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Byrd Man Member

El Hombre Pájaro

STATUS: "I'm an actor. I will say anything for money." -- Also Charlton Heston 3 yrs ago
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Recent Statuses

3 yrs ago
Current "I'm an actor. I will say anything for money." -- Also Charlton Heston
7 likes
3 yrs ago
Starting up a preimum service of content from actors like Radcliffe, Day-Lewis, Bruhl, and Craig. Calling it OnlyDans.
3 likes
3 yrs ago
Please, guys. The status bar is for more important things... like cringe status updates.
4 likes
3 yrs ago
Gotta love people suddenly becoming apolitical when someone is doing something they approve of.
4 likes
3 yrs ago
Deleting statuses? That's a triple cringe from me, dog.
4 likes

Bio

None of your damn business.

Most Recent Posts

In Territory Daze: A Pro-Wrestling Promotion RPG → 3 mos ago Forum: Casual Interest Checks
OOC thread is here:
roleplayerguild.com/topics/191877-ter…
In Territory Daze: A Pro-Wrestling Promotion RPG → 3 mos ago Forum: Casual Roleplay

“We make our own gods for our own purposes. And we love them, and that’s the whole point.”
-- David Shoemaker



Snapshot of the NWA circa 1976


TLDR;

  • An alternate history pro-wrestling game asking “What if the WWF never killed the territories?”
  • Players pick and run their own promotion.
  • PC and NPC bookers make up the “NWA” ruling committee.


In Character Info;


The year is 1990 and in the world of pro-wrestling the NWA still continues to rule the territories. With no WWF monopoly, the territory system is still intact with both regional and national televised events controlled by the NWA’s ruling board. While each promotion is given a seat at the table, only the truly influential and powerful members get a say in booking the champ. Every promotion vies for a chance to put that championship belt, the fabled “Ten Pounds of Gold” on their best wrestler’s waist, but only those who know how to play the game can actually see it through. To the marks, the competition is in the ring, but in reality the competitions are in the lockers, in the rental cars on the way to the next house show, in the smoked filled back rooms where champions are made, and championships are won and lost.

Out of Character Info:



The game will work essentially as a combo of written prose and a little bit of tabletop dice rolls in the form of orders.

Orders

The procedures for this game will be fairly simple. You send orders to me.. The orders will then be rolled and presented by me (or another GM) in an update. Each round of orders will be the span of one year. Orders work as thus: each promotion is given one large focus order and three normal orders. The large focus order will always succeed to a degree, but it can only be used internally (having your promotion gain a new TV program is okay, having your promotion take over another territory is not) and the three normal orders can be used for things like pushes for your top stars into the NWA title scenes, gimmick changes, or even poaching talent from another territory.

Promotion Sheet



Name:
Territory:
Style:(example: sports entertainment, hardcore, King's Road, rasslin', etc.)
Television:
Promotion Champions
Promotion Top Stars
Booker:
Booker Bio:

Example sheet:




National Wrestling Alliance At A Glance


Winter 1990

CHAMPIONS

NWA WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION
Rich Money (Northeast's CAW, rich heel gimmick) - Reign, 1 day

NWA JR HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION
Tony Allardice (Chicago’s SCW, heel soccer hooligan gimmick) - Reign, 212 days

NWA NATIONAL CHAMPION
Ronnie Spicolli (California’s WCCW, face surfer dude gimmick) - Reign, 71 days

NWA WORLD TAG TEAM CHAMPIONS
The Terrifying Thunderbirds (Georgia's SCW, heel good ole boy tough guy gimmicks) - Reign, 495 Days

NWA BOOKING COMMITTEE



Jack Murphy, owner and promoter Colonial American Wresting (Northeast)
Ray Blackwell, owner and promoter of Southern Championship Wrestling (Georgia)
El Fuerte, owner and star of Federacion Mexicana de Lucha Libre (Mexico)
Greg Spano, owner of West Coast Championship Wrestling (California)
Gene Nilsson, owner and star of All-American Wrestling (Minnesota, Wisconsin)
In Territory Daze: A Pro-Wrestling Promotion RPG → 3 mos ago Forum: Casual Interest Checks
I'm guessing we'll need some NPC territories to round out the NWA so I'm working on them now. If you have any ideas or suggestions shoot them my way. I imagine there will be at least two big territories in the Northeast (ala WWF) and the south (ala WCW) that will serve as the two leaders of the NWA.

The way the champions work, like in the old territory system, is each promotions have their own regional territories but the NEW controls the world titles. The championships are controlled by the NWA booking committee and they tend to favor the bigger promotions when it comes to the champs.

Here's the list of champs going into the game.

NWA WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION
Rich Money (Northeast Territory (NORTHEAST TERRITORY), rich heel gimmick)

NWA JR HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION
Tony Allardice (Chicago’s SCW, heel soccer hooligan gimmick)

NWA NATIONAL CHAMPION
Ronnie Spicolli (California’s WCCW, face surfer dude gimmick)

NWA WORLD TAG TEAM CHAMPIONS
The Terrifying Thunderbirds (SOUTHERN TERRITORY), heel good ole boy tough guy gimmicks)
In Territory Daze: A Pro-Wrestling Promotion RPG → 3 mos ago Forum: Casual Interest Checks
I know nothing of wrestling but the tabletop nature of it and the idea of running them outside of matches sounds kinda awesome

Is there a single book I can read that can give me enough context on the subject?


"The Squared Circle" by David Shoemaker is a really good overview of the sport and its history up until the modern era.
"Death of the Territories" by Tim Hornbaker covers the NWA and its eventual demise at the hands of the WWF.
"We Promised You a Great Event" by Bill Hanstock covers mostly the WWF/E. It's an unauthorized biography so it's very much warts and all.

Squared Circle would probably be your best bet probably.
In Territory Daze: A Pro-Wrestling Promotion RPG → 3 mos ago Forum: Casual Interest Checks
Glad to see some interest! I know this is super niche stuff, hopefully we can get a few more to bite. I'll try to work on an OOC thread this week
In Territory Daze: A Pro-Wrestling Promotion RPG → 3 mos ago Forum: Casual Interest Checks

“We make our own gods for our own purposes. And we love them, and that’s the whole point.”
-- David Shoemaker



Snapshot of the NWA circa 1976


TLDR;

  • An alternate history pro-wrestling game asking “What if the WWF never killed the territories?”
  • Players pick and run their own promotion.
  • PC and NPC bookers make up the “NWA” ruling committee.


In Character Info;


The year is 1990 and in the world of pro-wrestling the NWA still continues to rule the territories. With no WWF monopoly, the territory system is still intact with both regional and national televised events controlled by the NWA’s ruling board. While each promotion is given a seat at the table, only the truly influential and powerful members get a say in booking the champ. Every promotion vies for a chance to put that championship belt, the fabled “Ten Pounds of Gold” on their best wrestler’s waist, but only those who know how to play the game can actually see it through. To the marks, the competition is in the ring, but in reality the competitions are in the lockers, in the rental cars on the way to the next house show, in the smoked filled back rooms where champions are made, and championships are won and lost.

Out of Character Info:



The game will work essentially as a combo of written prose and a little bit of tabletop dice rolls in the form of orders.

Orders

The procedures for this game will be fairly simple. You send orders to me.. The orders will then be rolled and presented by me (or another GM) in an update. Each round of orders will be the span of one year. Orders work as thus: each promotion is given one large focus order and three normal orders. The large focus order will always succeed to a degree, but it can only be used internally (having your promotion gain a new TV program is okay, having your promotion take over another territory is not) and the three normal orders can be used for things like pushes for your top stars into the NWA title scenes, gimmick changes, or even poaching talent from another territory.

Promotion Sheet



Name:
Territory:
Style:(example: sports entertainment, hardcore, King's Road, rasslin', etc.)
Television:
Promotion Champions
Promotion Top Stars
Booker:
Booker Bio:

Example sheet:


In Absolute Comics Presents - What If? [A DC & Marvel One Universe RP] → 4 mos ago Forum: Casual Roleplay


Perfect example of style over substance with these sheets. SMH
In Absolute Comics Presents - What If? [A DC & Marvel One Universe RP] → 4 mos ago Forum: Casual Roleplay


Dutch Hill


Tim Drake got out of his car and surveyed the area. It was a fairly quiet, working class neighborhood. The further east Dutch Hill ran the suburbs yards faded into row houses and inner city Gotham, but this neighborhood was about four blocks away from the change. Tim saw yards well kept, dogs in some of them, and houses that were maintained with pride by their owners but in desperate need of remodel. Gentrification was only a matter of time, but for now it stood as a bastion of blue collar Gotham that was rapidly becoming a distant memory.

He was looking for the 1200 block of Williamson Road, a little side street that ran parallel to the main avenue of Kemper Street. Two weeks ago GCPD made a routine traffic stop on Antonio Boggs and found a substantial amount of cocaine on his person, enough to arrest Boggs for felony possession with intent to distribute. Boggs retained the services of Pennyworth & Fox for his criminal defense, and Al threw him the case. An easy enough task for an investigator still wet behind the ears.

Tim checked the PDF of the arrest report on his phone as he walked down the sidewalk towards Williamson. Sergeant Mike Malone of the Western District initiated the stop, made the arrest, and later wrote out the report Tim was reading. From soup to nuts, Sergeant Malone was the lynchpin of the entire case.

The map on the incident report showed Tim where the stop had occurred, just quiet of the part of the street. He looked around for any cameras on light poles or in backyards. The advent of the wireless doorbell cameras made the job a lot easier some times, some times. You still had to deal with getting the footage from greedy homeowners looking for a cut. It seemed that headache would be avoided this time.

According to the report, Malone observed Boggs’ car doing a rolling stop at a four-way intersection on Williamson. That gave Malone the probable cause he needed to initiate a traffic stop and find the drugs. Tim took pictures of the street with his phone. There was a four-way stop about 200 yards from where the traffic stop occurred, but he couldn’t see a good vantage point to where Malone had been sitting. He walked up the street towards the stop. No good spots to park for a cop cruiser, but he did see a convenience store on Kemper that might have a view. He took more shots of the intersection before trudging over to the convenience store.

“Good morning, my friend,” the man behind the counter said as Tim entered.

The place seemed to be empty. This time of the morning most working people’s days were well underway. There would be a lunchtime rush and then another at five, but for the most part Tim imagined the place just had customers dribbling in one at a time.

“Morning,” Time said. He reached into his pocket and quickly flashed his credentials. “My name is Tim Drake and I’m an investigator.”

He always found the key was to carry yourself with the air of a cop, but never outright say you were. His ID card did in fact identify him as a state license private investigator, and he hoped his use of the word in an introduction wouldn’t lead to follow up questions.

“Who is the owner here?” he asked.

“It’s me,” said the man.

Tim should have guessed. He was a middle aged Asian man wearing a white button up with top button undone, dark dress pants, and a nice gold watch on his wrist. He didn’t exactly look like he was working for minimum wage.

“I have a few questions for you.”

Tim got out a leather bound notebook and a pen. The good thing about most immigrant business owners was that they were the law and order types, especially in borderline neighborhoods like this one. After asking his name and other biographical details he got to the heart of the matter.

“You ever have a cop frequent this place?”

“Yes,” he said with a smile. “Sergeant Mike. He’s here almost practically every day, he’s one of the good ones. Doesn’t ask for free stuff, always pays full price, and always likes to talk.”

“He ever sit out in the parking lot?”

“All the time,” the owner nodded. “And I love it. Bunch of punk kids live around here, they see Sergeant Mike and they know not to fuck with me.”

Tim kept his head down as he wrote in his notebook. “He ever pull anybody over while sitting in your lot?”

“A couple of time. The people around here, they speed up and down this street. No sense of safety.”

Tim nodded and kept scribbling.

“When was the last time he did that?”

“A couple of weeks ago,” said the man. “Why?”

“Just curious,” Tim said as he looked up. “Thank you for your time.”

“Who did you say you were with?” the man asked with a furrowed brow. “You police?”

“Thank you for your time,” Tim said as he walked out the store.

From the front of the store, Williamson could be seen, but the four-way stop was a little further up the road. Boggs may have done a rolling stop, but from his vantage point Malone couldn’t have seen it. What he would have seen was a blacked out car with music blasting out of it and he made an assumption, invented probable cause. Profiling, in other words.

Tim took a few more pictures of the street from the front of the store and headed back to his car. It wasn’t much, but in the hands of Big Al Pennyworth it would be enough. They’d go to trial, subpoena the convenience store owner, and destroy Malone’s credibility on the stand. All it took for a Gotham City jury to hear was that a GCPD officer may have lied in the course of the investigation. Al would play it up from there. If Sergeant Malone had lied about the probable cause, maybe he was lying about the drugs he found on Boggs? Enough doubt to get Boggs out of jail and back on the street.

Because the fact of the matter was Boggs was a drug dealer, the cocaine Malone found on him was in fact meant to be sold. But Boggs was a Wayne Family dealer, and as such he was under the legal protection of Pennyworth & Fox. Tim knew firsthand that the Waynes always stood by their people. He and his dad were proof.

He was on the way back to his car when his phone buzzed. Not the actual phone he used for personal or work related things, but the second phone only a select few people had the number to.

BW
Meet me at the tower tonight.

He slipped the phone back into his pocket and got into his car. The big man was calling. They probably hadn’t seen each other face to face in a a lone time, but that’s how it worked. That’s how he worked. If it required face to face then it was a big deal. Tim texted Karmen and let her know they’d have to reschedule for another night, she could always pick up another shift at the Peppermint Rhino.

Back when Tim was a kid and his old man was out on the street hustling for nickels and dimes, he had always had a dream that he wanted to be a somebody. The night his old man stood tall for the Waynes, Bruce had promised Tim the chance to be that somebody. Jack Drake had sacrificed his life, but it wasn’t in vain. And now here was Tim, a nice well paying job doing something he loved and the freedom to be his own man and the chance to sleep with beautiful women.

“Living the dream,” he said softly to himself. “I made it, pop.”



Barbara Gordon opened her eyes. The sound of her phone vibrating on the nightstand was nearby. She sat up and groaned. The clock on the nightstand said it was almost 11 in the morning, the sunlight peaking through the curtains doubled down on the time. She leaned over and squinted at the screen of her phone.

INCOMING CALL:
BULLOCK

The hell was Bullock calling for? He knew she worked third shift last night. She had just gotten to sleep a few hours ago. Barbara fumbled for her glasses and put them on. She heard a groan over her shoulder and looked back.

“Tell them to call back,” Dick Grayson mumbled.

She scowled back at him before slipping out under the covers and grabbing her phone.

“I didn’t wake you did I, sweetheart?” came Bullock’s gruff voice.

“Yeah, you did in fact.”

“Too bad. I’m on my way to your place. Think we may have a break on the Crutchfield Street killings.”

Barbara cursed under her breath and looked back at the bed. Dick was half asleep, the sheet covering his naked body. The last thing she needed was for Bullock to find him here like this.

“How far away are you?” she asked. “I need to get ready.”

She heard a knock on the front door.

“That answer your question? I been trying to call you for an hour now.”

“I’ll be right there.”

She hung up and started to shake the bed.

“Dick,” she hissed. “Wake up, my partner is outside.”

It surprised Barbara how quickly he moved at that point. He seemed to spring out of the bed and start dressing himself. Within seconds he had his jeans and t-shirt on.

“Do you think he knows?” he asked.

“Bullock is a great detective when he’s on the job, but outside work? He’s a mess, no way. This is something else”

There was another thump at the door.

“C’mon, Babs, I don’t care if you’re in your pj’s.”

Barbara turned towards the door.

“Give me a minute, Harvey!”

When she turned back, Dick was gone. The window to her fire escape was open and she heard the sound of rattling metal. Good, she thought, the last thing Harvey needed to find was Bruce Wayne’s adopted son warming her bed.



“This was worth waking me up for?” Barbara asked as she looked at the grainy security footage. Bullock was sitting on her couch, drinking a cup of coffee while Barbara watched the footage from Bullock’s phone, her robe covering her pajamas.

“Keep watching,” Bullock grunted.

On the phone events from four months prior played out like it had a thousand times before. But, she noticed, this was a new angle.

Crutchfield Street in the Bowery had a reputation. It was firmly in the red light district and known for its wide variety of carnal pleasure for sale. Usually the red light district was violence free. They knew it drew the attention of the cops, and cops were bad for business. But that truce had been broken during the height of the summer. A pimp and his two goons had been killed approaching the brothel they ran. All three men had been stabbed to death with surgical precision. Barbara and Bullock inherited the case from the uniforms of the southeastern district. They’d identified the three men as Eastern European, members of the Chechen’s crime organization.

After that, the trail went cold. No eyewitnesses were willing to speak to cops, and the few surveillance cameras they found showed footage that was grainy and out of focus. But now? The footage Barbara watched was pretty clear and pretty close. She could clearly make out the name of the brothel where the men had been killed out front: Alexi’s Tea Room.
“How did you get this?” she asked Harvey.

“It took a little convincing and a little bribing,” he said. “But the whorehouse across the street from our scene did in fact have a security camera, despite what they told us. It was hidden in the tits of that naked statue out front.”

He cleared his throat and looked away from Barbara.

“Don’t… ask more about what I had to do to get it, just watch.”

She smirked and turned back to the footage. It showed a black sedan pull up to the Tea Room. Three serious slavic looking men in suits climbed out the car. The two larger ones flanked a smaller man with a shaved head and a neck full of gold chains.

Before the could head inside, a figure landed on the roof of the car and struck out quickly. They jumped down with the car blocking them off from the camera. Movement from the other side of the car was fast and furious, the figure knocking all three men to the ground before they could defend themselves. Barbara saw blood running on the pavement under the car and pooling on the street.

Her eyes widened as the figure jumped back on top of the car. She tapped her finger on the screen to freeze the footage. Crouched on the top of the car, frozen mid-jump, was a man dressed in black body armor. In both hands were some sort of club with what looked to be a razor’s edge. A mask hid his face and on his chest was a bird. The footage was black and white, but she knew the bird would be red.

“Deathwing,” she said softly.

“If that’s what that jerkoff’s name is,” said Bullock. “He’s one of the Bat’s goons, that’s all I know. This was a Wayne hit, Babs.”

She cursed softly and looked towards her bed. The window to the fire escape was still cracked open. If she didn’t know any better, she could have sworn she saw the fire escape sway with movement again.
In Absolute Comics Presents - What If? [A DC & Marvel One Universe RP] → 4 mos ago Forum: Casual Roleplay


Gotham City


“I believe in Gotham City.”

Hamilton Hill took a rather large swig from his glass of scotch and looked out the window at the impressive view of the city below.

“My grandparents came here from Kentucky during the war, my grandfather was looking for any opportunity to escape the coal mines. He labored in a factory so that his son could become a lawyer and judge, so that his son’s son could one day become mayor." A soft smile played on his lips as he thought back to some distant memory of his grandfather. "The city isn’t without her flaws and imperfections, but… she’s done alright by me.”

Hill turned away from the window and stared across the desk at the man sitting behind it. Bruce Wayne looked at Mayor Hill with indifferent blue eyes.

“And my love for this city is why I turn to you. Falcone, Maroni, Sionis, they’re all just nouveau riche wannabes. The name Wayne means something in this city, that name rings out from the slum corners to the corridors of power–”

“If you could get to the question,” said Bruce. “And stop kissing my ass, Mr. Mayor.”

Hill smirked and raised his glass to Bruce.

“Can’t shit a shitter.”

He drained the rest of the glass and put it on the edge of the desk. Bruce stared at the glass in silence for a long moment before Hill got the hint and put it on a coaster.

“I, umm… am in a bit of a pickle you see,” Hill said, clearing his throat. “It stems back from my days as a law student. I did something rather rash, I’d rather not get into the details…”

Bruce watched the fop sweat begin to form on Hill’s forehead. He reached into the breast pocket of his suit and pulled out a lint covered handkerchief he used to mop his face with. Hill was a four term mayor seeking a fifth term next fall, the man had traded away his sense of shame or impropriety and even decency in the same of reelection. Whatever he was hiding, it had to be horrible.

“But suffice to say, during my first campaign someone wrote a crude letter threatening to leak the details of that unfortunate event to the world at large if I did not pay them a certain amount. I obliged them and that seemed to put the matter to bed, until my reelection campaign four years later. And every reelection cycle since they reach out and ask for more and more and more. This time I simply cannot afford their asking price! I need your help to find the blackmailer and end my nightmare once and for all. I’ll pay you, name your price.”

Bruce let the silence in the room linger as he stared at Hill with an annoyed look on his face. He knew the man was a born politician, a silent room would be the worst thing in the world for him. He let the man squirm in silence for nearly a minute before he spoke.

“For almost ten years now,” Bruce said softly. “I’ve tried to donate to your campaigns, including that time you ran for congress and lost in a landslide. But my donations were always returned. I’ve never known a politician to turn away free money.”

“It’s the optics,” Hill mumbled. “It just wouldn’t look good. I do the same with Falco– uhh, others. I just don’t want to answer all those pesky questions reporters would have.”

Bruce nodded and put his hands together, leaning back slightly in his plush leather chair. “And now you come to me, like a thief in the night. Your chauffeur parks five blocks away, you take the freight elevator up to my office –” Bruce motioned towards the empty glass on his desk. “You drink my scotch, and you ask for help. No, you demand it. And you offer to pay me? Like I’m some errand boy.”

Bruce stood and slowly walked around the desk. He wrapped an arm around Hill’s shoulder and walked with him towards the large glass window.

“Mr. Mayor, people like me don’t deal in simple things as money. If you’d taken the time to know me, then you’d know that we have at least one thing in common: favors are our currency. You’re not asking me to do work for you, you’re asking me to do a favor. A favor which you’ll pay back one day.”

Hill went for his soaked handkerchief again, dabbing it on his cheeks.

“I’m not some common hood, Mr. Mayor: I’m a Wayne.”

With his free arm, Bruce pointed to the city that stretched out below them.

“Like you said earlier in your sycophantic rant, this city was built on the backs of my ancestors. They didn’t hop off some boat from Sicily one hundred years ago and call themselves American. You won’t be the first politician in debt to a Wayne, and you won’t be the last.”

Bruce let Hill go, pushing him away slightly. Hill lurched forward against the glass window and caught himself against it while Bruce walked back around the desk. He sat down and spread his hands, letting a cold smile spread across his face.

“Besides, Mr. Mayor, if not for my grandfather, how do you think your father would have become a judge? How do you think you were allowed to run for mayor in the first place? Back in the day, nothing happened in this city without my father's say so. You say you’re afraid to be in my debt, but the truth is you were in my debt before I was even born.”

He saw Hill’s face flush and Bruce knew he’d struck a nerve.

“Now, tell me all you can about your blackmailer.”



Finger Housing Projects


The Finger operation ran like clockwork. The high-rises and low-rise courtyards operated 24/7, selling cocaine, heroin, crack, weed, pills, whatever you needed. Everyone in Gotham and the greater tri-state area all came to the Finger regardless of class or social standing. Stockbrokers in power suits lined up alongside dope fiends, minivans with the little annoying stick families idled behind crackheads pushing shopping carts.

The demand served as a testament to both the product and the business acumen of the Skeevers Bros. Jefferson and Julius Skeevers had once been corner boys selling dime bags and eight balls once upon a time. The life of the corner boy was usually short and violent, you either died by the time you were eighteen or in jail for most of your life. The people at the top always changed due to the usual violence and backstabbing, but Jeff and Julius were always good soldiers. If the streets were a game of chess, the two brothers would have been pawns, but they were the smartest and most dangerous pawns in the game.

After one management change too many they decided they were done being pawns. A few guns and a few connections with the west side dealers for product, and they slowly but surely took over the east end block by bloody block. An alliance with Carmine Falcone gave them all the product and men they would ever need to control the entire city’s drug supply.

Jeff stood on the balcony of his apartment at the top of one of the high-rises. He smoked a cigarette and watched the traffic. A dark suburban pulled out of the high-rises and headed down the avenue. That would be the midnight re-up. A group of armed muscle went around the spots and resupplied the dealers with drugs and did cash drops. The crew chiefs were responsible for making sure the inventory count was correct, both in cash going out and drugs coming in. If the count was off both the dealer and his boss would faced the consequences.

“Goddamn,” Julius said as he came out on the balcony. “It’s too cold to be out here this time of night. What are you doing?”

“Watching,” Jeff said, exhaling a column of smoke. “Look at this shit, Jules, all this territory and all this product, all the work we put in… it’s just amazing.”

“Imagine if we’d been born white,” Julius said with a chuckle. “We’d be CEOs or some shit.”

Julius bumped his chest with his fist, Jefferson doing the same, before they dapped each other up.

“Us,” said Jeff.

“Us,” replied Julius. “Always us.”

The two brothers looked out proudly at their empire below. What they didn’t know was that while they watched, they were being watched. It was true that they had built up an empire. But like the people before them, and the people before them...



Empires were made to fall.
In Absolute Comics Presents - What If? [A DC & Marvel One Universe RP] → 4 mos ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T P R O P O S A L
B A T M A N

BRUCE WAYNE ♦ CRIME LORD ♦ WAYNE FAMILY ♦ EARTH 0160921
C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T:

“Why should I be afraid now? Strange men have come to kill me ever since I was twelve years old.”
-- Mario Puzo


The Wayne name is one synonymous with wealth, power, and corruption. For two hundred years it stood as the power that truly ran Gotham City – mayors, police chiefs, governors, US senators – the Waynes either held those positions or outright owned the men that held them. But that had all changed when Bruce Wayne was born. It was an empire in decline, one his good-natured father Thomas wasn’t cut out for. A new breed of criminal on the streets smelled blood in the water when it came to Thomas Wayne.

When Bruce was thirteen an assassin’s bullet gunned down Thomas and Martha Wayne. A jammed gun saved him from a similar fate. That night he made an oath and a promise to his parents and to the dark forces that had for so long been behind the Waynes: vengeance would be his. Thanks to the timely intervention of family lawyer Alfred Pennyworth and Thomas' estranged brother Philip Bruce was taken from Gotham that night before he could join his parents in death.

Ten years later the vacancy of the Waynes had been filled by the Co-Op, a consortium of uneasy alliances among multiple criminal gangs. Carmine Falcone sat at the head of the table as criminal and political boss of the city.

And then the Bat came to town.

A masked lunatic calling himself the Bat waged a one-man war against the criminal forces of Gotham. It soon became clear that this vigilante wasn’t looking to eliminate crime in Gotham: he was looking to take over. Block by block and territory by territory the Bat began to eliminate forces loyal to the Co-Op and replace them with his own people. Falcone called for a sitdown as he began to lose more and more ground. When he arrived at the meeting he was met not with the Bat, but with Bruce Wayne. He revealed he was the power behind the Bat, and he was back to collect what was owed to his family.

Ten years later and the criminal underworld of Gotham sits at an uneasy truce. The Wayne Family chips away more and more with each passing year into the Co-Ops rackets. Fissures are have begun to form in the foundation of the Co-Op. And, like what was done with his father decades before, Bruce can feel the weaknesses. With the Bat and a host of other colorful enforcers one their side, the Waynes are preparing for a final push to eradicate the Co-Op and reclaim Gotham City fully for the Waynes. Meanwhile the Co-Op has finally decided if the Wayne Family is going to use costumed freaks to do their heavy living, well they can fight fire with fire.


P L O T ( S ) & G O A L ( S ):
Evil mob Batman, c'mon.

C H A R A C T E R N O T E S:

Bruce Wayne/The Bat
Head of the Wayne Crime Family, well known figure across Gotham

Dick Grayson/Deathwing
Wayne ward and heir, acts as family underboss as both Dick and Deathwing, the Bat’s right hand.

Alfred Pennyworth
Lawyer and chief advisor for Bruce, adopted Bruce after his parents were murdered.

Tim Drake/Talon
Wayne ward and captain inside the family, operates as Talon.

Cassandra Cain/Batwoman
Assassin and mute.

Jim Gordon
GCPD Commissioner

Barbara Gordon
GCPD Detective

Selina Kyle
Bruce’s fiance. Informant for GCPD.

Jason Todd/Red Hood
Former Wayne Family member turned murderous vigilante.

Edward Nygma
Captain in the Major Crimes Division.

Carmine Falcone
Head of the Co-Op and chief Wayne rival.

Salvatore Maroni
Member of the Co-Op with eyes on taking Falcone’s place.

P O S T C A T A L O G:
A list linking to your IC posts as they're created. This can be used for a reference guide to your character or to summarize completed arcs and stories.

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