I would be on board for this. The RPs I'm in at the moment seem to be at a standstill, gotta keep playing to stay fresh.
Polyphemus Member
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Villain Based (Suicide Squad/Secret Society of Super-Villains)
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11 yrs ago
Forum: Casual Interest Checks
I'm game.
With respect, guys, I think some of you may have misinterpreted what I was trying to say. Probably my fault, my wording was vague. The lack of a subway is not the point - that's hardly common knowledge and I would not hold that against anyone. What I was trying to say was more that a broad and generic location like that makes it difficult for others to plan a collaborative post. I hope I didn't offend anyone just now.
I think perhaps I posted this at a bad time earlier, so just a little bump to get this back into view.
Levin smiled at the young lady, the started scratching down the name and address of his tobacconist on a cocktail napkin for her. Then, for the second time that evening, he froze at the sight of someone approaching.
Reggie Kray.
Levin always kept his ear to the ground, wanting to know who was who, which gang was which. He had never met the twins personally, but he had heard plenty. Enough to make him deeply wary of the Krays, especially Ronnie. They were violent. That was to be expected in this business, true- Levin had ordered more than one man to be "put on a train to Cardiff". But Ronnie enjoyed it, far too much. And he made no attempt to hide how utterly mad he was, either. Ronnie wore that madness openly, like a suit of armor, daring anyone at all to try and cross the twins.
Levin recalled a story he had heard a couple months back. Some upstart Maltese gang had tried to crash in on the Krays' snooker hall in Bethnal Green. The fools actually tried to collect protection money from the Krays. Word was the pair had gone absolutely mental. Reggie had contented himself by stabbing the leader of the Maltese through the hand, pinning him to a snooker table. But Ronnie, of course, had rushed the lot of them with a fucking sword, of all things. He chased six men off by himself.
These were men to be feared, particularly if they ever managed to get the money and influence they craved. Chazzers, both of them. If Flowers was a small chazzer, then these men were giants, colossi in the world of chazzers.
Levin remembered himself after a brief pause, resumed writing down the name of his tobacconist. Flowers seemed to be engaged with his driver at the moment. He had seemed friendly with Reggie Kray. For a brief moment, Levin contemplated tapping Flowers on the shoulder, telling him not to touch the Krays with a ten-foot pole, not to do anything that would advance them in any way. But they were hardly friends- Flowers would probably personally underwrite a loan to the Krays out of spite if Levin said anything like that. And so the Jew kept his mouth shut and passed his note to Chasity.
Henry Adler materialized, pushing Berg aside and looming over Chasity. "Evening, Henry," Levin greeted him, sensing his dark mood. Who was he about to lash out at, he wondered- Chasity? Flowers? Levin himself, for "corrupting" his little sister? It wouldn't be the first time, but Levin always won that argument. Coolly, he stared at Henry and took a measured sip of his Gibson, waiting for the other man to make his move.
Reggie Kray.
Levin always kept his ear to the ground, wanting to know who was who, which gang was which. He had never met the twins personally, but he had heard plenty. Enough to make him deeply wary of the Krays, especially Ronnie. They were violent. That was to be expected in this business, true- Levin had ordered more than one man to be "put on a train to Cardiff". But Ronnie enjoyed it, far too much. And he made no attempt to hide how utterly mad he was, either. Ronnie wore that madness openly, like a suit of armor, daring anyone at all to try and cross the twins.
Levin recalled a story he had heard a couple months back. Some upstart Maltese gang had tried to crash in on the Krays' snooker hall in Bethnal Green. The fools actually tried to collect protection money from the Krays. Word was the pair had gone absolutely mental. Reggie had contented himself by stabbing the leader of the Maltese through the hand, pinning him to a snooker table. But Ronnie, of course, had rushed the lot of them with a fucking sword, of all things. He chased six men off by himself.
These were men to be feared, particularly if they ever managed to get the money and influence they craved. Chazzers, both of them. If Flowers was a small chazzer, then these men were giants, colossi in the world of chazzers.
Levin remembered himself after a brief pause, resumed writing down the name of his tobacconist. Flowers seemed to be engaged with his driver at the moment. He had seemed friendly with Reggie Kray. For a brief moment, Levin contemplated tapping Flowers on the shoulder, telling him not to touch the Krays with a ten-foot pole, not to do anything that would advance them in any way. But they were hardly friends- Flowers would probably personally underwrite a loan to the Krays out of spite if Levin said anything like that. And so the Jew kept his mouth shut and passed his note to Chasity.
Henry Adler materialized, pushing Berg aside and looming over Chasity. "Evening, Henry," Levin greeted him, sensing his dark mood. Who was he about to lash out at, he wondered- Chasity? Flowers? Levin himself, for "corrupting" his little sister? It wouldn't be the first time, but Levin always won that argument. Coolly, he stared at Henry and took a measured sip of his Gibson, waiting for the other man to make his move.
Missouri I'm guessing...
There's no city in Missouri that operates a subway, but that's beside the point. The Walker storyline involves a lot of travel, I feel like it helps to be specific about your starting location. At least to the point of what town you're in.
A subway station where? That's pretty vague.
Levin permitted himself a smile as he watched Berg, surprisingly light on his feet for a big man, dance with Chasity. The Adler brothers would probably give him an earful for that. But Levin was an aging man, and he took vicarious pleasure in the young. If Chasity could have a good time here, great, if Berg could loosen up a little, even better. He took a contented sip of his Pimm's.
The small sips became surprised gulps when Levin saw who was coming through the door. Tom Flowers. God's fucking gift to gangsters. Levin sighed inwardly and downed his drink. If he had to put up with that uncouth braggart, Levin was going to need a stronger drink. This time, he waved over the bartender. "A Gibson, please," he asked. "Gordon's gin, of course, and exactly three onions. Very, very dry. In fact, as far as vermouth goes, just wave the glass in the general direction of Italy." Levin lit a cigarette as he anxiously watched the man make his entrance.
It wasn't all that long ago that Hyde Park and the Shaftesbury Firm had been at war with one another. Levin had lost a couple lads in that particular conflict. The word had been that Flowers was largely responsible for the truce, but in Levin's mind, trusting old enemies to keep their word was a little too much. Chamberlain had tried that, and look where that had ended up.
Levin had more than once done business with the Unione, vicious Corsican gangsters who ran most of Southern France behind the scenes. The Corse had a saying: a Christian forgives, only a fool forgets. Levin was Jewish, of course, and he certainly did not consider himself a fool.
Besides, even if Flowers wasn't an old foe, he was a petty vulgarian, an uncouth man who grew up poor and without class. A chazzer, in the Yiddish. You can put a chazzer in a Henry Poole suit, slap a Longines watch on his wrist and put him behind the wheel of a Bentley- won't matter. Still a chazzer.
Though, to be fair, Flowers dressed and lived quietly, without flash. Levin gratefully took his drink and had a reflective sip. Maybe they were more similar than he thought, maybe Flowers was a man worth knowing. Maybe it'd be worth it to be friendly with the man- not friends, of course, but friendly. Speaking terms, at best. Just enough to know the measure of the man.
His reverie was interrupted as Berg (looking a little too grateful to be finished) returned Miss Adler to the bar. Flowers had worked his way over. Chasity, bless her, spared Levin the awkwardness of trying to figure out a personal introduction. Excellent.
Levin made his move, a calculated gesture. It had to be friendly, but not familiar- a delicate balance. He extracted his cigarette case, handed one to Berg as a reward for showing Chasity a good time. Then, as an affected afterthought, he stretched the open case towards the Shaftesbury man. "May I offer you a cigarette, Flowers?"
The small sips became surprised gulps when Levin saw who was coming through the door. Tom Flowers. God's fucking gift to gangsters. Levin sighed inwardly and downed his drink. If he had to put up with that uncouth braggart, Levin was going to need a stronger drink. This time, he waved over the bartender. "A Gibson, please," he asked. "Gordon's gin, of course, and exactly three onions. Very, very dry. In fact, as far as vermouth goes, just wave the glass in the general direction of Italy." Levin lit a cigarette as he anxiously watched the man make his entrance.
It wasn't all that long ago that Hyde Park and the Shaftesbury Firm had been at war with one another. Levin had lost a couple lads in that particular conflict. The word had been that Flowers was largely responsible for the truce, but in Levin's mind, trusting old enemies to keep their word was a little too much. Chamberlain had tried that, and look where that had ended up.
Levin had more than once done business with the Unione, vicious Corsican gangsters who ran most of Southern France behind the scenes. The Corse had a saying: a Christian forgives, only a fool forgets. Levin was Jewish, of course, and he certainly did not consider himself a fool.
Besides, even if Flowers wasn't an old foe, he was a petty vulgarian, an uncouth man who grew up poor and without class. A chazzer, in the Yiddish. You can put a chazzer in a Henry Poole suit, slap a Longines watch on his wrist and put him behind the wheel of a Bentley- won't matter. Still a chazzer.
Though, to be fair, Flowers dressed and lived quietly, without flash. Levin gratefully took his drink and had a reflective sip. Maybe they were more similar than he thought, maybe Flowers was a man worth knowing. Maybe it'd be worth it to be friendly with the man- not friends, of course, but friendly. Speaking terms, at best. Just enough to know the measure of the man.
His reverie was interrupted as Berg (looking a little too grateful to be finished) returned Miss Adler to the bar. Flowers had worked his way over. Chasity, bless her, spared Levin the awkwardness of trying to figure out a personal introduction. Excellent.
Levin made his move, a calculated gesture. It had to be friendly, but not familiar- a delicate balance. He extracted his cigarette case, handed one to Berg as a reward for showing Chasity a good time. Then, as an affected afterthought, he stretched the open case towards the Shaftesbury man. "May I offer you a cigarette, Flowers?"
IT COULD HAPPEN TOMORROW!
The Harryhausen Meteor Shower, a once-in-a-lifetime event, just occurred last night. A free lightshow of shooting stars, visible all over the world. People crowded rooftops, balconies, and other open spaces in order to enjoy the show. Now, in the light of day, people are getting back to work, moving on.
But not all of the meteors burned up harmlessly in the atmosphere. Some fragments made it safely to earth, landing unnoticed in lakes, isolated forests, open fields, city parks, locations scattered all over the entire world. Charged with a strange and unknown radiation, they began to work bizarre changes on the plant and animal life that came into contact with the meteors. Mutating and growing to immense size, the creatures predictably head for the nearest metropolitan centers and begin to wreak havoc.
COLOSSAL GIANTS RAZING PROUD CITIES IN A MAD QUEST FOR BLOOD!
This, then, is the time for people to resolve their petty differences and band together. Scientists, military men, police, journalists- square-jawed men and plucky women everywhere must handle and combat the devastation wrought by the horde of giants. Will mankind be destroyed by giant monsters? Or we will once again bend Nature to our will?
A DESPERATE RACE AGAINST TIME TO PREVENT COMPLETE ANNIHILATION!
Okay, so this is a little more light-hearted and fun kaiju game that's meant to play out more like a creature feature of the 50s and 60s. Despite being set in the modern era, everything in this RP is going to play out with the same sensibilities of those eras. The monsters look suspiciously like men in rubber suits or animals placed on a model set. The human characters are one-dimensional, more tools than people.
And of course, you'll be in control of both. Each player makes both a giant monster and one of the humans trying to stop it. While you'll be scattered all over the world, eventually you'll all come together.
And of course there will be epic kaiju battles. I'm counting on it, really.
Please let me know if you have any questions.
BULLETS CAN'T HARM THEM! FLAMES WON'T KILL THEM! CAN ANYTHING STOP. . .
The Harryhausen Meteor Shower, a once-in-a-lifetime event, just occurred last night. A free lightshow of shooting stars, visible all over the world. People crowded rooftops, balconies, and other open spaces in order to enjoy the show. Now, in the light of day, people are getting back to work, moving on.
But not all of the meteors burned up harmlessly in the atmosphere. Some fragments made it safely to earth, landing unnoticed in lakes, isolated forests, open fields, city parks, locations scattered all over the entire world. Charged with a strange and unknown radiation, they began to work bizarre changes on the plant and animal life that came into contact with the meteors. Mutating and growing to immense size, the creatures predictably head for the nearest metropolitan centers and begin to wreak havoc.
COLOSSAL GIANTS RAZING PROUD CITIES IN A MAD QUEST FOR BLOOD!
This, then, is the time for people to resolve their petty differences and band together. Scientists, military men, police, journalists- square-jawed men and plucky women everywhere must handle and combat the devastation wrought by the horde of giants. Will mankind be destroyed by giant monsters? Or we will once again bend Nature to our will?
A DESPERATE RACE AGAINST TIME TO PREVENT COMPLETE ANNIHILATION!
Okay, so this is a little more light-hearted and fun kaiju game that's meant to play out more like a creature feature of the 50s and 60s. Despite being set in the modern era, everything in this RP is going to play out with the same sensibilities of those eras. The monsters look suspiciously like men in rubber suits or animals placed on a model set. The human characters are one-dimensional, more tools than people.
And of course, you'll be in control of both. Each player makes both a giant monster and one of the humans trying to stop it. While you'll be scattered all over the world, eventually you'll all come together.
And of course there will be epic kaiju battles. I'm counting on it, really.
Please let me know if you have any questions.
BULLETS CAN'T HARM THEM! FLAMES WON'T KILL THEM! CAN ANYTHING STOP. . .
THE INVASION OF THE BEHEMOTHS!
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