The RPGC Task Force

Okay, it’s like this. Final Saga is giving me headaches, the Future RPGC is practically non-existant, and the update is still not ready because my laptop is still broken. And when I’m left with no choice but to do SOMETHING, I feel the need to start another fic. Hence, the RPGC Task Force.

First, the fic isn’t starting here. This is merely an info post, so you can all ignore its existance.

The Task Force was added at the last possible second in the Christmas Saga 2, as a means of introducing more characters more quickly. However, like many different characters and concepts (Mox, the multiverse, the heavens, and Wilfredo Martinez’s uselessness), it has grown in my mind since then. By the time the Final Saga reintroduced the Task Force, I had already crafted entire storylines and adventures for the group of characters. Hence, I decided to write down at least one, and then let the idea die.

Why not, say, write a fic about a game? Or something completely original? Well, for a couple of reasons. The last time I tried to write for a game (the QFG novelization from a while ago), it ended with me being frustrated with the project and abandoning it. Second, my access to RPGs is severely limited at this time, as all I have is an XBox. Finally, although I have countless ideas in my head, and several original stories started on paper, the RPGC stories are an entire, already-fabricated universe, thereby giving me a massive amount of material to work with.

So, why not post the first chapter here? Because it’s not quite ready for primetime. Basically, its the usual origins story, going into detail about how the Task Force (version 3, since version 1 consisted of the big wigs of RPGC and version 2 is a parody of poorly thought out relaunchs in comic books, and version 4 is covered in Final Saga and Christmas Saga 3) was first created. However, everything else is up in the air at the moment, especially since every plot so far devolves into yet another lecture on the current state of comics.

So, ignore this post and, if you’re smart, this fic. Go hunt down some of Weiila’s yaoi fanfiction; it will save your brain.

I’m looking forwards to seeing where you take this, Galloway. I still find it fascinating that you can keep producing all these zany stories at the rate you are, and over such a long period of time.

And I’ll have you know that I’ve never seen ANY of my fics as popular as my shounen-ai dips. HARUMPH. ;D

Okay, this is going to suck, but…here we go.


Issue 1: The Call to Something Greater…

Heaven’s Soldier, Pokefreak and Fou-lu entered the small building, now destined to be the headquarters of the newly-formed RPGC Police Department. The entire first floor consisted of a single office, with only a few small cells in the side to break up the wooden floor and crumbling ceiling. Three desks were placed perfectly symetrically in the center of the office, all completely bare except for a phone on each and a small television on the back desk. A door led into an empty basement, while a staircase led onto the roof.

The three placed their small boxes of stationary, laptops, flashlights, house keys, DVDs, and porn on their respective desks, with Heaven’s Soldier taking the back, Fou-lu taking the front, and Poke taking the center. After a long, awkward period of all three simply staring blankly forward, Poke finally broke the silence. “Why the hell are we doing this again?”

“Because since Wil’s out of comission, there’s no other law enforcement agency,” said Heaven’s Soldier. “RPGC is in desperate need of some order. Fou-lu, can you check on the streets again?”

Fou-lu nodded in acknowledgement, and opened the front door. Already, the streets were swept up in a massive panic, as looters attacked everything in sight, drunks murdered little babies, and some guys made a sequel to Anaconda. Satisfied that RPGC was doomed, Fou-lu closed the door. “Let’s check the news.”

Heaven’s Soldier nodded in agreement, and turned on the television, which was conveniently on the right station.

"This is Channel 9 News, live at 3:15 in the afternoon. In today’s top stories, the United Nations Commitee on Superhuman Regulations and Control was again in session, as the member nations continue to debate whether to permenantly strengthen the regulatory actions placed on superpowered beings.

"As many of you know, following an attempt to kidnap several UN ambassadors by a superpowered terrorist group, which simply called itself ‘The Nukleoids,’ sentiment against exceptionally gifted beings has grown far more hostile. The UN responded by the Superhero Licensing Program, which requires that all those who wish to use their powers register with the UN for proper licensing and registration.

"However, since the act was passed, laws have steadily grown more and more strict, culminating in a complete ban on new registration, allowing only those who already possess licenses to actively use their powers and abilities. Now the movement appears to be towards banning these beings altogether, allowing for their seperation from the rest of society.

“In related news, Wilfredo Martinez, a former superhero who was said to still occasionally fight major criminal enterprises, was found in an alley this morning. He was apparantly pummeled to near death, and then further beaten and stabbed before being dumped and left for dead. Evidence from Martinez’s house indicates that he was currently involved in a sting operation involving a smuggling group called ‘The Eye.’ And now for sports! The Dodgers lost yet again when-”

Heaven’s Soldier turned off the television. “As much trouble as I know I’m getting into just for saying this, we need a new Task Force.”

“Wasn’t the last one assembled simply for merchandise sales and profit?” asked Fou-lu.

“That’s what we need to avoid this time,” said Heaven’s Soldier. “We need to find people who honestly fight for truth, justice, and hot armies of babes!”

“…Isn’t that just a little sexist?” said Poke.

“Freak, we have a female population of ten,” said Heaven’s Soldier. “And from those, the only ones with any real abilities are Weiila and Wil’s niece. The former is a sworn pacifist, and the latter is barely out of diapers if you know what I mean. I think I know two guys, though…”

(next time: it will be better!)

Mhmm. Not bad, though perhaps a tad… obvious? Is that what I’m looking for? Eh, no matter. Nicely done so far, keep it up.

Hm, that’s pretty cool so far Gallo. :slight_smile:

This made me laugh.

Don’t be so pessimistic Galloway, your fic doesnt suck.

GG Crono slowly walked down the long, long sidewalk, whistling a small show tune while taking in the quant old homes, all of which were painted a fading white for some unfathomable reason. Finally, he left the quiet suburbs and made his way into RPGC’s slums, a long-ruined section of town inhabited by those that had slipped beneath the radar of the rest of RPGC. Despite the rabidly-degenerating surroundings he found himself in, he nonetheless continued to walk down the sidewalk until he reached a corner liquir store.

Pierson sat on the curb, drinking a Pepsi while watching a bunch of drunken bums suspiciously watch a number of people pass by. GG Crono took up a seat next to him. “Okay, what’s this all about?”

“Those bums,” said Pierson. “They’ve been mugging people all over the slums the last couple days. The only reason I didn’t stop them before was because the UN’s gestapo was all over the place.”

“…Then, why are we doing this now?” asked GG Crono.

“Because they’re gone,” said Pierson. “They always take a day off to eat at Marie Calender’s. By the time they all get a table, it’ll be noon tomorrow. Now, let’s just wait until…”

Suddenly, the bums went after a young woman, visiting from a nearby town for some unknown reason. As the raggedy men drew switchblades and surrounded the woman, Pierson and GG Crono rose from their sitting spots and approached the attack, making sure that no one of any import was watching their movements. Finally satisfied of their safety, they grabbed the bums by the collar and slammed their heads together, quickly ending the menace.

“Are you alright, ma’am?” asked Pierson. The woman responded only by dumping the contents of her purse and running in panic. Sighing, GG Crono reached down to help pick up the purse’s contents…and heard the sound of M16s cocking. Sighing even heavier than before, he straightened himself out, and found himself staring directly into the helmet of a United Nations Special Forces soldier. “We finally got you, Pierson and GG Crono!”

“I thought you guys were at Marie Calenders!” said Pierson.

“We went yesterday,” said the soldier. “They were having a great sale on pumpkin pie!”

As the two were loaded into the back of a van, all Pierson could say was, “Damn you, pumpkin pie! DAMN YOU!”

Meanwhile, from a safe distance away, Poke and Fou-lu returned to the RPGCPD’s only car (a badly beaten, worn-out Pinto) and gave chase, determined to rescue their only contacts to the superheroic underground. Meanwhile, from another safe distance, the obligatory shadowy figure teleported away, having satisfied his mission to observe the UN forces.


Wilfredo Martinez was wheelchaired into the guardroom next to the prison’s sole cell block. At a small metal desk sat a woman, about forty years in age, wearing the same uniform as the UNSF soldiers. “Alright, warden, what is this all about?”

The warden left her desk and wordlessly opened the cell block doors. The guards continued to wheel Wilfredo in after her, as they passed cell after cell of superheroes and supervillains. Wil sadly hung his head at the sight of so many caged heroes, but in his heart, he still felt that the UN was justified. After all, not everyone with special abilities was a pure, justice-seeking hero; some were just nothing more than thugs and murderers.

Finally, the guards stopped just outside of one of the cells. Wil was completely stunned at who he saw inside: GG Crono and Pierson. The two RPGCers simply stared at their comrade, who responded with a cold glare all his own. “This…RPGC of yours is quickly becoming a troublespot,” said the warden. “We just got these two today, only after they’d apparantly tried to snatch a woman’s purse.”

“That doesn’t sound like them,” said Wil. “Still, is this all? Surely two people don’t account for-”

The warden showed the next cell over. Inside was a being Wil had never seen before, a formless man in a brown cloak. It was placed within an electromagnetic stasis field, electricity cackling and coursing through its body every fifteen seconds. “This…thing calls itself a god,” said the warden. “It took the lives of several men, but we still managed to capture it as it exited a dimensional portal. It seemed quite surprised when we managed to weaken it.”

“Maybe it was powerful on whatever world it came from,” said Wil. “Now, is there anything else-”

“Actually, there is,” said the warden. The entire tour group turned to the opposite cell, and saw Mabatsekker and Galloway, each trapped behind a series of forcefields. Galloway sat on a bench, seemingly resigned to his fate, while Mabat continued to pound on his own barrier, but to no avail. “These two were especially difficult. Galloway was already wanted for the murder of an Iranian diplomat in 2002; it was through some small miracle that he happened to be at the same place as a bank robbery. Mabatsekker was a bit more difficult, as Finland has not been exactly cooperative with the UN, but he was stupid enough to set foot in Russia, thanks to a small train incident.”

“And…what do you want me to do about this?” asked Wil.

“All five of these people attempted to be superheroes in some fashion,” said the warden. “You need to make them understand that there is no need for these kinds of heroes anymore. If they can just understand that small premise, we might be willing to release them back into society.”

Wil cringed at the warden’s words. They had never liked each other, as the warden was too paranoid and metaphobic to even listen to heroes or villains, and Wil believed that people like her took the law too far and only resulted in more destruction than was needed. Still, as one of the few sanctioned superheroes, Wil had no choice but to cooperate with the UN, and with her. “Fine, I’ll do it. Just…give me a couple minutes alone with them.”

The warden nodded, and she and the guards left the room, leaving the wheelchair-bound Wil to the prisoners. As he was about to begin speaking, however, his cell phone began to play a synthesized, ear-shattering show tune. Cursing his poor taste in music, Wil answered the phone. “Hello, this is Wilfredo Martinez. How may I help you?”

As the voice on the other end began to talk, Wil began to let out a wry smile, only to immediately wince in pain as his smile muscles flared up once again.

(to be continued)

Once again, pumpkin pie contiues to ruin my life. ;_;

And so the Task Force is assembled… Not exactly the way I expected it to be assembled, but hey it worked.

Very nice, Galloway.

You’re unbelievable, you knew that, d?

You have trouble writing all your stories so your solution is to write MORE? I really, really envy you, kid. I wish I could do that.

Hello, everyone. Sorry it’s been so long, but I’ve been under such a writer’s block that I just couldn’t write anything. I was just under so much pressure for so many months, when I finally had time to write, the ideas wouldn’t come. Heck, I couldn’t even read your stories! I decided I needed a sort of vacation from it all… but I’m back now, for real this time. And yes, I’ll finally get around to update the RPGC Saga this time. I’ll probably rename it something else, thought, and write up a big “The Story so Far” section so everyone can catch up.

Oh, and btw, last Tuesday I had ANOTHER seizure- my first in almost TWO years! I woke up feeling like somebody had beaten the crap out of me- not unlike d’s description above. How ironic, huh? But I’m OK now. If anything, it made me finally get off my duff and back into writing.

Btw, d, have you been reading Civil War and DC’s 52? Cuz those Hero-hunting themes sound familiar (in fact, I’m VERY pissed off at comics today, which was part of the reason I was so blocked- haven’t read a good comic book in months) I’m not saying it can’t be a good superhero story, however- it all depends on the writing, and I respect yours a lot. Just make sure it isn’t heroes whining all the time like in CW and I’ll read it.

I’ll be checking RPGC daily again. So, see you folks again soon!


Yay Wilfredo is back!

The general backstory of Civil War did help form my ideas somewhat, but I have yet to read that series. In fact, I really don’t read actual comics that much. I was interested in Civil War, until Spider-Man revealed his real identity. That pretty much killed it for me. After that, it was simply a combination of factors, including the Incredibles and a general understanding of humanity’s regard for special abilities.

So why write a superhero story? Because I love superheroes. The first television show I ever watched religiously was reruns of the old 1950s Superman series. I once had a nice collection of Spider-Man comics, until my mom threw them out. I watched Batman: TAS from the first day it was on, and loved both the X-Men and Spider-Man cartoons (although I can no longer tolerate the latter. Stupid Fox censors).

However, the last time I bought a comic book was when I bought the Death of Superman/Funeral for a Friend package deal at Wal-Mart. I, like millions of other youths, was suckered into believing that Supes was dead for good. I actually tried to keep up with the Reign of the Supermen arc, but there were so many titles that it was impossible to follow them all. So, in the end, I gave up on that part of my life.

The one time I entered an actual comic book discussion, I accidentally admitted that I thought the Punisher was a great character, who was ruined simply because nobody knew how to write for him. I was promptly laughed out of the conversation. Ever since then, I have harbored a deep resentment for comic book fans, and have instead decided to suffice myself on the occasional anthology, a lot of movies and TV, and of course, Wikipedia.


So, if you’re worried this is going to turn into Civil War or 52, you have nothing to worry about. Some of the stories I have written down have some angst and whining, but only because it’s crucial to the story. For example, the entire Litigator storyline is filled with sappy drama, as well as the “Family Feud” story. Guess what that one’s about.

And of course, it’s wonderful to see you back. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to finish the next chapter.

After a few minutes, the warden reentered the cell block, accompanied by her trusy guards. The RPGCers were all deftly silent, including Wilfredo Martinez. “Well? Have you had any luck?”

“More than you could possibly imagine,” said Wil. “Not only have they sworn never to fight crime again, but they’ve promised to never use their powers and abilities ever again, whether in public or private.”

“Is this true?” said the warden.

“Yes,” moaned the five captives.

“Well, I guess they can leave, on probation of course,” said the warden. “Now get these punks out of my sight!”

Wil muttered a curse best not transcribed here under his breath, but fortunately the warden did not hear his defiance. The guards lowered the force fields around the cells, allowing the five to join with Wil. The guards escorted the six to a helipad just outside the warden’s office. Fortunately, the helipad was already occupied with a stealth helicopter, the kind used to secretly spy on the lives of every living being on the planet, and therefore the perfect vehicles for transporting prisoners from a technically illegal prison.

As they neared the helicopter, Wil nodded to demigod and Mabat, the two closest to the peripheral guards. Without a moment’s hesitation, demigod grabbed the guard next to him and tossed him over the helipad. At the exact same moment, Mabat uppercutted his guard into the air and roundhoused him over the other side. Meanwhile, Pierson grabbed the guard wheeling Wilfredo around in a Vulcan death grip, rendering the poor sap unconscious. The RPGCers quickly resumed wheeling Wil into the helicopter, while Mabat somehow used his blue mage skills to pilot the vehicle off the helipad and off of the island.

Meanwhile, the warden sat in her office, enjoying some fine operatic music while chowing down on a dinner of chicken, rice, and salad. She didn’t even notice the chopper flying off without any of her precious guards on board.

Mabat continued to pilot the chopper, while Galloway took position as co-pilot. demigod hid himself in the back, while Pierson and GG Crono sat across from Wil. “This is a suprisingly spacious helicopter,” said Pierson.

“Of course it is,” said Galloway. “When you’re transporting someone with superpowers to a prison, it’s usually a good idea to distance yourself as far away from them as possible.”

“Now that we’re all together,” said Wil, “back to the subject at hand. Heaven’s Soldier wants to rebuild the RPGC Task Force. He wants you five to be its first members.”

“You mean…we can be official heroes?” asked GG Crono.

“No, not right now,” said Wil. “However, he does have an idea that might improve the standing of metahumans in the world community. We have to continue where I started, and stop ‘The Eye.’”

“…What is this…‘Eye?’” asked demigod.

“They’re an international organization of weapons dealers, drug smugglers, assassins, terrorists, and general bad guys,” continued Wil. “They’re setting up a base in Puerto Rico. I was looking into it when they ambushed me.”

“But why bother with Puerto Rico?” asked Galloway. “Surely there are more-”

“Because nobody would look there,” said Wil. “They’ve managed to get ahold of a large warehouse full of ICBMs, and plan to sell them to North Korea and Iran. It’s a lot worse than that, though; the Nukleoids are working for them.”

“You mean, the terrorists that attacked the UN, thereby starting this whole mess?” asked Pierson. “I thought they were already locked up.”

“They were, but somehow managed to escape stasis a month ago,” said Wil. “The warden and I both agreed it would be better if the public did not learn about this; it would only cause an even greater panic, if not an all-out war. If we stop ‘The Eye,’ we might be able to locate the Nukleoids, and hopefully ease tensions even by a little bit.”

“…So, we’re heading for Puerto Rico?” asked Mabat.

“Yeah,” said Wil. “Just be careful when landing this thing. According to the previous pilot, the landing gear’s a bit-”

The chopper crashed into the side of Wil’s house, practically demolishing the entire building. Fortunately, all six passengers were thrown clear, with Wil landing neatly in his wheelchair. “Once again, blue magic shows just how useless it is,” said Galloway.

“If I didn’t feel like crap, I’d kill you right now,” said Mabat.

“Enough of this!” said demigod. “We reached Puerto Rico; that is the only important thing!”

“Not so fast!” said Wil. “First, you’re going to fix the damage you caused!” The five looked around at the ruins of Wil’s house, secretly thankful that everyone was too busy sleeping to notice the chopper or absolute destruction and chaos. Sighing at their fate, the five began their long, seemingly endless labor.

(to be continued)

Next time: A good chapter. The Task Force vs the Eye! Also, what are the Nukleoids planning?

Y’know, being so multitalented with Blue Magic, Martial Arts, Superpowered puns, DDR skills, Artistry, Cooking and Military Training makes a small dent to some skills. >_>; “Hey, I’ve only seen it being done!”

Cue evil laughter.

Yeah, there’s still plenty of good potential ideas in superhero stories- it’s just that Marvel and DC have seemingly chosen to go down the cheapest tracks right now. I agree that one focusing on superhero mistrust can make sense and be very enjoyable- if written well. Do I believe that a public tragedy would turn the people of the Marvel Universe against its heroes? Yes. Do I believe Spider-Man would ever be stupid enough to be convinced to reveal his identity to the public? No, not after all those years where something terrible happened every time someone found out his id. That’s the problem I’ve been having lately with comics- they’re writting the characters out of character, bending them to fit the story rather than the other way around. That’s happening in DC, too- IDENTITY CRISIS was about The Atom’s ex-wife going crazy and deciding that killing other heroes’ loved ones would make him take her back; and INFINITE CRISIS was about survivors of the original DC Universe returning to change the current one for the better, only having gone so crazy in the process, they end up killing a lot of people.

Oh, btw, originally The Punisher wasn’t that bad a character. Sure, he killed criminals, but he seemed to at least have a plan- he was like a Batman without the anti-killing sentiment. But then it was decided that people liked him just for shooting people, and he became a sick, irrational killer.

Your story is going great so far, thought I wonder how long I’m going to be a Professor Xavier stand-in. :smiley: Btw, I thought I’d describe 52 and Civil War just so you know what the similarities to your story are.

In 52, after the events of Infinite Crisis, the Justice League is dissolved (over a scandal involving brainwashing villains) and Superman, Batman and Wonder Woman have retired for a year to “reconsider their recent mistakes” (Because there’s NO better time to take a sabbatical than when the world is recovering from chaos and destruction, right?) and a law forbidding metahuman activity across international borders (without permission from an espionage agency called Checkmate) has been passed. Over at Marvel, as you may know a law requiring all superheroes to either work for the government or retire, came about after a Superhero Reality Show ended up with the live-on-TV destruction of an small town, and now the superhero community is split between those who agree to join and those who don’t. Supposedly there’s no villain behind this, it’s supposed to be an actual tragic event- but I find it very suspicious. Really, if you were a TV show host, would you send a bunch of rookies after someone named NITRO THE EXPLODING MAN? Besides, we’ve seen the US Government screw its heroes more than once (mainly the X-Men) so it’s pretty hard to believe there isn’t at least some evil plot in there.

Infinite Crisis could have been a great story about the Old Heroes coming back to show the new generation how it’s done; Civil War can be a great story about how heroes would function within the restrictions of the real world. But today’s writers (or more correctly, their Editors) are just too cynical.

Sorry, I needed to rant too. Anyway, I’m semi-retired from comics now- I’ll come back after they start doing stories for the fun of it again. Meanwhile, I’ll write my own heroic stories. Maybe I’ll finally get around to doing all those DC/Marvel crossovers I’m always talking about. :slight_smile:

Nicely done so far Galloway.

Oh and might I add, great to see you back Wil. You and all your comic book knowledge.

While the Task Force fixes Wilfredo Martinez’s house, it’s important to discuss the main arm of “The Eye,” the hand it uses to manipulate the world’s governments…THE NUKLEOIDS!

The Nukleoids were among the many who were granted superpowers during the Nuclear Mutation Age, which stretched from 1945-1969, and is directly or indirectly responsible for 60% of the superhero population, as well as 70% of the supervillain population. The Nukleoids consist of a family of three, given superhuman powers due to a nuclear plant explosion in the southern United States. The three were the only survivors of the disaster, which was responsible for the deaths of hundreds of thousands and the contamination of hundreds of miles of former farmland and residential areas.

Shortly after the attack on the United Nations building, Papa and Mama Nukleoid were stripped of their powers using a new military decontamination chamber. Sonny Nukleoid, however, managed to escape, and broke his parents out of jail. Once on the lam, the two exposed themselves to another burst of low-level radiation, giving them limited powers. Now, they work for “The Eye,” hoping to bring down the world once and for all.

Known Members:

Papa: Father figure, in his late 50s physically. Has the ability to project beams of radioactive energy.

Mama: Mother figure, in her late 50s physically. Can transform her body into any shape, size or figure. Can also transform into mist for a limited amount of time.

Sonny: A massive abomination, standing close to nine feet in height and with over seven hundred pounds of muscle. Is invulnerable to all damage and can lift up to one hundred tons.

After Wil’s strangely abbreviated monlogue about the Nukleoids, which the Task Force already knew about, the wall was finally finished. Unfortunately, it was already daybreak, and thus time to get to their real work.


A series of shadowy figures sat in a small conference room, waiting for another to join them. Finally, the last shadowy figure snuck in and closed the door behind him. “Gentlemen, this meeting will come to order,” said one figure.

“I apologize for not shutting down Martinez. I thought he would honor his retirement, but-”

“You have failed us. And with this new group of heroes, we will have yet another problem on our hands.”

“Not as long as I keep the member nations in fear. All it takes is a little media manipulation, some subliminal advertising, and a few irrelevant and ridiculous comparisons, and they will continue to eat right out of our hands.”

“And what of the Nukleoids?”

“Everything is set. All we need is one of those heroes, and we will end the sanctioned use of metahumans forever.”

(to be continued)

Yes, I know this is a no-content update, but I’m currently planning out the next stretch.

Oh good I thought this thread had died.

Sorry it’s taking so long to update. I’m just trying to figure out how to write some of the characters.

Never fear, however, for this fic will be updated tomorrow!