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Opinionated nerd for hire.
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Deadwood Mining Camp
Black Hills Region
Dakota Territory
April 5th, 1877
The regular bustle up and down the street's thoroughfare had grown to an eerie silence, as dozens of townsfolk stopped what they were doing to stare. The only sounds audible beyond the wind and the odd creaking of hanging sign were the squeaking of wagon wheels, and the irregular clopping of a horse's hooves.
The brown mare limped into town, snorting and heaving from exhaustion, its fur matted with dark blood stains. Flies buzzed over a nasty wound in its right flank, no doubt the cause of the animal's limp. Many more of those flies, however, swarmed across the body seated at the front of the wagon, head drooping to one side, mouth frozen in a permanent scream.
"What in God's name...." Sheriff Seth Bullock muttered to himself as he stepped out into the street, the crowd of gawking bystanders unsure of what to do. "Everyone....*ahem* everyone stay back! Someone get the Doc!"
A boy in the crowd, maybe twelve years old, nodded and broke out into a run towards Doc Cochran's practice. Bullock whistled to the wounded horse, trying to get it to come towards him as it listed aimlessly down the street. With his left hand, Seth held out an open palm, trying his best to soothe the animal. His right hand, however, was firmly on the grip of his pistol.
A year ago, Deadwood had its first brush with the strange and unnatural events that had been cropping up across the country. What seemed at first to be an outbreak of smallpox in the camp turned out to be something far more dangerous altogether, as those who died from the illness simply didn't stay dead. Since then, the folks of Deadwood and Seth Bullock in particular had done their best to prepare for the day that the otherworldly visited their camp again, while praying that it never did.
"That's it, that's it...." Bullock said gently as the horse approached him, snuffling his outstretched hand. "Nothin' to fear, girl."
A thin man in a bowler hat emerged from the corner building, approaching the Sheriff and the wagon.
"Everything all right, Seth?" Sol Star asked, his own hand subconsciously drifting towards the Derringer in his vest pocket.
"No," Bullock answered curtly. "We've got a dead man riding through our thoroughfare, so I'd say everything is not all right. Just need to know how bad it is. Think you can keep the horse from getting spooked?"
Sol nodded, not entirely confident.
"Good," Seth said before Sol could change his mind. "I need to see what's in this wagon. Maybe that'll tell us why this man died...."
TWO HOURS LATER
"There's an old bit of Celestial wisdom," Al Swearengen began as he looked at the faces gathered in his office. "Rather, a curse. 'May you be born in interesting times.' I'm sure our esteemed friend Mister Wu could expound upon why this particular phrase is considered a curse by his people-- or at least he would if I could ever convince the man to speak a fuckin' word of English-- but I personally never found any ominous tones in such a saying."
Seth Bullock and Sol Star glared at Swearengen from the far corner, arms folded across their chests. They'd never liked the man, and had more than their fair share of conflicts with his operation, but over time, they'd worked out something of an understanding for the sake of the camp as a whole.
"You see, if there's any constant in the world, it's that nothing's constant," Al elaborated. "Everything changes sooner or later. Just when you think you've got your house sorted out, the winds start blowing in another direction and you've got to start all over again. Some people might look at that and see chaos. They might see it as dangerous, even downright fuckin' deadly. Me? I see it as opportunity after opportunity."
Down the hall, a woman's voice cried out in high-pitched squeals of exaggerated ecstacy. Al rolled his eyes.
"Johnny, would you mind going to room four and reminding Lucy that our establishment is not a God damned opera house? I'm in the middle of something and I'm finding it exceedingly difficult to hear myself think over her hamming it up for the customers." Johnny Burns, one of Al's lackeys, nodded urgently and scrambled out the door, his lanky limbs practically fumbling over themselves as he nudged past the others. "Now then....where was I?"
"Opportunity," Joanie Stubbs, owner of the Bella Union saloon and Al's chief competitor, chimed in. "And what exactly this has to do with a dead man riding into our camp."
"Y-y-yes," E.B. Farnum, ostensibly Deadwood's mayor but very much another one of Al's lackeys, sputtered. "I-I was wondering wh-what exactly is going on here, Al. Th-there's panic grown in the camp."
"There's always panic in the fuckin' camp," Al spat. "Ever since last year's unpleasantness, the goddamn hoople-heads have been jumping at their own shadows. What you're about to hear does not leave this room until we have a plan on how to deal with it. If anyone lets slip, I'll cut every last one of you myself, then do your families and friends just to make sure."
"Big fuckin' talk, as always," sneered Jane Canary, who had once worked as one of Al's dancers before coming under the wing of the legendary Wild Bill Hickok. In the past year, "Calamity Jane" had become a legend in her own right hunting unnatural creatures throughout the Black Hills. "I ain't scared o' you no more, Al. I'll tell whoever the fuck I want--"
"I d-don't think that's necessary, Miss Jane," stammered A.W. Merrick, the owner of the camp's sole printing press and newspaper. "But Al, if there's a threat to the public at larger, maybe we should--"
"Not. A. Fucking. Word." Al repeated. "Now, before this conversation gets completely out of hand, Sheriff Bullock, if you would be so kind as to show everyone here why I am so insistent on the lot of you exercising some caution."
Seth exchanged looks with Sol, shrugged, and moved towards the desk, producing a small burlap sack.
"We were able to identify the body as one of the miners," he began, "A fella who only went by 'D.B.' No family in the camp, no close friends, only a few friends at the No. 10 Saloon. Seems he came here looking for gold. What he found, though...."
Opening the bag, Seth poured the contents onto Al's desk. A handful of pitch-black stones, criss-crossed with veins of sickly glowing green.
"My God," Stubbs exclaimed, "....is that--"
"Ghost Rock," Bullock answered with a nod. "His wagon is full of it. Enough to buy a mansion in the hills..."
"Or burn down a city," Sol added.
Ghost Rock was a mineral only discovered after the Great Quake of '68 on the West Coast. It burned far hotter than coal, and could be used as a power source for contraptions beyond the wildest imagination. As the war between the North and South dragged on, both sides were looking for any edge over their enemies, which meant that these days a fistful of Ghost Rock was worth nearly ten times its weight in gold.
"...s-so....that makes us rich, d-don't it?" Farnum asked sheepishly.
"It makes us all fucked, is what it makes us," Swearengen answered, "Unless we play this very carefully. The second word gets out that there's a vein of Ghost Rock this size out here, the camp is going to be swarming with outsiders. Blue Coats, Gray Coats, scientists, mystics, Mormons, you name it. And that's just the folks who'll be coming here willingly. This stuff does things to people, calls out to 'em like it's got a mind of its own. You mark my fuckin' words, before this day is out, we're going to see people wanderin' into Deadwood that we've never seen before, who have no idea that the rock is even here. There is going to be blood on the streets that'll make last year's disaster look like a spring dance. And we have to decide, here and now, how we're going to deal with it."
"...I suppose," Bullock began, "I can start looking for deputies. People who can help keep the peace."
"I believe between the two of us," Stubbs said to Al, "our girls can get an information exchange going, find all about any newcomers and their secrets before they get out of line."
"I-I-I can hold of any, um, 'ambassadors' from the Yankees and Rebels, and t-tell you what they tell me," Farnum added.
"I ain't helpin' you with shit, Al," Jane scowled. "But if Bullock needs me to put a critter down, I can get a posse together."
"And, of course, I can keep the town notified of any events or opportunities," Merrick added. "At least, those you see fit to print."
"Well, I suppose that settles it, then," Al sighed, opening a drawer on his desk and producing a bottle of swill. "To interesting fuckin' times."
If y’all are still takin’ I’d be mighty happen to join!
We're still accepting CSes, so you're more than welcome to submit one!
Well now, this looks interesting!
Y'all open for another? I've got a couple character concepts bouncing around.
We're still taking applications.
IC goes live tomorrow, folks!
John Henry, Baghead, Vic Godspeed, and Red Dog are all APPROVED. James Kelley will be approved once his CS is complete.
My own CS will be up this evening, and IC goes live later this week.
EDIT: Also, I added some new stuff about the town of Deadwood and some of the major persons of interest in the town, which hopefully can give y'all some plot hooks to follow.
My own CS will be up this evening, and IC goes live later this week.
EDIT: Also, I added some new stuff about the town of Deadwood and some of the major persons of interest in the town, which hopefully can give y'all some plot hooks to follow.
Gonna get my own character up and running this weekend as well.
TALES O' THE WEIRD WEST
Premise:
Some folks think the whole world's gone to hell. But they've got it all backwards. You see, ever since some damn fool opened the door for 'em, hell's been making its way here.
Most of us didn't realize the world was turning sour until July of '63, when the dead rose at Gettysburg. Even then, it was easy for most to dismiss the stories of walking corpses as the ravings of poor addled souls who'd seen too much bloodshed. Any doubts that the door between this world and the next was flung wide open, though, were crushed when the Sioux Nation rose up, using unnatural powers to reclaim the land that had been taken from them. The Civil War broke down into a never-ending mess, neither the North or South able to fight for too long before risking another outbreak of the undead, or worse, corrupting the land itself with a mass of angry spirits.
Things weren't helped by the Great Quake of '68, which split the Earth open an' utterly destroyed the California Territory. In what was left over, a giant treacherous wasteland called the Maze, they found Ghost Rock, a new type of fuel that made coal look like nothin' in comparison. The really smart types, the scientists an' inventors an' whatnot, began comin' up with all sorts of crazy contraptions to do impossible things. 'course, most of these really smart types had a tendency to go out of their damn minds pursuin' their knowledge, an' some folks believe that their "inspiring sparks of genius" were voices from another world. That didn't stop the rush for Ghost Rock, an' now the North, the South, the Sioux, hell, even the Mormons in Deseret will do just about anything to get their hands on some, an' make God knows what with it once they get it.
It's '77 now, an' things haven't gotten any better. The North an' South are still going at it, the Sioux have united most of the tribes out West to push back both of 'em, an' most of the Maze has fallen under the influence of a madman only known as Reverend Grimme, who rules from the ruins of Los Angeles-- now reborn as the City of Lost Angels. Doomsday cults an' worshippers of weird an' evil gods have cropped up like weeds from Saint Louis to Salt Lake City. And the less said about the...things....that have been crawlin' out of the Maze, the better.
If there's any good news, is that none of it's bullet-proof. 'least, that's what they say. They a lot of things these days.
They say that men in black coats ride into town after strange things occur, but no one can remember their faces when they leave.
They say there's things in the open desert that can swallow a steam engine whole.
They say the ghosts of Custer an' his men rampage across the plains at night, cuttin' down any soul unlucky enough to be in their way.
An' they say that if you find yourself sitting alone at a card table at sundown, you might be joined by a man in red who gambles for more than just money.
'course, that's all just 'what they say.' If you wanna last long out in the Deadlands, don't believe anything you hear. An' it's better if you don't believe about half of what you see, either.
Overview:
Setting: Deadwood, South Dakota
Time Frame: Summer of 1877
Themes: Adventure, horror, mystery, conspiracy, weird fantasy (not that kind)
Style Wanted: Advanced, so at least four paragraphs per post. Character images and formatting text are preferred, but not required.
Character Types Wanted: Gunslingers, lawmen, Native braves or shamans, gamblers, swindlers, femmes fatale, preachers, detectives, rustlers, cut throats, murderers, bounty hunters, desperados, mugs, pugs, thugs, nitwits, halfwits, dimwits, vipers, snipers, con men....
Tales o' the Weird West is an open-world game set in the universe of the old Deadlands RPG-- a supernatural-horror Western full of gunslingers, black magic, bandits, mad science, cults, conspiracies, and the poor folks who just happen to get caught up in the middle of it all. This is a world where the dead rarely stay quiet, where monsters lurk in every dark corner, and where Evil with a capital "E" gains ground day by day. It's also a world where the brave, the faithful, and the just-plain crazy can take up a six-shooter and face down their demons in a very literal sense. It's grim and gritty, and at the same time it's completely out-there and ridiculous, so players can approach it in any way they wish.
The exact details of the official lore aren't massively important for characters and stories, so long as it fits within the "Weird West" setting. Steampunk, gothic horror, Spaghetti Westerns, even Lovecraft are all fair game here. If you want to live out your dreams of The Man With No Name and the Rocketeer getting hired by Al Swearingen to stop Count Dracula from summoning Cthulhu, then you've come to the right place.
Rules and Expectations:
*Players may play an original character, a historical figure, or a character from popular culture who would have existed at the time (roughly 1877). If you choose to play a historical character, you can alter their biography as far back as 1863 (the point at which the lore deviates from real-world history). Fictional characters can also be altered to fit into the setting as well, so long as their adventures were set in roughly the correct period to begin with-- a character like Zorro, for instance, would be allowed, but a Wild West version of Batman or Goku or whatever would not.
*No prior knowledge of the Deadlands game mechanics is required, nor do you need to know the ins and outs of the lore beyond what I’ve included in the section below.
*Supernatural powers do exist in this world, and your character can have said powers. However, no character is indestructible or immortal-- even the nastiest monsters can be dropped by a well-placed bullet (though sometimes that bullet needs to be silver or the like). If you do choose to make a magic, monstrous, or otherwise unnatural character, their powers should have clearly defined limitations, and should preferably line up with the types of magic discussed in the "Supernatural" section of the lore dump.
*Characters can have wildly different motivations, which can come into direct conflict with each other. In these instances, PvP is allowed, though killing another player's character or supporting NPCs without their consent is strictly off-limits.
*Players are expected to post at least once every 14 days, and their posts should contain at least four complete paragraphs. Adding fancy stuff like pictures or colored and formatted text are nice, but not required.
*All standard Guild rules apply. Respect the GM, respect the other players, and we'll all get along just fine. When in doubt, consult Lady A’s Guide to Etiquette.
CONTENT ADVISORY:
*While this isn't an 18+ game, I do plan on having content that would constitute an R-rating. Violence, coarse language, and adult themes are permitted, though I would ask to leave the more explicit details to the imagination.
*The game is set in a fantasy version of the American West, but still has some degree of history to it, so many of the people in this world have views that would be considered unacceptable by modern standards. I don't plan on delving into the issues of racism and sexism in late 19th-century America, but I don't consider them taboo either, and players should be advised that they may come up.
Setting and Lore:
Deadwood
The Weird West
Ghost Rock and Mad Science:
The Supernatural
Monsters:
Character Sheet Template:
Name:
Aliases (if any):
Allegiance (if any):
Occupation:
Physical Attributes:
Sex/Gender:
Race/Ethnicity:
Age:
Build:
Distinguishing Features:
Mental Attributes:
Positive Trait*Negative Trait (choose at least three of each)
Education (if any):
Likes:
Dislikes:
Notes:
Important Life Moments:
Special/Supernatural Abilities (if any):
Supporting Characters (if any):
Signature Weapons/Items:
Sad to see folks pull out, but I'm also glad to see other folks are interested.
I'll put up the Sign-Up/OOC Thread on Monday.
I'll put up the Sign-Up/OOC Thread on Monday.
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