Man I'm glad you took pulseforged. I was at a loss for what to do for them so I really didn't want to. Anyways, you can post it here and I'll go through and see how it lines up.
I'd be interested to see what cards you could make from this world. seems like it'd be pretty straightforward, it's a very constructed place. i've been trying my hand at cards lately, i might give it a shot.
Primarch of Eternal Change is indestructible. At the beginning of your upkeep, return target instant, sorcery, or artifact card from your graveyard to your hand. Instant, sorcery, and artifact spells you cast cost 1 less to cast. [3/5]
HARDER THAN DIAMONDS STRONGER THAN STEEL AND BURSTING WITH VIGOR.
THAT'S THE WAY THE BEAST ENGINE PLAYS.
PROUD BEARER OF THE MOST INCORRECT THING JIVANMUKTA'S READ ON THESE FORUMS YET AWARD.
SO BRING IT ON. ALL OF YOU. I have taken the top of the mountain and I will accept all challenges.Attack me, all at once if you must! I will never falter! THE ONLY GLORY IS IN DEATH.
AND DON'T FORGET TO COWER BEFORE THE METALLIC MIGHT OF JUSTICE.
Quick question. I am having difficulty understanding the Pulseforged mechanic. Is Channel something set in stone or should I just extrapolate as I see fit?
Quick question. I am having difficulty understanding the Pulseforged mechanic. Is Channel something set in stone or should I just extrapolate as I see fit?
Channel as a keyword isn't exactly right since it was already used in Kamigawa, but the examples listed are set in stone. Basically stuff like "Fireball when X condition is met" or "when X happens, you may pay Y for a pyroclasm" and such. That's locked in.
Do you have any questions about the culture or how the Pulseforged might view the older cultures?
I'd imagine they view the Dwarves with something akin to reverence; I was planning on incorporating that. Basically, I'm going to drum something up about the Red Primarch speaking to a newly created "forhe
I'd imagine they view the Dwarves with something akin to reverence; I was planning on incorporating that. Basically, I'm going to drum something up about the Red Primarch speaking to a newly created "forhe
Well, most of the forged look at the precursor races with reverence, but they come in different flavors. The Throneforge literally worship the humans that came before, the Hopeforge dream of the elves with envy and longing, the Thoughtforge are fascinated by the merfolk in an academic way.
Since there seems to be a theme of secrecy and tradition, I would imagine the pulseforge would hold the dwarven traditions close to their glowing mana imbued hearts. They'd be protective of the secrets. Of course, I have no idea how time and retelling would have warped their views because of it. (For example, the Throneforge idealized humanity into gods)
Anyways, I'm glad you're doing this. I sort of like the dichotomy that the red primarch (feel free to come up with a name there) would be more personal in telling the tale. Thought and Hope both addressed a larger meeting, as I would imagine Throne would as well. Ruin... for his part, would probably address nobody at all.
Listen well, little forgelings, for it is today that you are made. You are built after the pattern of the Hammer, that sacred tool of creation. Fear not and feel it's blows within you; it is part or the Pulse. I am Nechenzeer, your Primarch, and it is through me you shall learn of your purpose for being and your part in the Pulse.
Long ago, there lived beings made of flesh. What is flesh, you ask? Flesh is the alloy of the strong. It allowed for such freedom of movement and quickness of life that these beings of the flesh needed not a Forge to multiply. Such was their mastery over creation that they made even me, your Primarch, in that long ago time. I was forged, however, in strife. This was the time of the War of the Gods, and I was to play a role on it. Creatures of the flesh who sought to subjugate all others crafted me - the wicked Humans. Their hubris was their downfall. I believe it was the will of the Pulse making itself manifest, that the very weapon I was part of destroyed the beings of the flesh. The Pulse is powerful, and it manifests in different ways. It chose to eradicate everything, save me an the other four Primarchs. I was bid by that beings of the flesh to return here; and it was here I first be and aware.
I remembered the first Pulse. The one that destroyed the flesh beings. But I slowly began to feel its steady rhythms. The Pulse may have killed the flesh beings, but I found it here, and it have me life. As I listened to the Pulse, it whispered to me of an ancient race of people. Flesh beings so mighty and grand they could bend metal to their will with only the most simple of instruments. With the Mighty Hammer, the Stolid Anvil, and the Hungry Flame, they wrought such wonders that the other peoples looked upon them with envy. They were called the Dwarves; and they were the largest and fairest of all beings of the flesh.
I learned of the Dwarves as I listened to the pulse. I learned of the first of the tools, and the manner after which you are crafted, Forgelings. The Mighty Hammer. The ringing of this instrument could be heard day and night in the halls of the Dwarves. It bent metal to its will. So you must also bend your foes; The Mighty Hammer was unstoppable in its purpose. As are you. The second instrument was the Stolid Anvil. It was the only device capable of withstanding the Hammer as it bent the metal. The Anvil conformed the metal to its shape, never moving. So shall the Pulseforged of the Anvil be; immovable in their duty.
Lastly was the Hungry Flame. You can hear the whispers of the flame in the Pulse, Forgelings. It is in every Pulseforged, and in the very heart of our Great Forge, Vulcarnus. The Hungry Flame quickened the metal. Moved it with purpose, gave it direction. So is every Pulseforged moved by the Pulse. Purpose is sure, when you are one with the Rhythms.
Do not forget, little Forgelings, as you go forth into this world. Strife has come again; stay strong' and the Pulse will honor you. Become weak, and the Pulse will shatter you as it does all that is brittle. None of dominion over you, but the Pulse connects you with us all.
I am Nenchenzeer. I am your Primarch. You have been crafted by me, and are part of the Will of the Pulse. Go forth, and work wonders on this world.
R: Pulseforged Sentinel deals one damage to each creature it is blocking. Pulseforged Welder 2R - Uncommon Creature - Golem Shaman 2/3 R, tap: Pulseforged Welder deals one damage to target creature. If that creature is red, regenerate it. (Or make it indestructible?)
Pulseforged Flamebringer 2RRR - Rare Creature - Golem Shaman 3/5 R: Target creature gains "tap: deal one damage to target creature or player." If it is red, it gains haste.
Master of he Pulse 4RR - Rare Creature - Golem Shaman 2/6 XRRR; Master of the Pulse deals X damage to target creature or player.
Nenchenzeer, Pulse Primarch RRRRRRRR - Mythic Rare Legendary Creature - Golem Primarch 6/10 Nenchenzeer is indestructible. Firebreathing At the beginning of your pre-combat main phase, add RRRRRR to your mana pool. If Nenchenzeer is equipped with an equipment named The Pulseforge, Red mana does not empty from your mana pool at the end of phases or turns.
The Pulseforge 8 - Mythic Rare Legendary Artifact - Equipment Equipped Creature gets +0/+6 Equipped creature gains "R: Deal one damage to target creature or player. If The Pulseforge is equipped to a creature named Nenchenzeer, Pulse Primarch, it is indestructible. Equip 5
At first glance, it looks pretty solid, but I really wish there were some setting attached. To get an idea of the mountains and the world they are in. As pure dialogue its pretty damn good, but the length could use some work and adding descriptions of both the figures involved and the environment, the actions they take, could pad it out well. If you don't feel like it, I can take a stab at the framing for it. It IS after all, a collaborative effort.
Anyways, I'll give it a more thorough review some time tomorrow, kay?
I think i get what you're saying, so I moved it away from a sort of oral-storytelling and just made it a short story. Let me know what you think of it.
The slag ridden land had remained still for centuries. It would remain still for centuries more. Where there should have been trees and grass, there was only ash. And where there should have been people, there was only bone. It was desolation, every inch of the land incinerated and blackened, every foot of the sky covered in gray clouds of ash.
The mountains stood still in the distance, however.
They showed signs of the destruction; something of that scale not even the bones of the earth could ignore. The cliff faces were covered in soot, and large chunks of the brittle stone crumbled and fell away. Besides the inexorable passage of time that weighed the mountains down, they had changed little since they had been scorched long ago. There was no wind to erode them.
Standing in front of a seemingly innocuous cave were two metal statues. The only sign that they were not inert was the steady glow that pulsated from the center of their metal chests. They were designed after their maker; thick, heavy limbs, rife with pistons and rivets. Each had only a shield and no other weapon. Indeed, the fire in their hearts would have to be enough to protect the Forge.
Deep within the cave, a rhythmic ringing sounded. Through the myriad of tunnels, to smooth and elegant to have not been purposeful, the ringing echoed. The tunnels brightened as the tunnels delved deeper into the mountain, until finally they emerged into the brightness of daylight. Cast into stark relief against his lava-lit surroundings, the Red Primarch worked his craft, his hammer falling in time with the heartbeat of the earth.
He had joined himself with the forge. Thick cords the size of tree trunks socketed into his arms and his shoulders. He was surrounded by the dross of his work, which oozed slowly into the molten pit around him. The forge burned brightly, churning piece after piece of his creations out as he willed it too. But the finishing touches were always his. He raised his hammer, and as it fell, great gouts of steam spewed violently from his release valves. He placed the finished product on a giant slab of obsidian stone. It was a little metal man, not unlike him, if much smaller.
As he worked, the lava cast shadows over his great features. Once he had been a bright, shining silver, like his brethren. But that was an eternity ago. Centuries in the heart of this mountain had bronzed his exterior, and modification of his own design had hardened it. Four great pistons lined his back, moving in rhythm with the hammer, each designed to strengthen the blow. His head was riveted and crested with his favorite modification. It was the metallic likeness of a bearded race long since dead.
In the center of his chest burned a fire that would be compared to the sun, if anyone on this world still alive had ever seen it.
He finished his work, and the forge cooled and relaxed. He tenderly removed the cords from his great, burnished form. Two dozen or so little metal men lay on the obsidian slab, given form and duty, but not yet life. He bent over them, reaching into the cavity in his chest and producing a pure flame in his outstretched palm. One by one, he placed the little fire into the little men, and they awoke. They sat up, gazed around quizzically, but remained quiet. He had instilled them with the patience of stone, after all. They would wait, but they would not have to wait long.
After he had woken the last of his creations, he sat, crossing his great legs with the sound of groaning iron. He gazed at the little people with as much gravity as his nearly immobile face would allow, and then spoke.
“Listen well, little Forgelings, for it is today that you are made. You are built after the pattern of the Hammer, that sacred tool of creation. Fear not and feel it's blows within you; it is part or the Pulse. I am Nechenzeer, your Primarch, and it is through me you shall learn of your purpose for being and your part in the Pulse.” At this, he touched his chest, indicating the pulsating flame within. The Forgelings also inspected their flames. He continued.
“Long ago, there lived beings made of flesh.” There were several quips of confusion, and the Primarch chuckled. The sound echoed in the mountain like thunder.
“What is flesh, you ask?” He showed them his arm. “Flesh is the alloy of the strong! It allowed for such freedom of movement and quickness of life that these beings of the flesh needed not a Forge to multiply.” He gestured to the construct behind him.
“Such was their mastery over creation that they made even me, your Primarch, in that long ago time. I was forged, however, in strife.” He shook his head slowly. “This was the time of the War of the Gods, and I was to play a role in it. Creatures of the flesh who sought to subjugate all others crafted me - the wicked Humans.” He made a fist. “Their hubris was their downfall.” He crushed it into his open palm with a deafening crack. “I believe it was the will of the Pulse making itself manifest, that the very weapon I was part of destroyed the beings of the flesh. The Pulse is powerful, and it manifests in different ways. It chose to eradicate everything, save me and the other four Primarchs. I was bid by that beings of the flesh to return here; and it was here I first became aware of the workings of the Pulse.” His great eye-shutters closed for a moment, remembering the time long gone, the world freshly washed in the will of the Pulse.
“I remembered the first Pulse. The one that destroyed the flesh beings. But I slowly began to feel its steady rhythms. The Pulse may have killed the flesh beings, but I found it here, and it gave me life. As I listened to the Pulse, it whispered to me of an ancient race of people. Flesh beings so mighty and grand they could bend metal to their will with only the most simple of instruments. With the Mighty Hammer, the Stolid Anvil, and the Hungry Flame, they wrought such wonders that the other peoples looked upon them with envy. They were called the Dwarves; and they were the largest and fairest of all beings of the flesh.” He stroked his stiff, metal beard.
“I learned of the Dwarves as I listened to the pulse. I learned of the first of the tools, and the manner after which you are crafted, Forgelings. The Mighty Hammer.” He lifted his hammer, made after the likeness of the sacred tool he had seen in his visons, and showed it to the Forgelings. “The ringing of this instrument could be heard day and night in the halls of the Dwarves. It bent metal to its will. So you must also bend your foes; The Mighty Hammer was unstoppable in its purpose. As are you.”
“The second instrument was the Stolid Anvil.” He pointed to the massive, fire hardened slab he had forged each of the Forgelings on. “It was the only device capable of withstanding the
Hammer as it bent the metal. The Anvil conformed the metal to its shape, never moving. So shall the Pulseforged of the Anvil be; immovable in their duty.”
“Lastly was the Hungry Flame.” He gently prodded one of the Forgelings on the chest with his immense finger. “You can hear the whispers of the flame in the Pulse, Forgelings. It is in every Pulseforged, and in the very heart of our Great Forge, Vulcarnus. The Hungry Flame quickened the metal. Moved it with purpose, gave it direction. So is every Pulseforged moved by the Pulse. Purpose is sure, when you are one with the Rhythms.” He nodded sagely, and let the sound of the Pulse echo, almost silently, within the mountain, before continuing.
“Do not forget, little Forgelings, as you go forth into this world.” He warned them slowly. “Strife has come again; stay strong and the Pulse will honor you. Become weak, and the Pulse will shatter you as it does all that is brittle. None of dominion over you, but the Pulse connects you with us all.” He stood, his metal limbs screeching as he did so.
“I am Nenchenzeer. I am your Primarch.” He declared. “You have been crafted by me, and are part of the Will of the Pulse. Go forth, and work wonders on this world.”
The Forgelings stood, and each, in turn, left the place of their birth, to see what they could make of themselves on this dead world. Nenchenzeer turned back to Vulcarnus, and lifted the cords once more.
