Byrd Man

Wild Cards AU [High Casual Superpowered fun!]

'bout time!

ATL Modern Political Simulator

What's the current map of the US/CS look like?

ATL Modern Political Simulator

I'm interested. I tried to do something similar a few years ago with the House so I'm down.

Absolute Comics: A Brave New World

Fortunate Son
Part II:
The Bowery Boys

“Give me your tired, your poor,
your huddled masses yearning to breathe free.”

-- Emma Lazarus

Gotham City
July 1st, 1888

Jonah Hex smoked a cigarillo while he and Eliot Kane rode in the back of the rich man's personal coach and buggy, pulled by a great big cart-horse. Hex blew smoke out the open window and watched the street as they passed by. There were plenty of people out and about in the early evening. The hot summer night was humid to the point of being unbearable, and being inside made it worse. At least outside there was the faint hope of a wayward breeze. Hex had only been in Gotham for a little over a day and he was already tired of seeing so many people together. They looked like cattle herded up in a pen, all waiting to head to the slaughterhouse. He exhaled smoke and ruminated on that last part, figuring that all life was a long wait for the inevitable slaughter.

"Tonight begins the hunt," Kane said vigorously. "I am not embarrassed to admit, Mr. Hex, that I am as excited as a child await St. Nicholas' arrival. Somewhere out there is a man, or men, who are preying on the less fortunate of the world. It is our duty to protect those who cannot protect themselves, Mr. Hex!"

Hex grunted neutrally. He wasn't entirely sure what to make of Kane. The man talked like a jackass and loved to hear the sound of his own voice. He was definitely the picture-perfect definition of an Eastern Dude with his immaculate clothes that cost more than everything Hex owned or had ever owned. Still, underneath all that, there was something that intrigued Hex. Yes, his constant yammering was annoying, but underneath it seemed a genuine desire to help the people of this hellhole of a city. Like employing Jonah Hex himself to help him find a man abducting prostitutes. Hex wasn't coming cheap and he was paying for it out of his own pocket. That may mean Kane had more money than sense, but he was at least trying.

"On the topic of Shanghaiing, there is a particular street gang here in the city that is rumored to use kidnapping as one of their methods of terror. They take anyone they can get their hands on and sell them to whoever is interested. There are stories of women being sold to Siamese princes, men being impressed into working as little more than slaves for the Russian Imperial Navy."

"Sounds like a good place to start."

"They call themselves the Bowery Boys," Kane said with a wry chuckle. "They are a motley group of Polish and Italians who intermingle in the name of criminal enterprise. Jews and Catholics mixing together, you can hardly be surprised that crime is where they would turn to. Those hyphenated Americans, the German-Americans or the Italian-Americans or the Jewish-Americans, are where this country will find its downfall."

Hex grunted again and flicked what was left of his cigarillo out the window. He leaned forward and looked at Kane, his hands on his knees as he spoke.

"I don't give a good goddamn about any of that, just take me to where we gotta go."

"We shall," Kane said with a grin. "We are going to meet one of my allies in the police force. He runs a special strong arm squad that works the Bowery's street gangs and polices vice. You'll like him, Hex, he's a lot of like you. A rough man who has to do rough work, but all for the greater good. I see you two getting on smashingly."

*****

Hex and Kane climbed out of his coach in a back alley and approached a loading bay hidden by shadows in the early evening. A man stood waiting for them.

"Jonah Hex, Lieutenant Worthington Smythe."

A big, beefy man with a thick mustache and pince-nez glasses looked Hex over while the bounty hunter did the same with him. He was almost as tall as Hex, and at least fifty pounds heavier. Not all the weight appeared to be fat, Hex noticed. While he wore a crisp suit with a flat cap and a snapped brim, a gold GCPD badge pinned to the chest, he carried himself like a brawler. Hex confirmed that when they shook hands and he saw the scar tissue along the man's knuckles.

"The name rings a bell," said Smythe. "Aren't you some kind of gunslinger or something?"

"Or something."

"I have brought Hex into the city to show him a taste of city life, Lieutenant. I would like him present with us on tonight's raid."

Smythe raised his eyebrows at the commissioner before he looked at Hex. The lieutenant wore a look of passive annoyance that Hex could only speculate on. With Kane's nature, there was no way this was the first time he had asked to tag along on a raid. Now, he was also asking that a stranger come along with them.

"Commissioner... I..." he stammered and tried to find an appropriate response.

Kane held a hand up to silence the cop. "I promise you, Lieutenant, tonight will not be a repeat performance of that fiasco six months ago. I shall stay well enough back, as will Mr. Hex. We just wish to observe, I promise you."

Lieutenant Smythe stared for a long moment before he spat and shrugged.

"Very well. Come with me."

They followed Smythe down the alley and through a doorway. Inside, six men were cleaning and loading weapons. Like Smythe, they all wore suits and ties with a GCPD badge pinned to their lapels. Five of them carried small revolvers while a sixth loaded up a scattergun with shotgun shells.

"Listen up, men," Smythe said with a motion towards Kane and Hex. "Commissioner Kane and his guest will be joining us tonight, but I have their word that they will not interfere. The commissioner is a man of his word, so I believe he will fulfill that promise to stay back. Tonight's agenda..."

Smythe pulled from his jacket a crinkled and faded photograph of a swarthy young man with dark hair and a Roman nose. Underneath his face were the words "GCPD: 10/4/87" written in white chalk. The man stared straight ahead at the camera with a look that could only be described as smug indifference.

"This is tonight's target. Giuseppe Maroni, better known on the streets of as Gyp the Blood. He's something of a mover within the Bowery Boys. He's got a crew of ruffians at least six deep. Robbery, extortion, murder for hire, you name it and they do it. I want him taken alive, got it?"

The men mumbled acknowledgment and Smythe nodded. He looked back at Kane and Hex and slightly sighed.

"Okay, mount up."

The Octopus: A 19th Century Political/Crime RP

How limited are female characters gonna be?

@Ruby

They can be members of the combination in some way. You don't need to be an elected official, or even have the ability, to help corral voters and do shady stuff. The labor movement is just starting and in an industrial city, plenty of women are involved in labor. In addition, this is the time of the suffrage and temperance movements and a character affiliated with either movement could be a real thorn in the side of the combination.

The Octopus: A 19th Century Political/Crime RP

--

The Octopus: A 19th Century Political/Crime RP

What is that they say, insanity is doing the same thing over again and expecting different results?

The Octopus: A 19th Century Political/Crime RP

The Octopus: A 19th Century Political/Crime RP

"I've been called a boss. All there is to it is having friends, doing things for people, and then later on they'll do things for you."
-- James Pendergast

"Vote early and vote often!"
-- Richard J. Daly

"Anybody who doesn't know that politics is crime has got a few screws loose."
-- James Ellroy

In Character Info:

Welcome to Central City, gateway to the American West. This rough and tumble city was once the largest hub west of the Mississippi, the last bastion of civilization before the wilderness. While the frontier has pushed on west, Central City's frontier mentality and pioneer spirit still remain even as the city becomes an industrial hub. It's a city filled with graft and vice. Saloons and gambling dens are on every corner and anything you desire can be bought for a price. It's a city where everyday municipal life is controlled by the Patterson Combination, a powerful political machine that has control of City Hall, a good chunk of the statehouse, and even a US Senator. Patronage is the order of the day and the Combination rewards loyalty with jobs. Policemen, alderman, and even dog catchers owe their jobs and allegiance to the Combination. Anythings happens in Central City, it does so with the Combinations approval. At the center of this Alan John "A.J." Patterson, a man who holds no public office but is still more powerful than the mayor or governor.

It's the summer of 1876 and it's an election year. Reform seems to be in the air and it's up to the Combination to show Central City that it is a force for good, a force that provides for the downtrodden and needy for the simple price of a vote or two or three. From the corridors of power all the way down to the muddy back alleys, it's up to you to see that the Combination stays in power and that you get your just reward for your hard won loyalty.

Out of Character Info

This game is a mixture of crime and politics. You'll play a member of the political machine, from lowly street hooligan and saloon owner to ward boss to beat cop and on up. There will be a few members of the machine that will be off limits, the upper ranks especially, but I have an overarching story in mind for the game and want to allow everyone a chance to work inside that framework and do their own things. There's a lot of flexibility in this. I want it to be about politics and crime, but also about just life in an urban city that was rapidly changing around its citizens and how they dealt with it. The backdrop of this is the American centennial and the controversial presidential election of 1876, along with a party convention that will be coming to town soon.

Primer:

What is a Political Machine?

From Wikipedia:

A political machine is a political organization in which an authoritative boss or small group commands the support of a corps of supporters and businesses, who receive rewards for their efforts. The machine's power is based on the ability of the workers to get out the vote for their candidates on election day.

Although these elements are common to most political parties and organizations, they are essential to political machines, which rely on hierarchy and rewards for political power, often enforced by a strong party whip structure. Machines sometimes have a political boss, often rely on patronage, the spoils system, "behind-the-scenes" control, and longstanding political ties within the structure of a representative democracy. Machines typically are organized on a permanent basis instead of for a single election or event. The term may have a pejorative sense referring to corrupt political machine

The Hierarchy

Precinct Captain

A precinct captain is the lowest level of power in the organization. This is the man out in the street, getting the vote for the Combination any way possible. Oftentimes a Precinct Captain will be someone who does not hold office but gets benefits -- money, power, a chance for political office -- from his loyalty to the machine. The Precinct Captain's territory is, you guessed it, the precinct where he lives. He is a neighborhood leader who uses his connections with the machine to help constituents with everyday problems that come with living in an industrial metropolis.

To get an idea of the day to day life of a the lower levels of party machine work, read this fascinating excerpt from the diary of a Tammany Hall member: Plunkitt's Diary

Ward Boss

The middleman in the organization, a Ward Boss usually controls a significant chunk of the city's political territory, with as many as seven or eight precinct captains under his watch. While the precinct captain deals in political tactics, the ward boss deals in political strategy. He is usually in some midlevel political position, a city councilman or a high-ranking police captain or a state legislator or some other bureaucrat, and is indebted to the machine staying in power for his job. The Ward Boss handles constituent problems, but is also the man to see about business licenses, court problems, and other problems that may pop up for the well to do members of the city.

Underboss

Very rare, maybe only two or three men in the machine can be considered underbosses. The Underboss has a significant chunk of political power. He is either a high-ranking elected official (city mayor, district attorney, US Congressman, US Senator) or a prominent businessman. The underbosses can move the levers of government in a way that nobody else in the machine can. With the snap of their fingers they can get legislation passed, they can get charges dismissed, and they can get state and federal contracts for anyone willing to pay the price.

City Boss

The pinnacle. The boss is the man you see when you are either powerful enough to warrant it, or have something he wants. The boss holds no political office and is rarely mentioned by the politicians who owe him so much. It is he who makes the big decisions that affect the machine, the city, and maybe even the country as a whole.

Central City Neighborhoods

Eastside

The eastern side of the city is the remnants of the old frontier town Center, Central City's first incarnation. The city's oldest and most prominent families live on the eastern side of the city. Almost all of the residents of the east side are "Americans" in the sense that their lineage can be traced back to ancestors living in America before the American Revolution. The occasional prominent immigrant may live Eastside if he or she has amassed enough money and political clout to buy one of the big homes on the hill.

Downtown

Built in the 1830's, downtown is where City Hall and Central City's other government buildings are. Downtown is also home to a large Irish neighborhood known as Little Galway, settled in the first wave of migrations to the West. A ghetto in the 30's and 40's, the neighborhood has developed into a stable working-class neighborhood home to many of Central City's middle-class families. Bordering Little Galway is Bohemia, a newer ethnic neighborhood, a slightly less well to do neighborhood that is none the less on the rise. Bohemia came about in the early 1850's as German, Czechs, and other members of the failed '48 Revolutions fled Europe for America.

Westside

The western edge of Central City is home to the new class of immigrants freshly arrived to the country after the American Civil War ended. Italians, Eastern Europeans, and Jewish immigrants still new to America all live in cramped houses and tenement buildings. Adding to their misery is the industrial factories that are also placed on the west side, factories that run all day and all night with a mostly immigrant workforce that has no other option but to spend sixteen hour days working. The Central Stockyards, a massive facility that supplies the Western US with meat, is where many work long hours for little pay.

Black Jack

Black Jack is the crude name of the city's African-American neighborhood. The overall black population in Central City isn't a lot compared to Southern cities, but it is more than the average black population in Northern cities. More African-Americans have come to the city in the years following the Civil War, though not enough to overcrowd Black Jack. The southern rail line that separates Black Jack between the rest of the city is known as the "Color Line." Outside of CCPD, very few whites are seen in and around Black Jack.

Saloon City

Running along one of the city's western boulevards, Saloon City is the vice hub for Central City. At least one hundred saloons, gambling dens, whorehouses, and opium parlors all reside in this one square mile of city. Tourists, travelers heading further west, and local residents all come to Saloon City to blow off steam and gladly hand their money over. Anything can be bought in Saloon City for a price. The graft and protection that comes with the district is a huge part of the Combination's revenue stream. Politicians, cops, and criminals alike all have a major interest in keeping Saloon City safe and trouble free.

Character Sheet

Name:

Age:

Ethnicity:

Occupation/Place in the Combination:

Personal History:

Absolute Comics: A Brave New World

Fortunate Son
Part I:
Civilization

“I am opposing a social order in which it is possible for one man who does absolutely nothing that is useful to amass a fortune of hundreds of millions of dollars, while millions of men and women who work all the days of their lives secure barely enough for a wretched existence.”

-- Eugene V. Debs

Gotham City
June 30th, 1888

If a city could be compared with a body, then the city of Gotham was a sickly one. Jonah Hex saw that with every street he walked down and every house and every face that he passed. Factory workers traveled down the crowded city streets, their raggedy clothing covered in soot and their sallow faces streaked with creosote. Workers of all ages, stoop-shouldered old men to boys still with their baby teeth still intact all did the same dead-eyed shuffle through the streets after twelve hours hard labor in the factories. The buildings here were five and ten floors tall and eclipsed some of the tallest buildings he had seen out west. These tall buildings all crowded close to each other down the blocks, row after row making the city seem to be one large tenement to house its stinking, malnourished, and diseased residents.

Hex saw whores as well. Just like those that worked in the factories, women as young as twelve and as old as sixty were on the corners at every junction trying to sell their flesh for whatever the going rate was. They had the same vacuous gazes as them that spent any amount of time in the city. That look came natural after a certain point. As many whores here as were the entire population of a town like Dodge City.

Stench, squalor, and despair. Civilization. That's what the Europeans who came here called what they brought with them. They stole and raped and murdered everything worth stealing, raping, or killing. Yet they were supposed to be the civilized ones in the story. This was their civilization in action, this rotten town was one of the shining examples of what it mean to be civilized and advanced. They could keep it, Hex thought as he walked through the mud and filth.

Hex was given room to walk without much interference. Even in a place like this he was recognized as someone not to be trifled with. The twin Colts on both hips helped hammer that fact home. Still, there was some fool who thought he could approach him.

"Say, friend," a skinny man in a baggy suit and a straw boater hat said as he approached Hex. He had in his hands a bottle filled with turquoise liquid.

"You look as if you could use some of Dr. Jerimiah von Hausen's Miracle Elixir. It's the cure for whatever your ill is. For just two dollars, it can be yours."

"Some sorta wonder tonic?" Hex asked with raised eyebrows.

"Yes, indeed," the man perked up at the thought of a potential client. See you have some nasty scar there, friend. This can cure it and anything else. Why, there's nothing it can't do."

Hex nodded before he spat a large wad of tobacco juice on the salesman's lapel.

"How's it work on stains?"

****

The house was big and looming. Three floors high, it stretched out across the rural outskirts of the city where it sat on a hill that had a clear view of the bustling metropolis. Hex sat in the foyer of the mansion, his hat off and awaiting the return of a stuck up butler who answered the door and led him inside without so much as two words.

"Mr. Kane will see you now, sir."

Hex was led to a study that had bookshelves covering it from wall to wall and floor to ceiling. Every inch of the shelves were crammed and chocked full of books of different sizes and thicknesses. A man sat in a leather chair near an empty fireplace, reading intently at the small book in his hands.

"Mr. Hex, sir."

The man looked up and his fat, ruddy face broke out into a wide grin. He had a thick mustache that went down to his chin and was dressed in an expensive three-piece suit that tried to hide his portly figure. The man leaped up and bounded across the room with an energy that took Hex off guard.

"Jona Hex? Eliot Davis Kane. Damn smashing to meet you!"

He took Hex's hand into his pudgy one and vigorously shook it.

"Have a seat. Mr. Miller, you're dismissed."

The butler left them alone while Kane settled back into his chair and Hex took the seat across from him.

"I am thrilled to meet you. I have heard so much of your exploits over the years, sir. Why, I myself spent some time in the Dakota Territory some years pass. There was a bit of family tragedy involving my wife and I had to leave city life behind for a spell. I served as a ranch hand and deputy sheriff out there. It was a smashing good time."

Hex grunted in a non-committed way and played with the hat in his hands. Kane's sharp eyes fell upon the hat and his expression brightened.

"I forgot you were in the War! The War of Northern Aggression, I believe you Rebs called it. I wanted to serve, tried like hell to. I'm afraid I was too young to fight. Oh, what fun I missed out. I would have been a cavalry man, you see. I could imagine protecting Sherman's flanks as he tore through Georgia. A time I would have had!"

Hex thought back to the Battle of Shiloh, over twenty-six years ago he fought in Tennessee. Hex wrestled with a Yankee in the mud for nearly ten minutes before he got the upperhand and pinned the man to the ground. He strangled the man to death with his bare hands. The Yankee's last words before he died were a choked sob of "mommy."

"Yeah... it was a time," he said sardonically before looking at Kane. "Listen, Mr. Kane. I appreciate the big money ya sent me, but what do you want? I'm not gonna sit around here and listen to you gab no matter how much you paid me."

"There's that prickliness I've heard so much about! I would expect nothing less from Jonah Hex."

Kane rose from his chair and walked around to the back. He leaned against it as he spoke to Hex with a soft smile.

"After coming back to Gotham I got into public service. It was what I had to do, you see. It's expected of me as a Kane. The people I come from made this city what it is."

"Don't know if that's something I'd brag about."

Kane flashed a wry smirk and continued.

"Public service to the city of Gotham is a Kane tradition. My grandfather was mayor, my father a City Councilman. I intend to follow my grandfather to City Hall, but for now I currently serve as one of three civilian commissioners for the Gotham City Police Department. We form a reviewing board that oversee all actions the police make. I fancy myself as something of a reformer, but it is a tough slog to attain progress. The majority of policemen are either corrupt or apathetic and it seems nigh impossible to change that. Over the past few months, Mr. Hex, I have begun to notice a startling trend among the working girls in the Bowery."

"Whores, you mean?"

Kane bristle at the word. "... Yes, for lack of a better word. A steady rate of them have gone missing. It wouldn't be a problem, women of that sort often do come and go like the wind, but the steady numbers has my attention. I think a gang of bandits and kidnappers may be behind these abductions, Mr. Hex. I have tried to raise the question with my fellow commissioners and other policemen, but I am mostly ignored. They do not care. Nobody cares about those poor girls."

"If a whore gets killed and ain't nobody around to see it, is she actually murdered?"

"Exactly," Kane said with an animated jab of the finger. "An what's more, the police department do not care. I could cause a panic by taking this to the press. I could hire a Pinkerton, but they cannot be trusted for this. You, on the other hand. You have a reputation as a fearless fighter, a man who will do the right thing when it comes down to it, and an expert hunter. I need those hunting and tracking skills now."

Hex looked down at his boots and thought it over. It was a damn fools errand, finding a killer or killers in this town was like finding the right needle in a stack of needles. But... somebody was gonna take advantage of this damn fool Kane, and it may as well be him.

"Pay me another five hundred dollars and I'm yours for at least another month."

The Fourth Horseman Came

Don't make promises you can't keep. <3