I've yet to make a proper map, but you can expect something like this, (Though California has sadly fallen to the Communist menace, and Mexico and beyond are not part of the CSA.)
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Question: Just to clear things up, the USA and the CSA decided to reunify in the face of the USSR and have once again become the USA as a single entity and the RP takes place in this combined senate post-USSR?
To clarify, no. The USA and CSA are separate nations, but close allies in the fight against communism. So USA's resources are essentially cut in half, forcing the players to play a more diplomatic game as opposed to using sheer force.
Greetings, and welcome to what I hope will become a political simulator here on the forum. What sets this game apart will be its Alternate Timeline setting, taking place in modern times, the election of 2016 to be precise. During the Civil War, the Confederacy was able to gain European recognition of their state, which led to British and French support for the Confederacy, resulting in them winning the war and seceding from the United States.
As a result, USA failed to become the dominant power it is today. Following WWII, Russia dominated the world with their global empire; the USSR. The bitter rivalry between the United States and the Confederate States was put aside in order to contain the growing power of the Soviets. Finally, in 2016, the power of the USSR has broken, the Soviet Union has fractured into many warring states.
The Soviet century is over, the time of the Union has begun!
~ Lead the United States as an American senator, striving to obtain the coveted office of the United States President.
~ Choose either fictional or real life characters.
~ Lead your respective party, the Democrats or Republicans, to realize your vision for the nation.
~ As president, assign your fellow party members to cabinet positions and create policy and executive orders that shape the country though your term.
~ A crisis, legislative, and election phase that overturns power consistently to a new player and party.
~ A casual IC style where speeches and debate advance the narrative.
~ Set policy on matters of trade, diplomacy, and domestic to shape the nation.
~ An Alternate Timeline Setting where the scourge of socialism encroaches on the United States. Will it be embraced, or thwarted?
~ Bring prosperity or ruin to the United States.
Apologies for disappearing. Had a death in the family, and now feeling sapped creatively. Have to bow out of this one. Sorry guys - it's a really cool concept, but just can't find my muse.
I have an IC in the works, should have it up tomorrow night.
Muin Dourhorn, first son of Muin, and heir to Muin's Valley, followed Buri Bizidurum with a bowed head. His face solemn beneath his brown beard, Dourhorn wouldn't even let himself wince as pain from the long walk began to shoot up his right leg, leaving his features still as stone. His cane left within the keep among his attendants, Dourhorn had vowed to make this walk upon his own legs. The pain that drove up from his ankle and cut like a knife into his thigh was little when compared to the crushing loss of losing his father.
Limping into the burial chamber, Dourhorn took up position across from Buri the Runemaster, his head lowered in prayer as his father's incantation began. His eyes closed, Dourhorn could hear his father's voice in his head, as if he himself spoke the words from beyond the mortal world. Each verse stirred deep within him, resonating out some transcendent power. The pain in his leg ebbed and the Dwarf had the sensation of being outside himself. As the final verse was being spoken, a shriek silenced Buri and Dourhorn opened his eyes to see his mother stricken mad with grief.
"Not the key will my firstborn receive. Where was him at the fall of his Master? Mother of a pack, they will call me, for I did not raise dwarves of high birth but the lowest wolves of evil thirst. Seven times you be cursed, and I will not give away the Key of the Home of the Valley, no one here is worth to step through the godly gates of Muin."
Dourhorn brought his left hand to his chest as if he was struck. Yulna had broke the incantation, defiled it with a curse. The mourning, pitiful Dwarf slunk from the light of the braziers and disappeared into the shadows.
The chamber was silent for what seemed an eternity, their grief replaced by shock. It was Hornfel that broke the silence. To Dourhorn's surprise, his younger brother rushed to his side, proclaiming his support. Leth, Dourhorn's nephew and son of fallen Ragnar, was quick to object.
Dourhorn met the young Dwarf's gaze as he stepped before him, refusing to give him the satisfaction of shrinking away. The young Dwarf was strong, he didn't doubt it, and he was acutely aware of how easily the lad could snap his neck if caught in his grasp. Petulance flew from Leth's mouth as he openly mocked Dourhorn. Once he fished for the support of Agrim, proclaiming beyond doubt that his clan would bow to no one save himself or Agrim, Dourhorn seized the momentary silence to speak his case.
Taking a step forward with his good foot, Dourhorn spoke in his usual low tone, a deep and powerful voice that belied the broken Dwarf from which it uttered. "Impudent welp," He said flatly with measured disdain. "Our dear mother, mad with grief has broken the incantation. I can forgive her for her scornful words, but what excuse can you give, Leth, for furthering this blasphemy other then to sate your own ambitions!"
Turning to face his brothers, Dourhorn's deep voice echoed across the walls of the chamber. "Is this to be the future of our father's valley? To be led by reckless arrogance? Ever and anon I advised constraint. Urged our lord-father to exercise caution when faced with the threats against the valley. If only he had heeded my advice, and not gone chasing the fancies of our youth, clinging to the notions of victories worthy of song!
"Nay, brothers, this ill fate was sewn long ago. Never again will the Dwarves of Muin Valley charge heedless into the fray! We have lost too much to walk this perilous course. We must have our wits about us, for it is our wits that make us Dwarves! Abandon that and you are left with but an axe to swing blindly.
"Our father's word is clear. Divide and be cursed. Only together can we ensure the safety and prosperity of the valley. Rule is mine by right. Swear to me, brothers, and together we will brave the darkness, and by the light of knowledge and the Gods, we will prevail."
Limping into the burial chamber, Dourhorn took up position across from Buri the Runemaster, his head lowered in prayer as his father's incantation began. His eyes closed, Dourhorn could hear his father's voice in his head, as if he himself spoke the words from beyond the mortal world. Each verse stirred deep within him, resonating out some transcendent power. The pain in his leg ebbed and the Dwarf had the sensation of being outside himself. As the final verse was being spoken, a shriek silenced Buri and Dourhorn opened his eyes to see his mother stricken mad with grief.
"Not the key will my firstborn receive. Where was him at the fall of his Master? Mother of a pack, they will call me, for I did not raise dwarves of high birth but the lowest wolves of evil thirst. Seven times you be cursed, and I will not give away the Key of the Home of the Valley, no one here is worth to step through the godly gates of Muin."
Dourhorn brought his left hand to his chest as if he was struck. Yulna had broke the incantation, defiled it with a curse. The mourning, pitiful Dwarf slunk from the light of the braziers and disappeared into the shadows.
The chamber was silent for what seemed an eternity, their grief replaced by shock. It was Hornfel that broke the silence. To Dourhorn's surprise, his younger brother rushed to his side, proclaiming his support. Leth, Dourhorn's nephew and son of fallen Ragnar, was quick to object.
Dourhorn met the young Dwarf's gaze as he stepped before him, refusing to give him the satisfaction of shrinking away. The young Dwarf was strong, he didn't doubt it, and he was acutely aware of how easily the lad could snap his neck if caught in his grasp. Petulance flew from Leth's mouth as he openly mocked Dourhorn. Once he fished for the support of Agrim, proclaiming beyond doubt that his clan would bow to no one save himself or Agrim, Dourhorn seized the momentary silence to speak his case.
Taking a step forward with his good foot, Dourhorn spoke in his usual low tone, a deep and powerful voice that belied the broken Dwarf from which it uttered. "Impudent welp," He said flatly with measured disdain. "Our dear mother, mad with grief has broken the incantation. I can forgive her for her scornful words, but what excuse can you give, Leth, for furthering this blasphemy other then to sate your own ambitions!"
Turning to face his brothers, Dourhorn's deep voice echoed across the walls of the chamber. "Is this to be the future of our father's valley? To be led by reckless arrogance? Ever and anon I advised constraint. Urged our lord-father to exercise caution when faced with the threats against the valley. If only he had heeded my advice, and not gone chasing the fancies of our youth, clinging to the notions of victories worthy of song!
"Nay, brothers, this ill fate was sewn long ago. Never again will the Dwarves of Muin Valley charge heedless into the fray! We have lost too much to walk this perilous course. We must have our wits about us, for it is our wits that make us Dwarves! Abandon that and you are left with but an axe to swing blindly.
"Our father's word is clear. Divide and be cursed. Only together can we ensure the safety and prosperity of the valley. Rule is mine by right. Swear to me, brothers, and together we will brave the darkness, and by the light of knowledge and the Gods, we will prevail."
No worries. I should have an IC up tonight.
Oooo Damn fine IC's, fellas. I really like this opening, getting the battle lines drawn right out the gate! I think I'll wait for @Dogematix to respond to Leth before I IC.
Reverent Clan
Muin Dourhorn
Dourhorn is the eldest of Muin's children and marked as a Dwarf of ill gotten luck. As a babe a birth defect rendered Dourhorn paralyzed in the right side of his body. Though he eventually learned to use his frozen limbs, they remain deformed, stiff, and uncooperative. Unable to pursue the life of a warrior, Dourhorn turned toward scholarly pursuits instead. Dourhorn achieved an honourable place among his father's council, earning his ear on matters requiring more than an axe to solve. Nevertheless, Dourhorn's disability and envy of his virile brothers left him jaded and humourless. While he is not the most popular of his father's children, his intelligence and wisdom have earned him a small following and a thriving clan in Muin's Pass.
Reverent Clan takes its name from the Dwarven God of Death, or more specifically, the God's servants whom drag the unworthy dead to the underworld to spend eternity in darkness. A name seemingly befitting on the dark nature of Dourhorn and his followers, yet their village is prosperous, benefiting from their leader's intelligence. Following Master Muin's death, Dourhorn feared violence from his brothers and led his followers to safety, whereupon they built a small settlement. Like Dourhorn, most share an affection for scrolls and parchment, while others recognize Dourhorn's abilities and thought him their best chance to survive in the bitter mountain pass.
Chief among Dourhorn's followers is his younger sister, Bittercoat. An accomplished archer and deadly with her spiked cudgel, Bittercoat's amiable nature is often at odds with her elder brother's stern attitude. It is said that the lass took pity on Dourhorn until realizing his wits more then made up for his physical short comings, and the two forged a strong bond. Grisbold Oakfeet is Dourhorn's trusted captain, the leader of Reverent Clan's warband. A Dwarf who fought in many campaigns and the scars to prove it. Oakfeet shares Dourhorn's surly nature, and is a strict disciplinarian for the clan's fighting ranks, yet there are few others better to lead a troop of Dwarves. Thinmail Brittleback followed Dourhorn from Muin's citadel but for no other reason then to follow his wife, Bittercoat. A marriage of politics orchestrated by Master Muin, Brittleback is perceived as a flamboyant weakling who happens to come from wealthy stock. Though he adores Brittleback, it is widely known that there is little affection to be returned.
Reverent Clan have established themselves in the eastern tracts of the pass, building their village in a sheltered hamlet, bordered by a ridge, rocky hills, and a stream.
The clan boasts a modest population of roughly 2,000 Dwarves.
Claiming the lands around their village, aptly named Reverent, the Dwarves of the clan busy themselves with a small farm, a large pasture, and a productive mine, producing iron, malachite, and coal. Central to the village is Fanghorn Temple, a low building cut from obsidian stone and dark as night.
The Reverent Clan's warband consists of fifty Dwarves; thirtyfive axedwarves, ten archers, and five boar riders.
The Clan is largely steeped in tradition, holding to the old sagas and scriptures as a framework from which to live their lives. A dogmatic view of the Gods is implemented to keep law and order, however the tenants of old tend to grow more lax the higher up the hierarchy of the clan. Regardless, the Gods are paid homage and traditions of old are upheld among the clan.
As Dourhorn is the oldest among Muin's children, he and his followers claim the rule of the valley should pass to him. Yet for the legitimacy that surrounds his claim, it cannot be denied that Dourhorn's physical weaknesses are a detriment to his claim, and most pass him off as being too weak to rule the valley.
Reverent Clan sets itself apart from the other clan's for it's religious fervor, conducting themselves in a manner befitting the Gods and Dwarven heroes of long ago. They strive for wisdom above all things, and seek to impart wise counsel on any whom ask.
Dourhorn is the eldest of Muin's children and marked as a Dwarf of ill gotten luck. As a babe a birth defect rendered Dourhorn paralyzed in the right side of his body. Though he eventually learned to use his frozen limbs, they remain deformed, stiff, and uncooperative. Unable to pursue the life of a warrior, Dourhorn turned toward scholarly pursuits instead. Dourhorn achieved an honourable place among his father's council, earning his ear on matters requiring more than an axe to solve. Nevertheless, Dourhorn's disability and envy of his virile brothers left him jaded and humourless. While he is not the most popular of his father's children, his intelligence and wisdom have earned him a small following and a thriving clan in Muin's Pass.
Reverent Clan takes its name from the Dwarven God of Death, or more specifically, the God's servants whom drag the unworthy dead to the underworld to spend eternity in darkness. A name seemingly befitting on the dark nature of Dourhorn and his followers, yet their village is prosperous, benefiting from their leader's intelligence. Following Master Muin's death, Dourhorn feared violence from his brothers and led his followers to safety, whereupon they built a small settlement. Like Dourhorn, most share an affection for scrolls and parchment, while others recognize Dourhorn's abilities and thought him their best chance to survive in the bitter mountain pass.
Chief among Dourhorn's followers is his younger sister, Bittercoat. An accomplished archer and deadly with her spiked cudgel, Bittercoat's amiable nature is often at odds with her elder brother's stern attitude. It is said that the lass took pity on Dourhorn until realizing his wits more then made up for his physical short comings, and the two forged a strong bond. Grisbold Oakfeet is Dourhorn's trusted captain, the leader of Reverent Clan's warband. A Dwarf who fought in many campaigns and the scars to prove it. Oakfeet shares Dourhorn's surly nature, and is a strict disciplinarian for the clan's fighting ranks, yet there are few others better to lead a troop of Dwarves. Thinmail Brittleback followed Dourhorn from Muin's citadel but for no other reason then to follow his wife, Bittercoat. A marriage of politics orchestrated by Master Muin, Brittleback is perceived as a flamboyant weakling who happens to come from wealthy stock. Though he adores Brittleback, it is widely known that there is little affection to be returned.
Reverent Clan have established themselves in the eastern tracts of the pass, building their village in a sheltered hamlet, bordered by a ridge, rocky hills, and a stream.
The clan boasts a modest population of roughly 2,000 Dwarves.
Claiming the lands around their village, aptly named Reverent, the Dwarves of the clan busy themselves with a small farm, a large pasture, and a productive mine, producing iron, malachite, and coal. Central to the village is Fanghorn Temple, a low building cut from obsidian stone and dark as night.
The Reverent Clan's warband consists of fifty Dwarves; thirtyfive axedwarves, ten archers, and five boar riders.
The Clan is largely steeped in tradition, holding to the old sagas and scriptures as a framework from which to live their lives. A dogmatic view of the Gods is implemented to keep law and order, however the tenants of old tend to grow more lax the higher up the hierarchy of the clan. Regardless, the Gods are paid homage and traditions of old are upheld among the clan.
As Dourhorn is the oldest among Muin's children, he and his followers claim the rule of the valley should pass to him. Yet for the legitimacy that surrounds his claim, it cannot be denied that Dourhorn's physical weaknesses are a detriment to his claim, and most pass him off as being too weak to rule the valley.
Reverent Clan sets itself apart from the other clan's for it's religious fervor, conducting themselves in a manner befitting the Gods and Dwarven heroes of long ago. They strive for wisdom above all things, and seek to impart wise counsel on any whom ask.
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