Splitman eyed the shifting nave suspiciously, but didn't have much of import to say. He had seen stranger things on the net - hell, this guy was comparable to himself in terms of strangeness.

Splitman watched as his superior eyed him expectantly. Clearly he was actually going to need to respond at this point "I suppose it is an interesting enough title, though it does not function very well as a code-name as they tend to be more inclined towards the pragmatic. " He hesitated a second, neither wishing to back down or invoke this man's wrath "Libra -The Tipping Scale, does however have a nice ring to it when taken as a full name and title"

Splitman gazed awkwardly for a bit at his contact. His eyes drifting from side to side, wandering around the features of the room and his potential partner before finally locking on to Libra's eyes. In a mixture of frustration and conscious composure, Splitman managed to get back on point. "I am, however, here to take on a Job. I don't know the job as it was indicated fairly heavily that I would be informed about it here. He added

"I assume this means that my job is up to you"

Splitman's realized that he had begun pacing back and fourth an a low hunch as he spoke to the Mafioso. Like a predator in a cage he unconsciously moved from side to side as he wished for a more even situation. In the back of his mind he acknowledged that he might even be able to kill this Navi, just take him be surprised with several sharp blows. Kill him before defenses could be prepared. Not many people could take the amount of concentrated firepower he could put out.. if worst came to worse...

Splitman's eye-contact broke, shattering that train of thought. The a pulse of red faded in the background of his eyes, like an echo, but was little enough that it was unlikely to be seen. On the plus side, at least he had stopped pacing.

"So... what I am saying is...
What do you need done?"

Splitman looked blankly at the man defending the doorway. A monotone reply fumbled out of his mouth with a level of apparent confidence it did not entirely deserve.

"There is no password currently established for use in this mission"
"If this is a problem I can wait outside, but I won't be waiting around here all day. We have things to get done"

This might end poorly, but there is no way in hell he would be the first to strike. After pausing a second he added -".. so no. I don't know the password" Not that it would really change anything, but it was polite to actually answer the man's questions.

Splitman connected in on the edge of the network. If simulated nerves could fray, his would have undone right then and there like some sort of ancient piece of rope. This place was far outside of his estimated sphere of efficient activities.

No matter though, he was a better supporter than a fighter, and he was here to support.

Knowing this he took the first few steps toward the linked coordinates. Surely it wouldn't be anything too dangerous. It was just a training exercise, right?

Bump.

Bump

PAs that go for the full series 1-3 are difficult to get because we aren't generally at the level of getting 3s. That is changing slowly, but is still mostly true.

PAs that use all the same chip are, conversely, usually too easy to achieve. We don't have different chip serials so you can just spam a bunch of the same chip with no problems. Finally, we don't have random draws making it even more abusive.


The current state of PAs is mostly a reflection of the fear of them being too easy or too powerful.

Quote (Raigingekiexcel)

If I can throw my hat into the ring, what about something along these lines?

Backup: Give the undershirt effect to target ally. May only be used once per battle. No player may have multiple Backups in a given battle.

(I shorthanded the effect, but something along those lines)

Same problems as current one, but in a different form.

Not generally very useful.
Power without gameplay.
Doesn't really scale well with healing power.

Additionally: Trades complexity for being useless for most people.

Our side is losing this war. We are in disarray and caught up in a meaningless petty mish-mash of failure. I propose we get a large crew of our greenest members and have them toughen up a bit out on the net.

I will watch over them to make sure they don't explode.

-Split

(Request * rank warmup mission.)

Currently it doesn't really scale with ability to heal others at all, and is just and independent flavorless and needlessly complicated power boost.

Proposed active:
Status Recovery: Once per turn, as a free action, you may lose 20 healing from an effect you use - any number of times, and instead heal one status effect from targets for every 20 healing lost in this way.

Splitman looked at the pathetic slump of meaningless slag beside him, a pathetic fool who knew no bounds and commanded absurd amounts of power for no good reason except that he had the luxary of status, an advantage provided to him for no good reason. Then Splitman tripped.

The ice THE INFERNAL ICE across this hellish landscape assailed him from all sides demanding reasonable movement, caution and of course that he carried with him a complete sense of incompetence and failure. He GLARED at his ally, dancing through the wretched substance with an ease that made him want to spot. The pathetic fool made his eyes and mouth burn with bile like some sort of wretched thing was eating away at him within. "CLAWS NOW" He shouted as he readied himself, target locks dancing about the remaining enemies. He WOULD prove himself, everything here WOULD die, and his incompetent teammate would RUE his insufferable dealings, his foolish misattempts at target-selection, his insane tomfoolery - "CLAWS NOW" He shouted again, voice grinding against the wind as shadows whisped at his sides spewing foul vapors across the landscape.
"But I-"
"Give me the goddamn CLAWS NOW" He screamed at his operator, rage tightening his throat. His eyes looked upon the situation - target locks confirmed - the light inside them had died leaving pathetic yellow husks screaming a song of disease and death. At least the claws had come, the useless moron had done something of some modicum of use besides spewing off his inane trades.

Split's feet transformed into vicious claws, grasping at the fresh ice for some momentary stability on this wretched terrain. He screamed aloud, clutching at his left arm tearing it from his side, causing a foul pus to drip from the wounded socket. He screamed and the enemies, the moment, and the wretched fool who would sap glory from the moment for no reason. He had target locks though, and that meant he had enemies, enemies he could destroy. Perhaps there was some brief solace in their death. Hopefully he would never know.

He swung the diseased limb in wide archs, spraying jets of suspiciously clean liquid from the fetid instrument. The lances shot out like bullets, in rapid succession, a blur of destructive energies in arbitrary patterns, smashing into foes and terrain alike as he rained down death from on high. Only the target locks guided his intent, the beads of red that scattered across his sight like the faces of a thousand laughing fools.


Summary:
1+2: RageClaw - Plant feet into ground
3: Target Lock (8 instances of take-aim, usable by allies) All enemies once, random selection of remaining second time.
4: Red Out: (9x80 Aqua Attacks Accuracy A. Self Slow, Buster Crash)
ChumpuA:2x80
HandyEXA:2x90
SpikeyEXB:2x80
OldHeaterA: 1x80
OldHeaterB: 1x80
Any remaining:1x80