Okay, so here's the arpeg. What do you think? Battlefront 1861
Battlefront: The military sector in which actual combat takes place. The American Civil War began on April 12, 1861 when the Confederate assault on Fort Sumter brought tensions between the northern states of the USA and the southern states of the USA to a boil, finally kicking off the bloodiest conflict in United States history, and in only four years had claimed the lives of anywhere between 618,000 to 700,000 Americans. Now, it is your turn to enter the war. You must fight for the Confederates or the Union, and turn the tide of the War Between the States.
Name: First and last name, please. Middle name optional. Do not include rank. Age: 14-60. Neither army was very picky about who they allowed to enlist. They needed everyone they could get. Side: Confederate or Union. Home State: Not required. Connected to "side". Rank: Private, unless your class is Officer, in which case you start off as a Lieutenant. Health: 50/50 Class: Look below to see the classes. Skill: See "Classes" Perk: You can have one perk. Check below, in Perks. Weapon: See "Classes". Clothing: Confederate Uniform or Union Uniform, according to your side, Haversack(kind of like a backpack, it's what you carry your stuff in). Other Equipment: Bedroll, Canteen, Rations[1 week]. For the rest, see Classes. Allies/Troops: See Classes.
Classes(all the classes are the same for either side). Cavalryman: The horse-riding branch of the military. Used as reconnaissance, or to harrass the enemy slowly but surely, so that they will either slow down or stop. Starts out with a Trained Horse, a Pistol[2/2], and a Saber. Skill is "Horsemanship", the ability to train a horse for battle, and skillfully ride it. Officer: The high-ranking commanders of the battlefield. Used as an in-combat commander, the Officer not only commands troops, but can take out enemies of their own. Starts out with a Saber, a Pistol[2/2], and 10 Troops. Skill is "Command", to control troops on the same side as you to do what you tell them to. Infantryman: The on-foot backbone of the war. Used for nearly everything, from defense to offense to drawn-out battles. Starts out with a Musket[5/5], and a Bayonet. Skill is "Sharpshooter", the ability to reload your weapon faster and aim more accurately. Artilleryman: The "big guns" of the war. The artillerymen must work as a seamless team, because it takes five or so people to operate a cannon, but when it works, it can take out nearly anything. Used for offense or defense. Starts out with a Cannon, a Snake(sharp, swordlike tool that they use to load the cannon, but can also be used as a makeshift weapon), Flint and Tinder, 5 allies, and a Knife. Skill is "Heavy Artillery", which is the ability to load and fire cannons and mortars accurately and more quickly than untrained people trying to operate them. Other: You can create your own class, HOWEVER, it must be approved by me. Please attempt to make it historically accurate and do not make it overpowered.
Perks: A perk is a little something extra. You can gain perks throughout the game by doing amazing feats, but most of you are going to end up with only the perk you pick at the beginning, so choose wisely! Your perk(s) are what set you apart from other soldiers just like you. Sharp: Players with the "Sharp" perk are more skilled with a sword, and can wield it much more efficiently than soldiers without the perk. Resiliency: Players with the "Resiliency" perk are not only more resistant to disease, but if they do get it, it does less damage and goes away quicker. Plus, they can go longer without food, water, and sleep without feeling the effects. Squeaky Clean: Players with the "Squeaky Clean" perk automatically take much better care of all their weapons, meaning they're less likely to malfunction(and blow up in your face). Locked and Loaded: Players with the "Locked and Loaded" perk are better with small arms like pistols, meaning they're more accurate with a pistol and fire faster. Other: As with classes, you can make your own perk, but also as with classes, it must be accurate, not overpowered, and must be approved by me.
Also: I know that in the Civil War, disease actually killed many more people than bullets. However, just to make this interesting, you can and must find some way to make sure that your character doesn't get sick(they will, just not with a fatal disease, as long as you take precautions. If you have Resiliency, chances are you won't even get a minor disease). So, read up, and find out how you can save your character's life with some common sense!
Moderators: This game will start out with one moderator, Piester22, who helped me create this RPG by supplying accurate historical information. He can play the game, but can also respond to other players' scenarios(of course, Pie, you should be fair or you won't be a mod for long) and will also be giving you a dossier before each battle. As the game goes on, I may or may not add more moderators.
Any questions, comments, suggestions, or anything, feel free to post!
Name: James Brown Age: 21 Side: Union Home State: NY Rank: Captain. Health: 11/50 Class: Officer Skill: Command Perk: Locked and Loaded Weapon: Musket[5/5], A Saber Clothing: Union Uniform, Haversack Other Equipment: Bedroll, Canteen, Rations[1 week],A Revolver[6/6], 5 Minie Balls, Confederate Officer Hat Allies/Troops: 9
Name:Phillip Vasquez Age: 14 Side:Confederate Home State: Florida Rank: Private Health: 45/50 Class: cavalryman Skill: horsemanship Perk: Locked and Loaded Weapon: Pistol(5/6) Clothing: Confederate Uniform Haversack: *contains the equipment in the "other" category. Other Equipment: Bedroll, Canteen, Rations[1 week], Saber, Trained horse Allies/Troops: None
Journal of Pvt. Phillip Vasquez of the Confederate Army April 12, 1861 "What-" my voice cracked, failed. I gulped in a breath, then tried again. "What do you want?" I repeated, clearer, louder. "Nothing," one of the Yankees replied, and immediately his comrades shushed him. "What do we want from you?" the Yankee behind me, who I presumed was a leader, "we want us a captive." "You see, almost all of us were killed in the battle 'bout an hour ago," begins the leader Yank, "we had to abandon our posts and run away." I thought 'get to the point', but held my tongue, knowing such sharp words would get me killed at this point. "So we knew that in order to save our necks, we had to get a prisoner or something valuable. We tried it already on that one," another Yankee continues, "but we hurt him too bad. So now we're trying again." "So basically," the leader Yankee told me, "if you don't want to come with us, and peacefully, you're going to die. Soon." *end of page* What will you do?
Name: James Brown Age: 21 Side: Union Home State: NY Rank: Captain. Health: 11/50 Class: Officer Skill: Command Perk: Locked and Loaded Weapon: Musket[5/5], A Saber Clothing: Union Uniform, Haversack Other Equipment: Bedroll, Canteen, Rations[1 week],A Revolver[6/6], 5 Minie Balls, Confederate Officer Hat Allies/Troops: 9
hmm i have my artillery hail them and i try to push them back with my men,
Name: Samuel L. Jackson Age: 28 Side: Confederate Home State: Georgia Rank: Lieutenant. Health: 50/50 Class: Officer Skill: Command Perk: Resiliency Weapon: Flintlock Musket, Saber Clothing: Confederate Uniform , Haversack. Other Equipment: Bedroll, Canteen, Rations[1 week]. Allies/Troops: 1,007 troops
Journal of Lt. Samuel L. Jackson of the Confederate Army Battle of Bull Run "Excellent," your commander tells you. "Now listen up. Our forces have managed to block in the Yankees' camp. Right now, we've prepared defenses on two fronts just in case. One for McDowell's men, and one for whoever's in charge of the Yankee camp at the moment. If the Yankees on McDowell's, or on the camp, manage to break through our lines, we'll be ruined. But if we can crush McDowell and his forces...they'll be ruined." "Yes, sir, I understand," I told him, but I don't think I did. The pure magnitud, the importance, of the battle I had just volunteered for hadn't quite hit me yet. The CO assigned about 1,000 troops to me, but we did not catch up to McDowell in time, no matter how fast we went. We were too late. McDowell had already arrived at the camp. We were too late. *end of page* What you get when you don't reply for so long xP
Name: James Brown Age: 21 Side: Union Home State: NY Rank: Captain. Health: 11/50 Class: Officer Skill: Command Perk: Locked and Loaded Weapon: Musket[5/5], A Saber Clothing: Union Uniform, Haversack Other Equipment: Bedroll, Canteen, Rations[1 week],A Revolver[6/6], 5 Minie Balls, Confederate Officer Hat Allies/Troops: 9
Journal of Cpt. James Brown of the Union Army Battle of Bull Run "ARTILLERY!" I screamed, "FIRE!!!!!" I heard the respective artillery lieutenants beginning to bellow and roar at their teams. The overseer just stood there, observing the teams, saber in hand. Almost immediately, the artillery teams began to fire. BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! The thunder of cannonfire rattled the camp, booming and echoing throughout the depression. My teeth were set on end, and I fought the urge to plug my ears with my fingers. Thick blackish smoke poured from the smoothbore cannons into the air. I coughed, my eyes watering and throat scratching. I saw a team of close-packed Rebel infantrymen blown apart by a cannon blast. Soon after the fire started, the Rebels realized that if they stayed where they were, they would be blown to bits. Several groups of grey-clad Rebel infantrymen clambered out of their cover, drew their muskets, and started firing. I saw Union soldiers beginnning to fall. The Rebel artillery teams starting firing as well, and Union soldiers continued to fall. Screams rang through my ears, so loud and so constantly I almost didn't care. I heard myself screaming, pointing my saber. The cavalry lieutenant responded, and the horse-riding Union soldiers rode forward like lightning. The Rebel infantrymen who had left their cover scrambled to get back in the second they saw the cavalry, but the smoke and cannonfire had severely limited their visibility, and by the time they started on their way back, it was far too late. The CRACK! of pistol fire was added to the cacophony of war, and Rebels screamed in death. The cavalrymen started to ride back as the Rebels mounted a counter-offensive on them, but it was too late. Like their Rebel foes, the Union cavalry force screamed as they began to die. The lieutenant stayed back longer, screaming at the soldiers, firing like a suicidal maniac. But even he fell. A large group of Rebel infantry left their cover and rushed toward my position, but the hidden Union infantry in the trenches opened fire, tearing apart the Rebel offensive. "SIR!" Lt. Cooper ran back over to me, bleeding from a wound on his forehead, his uniform smudged with gunpowder and blood. "We've defused their offensive, sir, but they have us at a standstill at their position! If there was ever a time to pull out all the stops, it's now! WE HAVE TO MOVE!" I just stood there in shock. *end of page* What will you do?
Journal of Pvt. Phillip Vasquez of the Confederate Army April 12, 1861 "Fine!" I called. I tried to infuse my reply with rebellious tones, but I could not hide the fear. It was clear in my voice, and in my eyes. I dropped my pistol to the ground, and the Yankee behind me kicked it away with one boot. He was still pointing his gun at me. "Sir?" asked one of the other Yankees. "What should we do with the other one?" "Kill him," spat the Yankee leader, "he's dying anyway." Nodding, the Yank who had asked the question aimed his musket away from me carefully, and fired it at the injured Confederate laying on the ground. I shut my eyes tight, and I heard a CRACK! No screaming, not a sound but the single gunshot. When I opened my eyes again, I saw the injured Confederate, and immediately I could see he was dead. Surprisingly, the single bloody gap in his forehead was not the first thing I saw. No, the first thing I saw were his eyes. They were glassy, staring. His face was cold, white, emotionless like marble. I shook violently in fear, and turned away, less in revulsion and more in pure fear and shock. "Hey boss," one of the Yanks called uncertainly. "Are you sure about this? I mean, he's just a kid." Immediately, the leader turned and glared at the Yankee. I itched to attack, but ironically, I knew he was right. I was just a kid. Without my pistol, there was no way I could overpower all thsoe fully-grown Yankee soldiers. "He might be just a kid, but that don't mean he's not a Reb," the leader replies sharply. "He probably killed a dozen of us, didn't you?" he added, kicking my Achilles heel. Immediately, I stumbled and fell to the ground on my knees. "And the horse?" asked another Yank. "Keep it," the leader instructed him. "It's valuable." "Yessir," one of the Yanks nodded, and wrestled with my horse's reins. I smiled ever so slightly as the horse bucked and tossed the Yank off. "Wipe that god**** smirk off your face, you little brat," a Yank barks at me. "Shut up," the leader instructs him. The last thing I saw was the Yank leader's face, fuzzy with an unshaven chin, yellow, straggly teeth, bloody and burned. "You'll be staying with us," he says quietly, then I feel the butt of a pistol connect with my temple, and I am knocked out cold. *end of page*
April 13, 1861 I awoke in the middle of nowhere, hanging upside down. I saw a makeshift shelter nearby. I was tied securely, bound by hand and foot to one of the uppermost limbs on a tree. I struggle for freedom, but the knots are secure. Even if I did manage to somehow wiggle free from my restraints, my reward would be to fall a minimum of twenty feet, directly on my head. I had no choice but to stay where I was. "Ughhh..." I moaned. *end of page* What will you do?
Name: James Brown Age: 21 Side: Union Home State: NY Rank: Captain. Health: 11/50 Class: Officer Skill: Command Perk: Locked and Loaded Weapon: Musket[5/5], A Saber Clothing: Union Uniform, Haversack Other Equipment: Bedroll, Canteen, Rations[1 week],A Revolver[6/6], 5 Minie Balls, Confederate Officer Hat Allies/Troops: 9
Journal of Pvt. Phillip Vasquez of the Confederate Army April 13, 1861 I winced and shook my head as the blood rushing into my skull became painful. After perhaps an hour, my feet and hands were numb at the ankles and wrists, respectfully. I flexed my fingers and toes to try and restore some feeling to them, unsuccessfully. Finally, I heard the crunching of boots and saw one of the Yanks who had captured me. "How's it hanging, Reb?" he laughed cruelly. I spat at him, but he dodged it easily. "Cool it," he told me. "Just take a breath. I'm going to cut you down, and I don't want you doing anything stupid." "Fine," I managed to choke out with difficulty. He climbed up the tree and severed the ropes holding me to the tree, while still keeping my hands and feet bound together. Feeling rushed back into my hands and feet, and I rubbed my raw, bloody wrists. The Yank started to pick me up to carry me down, but I shoved him away. "I can climb it myself," I spat at him, with as much malice and disrespect as I could muster up. However, under my angry facade, I was scared, and cold, and I hurt all over. I was truly thankful to the Yank for cutting me down, and I think he understood that. I clambered down the tree, the rough, sharp bark tearing at my hands. By the hand I reached the base of the tree, my hands were as bloody and stinging as my wrists were. I wiped the blood and scraped-off skin off my hands onto my grey uniform, but as soon as I did so, more blood pooled back. I sighed and allowed it to drip from my wrists and palms onto the ground. "What do you want from me?" I asked, surprised at how scratchy and gravelly my voice had become from the pain. "We need you to help us," the Yank sighed. "Just march with us, the rest of us aren't here right now." *end of page* What will you do?
Journal of Pvt. Phillip Vasquez of the Confederate Army April 13, 1861 "Let's move, Rebel," the Yankee told me, prodding my back with his bayonet to really drive home the point. I winced and kept walking, my feet bloody and blistered by this point. I seemed to have a large, red spider-bite like bump on my stomach. It is constantly painful and seems to have some kind of off-white cap. I am not sure what it is, but it does seem to be some sort of infection. Anyway, I've been marching with the Yanks for a full day at this point, and I'm exhausted, sore, and hurt all over, bump notwithstanding. My only small comfort is that the Yankees seem to be as miserable as I am, but as I said, at this point it's a very small comfort indeed. *end of page*
April 14, 1861 Today, I've noticed that the bump has grown. Yesterday, I was certain that it would resolve itself, but it seems to only be getting worse. As fearful and nervous as I am about this thing, I am determined never to reveal the pain to the Yankees, no matter how bad it gets....or perhaps it would be better if I did. *end of page* What will you do?
