3 players wanted for Western Horror Fantasy

[Ixy]

I'd like to organize a Western-themed game with fantasy and horror elements.  It's not meant to be historically accurate, entirely, but it's not to be purely fluff... characters can be cleaner, sexier, tougher, more powerful, and generally more awesome than would be realistic.  The setting isn't exactly "Weird West," but certainly would share some elements and inspirations from the Dead Lands game, Jonah Hex, Bone Tomahawk, and... well... probably other settings I've never heard of. 


Fantasy-western and horror elements would be included...
*antagonists among both outlaws and monsters
*sexy and exotic cat-houses
*fictional and non-realistic natives
*bounty hunting
*risen dead
*faux voodoo
*various weird creatures and the like

Though acceptable, steampunk elements should be kept to a minimum... steampunk can add to the story, but this isn't 'Dr. Dipshit's airship royale lightning-blaster power-armor alchemy extravaganza just like that one anime that time.' 

Power: the reason this would be freeform is to keep story the main focus.  Nobody should be able to solve every problem by themselves.  Everyone would do a couple of things really well-- it would be great for every character to be uniquely "cool", with characteristics, descriptions, personalities, and powers, so each has their moment of heroism AND their own failings.

This game would be freeform, with the Storyteller being in charge of resolving disputes if players aren't able to mutually decide on the outcome AND in resolving player-vs-environment conflicts.  We can "pass the ball" for storytellers at some points, if someone comes up with a scene, element, etc. that they would love to handle as Storyteller and the group agrees.

I'm willing to chat about ideas until a group of 3 or 4 writers settles in, and it's not "1st come/1st served". 

[Kadigan]

This sounds quite fun and I would love to participate assuming it goes and I'm one of the ones.

[Ixy]

Glad to hear it... feel free to throw out any ideas you have.

[Mantis Shrimp Prime]

I think I'd like to get in the running for this.

[Aida Rose]

Would the game always be restricted to 3 or 4 players? (Dumb question, sorry. Just asking, since some kinda frame player number requirements as more of a minimum.)

[dblkrose]

Would love to play a Captain James West  (Will Smith type from the Wild Wild West movie) Character Variant. Would that work in this?

[pdragon]

I've had a concept for a Wicked Witch of the West themed bounty hunter I've been wanting to use for a while now. Just not a whole lot of fantasy/western themed rps out there.

[Kadigan]

A few random ideas for characters I've had, some inspired by a few other novels and such.

A girl that inherits a mystical gun from her dad, functions can be decided upon (Sixth Gun inspired) The daughter of Coyote, Someone who had found the Fountain of Youth, A half dragoness, daughter of one of the last few dragons, and someone who has a necklace that contains another spirit/soul (Iron Druid inspired)

[Ixy]

Glad to see so much interest so fast! Will try to answer.

The character ideas seem workable, across the board, depending on how the characters get written up.  I'll put up a very short template tonight- very short.

As for numbers in the group, i don't like to lose good writers to space limitations, but stopping and waiting too often kills everyone's interest.

[Mantis Shrimp Prime]

Do you think the characters would have some kind of external reason to get them all together and interacting with each other?

[Ixy]

I'd expect so.  We're going with old-west style uber-fiction, so the main characters will be extraordinary for their place and time in some way, and I expect that they'd be in a setting and of a mind to be motivated to action by external conflict with strange forces.

[Mantis Shrimp Prime]

I think if I was going to throw out a preliminary character idea it'd be someone who works for an organization along the lines of the Pinkerton Detective Agency.  Or who once worked, and still has that kind of angle to their character.

[Aida Rose]

That'd make sense. I'm interested in playing a woman looking for her outlaw ex? Or sibling. Some kind of lawkeeper or former lawkeeper from a line of witch hunters or something.

[Florence]

I might be interested.

I had an idea hit me for a character, but its the sort of idea that could very easily be considered OP. If its not okay, I'll think up another one.

The idea I had in mind was a woman who lived a relatively peaceful, plain life, until she was shot dead. Then she woke up. Basically, she couldn't exactly go back home since she had died and... ya know, her family short of freaked out when she showed up, all better. So she took to wandering, doing what she had to to get by. A run of poor luck, combined with her inexperience in gunfights lead to her soon realizing that she CAN'T die.

The balance that would hopefully keep her from being too OP is that she still responds as normal to wounds and she can still /sort of/ die. She can temporarily die, but the catch is that she'll always wake up again. How long it takes for her to wake up could be ironed out, and possibly depends on just how severe her injuries are.

In terms of her overall power I'm thinking less Marvel's Wolverine and more Torchwood's Jack Harkness. She's not any more durable than an ordinary person and she can still be taken out of a fight with one well placed shot. The only difference between her and a normal person is that, for her, death just never seems to take.

How and why she came back and can't die can be worked out as well, since I haven't really thought it all out yet, but it would probably be a question that SHE doesn't know the answer to.

She'd probably be pretty proficient in gun fighting (thanks to lots of trail and error), but she wouldn't be like some eagle-eyed sharpshooter or anything. And she'd probably be actively seeking out supernatural things, because she wants to know just what the hell is happening to her.

[CurvyKitten]

Tentatively interested, a female Native American skin walker is sort of perking up from my muses.

[nailcrosser]

I'm a sucker for western horror. I'd like to play as a holy man/exorcist type, wandering the desert, purging monsters from settlements, armed with nothing but scriptures and a pistol. He'll suffer from temptation, crises of faith, prejudice, and demonic influence.

[Captain Whitebread]

Ever heard the song 'Big John'?

A Harrowed miner killed in a mine disaster.  Technically undead but without all the unpleasant dietary needs.....

[VonDoom]

I have a horror/supernatural wild west styled Pathfinder character that I've been hoping for another chance at. I'll take a look at his old write-up once I'm home, maybe post bits of it for a first impression.  :-)

[HairyHeretic]

Would a wuxia style Fang Shi (wandering exorcist / Taoist magician) fit with the setting? Come for the railroad, stay for the ghosts and demons :)

[Ixy]

I'm glad to hear so many ideas... sorry I've been a little busy, and my response has been delayed without leave :)

It's hard for me to commit entirely to any of the suggested concepts without at least getting to know them, to some degree.  Also, it's dependent on schedules, styles, etc. 

If you're interested in playing, please try to complete this template by the end of the evening on Friday, July 1st; all fields are optional, just there as suggestions.  Add or change what you like.  Post it here if you'd like, or send it to me via PM. 

Let me please reiterate that this isn't to be a "first-come/first-served" role assignment, and it's going to be a small group.

Name:
Concept:
Amazing abilities:
Brief summary, including inspirations, ideas, hopes, wants, turn-ons, level of violence, etc.:

[VonDoom]

Hm. I haven't adapted it yet and it's very old, so I'd probably do an extensive rewrite, but may I request that you take a glance at this writeup and see if the character concept interests you, Ixy? Would probably change his 'origin', remove the Wyrdness thing and just straight up reference hell and the devil and so on.

Let me know. Or if it's too long, just tell me and I'll do a shorter rewrite and hope for the best.  :-)

Shane Haul

Description
The most striking thing one would notice about Shane Haul is not his charming wild grin, the rough maleness of his voice or the confident but professional gait. No, it is his eyes: a deep crimson color that is clearly far from anything god might have intended. It's not the whole orb, of course - a blood-red corona that surrounds the black in his eyes. At night, when it's dark this is fairly subtle, one of the reasons he wears a wide-brimmed cowboy hat to keep them in the shade, but in proper daylight it's very easy to spot.

A gunslinger par excellence, Shane Haul is mysterious figure despite the fact that he is actually a rather down-to-Earth fellow. His features are kept rough and suitable for a hardened gunman, courtesy of the stubborn dark stubble on his chin.

His short black hair is generally matted back; he has been 'developing' a widow's peak for a good thirty years now -- his infernal resurrection keeps it from advancing any further. A small blessing in disguise, one might say, within the curse.

His clothes are simple; brown leather pants accompanied by a gray shirt that may have been white, once upon a time, dirty boots  and a heavy leather coat that, upon closer inspection, has a fairly odd texture to it. They all look travel-worn but at least seem to be kept clean and don't give off much of an odor -- as long as Shane finds opportunities to bathe along the way. There are long, thirsty roads out west.


Personality
Shane is a tough bastard, that's true enough. And more than a little crazy. But then, if the rumors about his death and return are true, it's little wonder that he's a bit unhinged -- hell, as far as some are concerned, it's the best thing that could ever have happened to him, even as others curse him all the more. The gunslinger himself counts himself among the fans of his change, having decided that he'd do his best to become a better man and live by at least some principles now that he's gotten a second chance.

While his first instinct to any situation that doesn't go his way is still to go for his gun, he is honestly trying to do better, even if he is often failing or placed into a situation where he has no choice. Can't let his reputation get tarnished or be thought of as a wimp, after all, but he's taken to protecting natives, womenfolk and children when he can afford to and has reduced his consumption of alcohol to a level that won't cause him to start riots or shoot up a whole saloon. Still, he has a bit of a temper and even if he puts on a show of self-control and cold determination, once his jaw starts to tighten and he reverts to his original, stronger accent it's generally better to stay out of his way.

One couldn't ask for a truer friend, though. Even back as a ruthless bounty hunter he persistently refused to take on bounties on his former comrades from the Grim band -- he even visits some of them still , though the remaining survivors are all of advanced age now and in some cases even grandparents. If he feels one of his partners, lovers or friends is treated wrongly, he'll do his best to remedy the situation. This sort of thing usually involves some daring deeds of violence, of course, but he's actually proven to be pretty successful at staring down his opponents since his transformation without ever drawing his weapon. (He sometimes does that sort of thing as a way to challenge himself and see if he can resist just shooting the sum'bitch long enough for them to back off.)

And he's a lot of fun to be around, if one gets over the initial intimidation factor -- as much as he seems to have his opponents shake in their boots he tends to make true friends on the way, something Shane attributes to having a bit of the devil's luck.

===========

Background
Shane Haul is a man with a reputation that precedes him, though before this some genuine facts ought to be established.

A bastard son born of the union between a murderer and a prostitute in a den of sin city called Blackvale, life didn't exactly have any great prospects for him. Growing up at his aunt's farm after his father was hanged at the gallows and his mother fell victim to some sort of disease, he was despised and treated badly. Not only the neighbor boys but also his own cousins found that he made for excellent fist-swinging practice and Shane was forced to grow up early, to learn to survive and dish out as good as he got.

And, as it so happened, he found that he was very good at the dishing out part. It was also a lot better than the 'getting hit' part of the equation, so he made sure to become the top dog among his peers -- a few broken bones did the trick. But when they started to defer to him and demanded that he beat up other tough boys from the extended neighborhood, Shane had had enough. The boy decided that he was plenty grown up, stole some provisions and a gun that was supposedly his father's and set out to earn his own fortune.

He fell in with a bad crowd pretty much immediately, joining a band of outlaws and bandits called the Grims. His eagerness to prove his mettle had amused them and so they invited him, rather than pick the bones from his carcass -- and he followed suit, learning their tricks over the next few years. Learning how to shoot properly. When the best time to raid a small settlement was and where they usually kept their precious goods and, most importantly, their gold.

After awhile the times got bad, though -- their little band had become infamous and was hunted throughout most of the badlands. They eventually all went their own ways for that reason, as did Shane. Since banditry proved problematic at the moment and he didn't want to be recognized, the young man decided to go for a change of style and try his hand at bounty hunting. He wasn't that bad at it, after all tracking down travelers together with bandits wasn't that different from tracking the latter down on his own.

He had a good thing going until the Wyrdness happened. Shane had been on the hunt for a tough bounty -- a killer of ten, two of which had been children -- and had tracked the man down to a cave he had holed up in. Just as they were about to fire upon each other, the ground beneath them began to tremble and burst open. The whole spectacle, despite of its huge implications and vast influence on the future, paled at the time in comparison to the bullet that pierced his gut.

Shane tumbled down into a hole that had opened, wounded and bleeding out.

As far as Shane is concerned, what happened next is that he died and went to hell. He recalls some vague images of hellish creatures and their master who demanded his obeisance. Shane remembers spitting in the creature's face. He remembers pain, blood and a grim sense of satisfaction.

And then he came to himself, leaning against a small rock in the stone desert. As he heard strange, mocking laughter on the wind he looked up and briefly saw a strange human shadow that he still swears had horns on its head.

After another moment passed he realized his wounds were healed, the only immediately apparent reminders of his brush with death two prominent holes in the front and back of his shirt.

Once he returned to civilization, he quickly realized that a piece of hell had come with him. The formerly brown color of his eyes had turned a crimson red and people seemed to be able to sense that it wasn't a good idea to mess with him. He had gotten faster, too. The night itself was as bright as day to his eyes and seemed to follow him wherever he went.

Others might have found such changes worrying. Shane couldn't stop grinning like a maniac for an entire day. Discovering after awhile that he wasn't aging like a normal human would didn't hurt either. Though by now he wishes he hadn't told the tale of what happened to him since now every green kid seems to want to challenge him to make a name for themselves.

Shane Haul, the man who died and spat in the devil's face. The bastard son of a murderer and a whore, who was too mean even for hell to keep him. The bounty hunter who hounds you like a demon and always gets his due.

The man who can't be killed -- it's well known that they tried to lock him into his room and burn him and he just laughed, broke through the burning door and shot his pursuers (true). They tried to shock him to death and he was barely singed (exaggerated, it hurt like hell!). They even got a posse together and beat him down, left him to freeze to death naked in the desert. He still somehow managed to return on his own and kill every single one who wronged him (not entirely true, he was found by a native and nursed back to health).

Shane isn't quite sure how it happened that ever since he returned to life (something he by now isn't so sure about anymore, either)  he created tales like this wherever he went (perhaps now that the Titans reign, people gravitate towards these tales more), but he at least tries to live up to his image. Ironically, though, since his new lease on life he has decided that he should try and be a better man than he was. At least a little bit.

Hell, he even joined a band of mercenaries recently rather than go all around acting the lone gun. Sure, mercenaries aren't always the nicest bunch, but he had missed the companionship of the old days for awhile and is now hoping to do something worthwhile with that bunch. And Merivale isn't that bad of a town, either. Or at least that's how it was initially ...


Writing Sample
A man entered the busy saloon. A stranger, by the looks of it -- his clothes, a vest and pants both brown leather, accompanied by dirty boots and a stained shirt that might have been white at some point in time, gave him a travel-worn look. They had plenty of the desert's dust on them to indicate his recent arrival.

There was no attempt on his end to hide that he was armed: a gun prominently strapped to his right calf. A large hat cast a shadow over his face, making it hard to get a bead on the drifter's eyes.

He took a brief moment to take in the layout of the place, ignored the stares, even the barmaid that hesitantly stepped up to him, until his gaze stopped at a certain table. He quickly stepped towards it, brushing the woman aside.

"You know anything about Shane Haul?" he asked, without any greeting or pretensions of friendliness, in a gravelly voice.

The man who had been drinking from a glass of whiskey looked up. He had some stubble on his face and a faded scar on his chin, obviously from some sort of brawl years ago. A bit caution was in his eyes, but he elected to speak nonetheless:

"Sure do, stranger. Bounty hunter. Supposed to be real mean, too. An' have quite a bounty of his own 'round certain parts. Haven't heard of him being in town, though." He paused, critically looking the newcomer up and down. "I wouldn't cross that guy if I were you, he's supposed to be crazy. Heard he can't die, neither."

Apparently satisfied with that reply, the odd stranger sat down right in front of his new acquaintance, smoothly pulled his gun from its holster and cocked the hammer back with the telltale click, pointing the barrel right at the other man.

"Good," he chuckled, pulled his hat up with his free hand to reveal the most crimson set of eyes. "Then you'll know not to try anything, scum. You'll be coming with me to the station."

[Captain Whitebread]

Name: John (sometimes Big John)
Concept: Murderer running from his crime
Amazing abilities: Supernatural strength (approximately twice human normal), Regeneration (works even after death against anything except strangulation)
Summary:

Every mornin' at the mine you could see him arrive
He stood six-foot-six and weighed two-forty-five
Kinda broad at the shoulder and narrow at the hip
And everybody knew ya didn't give no lip to big John

John (he never reveals his last name) is known as a silver miner.  A relative giant of a man, he's solid muscle.

Nobody seemed to know where John called home
He just drifted into town and stayed all alone
He didn't say much, kinda quiet and shy
And if you spoke at all, you just said hi to Big John

He lives by himself in a small shack outside of town.  He lives alone and has few belongings.

Somebody said he came from New Orleans
Where he got in a fight over a Cajun Queen
And a crashin' blow from a huge right hand
Sent a Louisiana fellow to the promised land, big John.

When he speaks, he has a pronounced Louisiana drawl.  He never drinks because he's a mean drunk; he likes to fight and when he's drunk he forgets his own strength.  There is a warrant for his arrest in Louisiana and a $150 bounty for him, alive.  His victim wasn't important enough for them to offer more.  He was once a bare knuckle fighter and his hands show the scars.  For a big man he's deceptively quick.  He hits like a sledgehammer and has a jaw of granite.

Then came the day at the bottom of the mine
When a timber cracked and men started cryin'
Miners were prayin' and hearts beat fast
And everybody thought that they'd breathed their last, 'cept John

He is, surprisingly, an optimist and he feels that with enough thought any situation can be overcome.

Through the dust and the smoke of this man-made hell
Walked a giant of a man that the miners knew well
Grabbed a saggin' timber, gave out with a groan
And like a giant oak tree he just stood there alone, big John

When the mine shaft began to collapse, John chose to save his fellow miners.  Perhaps he thought it would make up for the death of the man he'd murdered. In any case he set his strength against the collapsing mine in an attempt to keep them all from dying.

And with all of his strength he gave a mighty shove
Then a miner yelled out "there's a light up above!"
And twenty men scrambled from a would-be grave
Now there's only one left down there to save, big John

He saved twenty men that day. Would it balance his slate?  He didn't know.  All that remained was for his strength to fail and the rocks to crush him.  He was prepared to die but he wasn't going to give up.

With jacks and timbers they started back down
Then came that rumble way down in the ground
And then smoke and gas belched out of that mine
Everybody knew it was the end of the line for big John

But it wasn't the end.  The man he killed in New Orleans might not have been important in the grand scheme of things but there was one person to whom he was the world.  It also happened that the man's Grandmother was a powerful voodoo priestess and she cursed John.  he was going to hang for the murder of her grandson and no power on earth was going to cheat the hangman.

Now, they never reopened that worthless pit
They just placed a marble stand in front of it
These few words are written on that stand
At the bottom of this mine lies a big, big man

It took him weeks to dig himself out of that mine.  It changed him.  He still prefers his own company.  He avoids alcohol because he knows it triggers his temper.  If he can, he helps people with their problems and tries to do it in a way that doesn't reveal his interference.  He spends most days digging in his silver mine, trying to figure out why he's still alive.  He doesn't know if it was something about the mine he was buried in or about his act of selflessness that saved the lives of twenty men.  He doesn't know that he's got an appointment with a hangman or that he'll take far longer to die than any man should.

[Florence]

Apologies for not exactly making my brief summary "brief", I kind of got ahead of myself. I mean... it's... brief-ish?

Edit: I suppose its not as long-looking here as it was in my word document. Also, I was kinda vague about where she's from and the exact time of things simply because we don't have a clear setting besides "old west", so I didn't want to get too specific.

Edit Edit: Added an image and a video!

So many edits!: I also got some new ideas for her personality, so I edited my description of her a little.

Return of the Edit: I caught a little typo that accidentally changed the implication of a line and fixed it. Both of her guns come from her brother, not just the pistol. I've edited that line for clarity.


Concept Image:

Yes, it's a doll...

Name: Leana Fairburn
Concept: Immortal searching for answers, and revenge.
Amazing abilities: Immortal (she can be temporarily put down, but will wake up eventually), enhanced-healing (she won't instantaneously regenerate, but as a part of her immortality, all wounds will eventually heal.)
Summary:

"I used to be so cheerful, did I? What can I say? Dying changes a person. Dying a few more times... Well, that'll put a damper on any smile, I say."

Armed with her brother's Civil War Colt Dragoon, and Sharps Carbine, Leana Fairburn wanders the west searching for the answers to two questions: First, why was she killed? Second, why can't she stay dead?

She had lived a fairly ordinary life in the years leading up to the American Civil War. Her family were ranchers, living a fairly peaceful life. She worked to help out, though her brother insisted on taking care of the more physically demanding tasks. When the wore finally broke out, her brother was sent off to fight. She wished she could go with him, worrying about him every day. Still, despite her fears, he made it back alive by the end of the war. However, he had changed. His bright cheery optimism had been replaced by a cynical world-weariness.

She hoped things would manage to settle, and that they'd find a new normal, but before they could; she died. She had learned to use a rifle to fend off predators and protect their livestock, but even if she had been prepared for foes that fire back, she never even saw the face of her killer. She was out tending to the animals when she heard a bang, and then everything went to black, the last sensation she felt was a searing pain in her skull.

When she awoke, her hair was caked in blood which pooled out around her head. She didn't know how long she'd been lying there, or why she wasn't dead, but by the time she returned home, her family had met the same fate as her. Except that they didn't get back up afterwards. The whole experiencing was so shocking she didn't even feel sorrow, she just felt... empty.

Once she had collected herself, she knew her new purpose. She took up her brother's old weapons, and set out to find out why this had happened, and to put her killers in the grave they'd tried to put her into.

The character's inspirations draw largely from a combination of undying characters like Torchwood's Jack Harkness and Marvel's Wolverine, and the classic wanderers and revenge-driven anti-heroes of the Western genre.

Personality-wise, Leana can be a bit gruff and serious on the service, largely a result of the ordeal described above, and the various times she's been killed since. She may always come back, but that doesn't make the process fun. Still, she's not entirely dour, and is known to crack a joke from time to time. She also tends to relax more around people she's grown comfortable with, perhaps showing a bit more of the lighthearted and cheerful girl she used to be. She possesses a strong sense of justice, though she doesn't hold the law in particularly high regard. To get by, she often takes on bounties that the local law enforcement can't handle, and as such, tends to view them as being ineffectual, weak and sometimes even corrupt. When she encounters an honest, dutiful sheriff, though, they can quickly earn her respect.

In terms of turn-ons, Leana is bisexual with a preference for women, though she's certainly open to male partners as well, if there's enough chemistry between them.  With her life being as dangerous as it is these days, she tends to prefer a partner who can handle themselves in a fight. She's also attracted to strong wills and physically fit partners. Though she courts a dominant streak and tends to be aggressive and physical during sex, she equally enjoys submissive partners in bed, and partners with some fire in them.

While not a particularly violent person at heart, she can be a bit reckless in battle. After all, getting shot is unpleasant, but death is only a temporary setback for her. So long as she gets the job done, it doesn't really matter if she dies. Still, she's not stupid and will duck for cover as much as anyone else when bullets start flying towards her. She doesn't LIKE getting shot or anything.

Other notes: Leana is good with horses, having grown up on a ranch. She also has taken up cigar smoking and whiskey drinking since her death and rebirth. It does compliment her new 'wandering gun' lifestyle. Her guns both originally fired old style ball shot, but have since been converted to fire more modern cartridge rounds like most firearms of the old West.

Themesong:

Titoli (From A Fistful of Dollars)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CpZjvbSC9_M

[VonDoom]

Hmmm. Looks like everyone is going for immortal/reborn/hard to kill types, including myself. I guess I'll pull back then, wouldn't want all the characters to be too similar.

[Florence]

Hmmm. Looks like everyone is going for immortal/reborn/hard to kill types, including myself. I guess I'll pull back then, wouldn't want all the characters to be too similar.

To be fair, I had already said I was planning on writing up a character like that! :P