Welcome to Paradigm Shift, a superpower-based role playing board.
Should you have any questions, please feel free to contact members of the staff.
We strongly advise that you go through the general board information before doing anything else.
We hope you enjoy your stay!
News
Welcome to the Paradigm Reboot!
10.06.2015
Thanks
10.06.2015
The board will officially be starting on Monday October 12! Make sure your bios are in so you can take part of the opening ceremony!
10.08.2015
Info
Staff
Spotlight
ROLEPLAYER
Of The Month
CHARACTER
Of The Month
THREAD
Of The Month
COUPLE
Of The Month
"That's the most ridiculous bullshit I've ever heard." At least with Matthew, it was a senior agent. He knew what her power was and had accepted the effects it would have on him. This girl didn't.
The strawberry is still in her bare hand - how's it doing?
Rebecca does the exact opposite of breathing! The strawberry drops from her hand as she steps to the side, too close to the edge to stay in one place.
"Who the hell are you?" Her voice hardens, the similarity to her training session not lost on her. Which meant the girl had some form of psychic ability.
It felt like several hands were clawing at her from inside her own throat. Her eyes narrowed as she reached out and grabbed at Fiona's wrist her gloved hand. By no means ambidextrous, it's not a strong hold.
Rebecca stares at the orange while it's in her bare hand and scowls at it. She doesn't answer the strange girl, but turns her attention back to the peeling skin.
"You should get it looked at." Her voice is flatter than a board. "You don't want it infected." Now would be a perfect time to have utter control of her power, so of course she doesn't.
Rebecca takes a deep breath, staring at the arm as her stomach churns. She swallows against the fact that she's affected someone else with her power without meaning to, and apparently the fact that the roof isn't all that private.
She focuses on what she knew of the melon when she touched it. It's color, scent, how it felt. How she wanted to peel back the rot, to go back to the stage of its cycle just before she touched it.
Between the continued audience and obsession with fruit, she can feel her frustration slipping in along with her scowl.
"Stupid fruit," she mutters. "If I'm going to be stuck with this power the rest of my life, then I damn well better have the right to decide what goes to the compost heap and what doesn't!"