1920's Gangster RP interest thread - Page 4

Toastburner B · 03-09-2010, 11:45 PM

You guys seem to be missing a getaway driver.

Well, someone gots to do it, so I guess I will.

Placeholder for now. Hope to get it up in a few minutes.

EDIT:

And done.

Name: Michael �Mickey� Cranston

Age: 35

Appearance: Mickey isn�t the best looking guy by a longshot. He stands at a hair under six feet tall, and is on the heavy side. His blonde hair is thinning prematurely, and he unwisely tries to hide it with a comb-over, but has recently hit on the idea of just wearing a hat. He favors a comfortable, but poor fitting, tan suit that is starting to show its age. Everything down to his watery blue eyes mark him as someone that is very easy to underestimate.

Occupation: Driver/General Thuggery

Backstory: You wouldn�t think it to look at him, But Mickey used to be famous.

Well�kinda famous. Almost famous, you could say.

In his earlier years, he was steadily working his way up a minor race circuit, hoping to break into the bigger leagues, and bigger money, of a major circuit.

In those days, Mickey was �Mike�, he was thin, had a full head a hair�and a bit of a drinking problem. As you might imagine, this �drinking problem� soon turned into �driving problem�, which somehow bloomed into a �racing problem�, which, through sheer coincidence, Mickey will assure you, turned into headlines that screamed �Horrible Wreck! Drunk Racer Kills Rival In Fiery Crash�

Mickey, rather than facing whatever charges were to come his way, slinked off into shadier places of Chicago. While working a job as a cabby (during which time his hair line receded as his waistline expanded), Mickey found himself in the unfortunate situation of being the impromptu get-away driver of a pair of Arthur MacCauley�s thugs as they fled from a number of rival bootleggers. They thugs were impressed by the flabby cabby�s driving prowess as he handily lost their rivals. Word slowly filtered to the rest of the gang, and soon Mickey quit his job as a cabby to work full time for Mr. MacCauley�s organization.

Mickey has taken quite nicely to criminal life. Oddly enough, working for a rum-runner has helped to sober him up a bit: he�s at someone�s beck and call at a moment�s notice, so he rarely has time to really sit back and enjoy a good bottle of hooch (man, I�ve been waiting to say hooch since I read this thread). He can�t remember the last time he got drunk�but that might have more to do with the amount of alcohol he consumed on that particular occasion than the amount of time that has passed.

Optional: Mickey has taken to carrying a small revolver around on his person. After all, it�s a hard time to work for MacCauley. He keeps a Browning Automatic Rifle in his car, for when things get �extra� hard.

mauve · 03-10-2010, 04:19 AM

Art has the best lackeys ever.

Batgirl and Toasty: Accepted! Send me a PM whenever you have time.

Geminex · 03-10-2010, 05:34 AM

NAME: Johann Kardinal

AGE: 36

APPEARANCE: (Lemme think of something.)

OCCUPATION: Aaah, my occupation. How shall I phrase this? Vell, to put it simply, I am a... negotiator. Whenever a customer doesn't pay his debts, a competitor isn't reasonable, a cop doesn't accept bribes or anyone else becomes too much of an obstacle to Business, they usually get eliminated it a fairly messy, inefficient way. I am told it is quite painful, though by the perpetrators, rather than the victims. Of course... brutal, rampant murder only works on small-time players, on the ones who (to their short-lived regret) either aren't rich or powerful enough to bother wasting time dealing with. Kill too many big guys, and there's hitmen gunning for you, prices fluctuate, cops ask even more questions, very inconvenient. Can't do Business that vay, the market must be kept stable, if we are to stay on top. On the other hand, if major players start acting up, you can't let them just dance around and do what they like, am I right? There needs to be a middle ground, a way to persuade them that the status quo is the best deal they dare demand, a way to get them to... stay in their drunk, shambling line. I am that middleground. You see, vhen the big guys begin... interfering, I pay them a little visit. Not in any... official capacity, of course, but it doesn't take the fools long to realize whom I'm representing. And they don't dare turn me away, because I seem like a nice guy at first. Open. Sociable. Willing to cut zem some slack. They know they're on dangerous ground, and it seems like they can use me to get home and dry. Of course, by the time we're meeting, once, twice a week they realize that for all my friendly demeanor and compliments, my smiles are empty and my voice is flat and I'm either constantly threatening them, or just have a very poor choice of words. See, my purpose is not to strike deals, but rather to... remind them. Remind them that for all their money and power, we've got more of it than them. Remind them that they're doing Business here, and that their investment was so much more than a few hundred dollars. Remind them that even in their big house with their bodyguard and wife and little son (and how he's growing!) they are oh so very vulnerable. Humans ignore the fact that death can come from any direction, disaster strike any second. Their life could be snuffed out from one moment to the next, and there's nothing they can do. I remind them of this little, and bring it to their attention that their current course brings them much closer to sudden, violent demise than they and those close to them would like it.
I'm good at what I do, to say the least.
And if I fail, there's alvays my trusty Ice-pick. Works a treat on closed minds.

Backstory: Of course, my occupation isn't exactly standard... How did I get here, you ask?
Vell, as you might be able to tell, I am German... family moved here in the late 1800s, just before I was born. We didn't do well, our accent was none too popular, but we survived. Of course, living in poverty, surrounded by... hostiles... really does wonders for instilling a desire for power and money in a growing young man, and I found that both were... readily avaliable in crime. Of course, this was before prohibition, but Chicago still had gangs... Started out as a minor thug when I was 17, turned out I was good at killing people. Became a hitman. Later, it turned out I was even better at threatening people... and here I am. I do my job well, I'm good at reading people, good at subtlety... Screwed up a few times, of course... The accent got quite unpopular during the Great War, but by that time I had been doing the job for a few years, I had become important, had connections that my successor wouldn't have. I don't drink outside company, and the boss disapproves, but I'm in company a lot. I spend my free time meeting people, making more connections. I recruit the occasional individual, but far more importantly, I know whom I can ask favors of, and what it'll cost me.
I'm not intimidating, of course... Not many weapons on me, not much physical strength. But if you intend to hurt me, I'd recommend you kill me outright, because if you leave me alive, I'll be calling in favors from those far more capable than I.

OPTIONAL: Two physical weapons I like to use... I'm fairly skilled with a good old blackjack... don't have to use it much, but keeping it almost-well-hidden on my body does wonders for the odd negotiation, if my partner catches a glimpse of it. Not scared of the weapon of course, but people don't expect me to come armed.
Where the blackjack's a weapon to be seen, however, a threat rather than a killing tool, the icepick is the opposite. I greet my acquaintances with a one-armed hug... a hug that puts my right hand invitingly close to my enemy's neck. If our Business is disrespected most severely, next time I visit, I might have it up my sleeve. Not bloody, not messy, a quick, clean kill. Because a man can only be reasonable for so long, before he needs to start making threats come true.

___________

Slight change of plan there. I decided that every crime syndicate needs a high-ranking, foreign individual and that since nobody else was German, that'd have to be me.
Decided to write it in first-person, since I wanted to acquaint both you and myself with his style of speech. I'll think of an appearance. Perhaps a scar, somewhere.
Edit: Also, I know that replacing the occasional w with a v does not constitute a German accent, but, while my own german accent is prominent (or so im told) I do not no how to write it. So there.

Red Mage Black · 03-10-2010, 05:41 AM

And, I'm not terribly sure if my PM ever sent out. Stupid no indication after hitting the button.

rapter200 · 03-10-2010, 01:03 PM

NAME: Walter Crow

AGE: 27

APPEARANCE: Walter isn't a very tall fella, at 5�9' he is a little shorter than average height. He has a thin build, not at all muscular. His carries a scar on the right side of his face where we was grazed by a bullet misfire accident. His eyes are blue and his hair is brown. Other than the scar he is a very nondescript person because in his line of work calling attention to yourself means death.

OCCUPATION: Gunrunner/Weapons Expert. I am the guy you go to when your run of the mill weapons just aren't good enough. I can get you anything.

BACKSTORY: Walter has connections to every weapons manufacturer and arms factory I the Midwest and Central area. Ever since he was a young boy he has had interest in guns, everything about them fascinates him. His father owned a factory that manufactured weapons of all kinds, this is what perked his interest in weapons at first. As time marched on Walter grew into his father's circle of friends, and became a trusted member if their group. When he was 20 Walter decided to move away and strike it out on his own. This didn't work out very well, and he lost his fortune on the stock market. Not wanting to face his father after getting so badly beaten by life he moved to Chicago and started working small time using his connections to buy and smuggle weapons for the small crime bosses in the area.

Optional: Walter carries an M1911 (Colt 1911) on his person at all times.

mauve · 03-10-2010, 02:57 PM

Quote:

And, I'm not terribly sure if my PM ever sent out. Stupid no indication after hitting the button.

Yep, I got it! Thanks!

Geminex- That's fine! Accepted!

rapter200: Looks good. Consider yourself hired.

So far, here's the folks who've already sent messages and are ready to go:
Red Mage Black
Batgirl
Krogo
Bard
Geminex (Although if you'd like to change any of your answers for your new character, you're welcome to do so.)
rapter
Overcast
Toasty

Accepted, but still need to message me:
Krylo

Placeholders:
Wizardcat
Dauntasa

We've got a nice-sized starting roster here, but I'm gonna wait and give it another day or so before closing sign-ups. That'll give Pyros and anyone else reading this a chance to get in.

EDIT @ PHIL: Awwwwwww.

phil_ · 03-10-2010, 03:01 PM

Er, upon further reflection, I don't think I'll be able to give this enough attention for it to be worth everyone's time, so don't wait up for me.

Dauntasa · 03-10-2010, 04:13 PM

I think I've got enough free time to join this. So, placeholder for a Marksman type character.

Krylo · 03-10-2010, 06:08 PM

Things have been a bit... interesting around here and I haven't really had time to think of someone else, so I think I'll stick with Eels.

Geminex · 03-10-2010, 06:12 PM

Eels will be fun.
Also,

Quote:

Although if you'd like to change any of your answers for your new character, you're welcome to do so.

Nah, he isn't so much new as he is refined. I'm fine.

03-09-2010, 11:45 PM	#31
Toastburner B Toasty has left the building Join Date: Jun 2004 Location: Hiding...because I don't want to die. Posts: 3,936	You guys seem to be missing a getaway driver. Well, someone gots to do it, so I guess I will. Placeholder for now. Hope to get it up in a few minutes. EDIT: And done. Name: Michael �Mickey� Cranston Age: 35 Appearance: Mickey isn�t the best looking guy by a longshot. He stands at a hair under six feet tall, and is on the heavy side. His blonde hair is thinning prematurely, and he unwisely tries to hide it with a comb-over, but has recently hit on the idea of just wearing a hat. He favors a comfortable, but poor fitting, tan suit that is starting to show its age. Everything down to his watery blue eyes mark him as someone that is very easy to underestimate. Occupation: Driver/General Thuggery Backstory: You wouldn�t think it to look at him, But Mickey used to be famous. Well�kinda famous. Almost famous, you could say. In his earlier years, he was steadily working his way up a minor race circuit, hoping to break into the bigger leagues, and bigger money, of a major circuit. In those days, Mickey was �Mike�, he was thin, had a full head a hair�and a bit of a drinking problem. As you might imagine, this �drinking problem� soon turned into �driving problem�, which somehow bloomed into a �racing problem�, which, through sheer coincidence, Mickey will assure you, turned into headlines that screamed �Horrible Wreck! Drunk Racer Kills Rival In Fiery Crash� Mickey, rather than facing whatever charges were to come his way, slinked off into shadier places of Chicago. While working a job as a cabby (during which time his hair line receded as his waistline expanded), Mickey found himself in the unfortunate situation of being the impromptu get-away driver of a pair of Arthur MacCauley�s thugs as they fled from a number of rival bootleggers. They thugs were impressed by the flabby cabby�s driving prowess as he handily lost their rivals. Word slowly filtered to the rest of the gang, and soon Mickey quit his job as a cabby to work full time for Mr. MacCauley�s organization. Mickey has taken quite nicely to criminal life. Oddly enough, working for a rum-runner has helped to sober him up a bit: he�s at someone�s beck and call at a moment�s notice, so he rarely has time to really sit back and enjoy a good bottle of hooch (man, I�ve been waiting to say hooch since I read this thread). He can�t remember the last time he got drunk�but that might have more to do with the amount of alcohol he consumed on that particular occasion than the amount of time that has passed. Optional: Mickey has taken to carrying a small revolver around on his person. After all, it�s a hard time to work for MacCauley. He keeps a Browning Automatic Rifle in his car, for when things get �extra� hard. __________________ I came, I saw, I got team-killed. A lot. Last edited by Toastburner B; 03-10-2010 at 01:03 AM.

03-10-2010, 04:19 AM	#32
mauve So Dreamy Join Date: Apr 2005 Location: Someplace magical Posts: 6,863	Art has the best lackeys ever. Batgirl and Toasty: Accepted! Send me a PM whenever you have time. __________________ Yoo Hoo!

03-10-2010, 05:34 AM	#33
Geminex SOM3WH3R3 Join Date: Jun 2009 Posts: 4,606	NAME: Johann Kardinal AGE: 36 APPEARANCE: (Lemme think of something.) OCCUPATION: Aaah, my occupation. How shall I phrase this? Vell, to put it simply, I am a... negotiator. Whenever a customer doesn't pay his debts, a competitor isn't reasonable, a cop doesn't accept bribes or anyone else becomes too much of an obstacle to Business, they usually get eliminated it a fairly messy, inefficient way. I am told it is quite painful, though by the perpetrators, rather than the victims. Of course... brutal, rampant murder only works on small-time players, on the ones who (to their short-lived regret) either aren't rich or powerful enough to bother wasting time dealing with. Kill too many big guys, and there's hitmen gunning for you, prices fluctuate, cops ask even more questions, very inconvenient. Can't do Business that vay, the market must be kept stable, if we are to stay on top. On the other hand, if major players start acting up, you can't let them just dance around and do what they like, am I right? There needs to be a middle ground, a way to persuade them that the status quo is the best deal they dare demand, a way to get them to... stay in their drunk, shambling line. I am that middleground. You see, vhen the big guys begin... interfering, I pay them a little visit. Not in any... official capacity, of course, but it doesn't take the fools long to realize whom I'm representing. And they don't dare turn me away, because I seem like a nice guy at first. Open. Sociable. Willing to cut zem some slack. They know they're on dangerous ground, and it seems like they can use me to get home and dry. Of course, by the time we're meeting, once, twice a week they realize that for all my friendly demeanor and compliments, my smiles are empty and my voice is flat and I'm either constantly threatening them, or just have a very poor choice of words. See, my purpose is not to strike deals, but rather to... remind them. Remind them that for all their money and power, we've got more of it than them. Remind them that they're doing Business here, and that their investment was so much more than a few hundred dollars. Remind them that even in their big house with their bodyguard and wife and little son (and how he's growing!) they are oh so very vulnerable. Humans ignore the fact that death can come from any direction, disaster strike any second. Their life could be snuffed out from one moment to the next, and there's nothing they can do. I remind them of this little, and bring it to their attention that their current course brings them much closer to sudden, violent demise than they and those close to them would like it. I'm good at what I do, to say the least. And if I fail, there's alvays my trusty Ice-pick. Works a treat on closed minds. Backstory: Of course, my occupation isn't exactly standard... How did I get here, you ask? Vell, as you might be able to tell, I am German... family moved here in the late 1800s, just before I was born. We didn't do well, our accent was none too popular, but we survived. Of course, living in poverty, surrounded by... hostiles... really does wonders for instilling a desire for power and money in a growing young man, and I found that both were... readily avaliable in crime. Of course, this was before prohibition, but Chicago still had gangs... Started out as a minor thug when I was 17, turned out I was good at killing people. Became a hitman. Later, it turned out I was even better at threatening people... and here I am. I do my job well, I'm good at reading people, good at subtlety... Screwed up a few times, of course... The accent got quite unpopular during the Great War, but by that time I had been doing the job for a few years, I had become important, had connections that my successor wouldn't have. I don't drink outside company, and the boss disapproves, but I'm in company a lot. I spend my free time meeting people, making more connections. I recruit the occasional individual, but far more importantly, I know whom I can ask favors of, and what it'll cost me. I'm not intimidating, of course... Not many weapons on me, not much physical strength. But if you intend to hurt me, I'd recommend you kill me outright, because if you leave me alive, I'll be calling in favors from those far more capable than I. OPTIONAL: Two physical weapons I like to use... I'm fairly skilled with a good old blackjack... don't have to use it much, but keeping it almost-well-hidden on my body does wonders for the odd negotiation, if my partner catches a glimpse of it. Not scared of the weapon of course, but people don't expect me to come armed. Where the blackjack's a weapon to be seen, however, a threat rather than a killing tool, the icepick is the opposite. I greet my acquaintances with a one-armed hug... a hug that puts my right hand invitingly close to my enemy's neck. If our Business is disrespected most severely, next time I visit, I might have it up my sleeve. Not bloody, not messy, a quick, clean kill. Because a man can only be reasonable for so long, before he needs to start making threats come true. ___________ Slight change of plan there. I decided that every crime syndicate needs a high-ranking, foreign individual and that since nobody else was German, that'd have to be me. Decided to write it in first-person, since I wanted to acquaint both you and myself with his style of speech. I'll think of an appearance. Perhaps a scar, somewhere. Edit: Also, I know that replacing the occasional w with a v does not constitute a German accent, but, while my own german accent is prominent (or so im told) I do not no how to write it. So there. Last edited by Geminex; 03-10-2010 at 07:13 AM.

03-10-2010, 03:01 PM	#37
phil_ Just sleeping Join Date: Mar 2004 Location: At home, probably in bed. Posts: 6,482	Er, upon further reflection, I don't think I'll be able to give this enough attention for it to be worth everyone's time, so don't wait up for me. __________________ Be T-Rexcellent to each other, tako.

03-10-2010, 06:08 PM	#39
Krylo The Straightest Shota Join Date: Nov 2003 Location: It's a secret to everybody. Posts: 17,789	Things have been a bit... interesting around here and I haven't really had time to think of someone else, so I think I'll stick with Eels. __________________ I am very tired.

03-10-2010, 05:41 AM	#34
Red Mage Black Sent to the cornfield Join Date: Oct 2004 Location: Where the Sun isn't so warm. Posts: 2,673	And, I'm not terribly sure if my PM ever sent out. Stupid no indication after hitting the button.

03-10-2010, 01:03 PM	#35
rapter200 oi Join Date: Jul 2007 Posts: 270	NAME: Walter Crow AGE: 27 APPEARANCE: Walter isn't a very tall fella, at 5�9' he is a little shorter than average height. He has a thin build, not at all muscular. His carries a scar on the right side of his face where we was grazed by a bullet misfire accident. His eyes are blue and his hair is brown. Other than the scar he is a very nondescript person because in his line of work calling attention to yourself means death. OCCUPATION: Gunrunner/Weapons Expert. I am the guy you go to when your run of the mill weapons just aren't good enough. I can get you anything. BACKSTORY: Walter has connections to every weapons manufacturer and arms factory I the Midwest and Central area. Ever since he was a young boy he has had interest in guns, everything about them fascinates him. His father owned a factory that manufactured weapons of all kinds, this is what perked his interest in weapons at first. As time marched on Walter grew into his father's circle of friends, and became a trusted member if their group. When he was 20 Walter decided to move away and strike it out on his own. This didn't work out very well, and he lost his fortune on the stock market. Not wanting to face his father after getting so badly beaten by life he moved to Chicago and started working small time using his connections to buy and smuggle weapons for the small crime bosses in the area. Optional: Walter carries an M1911 (Colt 1911) on his person at all times.

03-10-2010, 04:13 PM	#38
Dauntasa Goddamn Commie Join Date: Jul 2007 Location: Riding the Midnight Express to Slate City Posts: 492	I think I've got enough free time to join this. So, placeholder for a Marksman type character.