an empty office. “I gotta close shop. You two need to pay up, by the time I get back, you hear?” With that, Dorian had made his way into the office, closing the door behind him.
As if on cue, the Man with the Shaved Head began to speak.
“So your name is Jack, right?”
She’d nod. “Yep.”
“Funny. I mean, you look like this one person. Was a bit of a wild card, too. Believed she got locked up on Purgatory, a while back. Heard it’s gone, now.”
“News slips fast, huh?” Jack had said, stretching her arms, and yawning. “Reason I look like her? Is ‘cause I AM her.”
“No ****?”
“Anything in that report mention something about a ‘dangerous biotic’?”
“Yeah, why?”
As a demonstration, Jack had become surrounded in dark energy, erupting from her skin like flames from wood. She turned her gaze to one of the bottles in the rack, past where Dorian had once been sitting, and pulled it into her grasp. The bottle clinked, once inside her grip, followed by a short splash.
“Goddamned liar.” Jack had said, popping the cap off of the bottle to take a swig of the newfound alcohol. The entire display left the man’s mouth agape.
“Nice.” Had been all he said.
“Glu y thn so.” Jack’s mouth had been full of alcohol, evident when the words she spoke were unable to be deciphered, even by the most efficient.
“Come again?” The man had said, to which Jack had swallowed the drink, finishing off any remaining alcohol the lounge had.
“I said, I’m glad you think so.”
Jack had sat the bottle against the counter, and belched as loud as she possibly could.
“****.” Jack had cleared her throat, afterwards. While she had done so, the man had checked his watch, and, upon a startling realization, had leapt off of his own seat. He then had tapped into his omni-tool, to write in his payment to the console, at the corner of the desk. After which, he moved to head out the door. Jack had spun, on her barstool, to catch him going, and called after him.
“Where you goin?”
“Ah.” The man had stopped, rubbing his chin. “I was supposed to find somebody here. Can’t wait on them, any longer, so I’m heading out. The shuttle off world leaves, in a about a half hour.”
“And we were just getting along.”
“Sorry I have to cut this short. Hey, I plan on coming back, so if you’re still here? Maybe we could chat, sometime.”
“Yeah, sure.” Jack had said, smirking. The man had nodded, and had exited the lounge before Jack had gotten the chance to ask for his name. In the current silence, Jack had pondered about today’s events. She’d drained a bar’s entire supply of alcohol, and damn near ate all there was to eat. There had been a stack of porcelain plates near the sink to verify that. She had a good fight against a couple of weak little ****es, and made a few friends, along the way. And now, and from here on in, She’d have Shepard all to herself.
Shepard…
“OH ****!” He must have been home, by now. Jack had tapped into her omni-tool, writing the payment from Shepard’s account, and had moved to exit the door. Didn’t bother to close it.
The screen on which the history of payment had been listed had a severe lag to it. As such, the information needed for the cashier to collect the lounge’s due did not show up until after 3 minutes time, depending on the moment the information was received.
The lag had temporarily fixed itself the minute Jack had written out her payment. By random, her information had come up, first.
At the bottom of the screen, two names were seen.
One had been James Shepard.
The other…
Randolph Toombs…
#13755
Posté 29 août 2010 - 10:08
Errol Dnamyx
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Mondo47 wrote...
*snip*
But, say the naysayers, everyone can die, even Shepard! So there's the potentiality for ME3 to have a new hero. If Shep didn't make it, no-one else made it either, other than Joker. Joker isn't really likely to make it through the third episode as a hero short of someone curing his brittle bones or giving him Earthworm Jim's super-suit. Soooo, this means entirely new hero? Possibly. The Virmire survivor might make a more poigniant person to fill Shep's boots ("Shepard didn't survive, but you were there at the Battle of the Citadel - no-one else alive is more prepared for the fight to come") than some complete stranger.
Interesting poast, but there are two points that I need to comment on.
1. There is no need for a replacement hero, because if Shepard died during the Omega4 mission, there is no way to use that file in ME3 and those that start a new default game for ME3 will begin with a default Shepard, who obviously survived the suicide mission.
2. You´ve called Ash a **** and that made me a bit angry at first. But it´s okay, at least she got pretty hair.
Good day, ma´am. *tips hat*
#13756
Posté 29 août 2010 - 11:42
Mondo47
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Errol Dnamyx wrote...
There is no need for a replacement hero, because if Shepard died during the Omega4 mission, there is no way to use that file in ME3 and those that start a new default game for ME3 will begin with a default Shepard, who obviously survived the suicide mission.
That's interesting - I've never read it that way... you know, the idea that you can't install info from ME2 to ME3 if Shep dies (and it does say on the loading screen crawler "Import your savegames into Mass Effect 3 - if you survive..." - emphasis on the word 'if' there). I've always held the interpretation that if Shep dies someone else will become the lead in the third episode. Seems an awful lot of people also read it that way, too, going on the various threads here debating it or suggesting who could step into Shepard's sizable boots. I guess there is no way to be sure until the bigwigs yay or nay in either direction.
Something to think about, as Mordin would say... anyways, back to the reason we come here -
(yeah, I took another screenie, about a fraction of a second after the other one...)
#13757
Posté 29 août 2010 - 11:44
Collider
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I think it would be rather silly for us to spend ME2 recruiting and gaining the loyalty of the squad mates but not have any of them on the team for the third game. I'm confident the love interests will return. Casey Hudson pretty much speaks about Jack as his baby.
#13758
Posté 29 août 2010 - 11:48
Mondo47
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Oh, I just made a new toy for use when someone starts espousing their theories as watertight - please feel free to use it yourselves, because I'm gonna have a field-day with this
#13759
Posté 29 août 2010 - 11:55
Collider
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Pfft, I'll claim my theories to be infallible all I want
When I'm in formal debates, I'm very particular about what I say is definitely true or false. On forums like these I'm far more relaxed about it, hardly anyone gets uptight.
When I'm in formal debates, I'm very particular about what I say is definitely true or false. On forums like these I'm far more relaxed about it, hardly anyone gets uptight.
#13760
Posté 29 août 2010 - 12:08
Errol Dnamyx
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Collider wrote...
I think it would be rather silly for us to spend ME2 recruiting and gaining the loyalty of the squad mates but not have any of them on the team for the third game. I'm confident the love interests will return. Casey Hudson pretty much speaks about Jack as his baby.
Hudson also said the planet scanning minigame was well received. : /
Modifié par Errol Dnamyx, 29 août 2010 - 12:32 .
#13761
Posté 29 août 2010 - 12:10
Collider
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That's him being misinformed. Him liking Jack isn't quite the same.Errol Dnamyx wrote...
Collider wrote...
I think it would be rather silly for us to spend ME2 recruiting and gaining the loyalty of the squad mates but not have any of them on the team for the third game. I'm confident the love interests will return. Casey Hudson pretty much speaks about Jack as his baby.
Hudson also said, the planet scanning minigame was well received. : /
Modifié par Collider, 29 août 2010 - 12:11 .
#13762
Posté 29 août 2010 - 12:12
royceclemens
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Mondo47 wrote...
Errol Dnamyx wrote...
There is no need for a replacement hero, because if Shepard died during the Omega4 mission, there is no way to use that file in ME3 and those that start a new default game for ME3 will begin with a default Shepard, who obviously survived the suicide mission.
That's interesting - I've never read it that way... you know, the idea that you can't install info from ME2 to ME3 if Shep dies (and it does say on the loading screen crawler "Import your savegames into Mass Effect 3 - if you survive..." - emphasis on the word 'if' there). I've always held the interpretation that if Shep dies someone else will become the lead in the third episode. Seems an awful lot of people also read it that way, too, going on the various threads here debating it or suggesting who could step into Shepard's sizable boots. I guess there is no way to be sure until the bigwigs yay or nay in either direction.
Ehh, self-imposed exile can eat a fat one.
Adding more fuel is the fact that DA isn't a trilogy. One of the BW docs (I think it was Zeschuck) said that they're gonna make DA games as long as people are willing to buy them. Hitching your wagon to one character, in light of that, is rather silly. Furthermore, DA2 takes ten years after DA:O, so unless there are lethal amounts of mercury in Ferelden's water that reduces life-expectancy to thirty, it isn't written in stone that the DA squaddies won't come back. Not saying they will, but I am saying that we haven't even seen anything outside a pre-rendered trailer and a couple of screenshots, so nobody knows nuthin'.
On the other side of the coin, ME is a trilogy and hitching your wagon to one character is kinda the point. In light of that, I think we can see most of them back. And if some of them are coming back, Jack is one of them.
So be cool, dammit.
#13763
Posté 29 août 2010 - 12:18
Collider
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One of the strengths of Dragon Age is that there is a lot of material. A lot of lore - quite possibly more than the Mass Effect series has thus offered. In some strange way, the Dragon Age world feels larger than the Mass Effect "world."
One of the things I find strange about people getting riled up about not being able to play as the Warden in DA2 is Dragon Age: Origins, before it was released and before Awakenings was announced, was never even said to be able to be imported into other games. Yet there's this outcry.
Expanding a bit on what Royce said - Bioware does want to make Dragon Age an expansive series. Using the same protagonist over and over and importing and importing for the entire series is simply not going to work as well as bringing in new PCs.
Oh, and, uh, Jack is cool.
One of the things I find strange about people getting riled up about not being able to play as the Warden in DA2 is Dragon Age: Origins, before it was released and before Awakenings was announced, was never even said to be able to be imported into other games. Yet there's this outcry.
Expanding a bit on what Royce said - Bioware does want to make Dragon Age an expansive series. Using the same protagonist over and over and importing and importing for the entire series is simply not going to work as well as bringing in new PCs.
Oh, and, uh, Jack is cool.
Modifié par Collider, 29 août 2010 - 12:19 .
#13764
Posté 29 août 2010 - 12:26
Mondo47
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I'm just happy Royce is back! His rational mind has been gone too long :happy:
Modifié par Mondo47, 29 août 2010 - 12:27 .
#13765
Posté 29 août 2010 - 12:41
royceclemens
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And it's good to be back, hopefully in a full time position. Alas, though, I hate to be the guy who comes in and drops something as silly as a poll on you but...
http://social.biowar...70/polls/10149/
Think I should spread it around to the other threads as well?
But back to Jackery...
-Nice fics, Mondo.
-We post about Miranda in the Jack thread because they're idealogical opposites. Yin and Yang. We cannot fully appreciate one without the other. They're both escaped experiments on the run from their pasts... That being said, I refuse to be diplomatic and will plainly state that I do, in fact, hate Miranda.
-Why is every other post in the JACK thread written by people without shirts on?
http://social.biowar...70/polls/10149/
Think I should spread it around to the other threads as well?
But back to Jackery...
-Nice fics, Mondo.
-We post about Miranda in the Jack thread because they're idealogical opposites. Yin and Yang. We cannot fully appreciate one without the other. They're both escaped experiments on the run from their pasts... That being said, I refuse to be diplomatic and will plainly state that I do, in fact, hate Miranda.
-Why is every other post in the JACK thread written by people without shirts on?
Modifié par royceclemens, 29 août 2010 - 12:46 .
#13766
Guest_yorkj86_*
Posté 29 août 2010 - 01:08
Guest_yorkj86_*
Guest_yorkj86_*
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Hey, look, royce is back. Hi, royce.
#13767
Posté 29 août 2010 - 01:09
stormrain
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Hmm, I knew I was getting those Final Fantasy vibes from somewhere. Just think, in a few years time we'll have DA7.royceclemens wrote...
Adding more fuel is the fact that DA isn't a trilogy. One of the BW docs (I think it was Zeschuck) said that they're gonna make DA games as long as people are willing to buy them. Hitching your wagon to one character, in light of that, is rather silly. Furthermore, DA2 takes ten years after DA:O, so unless there are lethal amounts of mercury in Ferelden's water that reduces life-expectancy to thirty, it isn't written in stone that the DA squaddies won't come back. Not saying they will, but I am saying that we haven't even seen anything outside a pre-rendered trailer and a couple of screenshots, so nobody knows nuthin'.
Just kidding, if Dragon Age ever does go as far as the Final Fantasy series, I think it has enough lore and world building to make it work (and stay consistant), where as Square Enix just likes to make new **** up for each title.Wait. Jack thread. Must talk about Jack.
Oh, and welcome back royce. It's gonna be just like old times!
#13768
Posté 29 août 2010 - 01:11
Epantiras
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Do you want to know the TRUE TRUTH about ME3 and whether the ME2 squadmates will be back or not?
THE TRUE TRUTH IS THAT...
even Bioware doesn't know what to do XD I bet my pants that they have no idea about how to handle the spectacular popularity of the ME2 squadmates and the nearly infinite combinations of who lives and who dies.
The TRUE TRUTH is also that whenever I bet my pants on what Bioware will do, I lose. I predicted that Morrigan was the bi-chick, and failed. I predicted the same about Jack, and failed miserably. I'm ready to fail this time too ;-)
And I DO have my shirt on guys, I don't want to catch a cold!
THE TRUE TRUTH IS THAT...
even Bioware doesn't know what to do XD I bet my pants that they have no idea about how to handle the spectacular popularity of the ME2 squadmates and the nearly infinite combinations of who lives and who dies.
The TRUE TRUTH is also that whenever I bet my pants on what Bioware will do, I lose. I predicted that Morrigan was the bi-chick, and failed. I predicted the same about Jack, and failed miserably. I'm ready to fail this time too ;-)
And I DO have my shirt on guys, I don't want to catch a cold!
#13769
Guest_yorkj86_*
Posté 29 août 2010 - 02:09
Guest_yorkj86_*
Guest_yorkj86_*
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What did you think when you found out the "bi-chick" was Leliana, Epantiras?
#13770
Posté 29 août 2010 - 04:24
tommyt_1994
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I actually saw in a vid on youtube one of the devs flat out say that if Shep dies, then that file cannot be imported into ME3. The dev said it was Shep's story and you must survive the suicide mission to continue. I don't remember which video it was, I saw it ages ago, shortly after the game's release I believe.Mondo47 wrote...
Errol Dnamyx wrote...
There is no need for a replacement hero, because if Shepard died during the Omega4 mission, there is no way to use that file in ME3 and those that start a new default game for ME3 will begin with a default Shepard, who obviously survived the suicide mission.
That's interesting - I've never read it that way... you know, the idea that you can't install info from ME2 to ME3 if Shep dies (and it does say on the loading screen crawler "Import your savegames into Mass Effect 3 - if you survive..." - emphasis on the word 'if' there). I've always held the interpretation that if Shep dies someone else will become the lead in the third episode. Seems an awful lot of people also read it that way, too, going on the various threads here debating it or suggesting who could step into Shepard's sizable boots. I guess there is no way to be sure until the bigwigs yay or nay in either direction.
#13771
Guest_JohnnyDollar_*
Posté 29 août 2010 - 04:35
Guest_JohnnyDollar_*
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*saves*Mondo47 wrote...
(yeah, I took another screenie, about a fraction of a second after the other one...)
Another great one Mondo. I'm not sure which one is better. This one has her face slightly turned more to her left. An excellent screenshot of Jack, imo.I haven't recorded video of this scene yet, but I will.
Modifié par JohnnyDollar, 29 août 2010 - 04:37 .
#13772
Posté 29 août 2010 - 08:45
Shadow555r
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Nice fanfic Sundown. Really enjoyed it.
#13773
Posté 29 août 2010 - 09:14
Epantiras
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yorkj86 wrote...
What did you think when you found out the "bi-chick" was Leliana, Epantiras?
tommyt_1994 wrote...
I actually saw in a vid on youtube
one of the devs flat out say that if Shep dies, then that file cannot be
imported into ME3. The dev said it was Shep's story and you must
survive the suicide mission to continue. I don't remember which video it
was, I saw it ages ago, shortly after the game's release I believe.
I remember the same, I think it was one of the "presentation" vids, right after they showed Thane and Grunt for the first time
Modifié par Epantiras, 29 août 2010 - 09:19 .
#13774
Guest_JohnnyDollar_*
Posté 29 août 2010 - 09:37
Guest_JohnnyDollar_*
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Couple of screenies that I just took. I've uploaded the top one several times, but not in this resolution.
#13775
Guest_Sundown Native_*
Posté 29 août 2010 - 09:40
Guest_Sundown Native_*
Guest_Sundown Native_*
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OK, I have to ask.
How many of you have this game on PC?
These high-res pictures are making me jealous. I feel like throwing a chair, and seeing if others'll immedieately share my pain.
How many of you have this game on PC?
These high-res pictures are making me jealous. I feel like throwing a chair, and seeing if others'll immedieately share my pain.
Modifié par Sundown Native, 29 août 2010 - 09:46 .
