Lord_Thorne
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Posts posted by Lord_Thorne
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Bi-faction guilds? I don't think that's necessary. The (very large) guild I'm in has mirror guilds on both sides, and I think keeping such a thing organized would be a headache. Not to mention they would have to seriously raise the member limit for it to be attractive to large guilds.
Ability to visit cross-faction guild strongholds and ships? It would be nice for certain RP interactions, and for Rishi PVP matches. Given that most personal SH can choose to allow visitors from either or both sides, it would be nice to extend that option to guilds.
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All three in the OP are pretty good ideas:
Space Station: Definitely with a special view, like a pulsar or even a flowing nebula. The sky on Ilum, or the mini-galaxy on Rishi, only more so.
Spira: Two thoughts on this: I'd pay CC for a base on a tropical beach like the Rakata FP (I really like the RIshi SH, but the scenery pales to Rakata). Frankly, if they just took the Rakata FP beach area and turned it into a stronghold, I'd be happy as a space clam.
Also, after running through the HK55 special, with its underwater section, I was hoping they would incorporate that. Still disappointed we don't have an actual underwater area we can decorate *and* walk around in.
Space Cruiser: Yep, a personal flagship would be a nice change of pace. Moving a guild ship is fun by itself, and being able to do that without the big expense, and not having to deal with guildies to do it? Yes, please.
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By my one-time run-through (10/12 so far) the Onderon daily missions seem to work fine as a general thing. Listed here are really just quibbles. (Bytheway, I kinda like multi-day weeklies like Iokath - but it seems to be one of the many things in which I'm in a distinct minority, looking at the amount of whining/complaining I see in-game and out of it.*shrug*)
The missions were clear enough; specific mechanics were simple enough to figure out with a few minutes' headscratch and/or random clicking, at most. The map locator worked fine.
The first time I wanted to use a lure, I had to track it down in inventory. After doing this a couple times, it started appearing as a clickable in the mission tracker.
I out-clevered myself by trying to find a platforming route to the rooftop fight. I still think the route I figured out would have worked if it hadn't been for that glass wall. Only after hitting that did I look for and find the big freakin' ladder...
It worked fine after that.Ran into the same problem others have mentioned with the Collector sequence: in my case it was Kith's saber that I found and couldn't click. You'd think with only three others on the planet, cooldown wouldn't be an issue, but if that's what it is, that's extremely frustrating. Plus some of the items are really a strain for these old eyes to pick out. It would help if I had some freakin' clue as to what these things look like (for example, the exoskeleton: I haven't found it, is it in a box? A pile of folded-up exoskeleton pieces? A fully assembled exosuit?). I suppose that's supposed to be part of the "fun," but...
Nothing really to do with dailies testing, but: med droids, more numerous hostile mobs, crafting nodes, blablabla. I'm sure all that will be added in for release.
The only other comment that comes to mind right now is that it would be nice to see rewards besides credits and renown; again, not a thing about dailies testing, but thought I would kick that in. Rep items (will there be Onderon rep?), maybe some minor drops or something.
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Echoing a lot of what's already been said:
* Mat prices are too steep - 200 scrap? Seriously!? Maybe more like 20, eh?
* Not nearly enough nodes on Ossus - they seem to work fine, but way too restrictive a harvest to provide more than a curiosity.
* Storage window: really needs to show grade and color of mats.
Minor bug: the grade 11 color crystals aren't going into storage,e ven when I drag them there.
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WHAT? There's actually one other person who likes Iokath? I...I feel faint *fans self*I personally quite enjoy Iokath. Map layout is fine when you get used to it. It's a pretty unique planet, I don't mind it.
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Also for the "how would they display their color crystal" comment. My response is this. Change all of the lightning/attack effects, so that they are the color of the crystal used in the weapon.
I don't really care that much about the 'hide the lightsaber' thing, but -this- is a great idea! Have as many force powers as possible take a tint from your color crystal!
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I've pondered this question off and on again for a long time. I did a fair run of GSF back when if first came out. It was kind of fun back then. I think it's not a bad game (though I'm no veteran of space combat games, so how would I know?). I left it aside for a while and when I came back, they'd introduced bombers and there was a cadre of experts who rendered my efforts laughable. I also realized there were certain aspects of it that I just didn't get (basically, I have a hard time translated the tunnel-vision, 2D screen info into a useful 3D global situation).
What people have said already is all true to some extent, but to me the problem really comes down to the fact that it's a totally different game than SWTOR. I'm no fan of regular PVP, but at least the character abilities you use all the time while leveling and grinding work the same way in PVP. So even if you don't have that 'twitch' or the right gear and utilities, you can at least move around, chase objectives, and interfere with the enemy, pretty much the same way you normally play while questing.
There is no way to get that kind of preparation and practice for GSF. No tutorials, no chance to chase mobs (easy or hard), no parallel between your toon's abilities and your ship's. No way to learn just how to fly, let alone how to actually engage moving targets or how to not get shot.
That's why GSF is 'unpopular' - it's not SWTOR, it's not the game everyone plays when they log in. If there was a PVE or practice mode where you could learn the controls, face challenges in a progressive manner, I bet there would be a lot more activity (there certainly would in my case, and I don't believe I"m the only one!). Instead, it's just a shark tank with not even a swimming lesson to prepare you.
Blessings on those who are willing to teach, I wish them the best. But I prefer to play a game instead of study it. Sure, there's always a learning curve - but I'm a lot more open to learning if my initial experience is better than being blown up repeatedly while I'm just trying not to ram every single asteroid in the system.
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tl;dr /signed
I wish they would make up their blasted minds and follow through: do they want to reward time & energy spent playing the game or not? It's so easy to create and run several alts, it's one of the strengths of the game - so why do they make ways to punish multiple alts (or at least dis-reward them)? All those 'event currencies' and such should absolutely be legacy-bound - and in the Umbara case, it's crazy. Once you unlock the train stronghold, all your toons (i.e., your entire LEGACY) can access it freely, so it makes no sense.
It was one of the shiniest moments in the latest stream when they said stuff was going to be legacy-bound. Here's hoping it really happens the way it should.
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At heart, I'm mostly a solo player myself, but I enjoy being part of a decent guild. Not that it always works out; guilds are subject to all the vagaries, hysterias (hysteriae?), and misunderstandings one finds in any social group. Benefits and problems depend entirely on which guild you're in.
The list already posted is a good list. My general take is that a good guild (at least what I consider good) serves as a sort of filter: the most toxic players are generally excluded or rejected from guild membership, and guildies typically have at least some interest in supporting and coordinating each others' activities. This filter also applies to finding people who share your interests. If you're a roleplayer, an RP guild can provide you with willing and ready players who will help you get beyond random fleet barfly RP. If you want to do harder endgame content - ops or Hard-mode FPs - you can find that.
There's no guarantees, of course, but they are a workable tool to enhance and expand your game experience.
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I dunno, a pinky-swear is pretty serious!
Inspired by: Soulmates - Fandoms sail on ships. Does your character have a soulmate? It need not be a designated love interest. A soulmate doesn’t have to be romantic, though they often are. It’s someone with whom your character shares a special bond, an almost inexplicable affinity. How did they meet, discover their shared interests? Are they in the discovery process? Do they deny the attraction? Or is your character convinced they’ll never meet anyone?
Photin smiled in spite of her weariness when the holopic materialized. The image of tiny off-white fungal shelves, huddled in the shady crevice of a fallen tree, gave no indication of the days she had combed the deep forest of Zamael; nor, of course, did it show how tired and mud-encrusted she had been when she took the holo. But it did refresh her memory of that day: the moist, warm air, the rain-soaked ground soft under a thick layer of fallen leaves and needles, the ancient, even musty odors of a rain forest undisturbed by sentient traffic or industry. She indulged the memory for just a minute, however, before turning back to the wall of text on the flatscreen before her with a sigh. The Circle of Healers was expecting her full report to be transmitted within the next two days, and it wasn't ready – she'd barely begun to format the footnotes, and the “Conclusions” section was a mess. She left the holopic open as she focused on composing the report.
Suddenly – minutes or hours later, she didn't know at first – she realized there was someone else there. When she'd last looked up, the library had been empty and dark, save for the circle of lamplight around her desk; everyone else had retired for the night. It was still dark, but she was no longer alone. She could hear the rhythmic scuff of soft shoes on the smooth floor, approaching and entering the open archway, where they paused. She did not look up or make any gesture to show that she noticed. Perhaps this interloper would notice that she was working and leave her be, maybe even find somewhere else to do whatever they came to do. The chrono up in the corner of her computer screen showed it was still early morning; she'd been submerged in the minutiae of mycology for more than two hours.
The footsteps did not retreat, but advanced, slowly and quietly as if sneaking up on her. Not that she sensed any hostile intent; through the Force she could tell it was one of the students or staff here, someone with some ability and training in the Force. Nevertheless, she tried to focus on her work and hoped whoever it was would have the courtesy not to interrupt. The footsteps kept on until they were less than two meters behind her and paused again. After a long moment, during which Photin rearranged a few sentences in a footnote about local fungivores, she finally turned to face the intruder.
“Can I help you?” she asked, in a tone a little sharper than she intended. The young man, dressed in brown Jedi robes much like her own, gave a start and backed up a step.
“Oh, um, no, I'm sorry, didn't mean to bother you...” he stammered. His eyes flicked between Photin and the image of the fungi. “I, ah, I just wanted to get a better look at the picture.” Only a little taller than Photin, and younger (though not by much), he held a stack of data cards in one hand, which he raised in front of him as if it was a warding talisman. “I just...” Photin's silent regard intimidated him, and he continued backing away. “I was just returning these to the shelves...I'll, um, I'll go do that...” He took one last curious look at the holo, then scuttled away to the storage shelves.
Photin watched him retreat, feeling a pang of quickly-suppressed guilt. She didn't mean to seem so cross, but there was still so much to do and she'd hoped to have a little more time before the morning influx of students turned the place into a stream of traffic. Without a word, she turned back to her report. The young man went silently about his business, shelving some discs, pulling others out, according to some list on his datapad which he consulted frequently. It was not until he spoke again that she realized he had approached and stood behind her again.
“Um, excuse me, but what's that in the holo?”
Snapped out of her working reverie, Photin breathed a short sigh. “Fungus. It's a fungal growth I found in the wild, and I”m writing a research report about it.” And you should go away and let me finish, she wanted to add. But the man didn't move; rather, he leaned closer to examine the holo in detail. Tapping the “save” button, Photin watched him curiously. He seemed genuinely interested, or at least faked it well. Let's see what you've got, she thought. “As you can see, it's one of the basidiomycota, a rare one...”
He interrupted before she could rattle off her jargon-filled spiel, a tinge of awe in his voice. “Is this...whitefoil? You found whitefoil??”
Photin blinked, mouth frozen in mid-word. Even among Healers, there were few who knew or cared much about fungi, even ones with medicinal properties; their training was almost entirely about modern, manufactured or mass-farmed drugs. “Uh..yeah, it is,” she admitted, “how did you-”
“In the wild? Nobody's seen whitefoil in the wild for centuries! There's just a few samples left, in special gardens – I haven't had a chance to see any myself, but-” he glanced at Photin and saw her look of surprise. His rapid, enthusiastic gush crashed in mid-sentence and he blushed. “I- I'm sorry, it's rather a hobby of mine, studying fungi, especially the Dikarya. Ever since I was a youngling. Did you really find it? Oh, I wish I'd been there!”
“I sure did,” she replied, feeling a rush of pride. “It took a while, sorting through so many old records. I've been studying it for weeks now, to see if it has the healing properties like the old stories say. I've even managed to keep it growing-”
“You have some? Alive? Where? Can I see it?” His enthusiasm was infectious; seeing how his eyes lit up refreshed Photin's own sense of wonder and delight. The report could wait just a little while; the Circle was only interested in results and data, but to meet someone who took such pleasure in the thing itself was rare – no, unique. She stood as she shut the document. “It's in my private collection,” she said, “I can show you now if you'd like.” She took one step and paused. “I'm Photin, by the way.”
The man smiled and made ready to follow. “I'm Sintos,” he said with a nod in lieu of a bow, “So what's the climate parameters? Temperature, humidity, pH – tell me everything!”
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It's been way too long, but I'm back (with Zeran Kraktus)...
Inspired by the hook “Hero Worship: Who does your character think of when they hear the word “hero”? Is it a specific person? A type of person, or a person in a specific occupation? Have they ever met their hero(es)? Who sees your character as a hero–no matter how venal they really are? How do they show it, and how does your character deal with it?”
Note: you can see Zeran's other stories at
http://www.swtor.com/community/showpost.php?p=9616873&postcount=6100
and
http://www.swtor.com/community/showpost.php?p=9644609&postcount=6161
So many drinking establishments have mirrors behind the bar; maybe it's to create an illusion of space, maybe it's tradition, maybe it's just cheaper than paying for decoration that's going to be hidden behind bottles. It wasn't Zeran's main reason for hanging around in this particular joint, but it was definitely a plus: choose the right place to sit, and you could watch the entrance without looking like you were watching the entrance. Not that he expected any danger, it was just a habit he'd acquired over years of service on backwater worlds. This was just a quiet little bar in a quiet little neighborhood in a quiet little sector. Nobody really had a reason to cause trouble here: there were more interesting and important places for that just a quick speeder trip away.
Even if Zeran hadn't been gazing vaguely at the mirror, it would have been hard to miss the guy when he walked in: he filled the doorway and with barely a pause to adjust to the dim light, moved with a steady gait that wasn't exactly threatening, but left no doubt that you did not want to get in his way. His shirt – so new it still had store-shelf creases – didn't conceal the well-toned muscles surging under his skin. Obviously a fighter, thought Zeran, a real one, not a poser. The guy had the confident stride of a proven warrior not the strut of a thug, and he didn't waste any moves. He walked right up to the bar with barely a glance around the room. Short hair, trooper cut, no hat, this guy was a Republic shellback for sure, active or former – most street toughs liked to wear helmets or hats even when they weren't working. The guy walked up to Garsh, the broken-down Zabrak behind the bar, asked a quick, quiet question, and laid down a credchip that disappeared under the languid sweep of the bartender's towel. Garsh nodded briefly toward Zeran before returning to his endless polishing of glasses.
By then Zeran realized who the big guy was, blinking in surprise. There weren't many who sported that much scar tissue on the face, and only one that Zeran had ever seen in a news holo. Murmurs around the bar showed others recognized him too. Zeran watched him approach and settle into the chair across the table. The chair, little more than reinforced plasboard, creaked painfully under his weight.
“Have a seat, Captain,” opened Zeran drily, “or what are you now? A general? Or are you Supreme Commander yet?”
The other twisted his scarred face into something that looked like a smile. “Forget that. Right now I'm just Jace. Out of uniform, off the clock. What are you drinking, Colonel?”
Zeran glanced at the brown sludge remaining in his glass. “I dunno – some abomination from Huttspace,” he shrugged. “And I'm retired, so don't 'Colonel' me, either. What in the stars brings you to this hole?”
“You do. Colonel Zeran Kraktus, commander of the 844th Arid-Environment Reconnaissance Group-”
“Former commander. The 844th was-”
“Disbanded. After earning the Conspicuous Service Star, as a unit!”
Zeran made a face. “And then losing 85% of our force in transit...”
Jace nodded. “That's on the Fleet. Should have had a better escort.” He took a deep breath and paused. Zeran saw a kind of hesitation in his eyes.
“So what's the Republic's latest big damn hero doing here? Shouldn't you be out selling war bonds or something? You might get a few credits out of the folks here, but not much.”
Jace shook his head. “Looking for you. We – I – want you back.”
“Me?” Zeran's eyebrows shot up in surprise, “Washed-up old desert fighter? Is the Republic that desperate?”
“Uh-uh, don't give me that! I know you've applied for reactivation. I reviewed your record – though I already knew most of it – and had to see for myself.” Jace leaned forward, causing his chair to groan and wobble. “Did you know your Tatooine operations have become training material? I use them myself when teaching new officers in asymmetric warfare. Some of your ideas have had a big impact on how we do special ops. Even the Academy professors are putting you on the recommended reading list.”
“Are you serious? I'm no military genius, I just did what made sense at the time...” Zeran scratched his beard to conceal a surge of long-buried pride. “Heh. Too bad I can't sue for copyright fees.”
“I'm not going to beat around the bush. We're rebuilding, but we're still in bad shape. I know you've been out of it for a few years, with some kind of medical condition.” Jace held up his hand to ward off an expected objection, “I don't know the details, but you look fine to me, and if you're willing, I'd be honored to bring you back into the fold.” He winked, an unsettling writhing of his scarred face. “If you were a younger man, I'd suggest a place in Havoc Squad – but with your experience, we can find a better fit for you.”
Zeran opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out. He hoped that in the dim light, Jace couldn't tell he was blushing with surprise and eagerness.
Jace took his silence for hesitation. “I can't make guarantees, but I will recommend full restoration of rank, and an independent field command. You might even be able to recommission the 844th if you want, but that's up to you. We're going to hit the Sith back, hit them hard, and we're going to do it right this time – but we need people who know what they're doing. And we don't have anyone who can do quite what you do. What do you say?” Jace sat back to wait a reply.
There was a long silence, during which Zeran finally remembered to close his mouth. He'd figured it would take at least several months for his application to work through the bottomless bureaucracy of Republic Command – but here was Jace Malcom himself, rising star of the Army, offering everything on a silver platter. And a promised chance to kill Sith. He rose to his feet and extended his hand. “It will be my honor and pleasure,” he intoned solemnly.
Jace stood and wrapped Zeran's hand in his meaty grasp. “The honor is mine, Colonel. Welcome back to the fight!”
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There is only one answer to this question: The amount of credits other players are willing to pay. Everything else is just semantics and waste of time. .
QFT - though I might add an edit "and what prices players are willing to post."
There's several reasons unrelated to real-world market forces that someone might buy or sell at ludicrous prices (high or low). Analyzing the GTN with real-word economics is about as effective as analyzing the Star Wars universe with real-world physics.
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The one who took me longest to appreciate is Skadge. Annoying, insulting, etc. But then I realized that if you just throw the attitude right back at him, it works just fine. I still only bring him along when I'm in the right mood.
As long we're citing surprising likes, I'm going to put in a good word for one of the most reviled companions: Koth! I realized after playing thru both light and dark version that he's a lot like me in RL: competent at what he does (but not the greatest), a bit of a smarta.. smart-aleck (but never hurtful about it), but under the surface more idealistic than most people really want to deal with. The fact that so many despise him because he doesn't kowtow to their whims just endears him to me even more (been there in RL too).
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I'm reasonably pleased with the proposed changes, though I will echo the call for removing legacy limits on conquest objectives. If the object is to encourage people to play all aspects of the game, then let us play all aspects of the game - which includes the ability to run multiple alts without overly penalizing our other alts.
Also, any changes to crafting objectives? (asked the crafter...)
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I didn't hate kotfeet, as a story it wasn't all that bad. Most of the 'creative' elements I had difficulty with boil down to matters of taste, and that's something one just deals with with consuming entertainment. Probably the biggest snag for me story-wise was that running it with a non-Force user didn't really settle well; some of the dialogue ought to have been tweaked for smugglers/agents and troopers; probably just a few dozen lines rewritten would have made a huge difference in flavor, without changing the flow of story events.
The one thing that did get me about the whole kotfeet saga was that they made it completely solo! As in, it's all but impossible for friends to work together, the way they can in every other phase of all the stories! Back when I was running with a steady gaming partner, we worked out a way to bring each other into our chapters, but it wasn't really worth it - while I don't mind spectating for the occasional story scene, there are so many cutscenes and special mechanics (such as walkers!) that work hard against teaming up. To me, that's not a creative difference, that's a structural design decision that breaks the whole idea of playing online with friends. Maybe they've changed it so it's easier, but I can't believe they thought forcing solo play was a good idea.
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@frauzet: nice! Thana Vesh is one of my favorite NPCs! I always look forward to Imperial Taris because of her
Inspired by the prompt “How Hard Can It Be?” ...I know, that was -weeks- ago! But the scene kept bugging me, and still deserves a much better treatment, but dangit, sometimes you just need to get something done and off the to-do list!
“Incoming!” the loudspeaker blared. Photin joined the rest of the staff in a collective sigh. “Repeat, incoming, ten casualties.” For hours – Photin dared not look at the chrono yet again – a steady stream of casualties had been flowing from the combat zone. The Imperials were pushing hard on the Balmorran Arms Factory; locals and Republic troops were pushing back. As in every clash of durasteel and blasters, it was flesh and blood that paid the price.
“I'm sorry we can't save those two fingers,” she remarked to the soldier as she finished wrapping the wound, “but with treatment, the rest of the hand and arm should heal up okay. You'll be out on the next transport.” She nodded at the aide beside her, leaving him to help the wounded soldier to the evacuation field.
Stretcher teams, medics, and med-droids clustered around the landing field as the medevac boat descended, cargo door already gaping open. Before it touched ground, Photin leaped aboard, scanning the new batch of casualties. Each had an electronic tag with basic information, but mostly she relied on medical training and Jedi senses to estimate the severity of each injury. She pointed to one soldier, blood dripping off a body splint, and called to the stretcher crew outside, “this one! Get some plasma into her, and into surgery!” The ones that could walk were shuffled out by the aides; the others were carefully carried away according to the treatment priority Photin assigned.
The boat was not cleared before the loudspeaker rang out again. “Incoming! Repeat, incoming, eight casualties!.” Sure enough, when Photin poked her head out, another evac boat was descending toward the field, additional staff hurrying toward it. She jumped down, heading there in a brisk walk. Before she got halfway to the new boat, another announcement: “Multiple transports inbound! Evac Depot 23 is under Imperial fire, evacuating all patients and staff to our location.” A wave of murmurs broke out among soldiers and medical staff. Depot 23 was only a few klicks away. A glance back at the main compound confirmed that Command was already responding to the new burden; tents and extra cots were being broken out and set up wherever there was space. Two boats could already be seen headed over from Depot 23; and another just coming in sight from the front line.
Photin stepped onto the latest arrival. As she had seen too many times today, one of the soldiers on this boat was on the verge of death, his spirit strong but fading. She went to him first; there was little question which was in the worst crisis, even to the untrained eye. His legs were hanging by scraps of flesh, one arm was simply gone. A few quick words sorted the rest, but none of them were as critical for the moment. “I'll have to stay with this one,” she remarked to the staff, “carry him to any surgical table, seconds count!” She reached out to him with the Force, adding her strength to his, to stave off death. She settled into as much of a healing trance as she could in the circumstances, barely feeling the staff jostle around her as they moved him to a stretcher.
There was a strange familiarity about the man, but she couldn't let herself be distracted. She walked beside the stretcher as they moved from the transport toward the surgical hut. Propped up by her Force-powered healing, he was stable for the moment, but- “Sellie?” the soldier spoke, in a voice that in its weakness still conveyed an echo of energy and strength. “Sell...is that...?” She felt a surge of recognition and even joy from the semi-conscious soldier, but the use of her birth name nearly startled her out of her half-trance. She opened her eyes to see a smile on the bruised and bloody face. Now that she looked at them again, the eyes seemed familiar, but couldn't place them. Then the aide's voice cut through, talking to the surgical setup team: “...repeat, trooper's name is Corporal Dzok D'Arc, eye dee number four one niner...”
Photin broke stride for a second, and had to take an quick extra step to keep up. “Dzok!?” Hearing the name of her little brother, it snapped into place. It was him, older of course – it had been ten years since that day she was sent off to the Jedi Order- but she could now see the face of the boy she'd grown up with. “Dzok!” She said with earnest. “You'll be...”
He interrupted, “I know, I'll be fine. S'prise, my Jedi sister's here.” He took a shaky breath. “Lightsaber 'n' all...” His eyes glanced at the weapon on her hip. “C'n I touch it?”
Her reply died on her lips as alarms overwhelmed all other sound. Blaster fire screamed all around; she whirled, to see a squad of Imperial jetpack troopers descending, strafing the landing field, gunning down medics, droids, and the wounded with horrid abandon. In the midst of the black-armored intruders, a figure in red brandished a fiery lightsaber. Scarlet arcs flowed one into the next as the Sith deflected the few blaster bolts the camp guards sent his way.
There were no other Jedi on hand, and the guards would quickly be overwhelmed by this attack. It took a moment to squelch the surge of fear that hit her; she knew she was no master of the blade – but there were no other Jedi nearby. Photin's lightsaber flew from her belt into her hand and ignited. “I'm sorry, I have to go,” she said as she ran out of the transport and into the firing zone. She barely caught her brother's reply, “may the force be...” before his voice faded under the clamor of battle.
The fight was short and sharp. Photin's green blade met the intruder's red; the camp guards kept fighting, and spare weapons were passed out to the walking wounded. Numbers and raw courage won in the end; the jetpack troopers fell one after another, killing more than twice their number before the end. The Sith, looking impressive enough in his spiked armor and fueled by rage, did not last long. Photin was no master of the blade, but her knowledge of the Force was superior, and knowing that she stood between this enemy and the mass murder of the defenseless troopers all around her spurred her on. He exhausted himself with a rushed attack, leaving himself open to her calculated counterstroke. Clutching the stump of his sword arm, he collapsed with a swift kick.
Photin's sense of triumph faded quickly into horror as she surveyed the field, littered with the dead. The boats from Depot 23 were coming in. There was going to be no respite, no time for a victory cheer. The loudspeaker cut through the noise once again, “Prepare to abandon camp! Repeat, prepare to abandon camp! The enemy is moving on our location!” The loudspeaker kept on, shouting more orders, the sequence of evacuation, and more – but Photin's attention turned back to where she left her brother. She dashed over to his side.
He was smiling, though agony showed in the lines of his too-pale face. “My Jedi sister saves the day,” he whispered. His hand twitched. Photin gently set her lightsaber, still warm from the fight, into his hand. His fingers closed around it and the smile widened. “My Jedi sister,” were his last words as she felt his spirit drift away into death.
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Hi...
Any must buys off the store? ... Thanks
The cash store ("Cartel Coins") is almost entirely cosmetic; you can buy xp boosts and things like 'skip to top level', but the only real stat-affecting stuff as far as I know is weapon crystals, and you can buy their equal easy & cheap with in-game currency (credits).
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I cleared the rugs and the signs I had on either side of the elevator before it finally let me back upstairs.
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@Antonine
so sad having to do that, but well written!
Prompt: Enemies to Friends (well, kind of)
Note for poignancy...
Note: this takes place shortly before the events related in my post back on page 610 #6100 http://www.swtor.com/community/showthread.php?t=469174&page=610 - but read the post below first, for proper chronological order.
The dunes rolled to the horizon in every direction, shaped by the desert wind into an endless rhythm of successive waves. In the distance, barely visible through shimmering, furnace-hot air, loomed a rock wall, cliffs marching beyond sight. The only moving thing visible for kilometers was the man standing in the shade of his little lean-to, peering through macrobinoculars. That, and low clouds of dust and sand picked up by what was, for the moment, a steady but mild desert wind.
Zeran Kraktus kept up his visual sweep when a voice crackled over his communicator. “Heads-up, Colonel, got two landspeeders inbound to your location. One small personal, one GAV troop carrier. Approach vector three niner...”
The macrobinoculars swung a few degrees to the left and stopped. “Got it, Felix,” he interrupted. “Confirmed, I see one car, one truck.” He zoomed in to pick out details from the tip of the two rapidly approaching dust trails.
“Isn't he supposed to be alone, sir? I can lock on with AV missiles and take them out...”
“Negative that, repeat, do not engage! I'm supposed to come alone too, so fair's fair. Let's see what they do; there's still a couple klicks before they get here.” Zeran lowered his binocs and pulled one of the camp chairs into position before settling into it. He loved the desert, even here on Tatooine, with not one but two suns blasting away. The heat was a killer, but it could be dealt with; better than constantly shivering, or drowning in mud in some dismal swamp. At least the desert was clean, with an open sky and distant horizons. A man could feel free here.
The two speeders topped a rise, paused, then the larger one turned a sharp angle and headed away, leaving the smaller, personal vehicle to proceed alone toward Zeran. “I hate to say 'I told you so' – but I told you so,” quipped Zeran through the comlink. “Back off, and just make sure that Ground Assault Vehicle doesn't circle around.”
“Roger, Colonel,” came the reply. By the tone of his voice, Felix obviously wanted to argue, but there was no point now, that had been made clear the previous night. They'd done this before, this private meeting away from – well, away from everything, especially prying eyes and ears. But there was always a risk. Even if Zeran could trust the man he was meeting, it was always possible that some other Imperial officer would get wind of it and whip up some big ideas.
The speeder was climbing the last dune when Zeran tapped his communicator again. “Alright, activating the scrambling field. I'll call soon as we're done.” He waited for the acknowledgment, then flipped a switch on a nearby electronic device, cutting off all communication or surveillance devices. Someone could still use a Mark-One eyeball, but no way they'd be in hearing range before Zeran or his guest could spot them.
The small, battered speeder halted about twenty meters from where Zeran sat, dust billowing around it as the canopy opened and a large man climbed out. Zeran stood and waved, then bent down to pull a tall, slim bottle from a cooler beside him.
The newcomer stretched to his full height – a bit taller than Zeran, and about the same age (and with a similar deficit of hair), glanced around, and returned the wave, walking through the sand to the lean-to. “Colonel!” the man said, “such a pleasure to see you again!”
“Doctor,” replied Zeran. “I'm glad you could make it.” He gestured to the other camp chair before sitting down and passing the bottle to the newcomer. The doctor accepted the bottle, examined it briefly, and passed it back with a smile.
“Alderaanian,” the doctor said, “and a decent vintage for a change!” He winked as he settled into the chair.
Zeran rolled his eyes, opening the bottle to let the wine breathe for just a moment. “You're never going to let me forget that awful Brentaal swill, are you? It was recommended to me by a friend – whose taste I will never accept again!” He fished out two glasses from the cooler. “Besides, Eckard, you're the one who keeps bringing that Dromund Kaas cough syrup! Is there no good wine anywhere in the Empire?”
Eckard chuckled as Zeran filled the two glasses and offered them. Taking one, the doctor replied, “I'll be more careful in the future. It seems I have a taste for more robust flavor than you.” Taking a sniff and then a sip, he nodded. “I commend you, this is rather good.” The two savored the wine silently for a long moment. “I hate to be rude, but I'm afraid I don't have a lot of time. And the sandstorm is due here in less than an hour...”
Zeran sighed and nodded. “I understand. Actually, I don't have much time either. In fact, this will be our last meeting for a while.” The doctor raised his eyebrows. “Oh, it's good news, no worries there. But I wanted to let you know, in case something happens – I know how doctors are, especially the ones out here in the wilds, and doing research like you. You could take off any time.” Zeran breathed a deep sigh. “You know I appreciate your work here; your action during the sand rot breakout was amazing! And when Captain Daris' wife had those birth complications, you were right there when I called. The local doctors here are, well, let's just say this isn't exactly the medical paradise of the universe!”
The doctor chuckled warmly. “Just doing my job. I'm glad I was able to help. My research here isn't going all that well anyway. And you've more than repaid my services with your help on that dreadful Czerka incident!”
“You saved a couple of lives that day alone! Can't thank you enough for that.” Zeran raised his glass as if toasting, “to Doctor Eckard Lokin, Occasional Obstetrician!” They both laughed. “But here's the news: I'm going home! I finally got clearance for a ninety-day leave. Been a long time since I've been home...”
Lokin frowned. “home? You're from Coruscant, as I recall...”
“Yep. I ship out tomorrow. I have to say, I'll not miss Tatooine much. Beautiful desert, but ugly, ugly people!” Zeran finished his glass with a smile. “I hope we can see each other again, and maybe without a war to stop us. You'll have to meet the wife and kids!”
The doctor set his glass aside and stood. “I – it's been a pleasure, and an honor.” He looked suddenly less comfortable. “I do wish you luck, and perhaps we shall meet again, under more pleasant circumstances. He shook hands with Zeran. “But I'm afraid I have to dash, I, ah, I forgot I have something in the lab I need to attend to.” He walked up to his speeder, turned and looked somberly at his friend. “Just...be careful, my friend.” Without another word, he climbed into his speeder and took off, leaving Zeran puzzled at the sudden change in the doctor. Zeran watched the speeder disappear into the dunes, then shrugged. “Coruscant, here I come,” he said, as he packed up to go.
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Please add the Alliance Battledroid, the Manned Blaster Turret, and the Illumination Probe Crate to the CM.
With the first deco, it was intended for release in the Armed Resistance pack, but it was somehow omitted. We can see the deco in our personal deco lists, but it's not currently in the game.
With the last two decos, neither of those are available in the game anymore. For the turret, it dropped from Colicoid Wargames, but loot drops were intentionally disabled in that FP because it's not level scaled. The probe crate dropped from the bonus mission in the Blood Hunt FP, but the bonus mission is bugged and cannot be completed. Also, we're not permitted to purchase guild copies of these two decos, so even if we already have them in our personal deco inventory, there's no way currently to get them for a guild.
Also, for the love of dear baby Jesus, please fix the missing the barrels on the Massive Artillery Turret. It's literally been THREE years since that deco was released without its barrels.
/signed
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@Lady_Thorne: There's an official form for everything. Trust Dorne to find it and use it. Especially as a social shield.
Prompt: Scary Stories
“Multz works in the Archives – I bet he’s got a good story!” cried one youngling. The eyes of a dozen bone-tired younglings suddenly lit with glee. “Yeah, give us a good one, Multz!” Those still fiddling with tents and sleeping bags dropped what they were doing and gathered around him.
Multius stared off into space for a moment, thoughtfully rubbing what he hoped would soon be a proper Knight’s beard. He watched the trail of a descending transport in the night sky, until it disappeared behind the mountaintop to the north. “I don’t know – I see some pretty strange stuff in there, you know, in the Sealed Section,” he said with a conspiratorial wink to the Knight standing nearby, only a few years older than Multius himself.
Photin responded to his wink with a shallow grin and a sigh of forced patience. “Multz,” as he was known among the younger set on Tython, always had a story or a joke ready, and readily laughed at the most stale, silly bits of humor offered by the younglings. It endeared him to them greatly, and did much to make the lessons and disciplines of the Temple Masters easier to bear. His penchant for embellishment and invention – not always outright lying – sometimes bothered the masters, but always delighted his audience. As the younglings cheered and settled around him, Photin shook her head in resignation and positioned herself at the edge of the clearing, the better to watch for potential danger. These woods were pretty safe, so the younglings had been sent out to learn a little about how to survive in wilderness – but there was always the chance that some stray predator still lurked. She leaned back against a tree, close enough to see the younglings and to hear the story. Gazing out over the lake and into the clear night sky, she kept her senses alert to any approach.
Surrounded by younglings, Multius settled his considerable bulk upon a raised tuft of grass, fussing and posing in satire of a pompous Master, eliciting giggles. He’d never quite failed to pass tests of agility and speed, but he still carried several more pounds than one would expect of a proper Jedi. If his weight slowed him down, he made up for it with a combination of raw muscle power and an easygoing grasp of the Force. With a dramatic flourish, he pulled his hood over his face, then suddenly thrust out his hands. An expectant hush fell upon his audience. He held the silence for a long moment, glanced over the younglings and around at the woods, and leaned forward. Starting in a low voice, his audience leaned in as well, hanging on his words.
“The tale I am about to tell is true; I have read it with my own eyes, hidden away in the darkest corners of the Sealed Section of the Temple Archives, where none but the wisest masters may go.” Eyes widened at impending revelation. “This story is forbidden to younglings, even to padawans – if they knew I was telling you this, I would be sent to the Outer Rim to finish my training under the most severe Master they could find. And they will do the same to you if you tell. Do you understand?” The younglings nodded, only a few actually daring to speak as much as “yes.” “What I am about to tell you, you must not repeat – not to your teachers, not to other students, no one. Do I have your solemn word on this?” His hushed tones conveyed an air of dangerous secrecy. Multius took a deep breath, closing his eyes as if in focused preparation. With his hood pulled forward, the campfire threw deep shadow across his face, so that his voice issued forth as if from the very depths of mystery.
“A thousand years ago it was, before anyone now on the Council had even been born,” the portly padawan began in a grave tone, “a mighty Sith Lord, strong in the Dark Side and a master of vile sorcery – whose name I dare not even speak – searched for a way to defeat the Jedi, not just in one battle, not even in one war, but forever and always. Like many Sith before and after him, he took predators of all kinds, from akk dogs to rancors and twisted them with sorcery and cybernetics, transforming them into mad killers. He unleashed these creations against his foes, to rampage against troopers, Jedi, and innocent civilians alike. Each monster would kill many before they were brought down – but brought down they were. Upon world after world, he made a new horde of experimental horrors – only to disappear among the stars before the Jedi could finish off the beasts and track down their evil master. The Council hunted him for years.
“Finally, one heroic Jedi Master cornered the sorcerer: on Dagobah it was, a world covered with swamps and marsh, teeming with creatures of all kinds, ready subjects for evil experiments. The Master, his allies, and their padawans battled for days against the sorcerer’s monsters – creatures large and small, twisted by Sith magic into horrible abominations. Many Jedi died, torn to bloody pieces and devoured before the very eyes of their comrades.” A murmur ripple through the crowd, repulsed but fascinated. “But they did not retreat; the master and two padawans survived to confront the sorcerer in his very laboratory, deep in the dark jungle. Covered with scratches and bruises from the battle, they gave their foe no respite. They broke down the massive gate to his stronghold, and fought an epic battle as the swamp water flooded in.
“Even three against one, it was not an easy victory. One padawan fell to the lightning thrown by the sorcerer; then the master fell to the dastardly stroke of a scarlet lightsaber. The last Jedi, a mere padawan, stood alone against the sorcerer’s final assault. With a mighty effort, he slew the madman, but not before he suffered grievous wounds himself. He collapsed right there, unable to even drag himself away from the rapidly flooding sanctuary.
“From one of the tanks in the laboratory – shattered by some stray blow during the fight – issued a swarm of creatures, the last horror created by the dead Sith. Tiny wormlike creatures, each about the size of your finger, spilled from the broken vat into the dirty, bloody swamp water filling the room. Smelling fresh blood, they wriggled toward the bodies on the floor – and toward the exhausted padawan. So injured was he by the sorcerer’s dying blow, he could do little but watch in horror as the creatures fastened themselves on the dead and feasted on their warm blood – and then turned toward him! The ones that were not bloated on gore surrounded him and burrowed into his skin before his very eyes. His last sight was the horde of worms draining him of life with their insane hunger.”
Multz paused, allowing a shudder of revulsion to make its silent way through his audience. Photin could not help but smile at the thrilled mix of delight and horror that resonated among the younglings, even as she prepared herself for a turbulent night of nightmare-triggered awakenings. After a proper dramatic silence, Multz continued.
“Oh, but the story does not end there, not at all! Those worms, those leeches, not only thrived on all that blood, they had been transformed by sorcery – and now they had fed on blood rich with midichlorians, from some of those most powerful beings in the Force. They became potent in the Force themselves, far beyond normal parasites. They bred and thrived in the fetid swamps; normal creatures were devoured easily by the swarm of Force-empowered leeches. When other ships arrived to discover what had happened to the sorcerer and the Jedi who hunted him, they did not know what they would find, did not know how dangerous the little worms were. A few of them fastened onto a young padawan as he helped investigate the flooded laboratory; he did not even know they were there until he was back aboard their cruiser, and he washed them off without a second thought. They made their way into the water system of the ship, and from there they have spread across the galaxy, ever breeding, ever seeking the blood of those strong in the Force. They lurk in quiet pools of water – ponds, puddles, even lakes,” he turned his head to gaze toward Photin, where she stood near the shore of the nearby lake, “on almost every world now, drawn to the smell of Jedi blood.” A dozen pairs of wide eyes turned toward Photin, who struggled to keep a straight face. “In fact,” Multius mused, “it was just a few years ago – before any of you got here… Photin, you remember! The sad case of Padawan Noh-Bodhi”
Photin blinked in surprise. “Noh-Bodhi?” She’d never heard the name before; then she realized: Noh-Bodhi - nobody. Cute, she thought, rolling her eyes slightly; nobody noticed that in the flickering firelight shadows. “Um. Of course – but… I forget the details…”
Multius chuckled deeply. “Oh, that’s Photin for you, always playing it straight.” He gave her a satisfied nod before the younglings turned their gaze back to him. “She knows we’re not supposed to talk about it.” He shook his head sadly. “Poor young Padawan Noh! She loved to go swimming, and was very good at it, as good as any human I’ve ever seen. That is, until the day she was found dead, floating on this very lake, just a few meters from this very spot! Her body was shriveled up, drained of every drop of blood, and her skin was covered with hundreds of small round bites, each bite about as big around as your finger.”
Gasps and moans of dismay erupted from the younglings; two of them leaped to their feet. “We ain’t sleeping here!” Others looked to Photin for confirmation, but she remained silent, a looming shadow against the stars. There were one or two who seemed convinced the whole thing was just a story, but their voices were quickly drowned out as the younglings huddled together for comfort and set about breaking camp to move farther away from the suddenly-frightening lake. Nobody noticed the delighted grin that spread across Multius’ face as he congratulated himself on another good story well told.
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My only mostly-tongue-in-cheek summary of PVP: walk in, get stunlocked, get mobkilled, respawn; wash, rinse, repeat until the match is over.
Some people think this is fun; more power to them. I don't. Fortunately, there's other stuff in the game that I enjoy a lot more.
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/signed
though I've turned my beach area into a clandestine spaceport, so having a bunch of different starships parked out in the distance isn't a terrible thing.
It worked fine after that.
How to tell which appearance options I have unlocked
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