BangoSkank

Deadlands - A Supernatural Western

Day wore on past noon. Few folk got their eyes on the parties what were assembling and figgered maybe they'd be better off just minded their own damn business. Rough folk out to do what may likely turn out to be some rough work. Were always something safer to do work about town even if it didn't pay but to keep your heart tickin. Lot of folk said they wanted to go out huntin' after this cursed mine camp or that man eating cougar, but you know well as I do money talks and bullshit walks. So the bullshitters found something else to do and the party they got to talking.

Old Zeke convinced his "fellow countryman" to come along with him and help hunt down that damn idjit cougar. Offered him the full pay for the cat and the protection of a little posse of his friends. Crazy old coot really had it out for that critter. Said he already had it's mate nicely emptied out and she'd soon be fit fer showing. Soon as he got even just the slightest nod from that Kaufmann feller he got to stammerin' and asking all kind of question 'bout where he were from and what it were like and did he know the Mullers of Munich or the Richters of Rostock or maybe those schweinhund Schmidts from Sarrbucken?

Rest of the party, them that were still willin' to head out under that unforgivin' sun that is, them all got together and headed out down the path to Poor Ol' Charles' Mine. Learned pretty quick from one of the hire ons that it were a good long trip. Them hire ons aim to push a hard pace, seems there were a few of the lot who had, purely out of civic duty mind you, followed Ol' Charles out a bit toward the mine fore he lost em or they got tired and headed back for home. This time though they meant to get out there and collect that damn re-ward, quick like too afore the sun came down too far.

And in the Red Corner...

Looking to see who would be interested in doing a wrestling themed arena fight. So no weapons that wouldn’t fit the setting, General wrestling rules and a not overly serious atmosphere.

If you’re open to it we could use the RPGuild dice system to determine when moves are or are not effective.

Here’s the character I have prepared :
(Character Sheet format from Doc Doctor)

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Name: Danger, Danger Fontaine
Epithet: Masked and Mustachioed Macho...Guy
Age: 32
Height: 6'4" pounds of towering manliness
Weight: 246 pounds of raw hard muscle slathered in baby oil
Race: Human
Dominant Hand: Right

Weapons-
All of Danger's weapons are fashioned from cheap steel and are designed to break easily. They are carted down to the ring in a shopping car.

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-A Wooden Folding Table designed for little more than being broken in dramatic fashion.

-A Chinese folding metal chair initially designed for sitting but quite useful for bashing about the head.

-A wooden kendo stick

-A Stop Sign seemingly picked up off the street

-A single live and very confused Lobster

-A Black Duct-Taped Up Baseball Bat

Equipment-

The Man Known As Danger, Danger Fontaine, wears upon his person:

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Urban Colored Camo Shorts

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Black and White Gold's Gym Muscle Shirt

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Black and White Wrestling Mask (trimmed back to allow his mustache freedom from the confines of his mask)

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Wrestling Gloves

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Wrestling Boots

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Red Entrance Cape

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Appearance-

Danger, Danger Fontaine is a thickly muscled well tanned man and is never seen without an indulgent quantity of baby oil ensuring each and ever muscle fiber glistens under the stadium lights as does his perfectly manicured mustache. His build is best described as mercilessly powerful and massively sexual.

Physical Abilities/Powers-

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Physical Ability-
Danger, Danger Fontaine has inarguably perfected his craft. He is truly the picture of perfection. He is the image of intensity. The epitome of excellence. The physical manifestation of manliness. And also a generous lover, if you know what I mean. His grip is unbreakable, his mind is unshakeable, his strikes are impeccable, his aerial game im...un...it's also pretty good.

Powers-
Imagined Invulnerability -
Danger, Danger Fontaine can ignore injuries that would incapacitate neigh any other man. Due to a combination of repeated traumatic concussions, pain killer use and abuse, and his massively inflated ego he can suffer great harm and continue on despite it. He is either numb to the pain due to a combination of nerve damage and pain killer use or simply able to power through it due to his own overpowering sense of self confidence. In short, while he is not actually in any way shape or form invulnerable to injury or damage he is fully capable of ignoring such damage until it becomes fundamentally physically incapacitating.

Supreme Arrogance -
Danger, Danger Fontaine's massively inflated ego and additive brain damage due to regular traumatic head injury allows him to face adversaries that are clearly exponentially more powerful than he and believe he still has a very real chance of victory.

Delusion -
Arguably all of Danger, Danger Fontaine's power is a result of this aspect of his mind. Despite what absurd circumstance he may find himself in and what inconceivable threat he may face, he will stalwartly believe that he is the Fan Favorite Face of World Wide Wrestling and that this is his shot at the big time. He can hear the roaring crowd. He can hear the commentators expounding over his miraculous musculature and marvelous mustache.

Unreasoning Rage -
Danger, Danger Fontaine's patina of professional wrestling professionalism fades into oblivion if his mask is removed or his mustache is mussed up. Though he generally plays up for the adoring arena carefully watching his each and every match, when an opponent dares to remove his mask he loses his restraint entirely. As a great man once said, he loses his smile. Much of the posing and smiling fades away and he is left a raving animal, throwing out as many big moves as he can as quickly as he can, often to his eventual detriment.

Personality-
Danger...Danger Fontaine. A self obsessed obnoxiously narcissistic professional wrestler, his greatest strength is also his greatest weakness. He is loud, because it is important that the millions and millions of fans, all slavering at the bit for just a little more Danger, hear each and every syllable of each and every word. He is self aggrandizing because who knows Danger better than Danger himself? He is light hearted and often cracks terrible terrible jokes, because he is THE MAN. He is the top, the pinnacle, the apex, the peak, the asymptote, the azimuth, the hyperbole, he is the the man and the only way to be THE MAN is to beat THE MAN and the only man who can beat THE MAN is THE MAN, which is him, thus he is unbeatable. Ask anyone, they'll tell you. In the unlikely event he is one day beaten he is magnanimous in defeat because he knows, HE KNOWS, that belt is meant for one man and one man alone. THE MAN, which is him, Danger, Danger Fontaine, aka THE MAN. The Macho...Guy.

Background-
Danger, Danger Fontaine dreamed through all of his childhood of becoming a professional wrestler and eventually managed to make his dream come true. Growing up in South Dakota he knew from a young age that he was destined for greatness and the greatest greatness he could envision was becoming a massive slab of tanned and oiled muscle body slamming other, lesser, tanned and oiled massive muscle slabs for the entertainment and adoration of the million and millions watching at home. Happily fueled on by the antics of his wrestling idols, action movies, and neigh every book and training program advertised in the back of comic books, he grew muscleyier and muscleyier as his dream became an inevitable future.

He worked his way up through the indies gaining a reputation as an enormous ass, but an ass who put asses in seats. Which is the best kind of ass. Taking inspiration from his idols from America and the world abroad he fashioned for himself a number of easily recognized moves and a very recognizable physique. Muscles, Muscles, Mask and Mustache. In time he made his way to the premier federation of the United States, World Wide Wrestling, and found great success. As well as he did he faced many injuries and eventually ended up as too big of a liability to the company to remain. This was likely a wise move as his massive ego led to him suffering many injuries that would have sidelined him if he weren't just such an egomaniac. Finally one day his ceaseless and impossibly hyperbolic bragging brought him to the attention of some very powerful beings.

Original Fantasy Universe Fellowship RP

Nah, nevermind

Printed guns, melded metal - An experimental GM-less Cyberpunk RP

Im still working at it, just taking awhile to figure out what augments the guy would have. Trying to figure out reasonable stuff that would help him do his job.

Warhammer Fantasy: The Guild of Esteemed Sellswords - An adventure in the Warhammer Fantasy world! [REBOOTED] [FULL]

Jagged ice shards had rained down upon the party and though Shel was entirely untouched by the Kislevite's spell he moved quickly to get himself into more effective cover. On his tiny little legs Shel dashed through the trees and brush. To flank the Ice Wizard of course, it was a very tactical decision. Move about unseen, circle around the these would be bandits, figure out what to do if he actually manages to sneak up on them when he actually manages to sneak up on them.

Shel felt more at home in such a situation anyway. Open fields were not the Halflings friend in combat, better to have things to hide behind or to climb. It was quieter in the thicket, but as Shel didn't wear heavy armor and didn't weigh much of anything himself he was able to move quite quickly while making near to no sound at all. It was how he had survived so long, it was how he acquired the nickname "Surefoot." Yes, he felt quite safe for the moment, in his element, untouchab-

Shel's awareness hadn't extended to the short bow across his back. It had caught on a low hanging branch, not quite knocking him off his feet but causing him to slip and kick up a gathering of leaves on the forest floor. Though he quickly regained his balance the sound of a snapping twig nearby indicated he had likely been noticed.

A gruff voice called out from the quiet, "Alright, hold it there or I'll gut you!" and Shel turned to see a particularly unwelcome sight, a momentarily airborne Dawi. Not just some every day Dawi either, this particular Dawi was clad in steel armor and holding a shield and axe at the ready. None of his equipment appeared to be new, and the Dawi himself didn't appear to be new either. Grey hair, scarred leathery skin, this was an experienced Dawi. Not good indicators for the Halfling's chances of survival.

"Gahhh," the Halfing retorted, quickly retreating several steps and drawing his dirk. Holding it as a man would a shortsword he gathered his thoughts, "Hold it right there or I'll I'll I'll gut you."

Shel didn't like his chances, and so he endeavored to improve them. Taking slight steps back and trying to circle around the Dawi Shel was really just stalling for time, hoping for some opportunity to open itself up. It was exactly the right plan. As fate would have it walking backward while also trying to circle an armed and angry thoroughly terrifying Dawi is a great way to create an opportunity, for the Dawi.

Keeping his eyes locked on the dangerous Dawi in what he imagined to be a quite intimidating death glare Shel stepped on some particularly wet leaves and soon found himself on his back and disarmed. Though he quickly got his barings back he found himself to be in a very sticky situation. His dirk had bounced off to the side near the trunk of a thick grey tree, but the blade was now between him and the Dawi who seemed to have mastered the intimidating death glare.

"You, uh," he stammered as he backed away on hands and knees from the armed and armored Dawi, "You're awfully quiet for a Dawi."

Printed guns, melded metal - An experimental GM-less Cyberpunk RP

I’m going to try to join up as as a sort of auditor doing something like internal affairs, investigating the disappearance, if that’s alright. I’m thinking sort of the flip side of what most folk are likely going for. Someone thoroughly stuck in the rat race. It will take me a while to get a CS together though. Works been busy lately.

Aldo Hammat. Non combat augments to allow him to do his desk job better. A cog in a machine that’s slowly getting ground down

RIVER GOBLIN'S AVATARS AND CHARACTER ART SHOP

I love you

RIVER GOBLIN'S AVATARS AND CHARACTER ART SHOP

That Albert Einstein sticking out his tongue thing?

But make it totally rad bro

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Legends of the West

Why not set it in an alternate version of straight Warhammer Fantasy? It would take a little more work, but you could put together a similar setting by tweaking the world a little bit. Perhaps a great drought has hit the world. You could set it in the Badlands as well as a devastated Bretonnia and an Empire that is clinging to life.

Would make it harder to justify the different races all getting along and intermingling, but perhaps desperate times call for desperate measures? With Bretonnia and the Empire in a bad way you get a good sized lawless area. The different races of Warhammer could then fill in for the different sort of pulp action from a Western, without the problems that arise from having Orcs filling the role of African Americans. As much as that could be done well and be quite interesting it definitely creates some problems.

Ex:
It is 40 years since a pall fell upon the lands. It was Famine that brought the empires of Man to their knees, though they were not the only ones affected. The world grew warmer, the grass died, the lakes dried up, and darkness encroached. The great nations drew their borders back as travel become neigh impossible. Yet now, finally, things are blooming once more. The world is easing up and a new age of expansion is about to begin. All of the once great nations have suffered terribly in the past 40 years. Now that things are getting better it is only a matter of time before the remaining nations seek to reclaim what they have had to abandon. An era of Imperialism is about to begin, and as these lands will need to be resettled and claimed it's all going to happen at a backbreaking pace.

Most of the other stuff would be pretty similar. The Empire and Bretonnia fill in similar roles to North/South, they're both sort of at war with each other now to avoid starvation and to claim as much of the land as possible. Dwarves and High Elves could fill roles similar to say France and England.

Whether you take that approach or not you should rework it a bit. Mythical Cowboys definitely has a cool ring and you've got a number of folk interested. Cool ideas about Badges offering protection as well. Just creating a fictionalized setting dead similar to a Western but not set in a Fantasy Races version of the real world will help a lot.

You might also just ignore the Civil War aspect and have a Wild West/Manifest Destiny that's happening without a Civil War, or keep a Civil War but either get rid of slavery altogether or keep it as it was in history (meaning it was man's cruelty to man). Orcs could still be used as just sort of general baddies. Sort of like Space Pirate Orcs from WH 40K only they ride around on horses.