Bi-Polar AMI

Main Event Winner!

Hall Of Fame!

Survival - 11 Wins!

Brutal - 1 Fatalities


Alignment: Hero

Team: Solo Hero


Strength: Standard

Agility: Standard

Mind: Superior

Body: Weak


Personal Wins: 11

Personal Losses: 2

Mr. Kite

My name is Ami Johanson, and it pains me to admit it but I can't explain what happened to me. You see, I'm no longer entirely... human. Or if I am, I'm more than human. The details don't really matter, not least because I don't really know them myself. Let me start over from the beginning. I suppose it all began when I was two years old: my father, a programmer at Bell Labs, gave me what would shape the rest of my life. A computer. Sure, it was an antique even at the time - a Commodore VIC-20, with an amazing 5KB of RAM - but I fell in love. My father was almost never at home, always involved in some last-minute rush before a project deadline, and so we communicated almost entirely through our computers. Eventually, and as computers became more and more powerful, I started tinkering with them: it started as a sort of game, playing with BASIC code to do one thing or another, but it soon became an obsession. Assembly, machine language, and eventually I started playing with hardware. I couldn't leave it alone, even when I wasn't at home. Still can't. Before all this, I wouldn't leave home without a laptop, 10 pounds of accessories, and 10 feet of Cat-5e. People called me crazy, but I think they're the crazy ones: being off-line is overrated. There's no to remind me how to spell things - not like I really need it - and how can I look smarter than I really am without Google and Wikipedia?

I saw her, yeah I saw her with her hands tied back~And her rags were burning ~Crawling out from a landfilled life ~Scrawlin her name upon the ceiling ~Throw a coin in a fountain of dust ~White noise, her ears are ringing ~Got a ticket for a midnight hanging ~Throw a bullet from a freight train leaving ~And I know I'm gonna steal her eye ~She doesn't even know what's wrong ~And I know I'm gonna make her die ~Take her where her soul belongs ~And I know I'm gonna steal her eye ~Nothing that I would not try ~Hey, My sun-eyed girl~(Character co-written with Koushiro, inspired by Beck - "Girl")

Sun-Eyed Girl

     Radar: Standard


Before this began, I had a morning ritual. I'd wake up, shuffle to the bathroom, fill the sink, splash my face, take stock in the mirror. I never really thought about it until one morning when taking stock became taking shock: instead of my eyes, there were two whirling pools of electricity staring back at me, and the water I splashed in my face sparked as it fell back into the sink. I'd seen enough movies to know that calling a doctor was a bad idea. The government will somehow get involved, and we know how well that ends up. I'd rather not get spirited away to some remote military experimental facility to become the army's secret weapon or whatever. Thinking to myself "What would Jeff Goldblum do?", I took matters into my own hands. I grabbed my best multimeter from my tools and started prodding my eyes with copper rods, trying to find out what they were capable of. I went through a few multimeters like that, but suffice it to say any measurement I took was absurd. I took to wearing sunglasses everywhere afterwards, though I got a little carried away: if I was going to be wearing them all the time, I didn't want it to just be a hunk of plastic. Instead, I have a hunk of plastic with — have you ever played the game Metal Gear Solid? I'm living it: I have a live radar map in the top right-hand corner of my vision, with people and machines and their visibilities. Games of peek-a-boo have since become less fun, but it's a small price to pay.


The Body Electric

     Energy Body: Supreme


Energy is a lot like water. It likes to flow: though it can be held in a container, it does no good just sitting there. It took some time before I could do it right. There were days of practice where I did nothing but look back at myself in the mirror, to stare into my own eyes and concentrate. It cascaded down my face; it flowed to the tips of my fingers. Eventually, I was able to engulf myself entirely in pure electricity. Focusing my power now is no longer a challenge. The circuits have been laid out, so to speak. I can now flow with energy, or immerse myself in it until I become energy incarnate. There is an unspeakable sensation of power that flows through me, and I am no longer solely flesh and blood. The best I could describe it: picture an orgasm, encompassing your entire body. Now, imagine that with pure force and strength, and you might come close.


The Network Is The Human

     Electricity: Superior

  • Ranged Attack Only


Stupid Sun jokes aside, I feel it should be noted this is not a stationary power: I can fling bits of energy at will. Nothing better than flinging errant datagrams - too bad I can't get a reply signal from most humans. A game of datagram catch, that'd be pretty rad. Oh, and I should mention: I can also send myself. Do you know how damned tiresome uploading yourself via a 56k modem is? It's a pain, I promise. I've been doing a lot of traveling lately. People seem surprised for some reason when a short waifish girl suddenly appeares in their computer room: I can't imagine why.


Modem Burst

     Sonics: Supreme


Do you know how unnecessarily complex analog signal conversion is? Don't make me get into FDM and all the joys and wonders of conversion technology. I've converted my iPod into a modem, of sorts. Analog input comes in through a tiny receiver in the machine itself. Conversion takes place inside the machine, and pure digital output is sent to my ears. It's less clutter for me to take in, and far easier for me to distinguish sound ranges to focus on. I've found that reversing the signal can produce some interesting results. For example, I can now participate in a variety of modern day phone phreaking. Nothing better than a prank call that ends with an obscene letter printed on someone else's fax machine. Also, a more obnoxious use for those of you remember modem chatter: you haven't heard a thing until it's cranked up to 150 dB. I've seen grown men claw at their ears in agony. It's a great party trick, and a surefire way to get attention in a large crowd.