Announcements and Confessions

Okay, so I've been on the RPG scene here (on and off) for over a year, I've competed in a KOV tournament, I've died, been a Black Lantern, fought legends on allied with monsters. After all the good times I've had here, I have to say that I'm done with this character. After looking back at who the character of Tank is, I'm not exactly inspired. So, I'd like to thank all my friends, even those who played my enemies. I'd like to thank DaggerKlutz for bringing me up and letting me thrive on the Vine Syndicate, Gearo and Warsman for being the best fights of my life, and thegreatfour for keeping my secret. ;P

However, I'll still be around the Vine, and I'm not exactly abandoning the RP's. You see, I have a bit of a secret, a secret that I hid very, very poorly, that thegreatfour figured out and let me know in the most Batman way possible. You see, I'm Longshot. This character is a little more inspiring to me than my original Joker ripoff whose only original qualities are his moves. I'm grateful for all the people who guided me in my early days and were patient as I developed my skill, and also the people who weren't so patient, and smashed my confidence whenever I screwed up the same way the stovetop does to teach a child the meaning of "HOT!" And also, thank you to the community at large, for allowing me a place to practice my writing with fun people who didn't judge.

Because my username is, let's face it, awesome (debatable), I'll still be using this account around the Vine. However, Longshot is my future in the RPG community. And who knows? Maybe down the line Tank will make a triumphant return to bashing skulls. Until then, this isn't goodbye, I'll see you around.

That's all, folks!

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Comically, yet tragically, ironic

I was watching an episode of Criminal Minds earlier today (a show I highly recommend) and I noticed that the concept of the episode was one I have seen repeated throughout television since the dawn of TIME! Or, at least the dawn of TV. Although this particular show was a little more reasonable, it still conveyed the classically overblown propaganda: COMIC BOOKS TURN PEOPLE INTO SERIAL KILLERS! Sure, there have been many alterations on this, they rot your brain, they turn you into a lonely forty year old guy who lives in his parents' basement, I can go on all day. It's hilarious that comic books are one of the key sources of inspiration for television, spawning shows like Smallville, Heroes, The Walking DeadJustice League, a helluva lot of Batman and Spiderman shows, and a whole lot more, and yet they still manage to villainize comics every chance they get.  
 
This great nation was founded on hypocrisy (we were founded by slave owners who wanted to be free, after all) but I just find this kind of contradictory idealism to be ridiculous. Not only is it the redundancy of television, it seems to be a war against the printed page. A mother can lobby her school board not to carry Superman in the library because she doesn't want little Timmy to be exposed to that garbage, but she'll gladly take him to the matinee of Superman Returns. Are we so jaded as a society that we can't just admit that we don't like to read, so instead, we must make the printed page out into something derogatory? We want our kids to read, why does it matter what they're reading? There are great comics out there that can get you to think, question your ideals, reconsider your views on the world, use your BRAIN! When I have kids, if they want to read a comic, I'll be more then happy for them, they're reading! As long as it's not Countdown.
 
Here me now! Men and women, lend me your ears! Go to your local comic book store! Purchase an illustrated tome, though it may be ridiculously expensive and chocked full of adds! Read it through and through and chant in unison: "WHY SO SERIOUS?!"  
 
Sorry to get theatrical there, but seriously, shut up and read. As long as it's not Countdown.

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Voices in My Head

When reading any Batman story, these are the voices I hear in my head. When I wrote Batman Dark Utopia, these were what I had in mind as I wrote the characters. I hope 
 you agree with my voice cast.

 Batman
                                                                                       
 
 
 Kevin Conroy, as always.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Alfred

 
 Malcolm McDowell

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Commissioner Gordon
 
 Ken Jenkins
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 The Joker

 
 
 Mark Hammil. What a shock.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 The Riddler

 
 
 Liev Schreiber

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Killer Croc

 
 Brendon Small

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Scarecrow

 Norman Reedus
 
 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Barbara Gordon

 Heather Graham

 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Deathstroke
 
 Keith David
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Harley Quinn

 Arleen Sorkin (the voice on Batman TAS, I couldn't find a pic)
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Bane
 
 
 
 Ricardo Montalban
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Tank: A History of Violence

 As a violent, sociopathic madman, Tank has painted a grand tapestry of confusion and bloodshed. With his ability to cause a deadly explosion with a snap of his fingers, he has been given a twisted view of what life is worth and he's loving every minute of it. 
 
Tank
Real Name: Unknown
Powers/Abilities: Indestructable, self detonation, energy punch, super strength, experienced fighter.
Family: None
Hometown: San Diego, California
Personality: Delusional, extremely violent
 

History

 
Tank's first real memory was waking up, face down, naked in the middle of the desert with no one around for a hundred miles. For two days, he sat there, unsure of how to move, speak or think. The sun blistered his skin and his mouth became dry with dehydration and in a dreamlike state, hundreds of fragmented images flashed before his eyes. His first words were uttered from his dry, cracked lips. He remembered blowing out the candles on a cake, he remembered a woman who kissed him goodnight and comforted him when he was frightened. He remembered the man, the man who, above all things, taught him to be ashamed of everything he did. The man who hit him.
 
He remembered telling the man he loved him when deep down, he despised him. Whenever he thought of the man, he wanted to... suddenly, he began to glow all over and, for the first time in three days, he moved and the entire valley of sand and rock was engulfed in a hellstorm explosion.
 
He was a boy, a frightened boy who, despite this sudden intake of knowledge, was still oblivious to many things around him. He was like an infant, helpless, scared, alone. Soon, he lurned to crawl and moved into the shade. For the next few days, he looked through his new memories trying to understand them. He remembered the man and the woman sitting down and talking to him, water flowing from his eyes, what an odd concept. The man held him down in  the chair when he tried to leave. The man led him into the back of a truck where a dozen hands were about him. Next thing he knew, he was in water, behind glass with wires and tubes under his skin, nothing but darkness around him. 
 
As the burns on his skin healed, he felt an urge to stand. He got up and walked, for the first time. He walked until until the sand stopped. There, standing in front of him were buildings and people. The people laughed as he walked through town naked. He looked around at the people and stole some clothes to fit in. He realized he needed somewhere to sleep and stole some money to stay in a sleazy apartment downtown. Every day, every few seconds there was a crack or a loud boom and someone screaming outside. Every now and then, right outside his window, he heard men shouting at one another and fighting. He heard high pitched howls and red and blue lights followed by that sound which he soon identified as a gun. After hearing violence right outside his window every waking hour, he began to laugh at it, laugh at the screams, laugh at the fighting, laugh at the death. 
 
Eventually, he went out into the neighborhood, a filthy place filled with abandoned buildings and white outlines of people long forgotten. He got into fights. The satisfaction of breaking people and stomping them into the ground was even more satisfying then hearing the violence. One fight, a man pulled a knife and he stabbed only to have the blade snap in half. He punched the man and he went flying across the alley, his neck snapped and his skull shattered. What was happening? Was this normal? His strength had tripled and kept growing . He couldn't be hurt. People began calling the police about him and he was on the run. 
 
Tank grew up ducking the cops and honing his powers. He soon learned to channel energy through his body and setting it off as an explosion. His hunger for fighting grew and he began making money from attacking armored cars and minor work as a mercenary. Being lost in the jungles of Guatemala for two years, Tank became an alcoholic. In a drunken rage, he leveled an entire town and started a surrounding wildfire that spread through the country. Over the following years, he developed arrest warrants in many countries and hung up his career as a mercenary because it was too slow for him. He began defying death with such stunts as jumping off of the Sears tower. His invincibility allowed him to survive such dangers and he constantly committed crimes such as murder and destruction of public property. Tank has recently joined the Vine Syndicate to cause even greater destruction across the globe.
 

Friends and Relationships

 
During his days as a mercenary, Tank befriended his partners Swanson and Marco.  The three would frequently visit bars and brothels in third world countries. Some nights, Marco would wake up screaming in their hotel room and cry through the night whispering "I'm sorry.". Tank often criticized him for not being able to handle their life style and one night, Tank awoke to see Marco standing over the ledge of the hotel room balcony and before he could stop his friend, he jumped off, dying instantly. Swanson was later wounded in battle and paralyzed from the waist down. He now resides in a supervised care home in California.
 Marco

 Swanson




 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Tank once had a girlfriend named Natalie Warner. When he was near her, his violent attitude seemed quelled and dosile. He identified this as love. Their relationship was so intimate that he told her everything about his past and she still loved him. One thing he had left out was his job. When she found out, she argued that he was a monster and to shut her up, he gave her a slight slap on the cheek, accidentally snapping her neck. This marked the one time that Tank had not only been guilty, but cried over death. He made several suicide attempts after that. He knew that there was no woman on earth for him besides Natalie and he had lost her. He would never love again. 
 Natalie. If there was a god, she was his angel.


 

Weaknesses

If Tank is ever unable to move at all, he is rendered unable to set off an explosion. Due to rapid cell mutation that causes his powers, his metabolism is quite slow in order to supply his energy. If someone were able to injure him, he would heal unusually slow. The force necessary to bruise Tank is over 90 tons of force and nothing short of an artillery shell at point blank range can pierce his skin.  The one true weakness of Tank is extreme cold, severely lowering his body heat makes him temporarily unable to conjure up any energy. His body is also accustomed to heat, meaning that while exposed to extreme cold, his skin will be cracked and slightly easier to cut.
 

Powers/Abilities

Tank is incredibly strong, able to lift 75 tons (possibly more under stress). His main power, spawning such nicknames as "The Human Bomb" and "The Daredevil Detonator" is his ability to charge up with energy and set it off with blunt force as an explosion. The longer he charges, the more powerful the explosion gets. 30 seconds of charging is usually equivalent to a thermite grenade. 45 seconds equals an RPG missile. 1 minute is a tactical nuke and 1 minute 10 seconds is an atom bomb. When aggravated, Tank's body heat rises allowing him to charge faster, cutting these times almost in half.
 
Tank finds fear in almost nothing and often goes out seeking danger and excitement. Although this is not a power, it is certainly an advantage as he fears no man. He has also proven to be a glutton for punishment, pouring vodka in the rare wounds sustained in battle and intentionally punching himself in the face or bringing down a skyscraper on himself. He often brags about the scar on his chest which he obtained in the jungles of Nicaragua. During that day, he had lay on a grenade, taken hundreds of hits from a Gatling gun, two RPG's to the chest and a kick from a mule. By that point, the top layer of his skin was beginning to peel a little. Then, near the end of the day, he jumped in front of an artillery gun and took the shell at point blank range. The force of the shot hurled him into a nearby rock wall where a rock slide piled on top of him. 
 

The Vine Syndicate

 
Tank joined the Vine Syndicate for an exciting life of murder and mayhem. After winning his initiation fight with DaggerKlutz, he was officially added to the team. His teammates (Canine, Nerx, Draconian, Madame Rose, Fuzzy Bunny, Reaper and Firebranch) seemed to welcome him. Although Tank rarely trusts anybody, he has find a semi-steady friendship with the rest of the Syndicate. 
 
During their first major plot, Operation Aroma-geddon, which involved mind control pheromones spread across the globe, Tank has taken post in San Diego, California, guarding one of the machines that secretes the dangerous pheromones.
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