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 Posted: Fri Dec 31, 2010 10:37 pm
Venatores
Sometimes stuff goes missing. It might be people, it might be hardware. No matter what the case, though, someone needs to retrieve them. The big mafia types have their own little hit squads they like to go to, but out in the desert and the refugee camps, there’s no such permanent option.
Instead there are individuals. Some call themselves private eyes, some call themselves detectives, some call themselves workmen, some call themselves plumbers. It really doesn’t matter, though. In the end they all do the same thing - they hunt the things down and they retrieve them, whether by diplomacy or by force, almost always without any motivation but money. They tend to be the hardboiled type, the men (and occasionally women) who have seen it all, or who have nowhere else to go for their living.
Now there have been a streak of kidnappings and thefts. Balances amongst the desert warlords and the cities’ dons are shifting. The workmen are coming out in hordes, and new ones appear all the time. There’s profit to be made when the scales tip like this, and to get rich all you have to do is throw your dice in on the right side. The question, then, is which side is the right one?
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Posted: Fri Dec 31, 2010 10:38 pm
The Desert and the Grassland
It’s been fifty years since the last nuclear bomb dropped. There are still some uninhabitable zones, but those tend to be far away, and they’re not really your concern. Most of the Mediterranean coast of Afrika is inhabitable and inhabited. The greener parts right against the sea are controlled by walled city-states. Some have been built in the last few years; most are relics of a day gone by. Men fill skyscrapers as best as they can, and the farmland around them is taxed to its limits to keep them all fed. Oil pours in from city-states to the far East, and the seas are alive with ships, keeping trade routes alive as best they can.
Further in, though, is where most of the private eyes come from. These are the rough lands, the deserts, where water is often scarce but the people are not. The sands are infested with shanty towns, built of mud brick watered by blood, sweat, and tears. They import water and food from the city-states as much as they can, and in return they provide glass and bricks where they’re able. Some of the camps are lucky enough to be focused around rivers and floodplains, particularly out in Aegyptus, which leaves them more independent and rich than their comrades across the true desert.
The smallest camps are ruled by tribal systems, but the more developed ones tend to be ruled by warlords. The cities themselves infrequently change hands, for the people love their warlords, but the soldiers and often when they do, the new leader brings them to greater prosperity through appropriate conquests. Violence is rare in the camps; there are bigger troubles that tend to occupy the refugees. The city-states prefer to leave the camps alone, but there are some greedy empire-builders out there, so the warlords are mostly occupied with the defense of their territories.
To the north, across the Mediterranean, Roma rises again. They have yet to consider setting foot in Afrika, but the threat endlessly hovers above all the city-states to the south. To the north-east, Graecia is divided into city-states much the same way the coast of Afrika is. None are empire-builders, and none are really truly threatening. As mentioned before, the city-states to the furthest east are oil empires, and they rely on trade to provide food for themselves. The Orient still exists, though in what shape reports vary. Traders wander down the Silk Road into the city-states, bringing silks and arts for the most part. Rumors say that to the distant west, across the ocean, there still remains a great nation, but no one has ever seen anything of America or seen an American. Those who take ocean-faring boats and sail west are never heard from again.
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Posted: Fri Dec 31, 2010 10:40 pm
The Refugee Camps
These will be the focus, at least for the early game and for the development of characters. The camps are, as mentioned before, more often like small cities than they are like camps. Some are built entirely of tents, but most are more developed - stucco buildings are not uncommon, and glass is a common feature on such buildings. Electricity is a thing often seen in public buildings and the homes of the unusually well-off, but it is not a common feature amongst homes. Neither are candles, which means that most labor ends at about dusk.
Firearms, on the other hand, are very common sights. Many people are asked to own a Garand or a K98 - whatever they can get their hands on is just fine. The camp warlords far prefer to train and maintain militias than to hire mercenaries or organize real armies - the militias are simply much more cost effective. Occasionally militiamen are outfitted with submachine guns or optics for their rifles, but much more often they simply own their rifle and a sidearm of some sort.
Cars are most often seen under the control of militias, and these tend to be trucks or halftracks designed for carrying militiamen wherever they need to be. Private cars are seen only amongst the reasonably wealthy, and in fact are considered a feature of city-states rather than one of the camps. Vehicles are often a prerequisite for private eyes, which often as not requires them to have some sort of sponsor or else be rather wealthy in the first place. More on that later.
Camps subsist nearly entirely at the mercy of the city-states - most camps have very little in the way of food production, and rely on trade to keep their citizens from starvation. Fortunately the city-states often need the services provided by the camps, and will even draw people from the camps to be laborers in the factories or on the farms. People will often go to work in the cities, and have traders send their wages or equivalent food back for their families. Camp-natives refer to this as “nursing the city.” City-dwellers more derisively refer to it as “city-leeching.”
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Posted: Fri Dec 31, 2010 10:41 pm
A Few Final Notes on Setting
The history books aren’t terribly clear, nor are they reliable or even common, but the best scholars believe that the most recent round of nuking across the planet was not the first - indeed, they think it was the second or perhaps even the third. What has changed since then nobody knows.
This setting in many ways is meant to resemble Prohibition-era United States, with only touches of actual African or Roman culture. The technology hovers somewhere between the Twenties and the Forties, with the city-states being closer to the Forties and the refugee camps being decimated Twenties locales.
This setting is more heavily affected by Roman culture than it is by African - I know something about Roman culture, while I know absolutely nothing about African. It’s more American than anything else, though; the Roman cultural quirks are mostly in the language and mythology.
The world is meant to be large, part of the reason I’m restricting vehicle access. There are ideally to be many locals to investigate and explore, and that’s just in the African zones. If we ever do end up across the seas or the oceans, things will get even more interesting, I hope. That’ll rely mostly on participation and length of this RP, however. Speaking of restrictions on vehicle access...
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Posted: Fri Dec 31, 2010 10:44 pm
The Private Eye
There are a certain number of things required to be a successful private eye. One must have the skills to play detective - those sharp eyes, that quick mind. One must often have the militant skills and equipment to defend oneself or another, or even the fighting prowess to claim prizes from enemies. One must have the means to cross distances in pursuit of fleeing opponents or stolen away hostages. Most importantly, however, one must have the insanity to put oneself in constant danger for the sake of money.
Private eyes are rarely glamorous people. Admittedly the rich can easily put themselves in the position to fulfill such a role, but only a fool would throw away a secure, wealthy life for the edge-of-a-knife life private eyes live every day. Some people must expose themselves to danger in order to do their job. Very few have to actively seek it out to accomplish their tasks.
If private eyes are those who have nowhere else to go, how is it that they provide for themselves the cars or the guns? As often as not, new private eyes are made by wealthy campmembers or even the warlords who run them. When something goes wrong, the camps are scoured for those with the necessary talents to serve the private eye function and the desperation to accept the responsibilities, then are equipped with the proper weapons and transportation. More occasionally, desperate people who already know they have the skills will seek out rich benefactors and take up the private eye mantle to keep themselves fed.
Once into the job, private eyes rarely retire without permanent injury, such as missing limbs or death. Some group together to make firms or organizations; some very rarely join mafias or forcibly promote themselves to warlord. Most often, however, private eyes leave the job as they got into it - penniless, miserable, and some percent more than half dead.
When writing your characters, you should keep this in mind. Unless you’re that one in the million psycho rich kid who wants that sort of adventure, you’re a desperately hungry idiot with a sharp mind and the ability to maintain yourself in a fight. If you can come up with another reason, feel free, but there you have it.
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Posted: Fri Dec 31, 2010 10:48 pm
Character Skeleton
Some of my more audacious friends have been requiring individual work rather than fleshed out skeletons, but I’m not thinking that’ll function appropriately for this. I ask for a quality application. Interesting characters are a must. Feel free to make them cliché; that’s kinda half the point. I want them, however, to be interesting and unique. If you’re in doubt, you can always remember my personal character mantra: Quirks make interesting characters. [b]Gaia Name:[/b] Your username here.
[b]Nomen:[/b] Your character’s name. Naming customs are slightly different. I’ll accept regional and/or creative naming if it runs well with the theme, but I’d prefer that you collect your names from the Latin language. behindthename.com has an entire section on Roman names. I’m not going to ask you to use actual Roman naming standards - first name and last name, just like we do.
[b]Anno Natus:[/b] Your character’s age. Pretty simple. If you’re aiming very young or very old, I expect good explanation for choosing to be a private eye.
[b]Sexus:[/b] Your character’s gender. Whatever, man.
[b]Facies:[/b] Your character’s appearance. With great hesitation I’ll say I accept pictures, but I would infinitely prefer text descriptions. When considering clothing, keep in mind the period - sneakers aren’t a thing, t-shirts are likewise nonexistant. City slickers are going to be wearing suitcoats, but even refugees are going to be dressed in that Forties style, if they have the means to do so. If not, well, rags are universal. (Refugee style may be a little more... middle-eastern, or actual North Afrikan.) Also remember that even in Northern Afrika, most folks are Caucasian. That’s just the way it is.
[b]Fabula:[/b] Your character’s story. Keep in mind what I said above. If you’ve got any plans to make your character a foreigner, talk to me first. There are quirks with distant nations.
[b]Armae:[/b] Does your character carry weapons? Equipment of some sort? If not, there must be a reason. If so, what is it that (s)he carries? Keep in mind the WWII-esque setting when choosing firearms. Keep in mind, also, that yoru character is not particularly weel-off. If you’re carrying heavy weaponry, like a submachine gun or a StG44, it’s almost certainly a loaner. Who loaned it to you? Why would they do so? Also, please don’t go overboard with this. Don’t be trying to haul around a one-man army.
[b]Et Cetera:[/b] If there’s something missing, feel free to pop it in here. Detailed characters are interesting, and there’s no “personality,” slot, because the bio should speak for it, but there may be little things you want to push in here. When your skeleton is completed, fire it in my direction. Don’t care about the subject, I’m not so egotistical as to think I actually receive enough PMs to require distinction to spot these.
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Posted: Fri Dec 31, 2010 10:49 pm
Rules (Or Lack Thereof)
I don’t think I should have to have rules. So instead, I’m just going to lay down two whoops I mean three fundamental truths:
Fundamental Truth 1. I am in charge. My word is the end law, as in any RP. If you can’t deal with my methods, feel free to depart; if I’ve discovered I’m good at something, it’s filling those holes.
Fundamental Truth 2. Good writing is rewarded, bad writing is punished. This includes the issues of literacy, but it goes deeper. Certainly you’ll receive the decent man’s fare for writing completel sentences, but that doesn’t earn you a reward. The reward comes when you start building interesting, multidimensional characters. The reward is when you let those characters play the game as much or more so than you do. This reward comes in various forms, but the most important is to be detailed in the next post.
Fundamental Truth 3. The lack of rules only applies as long as they’re unneeded. I am really bad at following through with threads - I tend to err on the side of mercy no matter what the circumstances. In this case, however, rules will be instituted if they are made necessary. That... with a literate group, that shouldn’t even be an issue. But there it is. If things go wildly wrong, I WILL reign them in by force.
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Posted: Fri Dec 31, 2010 10:54 pm
Approved Characters Gaia Name: SiberDrac Nomen: Claudius Demicaecus. Anno Natus: 39. Sexus: Man. Facies: This man dresses in a dark brown, leather duster more characteristic of the Wild West than Africa, but let's face it - in a fusion-blasted desert landscape, pragmatism can outweigh even the whispers of anachronism. He has a leathery face from years in the wind, dust, and sun that places his age as greater than it should be and stands at roughly 6'3". He wears a worn, leather, fedora-style hat that seems to be almost as old as he is and wields a solid black, polished cane with a pistol-grip handle. His eyes are granite with pale flecks of gold, and his wrinkles sink even them into an accepting grimace. This face doesn't smile. Fabula: Claudius was originally born to a relatively wealthy family in the desert clans, meaning he had all the luxuries of life - a clean weekly bath, an almost-reliable supply of drinking water, food, and most impressively, the means of obtaining a little something more. He had women when he wanted them, wine on occasion, and even hashish when it was an especially good month. He worked as a bodyguard for tradesmen, usually, and so was trained with a rifle and a whip - the latter was particularly good for making examples of raiders. Until age thirty-four, he was fond of wild women, hallucinogens, and raising dogs, one of which he keeps with him still - a fearsome saluki hound, bred specifically to outrun horses and other prey out in the ubiquitous dry heat of the inner parts of Ageyptus. The black, white-chested, russet-legged, long-haired beast's name is Specter, and she stands at almost three feet, a massive, more durable strain than most. It was at age thirty-four that Claudius' shin was shattered by a raider's rifle round. Shortly afterwards, his father died of asphyxiation on a date (the fruit) while hearing the news. The dominos kept mercilessly falling, with his mother, already a frail-minded woman, leapt from a building top to join her husband in death. Seeing the toppling family, others moved in to drain their reserves' dry - literally and financially. Their well's water was siphoned to another's, and the "bank account" dried up. It was only natural that Claudius, with no other options, patch his leg as well as possible and take his rifle, whip, and cane, purchased with the last family money he had on him, to the highest bidder. At first, this was understandably not so high. But months without sufficient food proved to Claudius he needed to improve. So he did. And now is hired regularly as one of the more well-known mercenaries in the Aegiptus area. Specter is always by his side, or hunting rabbits and rats, as is his cane, adorned with two gold rings, which separate the cane roughly into thirds. Claudius prefers not to talk and wears a patch over his left eye, ostensibly another wound from his lifestyle. He will almost never turn down a game of cards or a good batch of hashish, and while he has become withdrawn from his wounds and misfortune, still keeps an eye out for good women if they happen to pass by. Armae: Smith & Wesson riflekind, Specter, cane, leather whip, deadly one-eyed gaze. Et Cetera: Don't hurt his dog. Seriously. --------------------- Gaia Name: Jokerman-EXE Nomen: Felix Blandus Anno Natus: 28 Sexus: Male Facies: Tall, tan, and devestatingly handsome, Felix has an easy smile and a powerful voice that make men feel empowered and women feel aroused. His body is toned by his profession, though it is marred, in places, by thick, twisted scars. His black hair is very short on the sides and slightly longer on top, giving him a militant yet casual appearance. His typical attire is one of thick canvas pants with multitudes of pockets, combat boots, and a black shirt with a pair of leather gloves. He keeps his face clean-shaven aside from a patch of hair on his chin, which he is prone to stroking when he thinks. Fabula: Raised in the refugee camps and always within traveling distance of the city-states, Felix has known hardship and struggle his entire life. Though there were bastions of civilzation and safety nearby, he and his family were stuck, scraping a living and struggling under the constant fear of loss or death. It hardly seemed fair to the young Felix. Growing up, Felix always had a way with getting people to follow him. Convincing the other children in the camp to help him do his work; talking a vendor into lowering their prices for him; when he was older, charming his way into many a woman's bed – all tricks that Felix had a natural talent for. It was clear to him that if he wanted to make some kind of difference for his family and his village, he would have to take on a mantle of leadership himself. At age 23, he joined a mercenary company as its newest recruit. From that point on, he has tirelessly strove to make his way up the later, and when he reached the top he continued to strive to make the organization the best, the safest, and well-known as a group that worked for the people. Never attracting many members, his group was nonetheless viewed as a blessing on the refugees stuck in the wastelands, with no way to break through into the upper levels that were the city-states. Felix himself still goes on missions with and without his men, using his own particular brand of talent and wit (along with armaments he has picked up along the way) to accomplish missions. In recognition for his acts on their behalf, his village pooled their resources and purchased an old, worn-but-good truck that he drives with pride. Armae: .357 S&W Magnum; 5-inch switchblade knife, non-serrated Et Cetera: Despite his noble intentions and his general caring personality, once he has determined his goal, Felix is ruthless and willing to kill in order to reach his objective. He is highly skilled in disguise, psychoanalysis, and rhetoric. --------------------- Gaia Name: shauna_marie Nomen: Nika Servius Anno Natus: 25 Sexus: Female Facies: Nika is short in stature, a bit below the normal height for most females. Her eyes are a dark shade of brown. Her hair is only a shade or two lighter than her eyes and has a length that reaches the middle of her back. Not that most would know that, she tends to keep her hair pulled up and off the back of her neck, helping to keep her a bit cooler. The only time it is let down is when she's sleeping. Due to that fact, it is normally curly, bent at the spots where the band held it up. The clothes she tends to wear also are preferred to help keep her cool and as comfortable as possible. Nika prefers to wear shorts of some kind, but that is a harder article for her to come by, so she wears skirts. Though she tends to use her knife and slit them along the length of her leg so she can get around easier in them. The tops are modified easily enough as well, for she sometimes ties them up where her midriff is showing. After all, it's all she can do to keep cool out in the desert climate. Her shoes are an old-ish pair of boots that her younger brother had quickly outgrown. Good thing her feet were a close fit, because they are quite durable. Her skin is marked by various tan lines and scars. The majority of the scars look like a wild animal had torn into her, but not with the intention to hurt her, if that makes any sense. Nika takes good care of her fingernails, doing her best to keep them clean and grown out, for she can't stand short nails. Fabula: Nika has always been a klutz and tries to remain positive at all times. She comes from a big family. Her grandmother was one of eleven, and her dad was the first of four. She herself is the oldest of four, so needless to say, family is important to her. All of her relatives were centered in one area, all helping each other out, all working together to keep things running smoothly, keep everyone alive. Yes, every now and then, a cousin or aunt, or etc would go off to find someone for their partner. Or, some stranger would pass through and end up fancying a relative. That's how they grew. Everything seemed to be going smoothly until her sister, Lucia, disappeared. Nika just thought, with Lucia's draw to adventure, that she had gone searching for her special someone. That was, until she spotted her sisters beloved hemp necklace, the one Nika had made for her, on the ground. It had been on her way to get water that Nika had spotted it, and the damage done to it looked as if it had been ripped from Lucia's neck. With a quick movement, Nika had scooped it out of the sand and stuffed it in her pocket. Her father must not know what she suspected, for it would tear him apart. No, Nika had to go and find her sister. With a little more than a goodbye to her family, she packed up and headed out into the desert, following the only lead she had. A few months prior to Lucia's disappearance, a group of young men had passed through their little town. They had been given hospitality, as was custom with her family. One had taking a liking to her younger sister, and Nika hadn't liked the way the boy had gone after her sister. Come to find out, Lucia didn't either. The suitor left rejected, and a bit sore about the whole thing. Maybe he'd know a thing or two about Lucia's disappearance. After a months or two of questioning and searching the sparse desert cities, she came across a few of the group that had passed through her town before. She trapped one on his way out of the local bar, and held him at knife point. It didn't take long for the combination of the blade and liquor got the man to spill all he knew. By morning she had rescued her sister and killed the swine that had stolen her from home in the first place. Lucia did her best to stop crying as she was dragged from the home, looking sickly while elated that her big sister had found her. On the long trek home, Nika noticed something changing her sister. Though she ate no more than usual, Lucia's stomach grew in size. That meant only one thing. The b*****d had gotten her pregnant. The sisters argued over the fact upon what should be done about the child. At first, Lucia wanted nothing to do with the monster that was growing inside her, but that changed as they neared home. She came to love the child within her, while Nika still despised it. It was wrong, and if she could get away with it, she would have cut the fetus from her sister herself. As it was, she couldn't bear it to cause Lucia any more pain. So, when they got home, they were welcomed happily, regardless of the fact that Lucia was pregnant. Time passed on, and Lucia's stomach grew more. Finally, it was time for the child to be born. With things being the way they were, she couldn't be taken to a medical facility, only tended to by her grandmother. For, their grandmother had been a nurse in the last war. After a long thirty six hour labor, Vivien was born and in her mothers arms. Things would go back to normal, right? No. They couldn't get Lucia to stop bleeding after the delivery. Nika watched as the life faded from her baby sister's eyes. It wasn't right. It wasn't fair. The baby was handed to her as her sister was covered with a sheet until they could have a 'funeral' and bury her. Nika wanted to despise the child that had stolen the life from her sister, but try as she may, all she saw was Lucia in the child's face, eyes, everything. A day or two later, they had been bringing Lucia's body out to be buried, for everyone to say their final goodbyes. The smell of rotting flesh had brought some wild cats out of hiding, and without regret, Nika passed off baby Vivien to her father and killed the wild animal for even thinking they could come and consume her sister. The cat loped off after being shot, and Nika chased after it. No, they would have a meal from it for even wanting to come near the burial. The cat was limping when Nika finally caught up, and then she started to cry. The cat had just been looking for food for her cub, her baby. She put the creature out of it's pain and brought the kitten back home. It had hissed and spit at her as she tried to pick it up. She couldn't blame it. So, Nika ignored the cut's that it inflicted on her as she walked back to her sister's burial. Nika was going to take care of that kitten, no matter what. It was the least she could do. As the baby grew, so did the kitten. After awhile, Nika found out that it was a male Serval cat. After that was discovered, she decided to name him Emris, the name her sister would have named her child had it been a boy. Once the cat had become full grown, Nika decided to let him go out into the wild, set him free. However, all Emris did was run out and hunt all night, bringing back a few desert hare for her in the morning. It seemed as if she wasn't going to get rid of him, which didn't bother her a bit. He had become her baby, and she hadn't been willing to let him go. She played with him, getting cut in the process. It wouldn't bother her, though. Even if she was gushing blood, she'd brush it off as 'He didn't mean it, and I'll be fine.' Before too long, someone had found out about her rescue of her sister, and hired her. Well, attempted to. Nika wasn't so sure she should venture away from home again. Though, when she was offered her version of the best payment, she gave in. Nika would do nearly anything for new music, even if it was ancient in reality. They had an old, beaten up record player that could be hand cranked, and she had stayed centered around it when she was little, memorizing every line on the few scratched records that were available. Needless to say, it was a payment dear to her heart, and the money that went along was a bonus. Of course, Emris came with her, and he made things easier for her and protecting her when need be. So, she continues on the road of finding things, refusing to call herself a 'private eye', only hoping to prevent the fate of Lucia's for somebody else. Armae: 7 inch dagger latched to her side, Emris, her fingernails, a pistol Et Cetera: You can often find Nika humming or singing to a song that she has memorized. She has a good collection of old records stored away at home. She lets her family listen to them since she memorizes each new one within a week of getting it. Emris is her baby, so don't try and hurt him. She has gotten a nickname of 'crazy cat lady' for a reason. She will go all crazy on you if you even suggest hurting Emris.
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Posted: Fri Dec 31, 2010 10:55 pm
Awesome Points
Here we see the return of my group-o-friend’s trademark, the Awesome Points system. The basics are pretty simple. Good writing results in Awesome Points. As I said before, good writing isn’t solid grammar, although bad grammar can cost you anything from AP to straight-up character death. No, it’s character development and awesomeness that will get you AP.
Why do we care about AP? Because spending AP can get you out of fixes you may have put yourself in. AP is your cheap way into awesome. Surrounded by enemies, isolated from you rallies, with death certain? Pump AP into the situation and nothing will go wrong at all. Obviously things like that will cost a lot more, but AP is your cheap, quick solution to issues you’re having difficulty surmounting.
I’ll be picking up a system of awarding one of my RP-Comrades follows - instead of giving any reward for simple participation, awards must be earned through characterization and all that jazz I talked about. Awardings will be recorded on the next post, along with expenditures, allowing other players to see the sort of thing that wins AP and allowing you to check my AP counter if you care to. Your current AP will be recorded directly below.
SiberDrac: 0
Jokerman-EXE: 0
AP Expenditure
To spend AP, players must highlight the intended expenditure of AP red in their post. Once I spot this highlighting, I’ll decide on a. if I want to let you spend AP for this thing and b. how much AP it’ll cost you. If you want to specify an intended AP cost, you maybe add it in parentheses within the color, as so (3).
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Posted: Fri Dec 31, 2010 10:57 pm
AP Awards
No AP awards yet!
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Posted: Fri Dec 31, 2010 10:58 pm
GM-Approved Auto-Action
Obviously auto-hitting is a load of crap that nobody wants to see. There are times, however, when these sort of actions are required to keep things moving. In these cases, players may PM or AIM the GM (myself, my AIM screename is TheRealSirBayer), discuss the actions in question, discuss with any other players involved as necessary, and then receive permission to have something happen automatically. Such approved action must be marked with the color blue. This same method may be used to expend AP and confirm costs or what not. This is simply to distinguish approved auto-actions from the ideally-non-present auto-actions sans approval.
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Posted: Fri Dec 31, 2010 11:00 pm
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Posted: Fri Dec 31, 2010 11:01 pm
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Posted: Fri Dec 31, 2010 11:03 pm
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Posted: Fri Dec 31, 2010 11:05 pm
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