This is a new Steampunk Western RP that the Colonel and I are planning, and we're looking for contributors. It won't be freely drop in/drop out, but if you want, we can work something out at a point in the adventure. The year is 1859. The story starts in the town of Dodge, Kansas. The characters are in a saloon in the slaughterhouse district.
-Horses are for middle and lower class people. The military, law enforcement, and upper classes all use steam-powered horse automatons, or "burners". These are classified by their metal plating:
Iron: Draft horse
Steel: Cavalry, heavy
Brass: Cavalry, light
Copper: Civilian, fast and weak
Bronze: Civilian, slow and tough
Tin: Pony
-Railroads have been established throughout all the major towns. They also run on steam, as do the zeppelins that service large cites.
-Where there is no steam, there is clockwork. Used since the beginning of the century, clockwork powers smaller machines and cut-rate automatons.
-In the early stages of development are some gigantic war machines; walkers, battle carriages, Darwinist mutants, the like. The American state governments are all buying them as tensions between the North and South grow hotter.
-Charles Darwin and Nikola Tesla are both regarded as great scientific individuals, responsible for mush of the world's rapid growth. (Ignore the timeline issues.)
-Firearms are still somewhat the same as in this period in history, with sniper rifles, hi-powered steam and clockwork guns, and rockets, as well as combat automatons, being some differences.
*Mustard's Stuff*
-Due to Darwin's recent theories and progress in mutation, white Southerners have adopted the idea that Anglo-Saxon Americans are God's chosen race, who are superior to all others through natural selection on account of the fact that they've conquered most of the known world.
-Secondly, in order to make them more efficient at working, black slaves are genetically manipulated and mutated. Generally, there could be a huge social stigma against mutating people (if they're not genetically superior white Anglo-Saxon people, at least) but seeing as black people are seen as subhuman there's not a problem for them there.
-Anyway, this leads me into my next point; people are sometimes mutated using genetic manipulation for various reasons, and these mutants face the same level of prejudice and bigotry that black people would have faced at the time, even if they're white, on account of being 'genetically corrupt'. As a result, having 'indentured mutants' is a thing where they're kept as slaves in all but name; one of the things Lincoln can be pushing for, and one of the things that eventually sparks a civil war, is giving mutants the same legal standing as non-mutants. I'll admit that the idea is shamelessly cribbed from the Remade in China Mieville's Bas-Lag novels, but it could be interesting.
- Minor occult element in their as well; occultism was a big thing in the West around that time, with people convinced stuff like telepathy, telekinesis and communicating with the dead could work, and could work in a scientific manner as well. It could be interesting to have something like telepaths and telekines (perhaps limited ones) and mediums be included in the world. The pioneer of telepathic practice was and is Sigmund Freud.
-Since Darwin, Tesla, and Freud have contributed so much to this society, they have almost Demi-God status and some people actually worship them, with neither their encouragement nor approval.
Happy trails, pardners.
It's up, hooray!
Still need to think of a character, though.
Ooh, I can FINALLY bring Black Betty in! I was so disappointed when that RP never came into fruition.
Alright, here's my character. Let's be off, and all that.
Name: Mr Algernon 'Algy' Demontjoy (In reality, it's Lucius Delmont, but due to...extenuating circumstances he prefers not to use that name)
Age: 26
Appearance: A gentleman of refinement, class and style, Mr Delmont is never, ever improperly dressed. His three-piece suits (which he always wears) are perfectly tailored, and the top hats that he wears with them will, of course, be colour co-ordinated with his suit. His right arm is mechanical, a finely crafted device of brass, ivory and ceramics, with a pen placed in the tip of his main index finger. The right side of his head, as well as most of his forehead and the top of his skull, is covered with an expressionless mask of white china, and what remains of his hair is black (it goes without saying that it is meticulously kept). Those who might see him beneath his shirt will discover that most of the right side of his torso is covered in finely engraved steel.
Occupation: When asked, Lucius typically describes himself thus; "I am a gentleman of business. In stocks, typically, but also in railroads, gold, steel or telegram wires. Wherever there is money, you see." In reality, he is a fraud, cheat, con-man and liar, who make his money ripping off whoever he feels is the most profitable.
Skills: Lying, bluffing, fast-talking, cheating at gambling (that's his bread-and-butter, really, when he isn't thinking up larger and more profitable schemes), forgery, being generally charming and socially adept, affecting a very convincing English accent ("An English accent is the most refined, you see. Unless it is Northern. Perish the thought of those accents!").
Worldly possessions: His extensive array of suits and fashionable clothing, tools used for forgery. For weapons, he carries a Smith and Wesson Automatic Dual-Chambered Revolver ("A revolver is a gentleman's weapon. Any other firearm just seems crass to me") and has a foot long blade of thin, straight steel concealed in his mechanical right arm.
Biography: The story he gives is that he is an Englishman born into a family of noble descent, but one that is absolutely penniless, and that he came here to the new world to seek his fortune anew. If you believe him, the reason he gives for his extensive mechanical injuries are of an unfortunately timed accidental explosion at a railway site he was inspecting with the thought that he might invest in it.
In reality, 'Algernon' was born and raised in New York, and has never visited anywhere in Europe, let alone England. There, he grew up doing what he currently does in the south; ripping people off and conducting elaborate schemes in order to rip people off for even more money than usual. Unfortunately, one of his schemes ended up going awry and a local crime boss was out for Lucius' blood; in what was supposed to be an execution, he was brutally beaten, attacked with a knife, lost his arm and was left for dead.
Miraculously, he survived and was able to pay for a mechanical arm as well as appropriately fashionable coverings for his injuries. It was abundantly clear to him, however, that getting out of New York as soon as possible would be greatly conducive to his continued survival, so he upped sticks and headed south without a word, starting a new life under a new name and new personality. Either unwilling or unable to learn from his past experiences, 'Algy' now does much the same as he did before, with his main targets being rich, (usually) single women he can take in by his act as a down-on-his-luck aristocrat from the motherland.
Name: Jonah Markwit
Age: 22
Occupation: Aeronautical Engineer
Appearance: Jonah is pale, pasty and thin as a wire. He is most decidedly not a cowboy, indeed. He spends most of his time indoors, fooling with his various inventions. He dresses neatly, if only by virtue of never having to get dirty. He usually wears a brown wool vest over a white cotton shirt, a brown felt bowler hat with black ribbon, brown trousers, and standard cowboy boots. He also has a pair of green-glass goggles he wears when the sun is simply too much for one hat. He has long brown hair, kept trimmed in a bob, long thin fingers, brown eyes, and a long pointed nose.
History: Born in San Francisco, Jonah took up work for the Union Pacific Railroad, supervising tunnel building. He rose through the ranks to become a zeppelin engineer, and designed his own, "The Capricorn." He does freelance work around the west and is in Dodge to assist with the changing of the compressors on a cross-country skyliner.
Personality: Detached and aloof. Not a mean-spirited person, just an apathetic, uncaring person. He thinks nothing of gender or race. He does, however, take into account your social standing. Rich people are his favorite kind of people, particularly rich people he can talk into investing. Overall just out of it, spacy, and generally just not caring.
Possessions: Plans for the "Capricorn", a copper-plated burner, a flask of whiskey, some beef jerky, a small Bowie knife, and a Winchester Steam Carbine. This weapon fires silently, leaving only a near-invisible discharge in the air. It fires far, as well, up to 1000 yards. This baby was picked up in Louisville with some extra cash, and he's kept it for protection ever since. Slung over his shoulder, it's his only weapon.
Skills: Sneaking, code breaking, arithmetic, shooting (to a degree), running fast, not dying, riding, hiding.
Copying and pasting my Black Betty character sheet from the Turn of the Century RPG we STARTED. changing a few things.
Name: Betty Bridges
Alias/nickname: Black Betty
Gender: Female
Age: 22
Race:Hispanic mixed with Irish
Nationality: American
Career: Prostitute/information specialist
Skills: Forgery, kickboxing-type martial arts, throwing-knives
Gang affiliation (if any): none
Equipment: Switchblade
Clothing and Appearance:
She has deep red hair, thick and curly, to her waist. Wears red lipstick to match her hair and black eyeshadow, heavy eyeliner. She's pale and curvy, standing at a height of 5'5'' and 160 lbs. Several tattoos on her body, including full sleeves on both her arms of various colorful images, and up the sides of both her legs and twining up her torso. Has cybernetic-looking bat wings tatted on her back as well. Wears black dresses with deep red undertones. Has the pale skin and freckles of her irish ancestors, but the build of her hispanic ancestors.
History: Betty grew up in a Southern town in America with her grandmother. Her parents were killed when she was four by a serial killer passing through her town. A black slave was strung up and accused of the murderers, even though he was innocent. Being the only eyewitness and due to her young age, her pleas that he was innocent went unheard as the man was lynched in the streets. her grandmother picked them up and moved to Dodge, Kansas, where she died twelve years later, leaving a young Betty alone in the town.
With no formal schooling other than basic learning, Betty was forced to turn to prostituting. Taken in by the local Guild, she was educated in the arts of pickpocketing, grooming, self-defense, art, Western culture as well as music. (She has a lovely singing voice, ask any of her Johns.)
With her former life gone, Betty woos and beds the highest standing public officials. Her recommendations spotless as well as her reputation as a prostitute (disease-free, cybernetic and mutation free, as well as cultured, soft-spoken, and intelligent) has made her highly sought-after, both for her skills and her company.
Correct me if I'm wrong but so far we seem to be all "non-combatants". Don't get me wrong, I'm all for brains over brawn here, but perhaps a more tanky character would help, if anyone plans on joining in the future.
Uhhh...Betty knows martial arts...and throws knives...she seems pretty combative. Maybe she's not pistol-whipping pimps, but she can defend herself.
Alright, alright, just asking, wasn't sure.
I think I'm sober enough to post now XD
If anything is off, please let me know.
EDIT:
Just so we're clear about the prices, I did a bit of research and prostitutes charge about $50-$150 for oral sex NOW, depending on time of day, circumstances, and dress of the man.
Converting the currency from 1860, $1 equals about $10.22(back in 1980) I'm sticking with those prices because Liz no like math and not sober all the way, lol.
So five bucks back then is $50.10 with my conversion. So five bucks for a handy was pretty expensive, but still on the lower side. Given Betty's expertise, she normally charges about ten to twenty dollars, but because of the dingy area, she's lowering her prices. She's in no way a "cheap whore," but makes exceptions.
If a woman NOW says "five bucks for a handy," RUN.
So I know this is way way in the future plot and rp wise, but I saw this travel show about South America at the gym and this came into my head: We have to go fight an Incan god.
@Lizzie: O...k....I'll...letyouknowohmyjesuswhy?!
I'm just trying to help with the currency issue lol
EDIT: Here's anhttp://www.westegg.com/inflation/ to help a bit.
Chorrol forums; destroying Rohirrim's innocence one post at a time.
I'm not sure what he was expecting when I said she was a prostitute.
I wasn't expecting a price list You're almost too thorough, I swear!
Nonesense! i'm ill-prepared, if anything, and overcompensating by being too specific on the things I DO understand lol
Wow, saw the other thread and thought it sounded interesting, looked in here, was not expecting what I saw.
Is that a good or bad thing?
C'mon in, Thorny Boy...and I'll show you how deep the rabbit hole goes...
Oh man, it's my turn, innit?
Turning on computer now.
Just a heads up, if I'm in an RP, I'm not going to be shy or afraid of sexual situations or innuendos, lol
Well there it's in context. That post here just kind of came out of nowhere. Like a stealth truck or something.
But my eyebrows are back in place now, so it's all good.
I'm thinking this thing needs a bounty hunter.
Ooooh! Bounty hunters are badass!!!!
Yeah, I've always had a soft spot for bounty hunters. I'm thinking pale and wiry, mid 40's, weatherbeaten and scarred. Revolver slung low on his hip, large calibre clockwork rifle on his back, brown leather storm coat and boots. Cold, callous, and professional, with steel blue eyes that dart around the room, as if constantly searching for a face to match to a poster.
It needs fleshing out, but you get the idea.
Unless Rohirrim objects of course.
I don't think he would.
Nor do I.
Well I suppose I'd better see what I can come up with then.
Edit: Well, here goes nothing:
Gregor Jones
46
Bounty Hunter
Average height, broad shouldered, pale and wiry. Weatherbeaten face, with a scar on the left hand side running from the jawline to the temple, pulling his mouth into a slight sneer. His eyes are the pale, cold blue of steel, always in motion. His clothes are hard wearing, and show it. A brown leather storm coat and boots, faded denim trousers, and a once white shirt. At his left hip is a quick-draw holster containing a revolver, slung so low on his hip it's secured to his thigh with a second strap. Across his back, the stock rising well above his right shoulder, is a high calibre clockwork rifle, showing signs of both heavy use and meticulous care. Beneath his battered stetson hat, also brown, he keeps his dark brown hair cut short, less than half an inch of it, with the first hints of grey showing at the temples.
History: No friends, no family. He's always been a loner, and hasn't set foot in the town he was born in decades. He changed his name when he left, and speaks of his past to no-one, leaving his background a mystery known only to him. If asked he'll claim to have been a bounty hunter for the last 25 years, and has the scars to prove it.
Personality: Cold, detached, professional. The consummate loner, the closest thing he has to a friend or companion is his horse, whom he talks while riding. Even in this he's somewhat detached, calling it "horse" rather than giving it a name. The only things that he shows any affection to are his weapons, of which he has plenty, mostly concealed. All of them he has given names, and he cares for them with a passion bordering on obsession. Stubborn as a mule, and refuses to give in/die.
Skills: Expert marksman, quick-draw specialist, knife fighting, horse riding, maintains own weapons.
Possessions: Beyond those mentioned above, a knife concealed in his left sleeve via a simple spring mechanism, a second in his right boot, and a length of thick chain in his right pocket, sharpened to an edge on one side. Also carries a second revolver, of a smaller calibre, in an underarm holster. And ammunition for his guns of course. Has a horse.
So what do you guys think?
I've been toying with this: Build the Capricorn after a bit, and have it act as a sort of hub/mobile home/excuse to go to cool places. What think?
No, remember they call Shephard "the shepherd" at the cutscene at the end of three?
I'll be out of town this weekend, so I might not be posting much, if any.
Sorry...got kind of carried away with my post...
Had to bail. That character was really starting to bug me. Two parts cliche, one part knock-off, and an antisocial character in that sort of thread's just daft. Besides, I couldn't match you guys anyhow.
Are you leaving for good? Cuz' you shouldn't.
Wouldn't want to drag the quality of the thead down just to make up the numbers.
Hell I couldn't even keep my character consistent.
Neither can I! Jonah's quite uncharacteristically chatty, in my opinion. That's my little gripe about these things. It's hard to have a brusque, antisocial character, because talking's the name of the game. I really encourage you to stay, but it is, of course, your decision.
Don't worry about consistency. Find a character you feel confortable with and go with it. I've never played a prostitute before, and had to do a bit of research, but role-playing is one part research, one part improvisation, and all enjoyment. If you have to mull over a character a bit, let us know.
Eventually I think we should all try for a Blazing Saddles (episode? What are we calling these? Sequences? What?). I can see it now: "The mutant is a nBONG!" "He says the mutant is near!" "No gosh dern it, the robot is a nBONG!"
Omfg I love that movie!
Gotta watch it tonight now...
Okay, since my brain has got completely snared by this, it wouldn't shut up about it. Here's the result:
Name: Percival Bradshaw
Age: 28
Occupation: Currently none. He's a madcap tinkerer, and was just fired for, well, tinkering.
Appearance: Pale, above average height, and rather skinny. Wears a coat that goes down to his knees, the slleves rolled up to the elbows, which doesn't button up. Beneath that he wears black trousers and a steel breastplate, cannibalised from a combat automaton, which is a little too large for him and is held in place by a combination of a modified toolbelt, and a bandoleer with a holster for his revolver. Somewhere under there is a white cotton shirt and a waistcoat that's seen better days. Also wears a strange leather helmet or hat that's apparently there solely to accomodate the clockwork powered lens array, for when he's tinkering. His left arm is mechanical from the elbow down, he lost it in an embarassing accident involving a steam engine that he was, yes, tinkering with. A technical masterpiece of burnished bronze and polished steel, it's been extensively and creatively modified.
History: Originally from England, he came over to America and has been bouncing from place to place. Taking what mechanical work he can before inevitably being thrown out for tinkering too much.
Personality: Neurotic. A bundle of nervous energy, he frequently mutters to himself while working, and tends to talk at length, often rambling as he does so. Can't see anything mechanical without thinking of ways to improve or modify it, and rarely thinks of the consequences of doing so.
Possessions:. A custom-built double barreled rifle, with revolving chambers and a clockwork powered counterweight system, making it accurate to about 300 yards, with a switch to choose between firing both barrels at once, or one at a time. A heavily modified revolver (like the one in Bioshock), three pocketwatches, innumerable tools and spare parts, and a bronze plated burner.
Skills: Can fix almost anything, and can then tinker with it until it breaks. A reasonably good shot, and has some knowledge of explosives.
This is probably a good way over the top, so feel free to call me out on anything that needs to be changed.
I like it.
And I have no idea where to go, since Betty is already in the Market. Unless someone wants to give her trouble.
So what're we thinking is the incentive to "get the hell outta Dodge"?
Dunno. Betty is comfy there. Maybe a fire?
Hmmm. Maybe... Some bandits, perhaps? Raiding the town and setting it ablaze?
Yeah, looking for a man that ain't even in town. They could come in and be looking for him, and get mad when he doesn't show.
Maybe have a bar fight break out. Someone gets killed, the batender (bartenders always suvive) starts shouting "murderers". As they're getting the hell out of Dodge, Algernon spots Betty and grabs her, demanding his money back. So she gets dragged along as well.
Or have that mutant gang from the bounty board notice trash the place.
Aw, I like Lucius.
Betty isn't going back into the saloon because she knows Lucius is in there and gonna be mad. That's why I ha ent posted.
Eh, I'm not getting major RP feelz from him, tbh. He's moderately entertaining, but he isn't really clicking all that much.
Can't argue with that. Though the crazed, shotgun wielding priest sounds like he could be fun. And as for why he's following them around, two words: Shepherd Book.
Izzy High Priest of Sheogorath?
Since Betty is out there with, you know, the guns, can I have some info on what's going on?
This is really going to suck if I can't get my computer running.
Let's try it.
Seeing as I'm heading off to bed, please don't get too carried away in my absence.
Let's get super carried away in his absence.
MY COMPUTER IS CHARGING!!!!
-cracks knuckles- let's see what I can churn out.
Damn you, timezooooones!
*Shakes fist at the sky*
Alright, Lucius has been killed off. Give me some time to write up a character sheet and to do some other, non-RP writing that I need to do, and I'll get rolling with Father Zachary Trimble.
Like the name, love the way Lucius died.
Alright, new CS is here. Give me a bit to introduce him into the playground thread.
Name: Zachary Trimble
Age: 57
Appearance: Dishevelled and skinny, with greying hair that seems to be consistent only in its erraticness. No beard, but grey stubble seems omnipresent. He wears a black cassock; please don't ask him about the things on it that look like bloodstains.
Occupation: Priest
Skills: Hurting people, breaking things, reading and quoting the Bible, shooting, being very loud.
Worldly possessions: His cassock, a Bible, his trusty double-barrelled shotgun 'Mercy' (typically loaded with phosphor shells), a veritable cartload of crazy, his unflappable mule, named Mark.
Biography: Growing up a quiet, unassuming and ultimately very pious young man, Zachary was the middle child of a dozen boisterous siblings who went on to study theology and become ordained as a man of the cloth. While on his way to his first parish, the stagecoach he was on was held up. The bandit in question, a mean killer by the name of Six-Round Jessie, expected the worst to happen on the robbery was for some idiot of a passenger to try and be a hero.
What he had not expected was for Zachary to beat him to death with a Bible.
Something about that incident made something snap in Zachary's head. While he was a diligent, patient, learned and wise priest with the people of the town he ministered, he was a force of nature against anyone who he perceived to threaten his flock. After one absolutely terrifying incident too many, the townspeople scraped together their courage and wrote a letter to Zarachy's superiors that essentially asked 'Can we have a less scary priest, please?' The good people of the town got a far less frightening priest, but Zachary was a loose end, and after some debate it was decided that he would best serve the Christians of the frontier as a travelling preacher.
Most priests view themselves as shepherds of their flocks with the duty of guiding their congregation into the light of the Lord. Zachary, too, views most priests as having that role, but he knows that the herd is beset by wolves, and someone has to stand guard. Lord have mercy upon the wolves out there, for Zachary shall not.
If you kill off this character, I will slap you.
I just noticed something:
Both Percival and Jonah seem to have forgotten about Betty.
Oops
Assume she's following until I say otherwise.
There seems to be confusion. Both Percival and Jonah have left, but Mustard's character is talking to all three of them as if they're in one spot. Who's gonna fix it?
No, I think you're spot on there.
Okay, I'm wrong then. Nevermind. And no, she's following, Callidus.
My turn?
I think it's my turn, but I'm going to dinner at the in laws then either writing or sleeping.
Face it you guys, Zachary is just too awesome and you're all lost for words.
Ok, I just got CoJ on my mind when I read that
So, how´s this RP thing going for you guys? I´ve read a few posts but not that much.
I think we're waiting in me, bit as I'm not in charge, I don't want to overstep my bounderies and make us go where we're not supposed to be
-Chanting- Overstep! Overstep! Overstep!
So where to now, pardners?
Further south? Or no, north.
Outer space!
Betty has enough money on her to feed them all several times over. She probably won't say that, though lol
Plus, strength in numbers. Betty will stick with the preacher because the big gun he can shoot lol
And it's here that I realise that I've created a character who's crazy enough to want to stay and fight.
Give me a little time, I need to think this one through.
What about that other priestly fellow?
Uhh, Colonel, much as I hate to nitpick, Percival still has his revolver. So it's two guns between the three of them.
Oh. It's my turn, ain't it?
So now that we're really underway, time for a bit of depth-adding. Huzzah!
-Clarification on the guns: Steam guns are breech-loading, and typically can fire a few dozen bullets before replacing the steam cartridge. Clockwork guns are muzzle-loading, for the most part, excepting pistols, and require a re-winding before the next shot can be fire, rather like a musket/crossbow. The winding time is proportionate to the size and power of the gun. They are used extensively by the French army in Mexico, originally salvaged and modified from Napoleon's tin soldier battalions.
-Pneumatic carriages/stagecoaches are in the prototype phase, and clockwork rickshaws are all over San Francisco, thanks to Chinese immigrants.
-Combat automatons are made mostly in Germany, a rising industrial power, and Spain, Germany's being more mass-produced and basic, and Spain's often filigreed and hand-engraved with elaborate designs. Some exotic models are appearing from British India, Japan, and China.
Umm...I guess anyone can introduce the town; I don't want to be a DM, that's too restrictive for this.
Oh XD
That's what I was waiting for, lol
I'm interested in jumping in on this one - any objections to my character being the guy the bandits were looking for in Dodge?
Not one from me :]
Since nobody went with the occult side of things...I decided to! Also I'm Southern as hell. This is gonna be fun. Lemme know what you think/if this conflicts with anything. I read the Playground - doesn't seem to clash as far as I can tell. I'll wait for approval before I jump in or anything.
Name: Jackson "Devil-Man" Abbot
Age: 24
Appearance: Slightly above-average height with a lanky build. He wears a dirty button down shirt that might've been white at one time, and a pair of denim jeans that would fall to his knees if not held up by a pair of brown leather suspenders. Unlike the boots that are typically seen in the area, he opts for a pair of worn low-top, lace-up shoes made from the same leather as the suspenders. He is rarely seen not wearing his newsboy cap. His brown hair was once cropped short, but now is getting shaggy around the ears. He obviously hasn't shaved in a few good weeks, but couldn't grow a full beard if he wanted to.
Occupation: Musician, gambler, vagabond, devil-man.
Skills: He is an excellent blues player, an absolutely terrible gambler (though he has been known to get extremely 'lucky' at crucial moments), and is very adept at what he likes to call "mindgames," (since the word "telepathy" is absent from his vocabulary) which allow him to mentally communicate with the dead and the living alike. Communicating with the dead in his case, however, requires song. He is no gunslinger, but he knows how to shoot, and has killed a man before.
Personality Jackson seems to be very carefree, charismatic, and jovial. If drunk, depressed, or pushed too far, however, a much darker side can emerge quickly.
Worldly possessions: Steel resonator, a knapsack that carries a bottle-neck slide, snub-nosed six-shooter (fully loaded, no extra rounds), tobacco pouch, tin flask, bowie knife with a deer antler handle, and other more disposable items (ie - food, coin)
Biography: Nothing is known of Jackson's real parent's, except that they were killed by indians. He was a white boy raised by a black sharecropping family, the Abbots, that worked the Dockery Plantation in Mississippi. There, he learned to play the blues from Henry Sloan, and learned to live a rugged farm life. His adoptive father died of tuberculosis before his memories began, and his 'mother,' Gloria, was something of a wisewoman to the workers, due to her voodoo heritage. Jackson figured out at a young age that he could read people very well; understand motives that were hidden beneath the surface, but it was Gloria who made him understand that he was reading minds. It was she who gave him a more spiritual understanding of life and death. It was she who realized that whenever he played his guitar he came close to touching the other world. There was a song that she would sing to him when he was young, and after she passed away, Jackson played the song at her funeral. That was the first time he spoke with a ghost. That was the day he earned the name "Devil-Man." That was the day he left the Dockery Plantation.
LOVE IT!!!!
Welcome Dantrag. I love your character!
Reminds me of The Jerk: "I was raised a small black boy..."
Who's turn is it? Mine?
*casts summon thread activity spell*
Sorryyyyyyy! I'll post tonight!
Guys...
Not me! I already posted lol
If someone would like to/doesn't mind posting out of turn....please do.
Liz, I'll post in the mansion thread tomorrow, it's a snow day.
Sure thing.
Colonel, wherefore art thou?
I just talked ot him today, he's working on his book right now. Plus his job and school.
So is his thread sort of pseudo-stationary then?
Or is the plan now to ditch him?
I don't know,, I reminded him about the roleplays, and he pretty much said "Oh yeah, those." And nothing else lol
Well that's annoying.
Perhaps his character's moved up the Lunacy murder list?
And I just realised how redundant I've made my previous post
please keep this one going. i really like the setting and characters. it's got some damn good potential.
Colonel has given me permission to have Father just sort of mosey off. He's not going to be on for a good while.
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