The town of Paydirt, Wyoming territory. A bustling boom town high in the Rockies, a plentiful silver vein and an fairly easy road up the mountain. The summers saw a whirlwind of activity, hastily erected mining camps and caravans of traders, craftsmen, gamblers, and a thousand others looking to make a few coins. Piano music from the saloons filled the streets at night, the tawdry sounds of the revelry in the brothel seeping through the windows. to the The Crow nation didn't much approve of the state of things, but the nearby Fort Beam was enough to keep them from being more than a nuisance.
Winter changed things. Sure, it didn't change the vein, but the silver was only as good as the road it could be carried away on, and the first heavy snow made it dissapear like it was never there. The camps folded up, the businessmen went to cash in their loot back in civilization. The smart people were ususally well gone by the time that happened, the stupid people tried to leave at that moment and few of those made it.
That left the die hards, a few staple shopkeepers in the town, the few miners fortunate enough to have warm houses instead of flimsy tents. They stocked what they could during the fat months, but in the winter things became lean. Game became scarce, not everybody had a full pantry. The streets silent in those months, the windows dark and eerie. Some died of starvation, some died of disease, of cold. Some just died.
Some just vanished. Few people questioned it, that's just the way things were.
There was always plenty to eat at the fort, meat and bread, the way things ought to be. Medicine, supplies, whisky, all the things you need to hibernate for a few months. They were generous with their plenty, to those who had something to offer the men in uniform. The town doctor, the blacksmith, the piano player, a few skilled natives in employ as scouts.
And of course the girls.
But no matter how much they ate, there was always more.
The Colonel was yankee, he didn't talk much about where he was from or what he did before the war. Of course what he did during the war was something relatively well known. A good friend of General Sherman and an idealist in the same school of total war, known for turning bloodlust into victory, whatever the cost. Even his connections couldn't protect him from the consequences of his actions in Missouri. So he was sent away, sent north to babysit the latest boomtown.
The Madame was a creole woman, born and raised in the heart of New Orleans. Cultured, eloquent, intelligent, and driven when she wanted something. In her youth she used her sly tongue to lure the wealthy into her bed, for the right price, later she found that same tongue luring girls into bed on her behalf. Wherever she went, she knew how to spot a woman who could be persuaded to mix business with pleasure. She knew how to keep those women eating from the palm of her gracious hand when she wanted, and fearing the back of it when she was displeased. She knew how to protect them from a dangerous profession, and she always looked out for her own.
Nobody knew what their relationship was, what secret the two shared that brought them together. It wasn't quite a matter of romance, but more than an arrangement of convenience. It was enough to convince the Madame to stay the winter behind the walls of the fort, however, and the Madame was enough to convince the girls. Of course they were made to earn their keep, and the officers made sure they were kept busy. That was the agreement, the warmth and plenty of the fort was theirs, so long as the girls did as expected of them, when expected of them, at least to the officers. The enlisted men weren't allowed the pleasure of the company, save when the officers decided they'd earned it.
The officers were a tight knit group, the Colonel seemed to attract those with little regard for rules or the more boring decencies. They kept discipline sharply, punishing with the rod, rewarding with the attention of the whores. The lack of a good fight in the past years had left them edgy, drowning their bloodlust in hedonism. They ate the cream of the stocks, the smell of cooking came from their quarters during the day, you could even swear you heard the sizzle of fresh meat, though they never took from the men's livestock. They had their pick of the Madame's stable, whom they wanted, when they wanted, their nights spent sating the sadistic pleasures, in more ways than one.
But even the walls of the fort didn't keep out death. Enlisted men disappeared sometimes, sometimes bones would be found in the wilderness, ragged with teeth marks and stripped of clothing. As the months drug on, even girls found themselves gone, sometimes a muffled scream half heard in the snow outside, but never anything confirmed of it. But they had no choice now, the road was gone, the gates were closed, and summer was a long ways away.
This was the snow fort.
The writeup for a game I'm wanting to make. Premise pretty straightforward, with a yummy horror twist on it, Ravenous style. The Colonel, the Madame, and the officers are predators, but there's no proof to be found of it. Nobody knows anything, and at least at the beginning nobody suspects. The men are kept in line with a combination of fear and sex, the girls simply don't have a choice at the point the game starts.
I don't know how big I want it to be, I've never GMed a game on a forum before so I guess I'll see what kind of response it gets before I set any limits.
Characters are whoever you want, so long as they're in the fort. Guys can be skilled employs (scout, doc, smith) or enlisted men if they don't want to be officers, but they'd be missing out on alot of fun. Of course, like all good games, the whores are the main attraction so we'll need a few girls to play them, as well as a lady who enjoys being in charge for the Madame. If being a slut's not your style (
) there are other women there, the wives of the civillian staff or a native tracker. If you've got other ideas, lemme know.