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: Robert M. Morrison Age: 19 Side: Union. Home State Massachusetts Rank: Private Health: 50/50 Class: Artilleryman Skill:Heavy Artillery Perk:Squeaky Clean Clothing: Union Uniform, Haversack Other Equipment: Bedroll, Canteen, Rations[1 week] Snake and Cannon Allies/Troops: 5
Journal of Pvt. Robert M. Morrison of the Union Army February 1, 1862 It has been a long time since the war began, since the Rebels attacked Fort Sumter, yet I have not felt any of its effects yet. Not the ravaging of the land in the South, not the drafts(and subsequent riots) in the north. No, here in Massachusetts it's been peaceful. I am well past the minimum age for enlistment, and I itch to join the combat, but my mother insisted that I stay behind and get an education. I did what she told me to, out of respect. I did well in school, being meticulous. I don't think my room has ever been dirty, or my work has ever been turned in late. I like for there to be a place for everything, and everything in its place. So anyway, thanks to how nitpicky I am, I graduated school with high grades and all. Finally, I was allowed to enlist in the army. Today, I've been shipped off west to some boot camp in Illinois. I am excited and nervous at the same time. I can't wait to get to the war, and give those Rebels what's coming to them. *end of page*
February 14, 1862 Well, I was excited and nervous on the way here. Now, after two days of boot camp, I'm only one thing; exhausted. There's always something to do and it always needs to be done by a "boot" like me. I swear I haven't gotten a scrap of sleep in the past two days. Honestly, I don't see how the Rebs can compare to what our own army makes us do. I know it's for our own good and all, so we'll be good and ready when we're actually sent off to battle, but even so, I sometimes wish it wasn't so danged strenuous. *end of page*
March 1, 1862 Finally! I've been sent away from boot camp in Illinois, back east and down south farther than I've ever been, to a proper training camp in Washington D.C. I've been assigned to an artillery detail; that means I'm one of the folks that operate a cannon. The instructors here are a lot meaner than they are at school, always yelling at us and whatnot. They say that if we make the slightest mistake in battle, we could all be blown away. See, for artillery teams there's about five of us per cannon, and we all have to work together. The instructors tell us that it's a crucial part of winning the war and that it's also one of the most dangerous jobs, but it doesn't seem that difficult to me. I've never once forgotten to clean the barrel of the cannon, I've never forgotten a part of the process, and when I perform a live fire exercise with the rest of the team, I am also in perfect form with the rest of them. The instructors like me; one said that he'd recommend me to OCS(Officer Candidate School) if it wasn't such a waste of a fine artilleryman. I just can't wait until I actually get to use the cannon to blow away some Rebels. *end of page*
April 1, 1862 After about a month of training, I've been deployed for duty under General Ulysses S. Grant in Tennessee. I am excited and afraid at the same time, a bit like when I left for boot camp, but this time I know it's real. The drill instructors always told us combat wasn't determined by skill. Most of the time it was just luck, so we'd better keep our heads and not do anything stupid trying to be a hero. I intend to keep to that, after all, I don't want to die. I am a lot tougher now than when I left home; I bet Mother wouldn't even recognize me, but even so I'm still scared. There is an upside to all this though; all my buddies from artillery training are here with me. There's Sharp(his real name is Tommy Innes), Camp(his real name is Robert Compton), Day(his real name is Dane Wright), Rich(his real name is Nick Ames), and Yale(his real name is Daniel F. Wilson). They're all my friends. Anyway, like I said, I've been deployed under General Grant. At the moment, the Union's winning the war, and that coward Johnston is retreating south into Tennessee. General Halleck has responded by ordering General Grant(and his troops; that means me!) to chase down Johnston's troops by way of the Tennessee River. Now we're marching to them, and soon we will attack when we catch up. *end of page* What will you do?
Journal of Pvt. Phillip Vasquez of the Confederate Army I banked sharp right on my horse and started to get the hell away. However, I felt my horse suddenly lurch and it came to a sudden stop. I was thrown off the horse, and flew several feet, finally landing on a rough patch of dirt. I looked, and saw that my horse had been shot. The bandit had missed me but hit my horse, which was definitely a much easier, larger target. I cursed, then saw why the bandit had not shot me. He had been tackled by a Yankee, one of the Yankees who had ambushed me no less. My eyebrows shot up in surprise; I guess the Yanks weren't all evil after all. "RUN!" the Yank screamed at me, then he was punched in the face by the bandit. Blood poured from a broken nose and he stopped yelling as the bandit put his hands on the Fed's throat in an attempt to strangle him. *end of page* What will you do?
Name: James Brown Age: 21 Side: Union Home State: NY Rank: Captain. Health: 50/50 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],, Confederate Officer Hat Allies/Troops: 1,489
Journal of Capt. James Brown of the Union Army July 21, 1861 "DO IT!" I yelled in Lt. Cooper's face, and that was all he needed to hear. He called a doctor over and said something to the doctor. At this point, I was blacking out, from the pain or the blood loss I don't know. But as soon as the doctor gave me that chloroform and ether, I was out cold. From that point until I woke up, I don't remember a thing. *end of page* Kudos if you get the reference.
July 21, 1861 "Ah, the surgery was a success," said a rapid-fire voice with a strong Western accent. "So the captain will be okay?" another voice asked, this one I knew from somewhere. "Just keep him away from anything too strenuous...don't let him get injured again, and he should be fine," the Western voice replied. "Is he...is he coming to?" another voice gasped in surprise, this one another I recognized. I couldn't quite identify it though. "By God, he is!" the accented voice exclaimed. "I've never seen anyone wake up that fast, let alone with the dose I gave him." "Whaa..." I managed to open my mouth but couldn't get much more out. Everything seemed to be in slow motion and I couldn't feel anything. "Welcome to the land of the living captain!" a voice greeted me. I felt a hand pat my arm. I opened my eyes, shut them, blinked, and opened them again. There was Lt. Cooper, Cpl. Lansing, Pfc. Smith, and the doctor I had seen before. "Hello there Captain," the doctor said, and I identified him as the one with the Western accent. "I'm Robert W. Grey, leading field doctor with the Union Army." "Brown," I muttered with an extreme effort. "Well, Captain Brown," Dr. Grey told me, "you are a very lucky man. That shelling would've killed anyone. When I saw you, in fact, I would've said you had already left us." "That's good," I said. I wanted to chat as much as possible, because the more I did so, it seemed the more I could do so. Maybe if the effects stacked up I might be able to sit up or something. "Indeed," Dr. Grey replied. "I've got to go now, there's lots of other injured soldiers for me to take care of...but I'll be back tomorrow for a post-op exam, just to make sure you're doing ok." He turned to leave, and it was then I noticed his leg had been severed, just above the knee. "What happened...to your leg?" I asked. Ok, stupid question, but I was still under the influence of chloroform and ethel. Dr. Grey didn't respond, just left. "Ah, Captain!" exclaimed Cpl. Lansing, "good to have you back. And don't worry about that doctor, they're always narcissists." "What's happening?" I asked. Now that I was more awake and aware, I could hear shouting outside. Screams, but no gunfire. "Ah...well, Dr. Grey's one of the only real physicians in the camp, Captain," Pfc. Smith told me, "he's one of the best doctors in the Union, if not the best. He's got a lot of work to do, and unfortunately, we've run out of anaesthetics." I shuddered at the thought. "We'll be on our way back to Washington in about an hour, sir," Lt. Cooper told me. "In the meantime, what do you want us to do?" *end of page*
Name: James Brown Age: 21 Side: Union Home State: NY Rank: Captain. Health: 50/50 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],, Confederate Officer Hat Allies/Troops: 1,489
okay well...what can i do? There isnt all that much...start moving i suppose...try to stand up.
Name: Samuel L. Jackson Age: 28 Side: Confederate Home State: Georgia Rank: Lieutenant. Health: 31/50 Class: Officer Skill: Command Perk: Resiliency Weapon: Flintlock Musket, Saber Clothing: Confederate Uniform , Haversack. Other Equipment: Bedroll, Canteen, Rations[1 week]. Allies/Troops: 647 troops
Journal of Lt. Samuel L. Jackson of the Confederate Army Battle of Bull Run Knowing that my failure to stop McDowell must be redeemed, I headed as fast as I could to the battle, my troops with me. Immediately, we took heavy fire as soon as we reached the vicinity of the battlefront. I was shot in the left arm, and felt a burning pain. My arm now hung limp and useless by my side. Wincing, I used my right hand to draw my pistol and shoot the Yank who had shot me. My shot went wild, but the infantrymen with me shot him down with their muskets. "FLANK THEM!" I yelled, "take out the artillery! Our men are holed in the center, we've got to break through McDowell's forces and kill them!" My troops surged forward, attacking the back and sides of McDowell's troops. We had the advantage and seemed to be winning on this front, but the Feds in the camp were blowing away the men in the trenches. If we couldn't reach them in time, they would die and the battle would be lost. The Yankees were pulling together and fighting back against my troops now, and I knew something drastic had to be done, so I aimed my pistol at the leader, General McDowell. Everything seemed to slow down. I fired....and the bullet connected with a spray of blood from the general. Shockingly, I had shot him directly in the forehead. His eyes rolled upward, and he fell limply to the ground. Everything went to hell. I started firing repeatedly, not knowing which was Yank and which was Confederate. Screams and gunshots filled the air, and the stench of blood was thick. However, the Yanks had been organizing a defense. Without a commander, however, their attempts at defense fell to pieces and the remainder of the resistance was weak. However, I saw now that the Yankees in the camp had been successful. I was too late. Our men had been killed. "RETREAT!" I screamed, seeing the victorious Yanks coming up to help their comrades. The rest of the Confederate troops turned and ran. Some were shot down, others went rogue and ran away from the rest of us, some surrendered. But I ran and ran with the rest of my troops until we reached the camp, and safety. Once there I discovered that the Confederates near Washington were packing up camp and leaving. We were falling back to Richmond, just in case the Yanks tried another rush offensive. *end of page*
Name: James Brown Age: 21 Side: Union Home State: NY Rank: Captain. Health: 50/50 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],, Confederate Officer Hat Allies/Troops: 1,489
Journal of Capt. James Brown of the Union Army July 21, 1861 With some difficulty and an extreme feat of will, I forced myself to my feet. I wobbled and stumbled to the ground after a few seconds on my bandaged, wobbly legs but it was still something. Cpl. Lansing caught me on my way to the ground and stood me back up. "Careful, sir," he cautioned. Lt. Cooper was bearing an unconcealed smirk, and I wanted to smack the arrogant look off his face, but wasn't sure if my wobbly arm would actually do any damage or if I would just end up embarrassing myself even further. "Sir...we meant, as in commands for the rest of us?" Pfc. Smith clarified. "Most of the men have just been walking or resting or playing poker or whatever. Do you want us to train, or rest for a while, or what?" I could tell by the look on his face and the slump of his shoulders that he was hoping I would pick the latter choice. "How long have you been up?" I asked, surprised. "Almost a full twenty-four hours, sir," replied Lt. Cooper, his face serious again. "I ordered everyone to keep marching. We're not sure if the Rebs will try an ambush since the soldiers that aren't exhausted are injured. I thought it best we reach Washington ASAP." "We did hurt them as much as they hurt us," Pfc. Smith reminded him, "and besides, if we keep marching at this pace, the Rebs won't have to finish us off, we'll drop from exhaustion anyway." "What do you think, sir?" asked Cpl. Lansing, who had silently been watching the argument from this point. *end of page* What will you do?
Name: James Brown Age: 21 Side: Union Home State: NY Rank: Captain. Health: 50/50 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],, Confederate Officer Hat Allies/Troops: 1,489
get a little rest...how are they marching and me sleeping? is someone carrying my bed lol..
Journal of Pvt. Phillip Vasquez of the Confederate Army April 15, 1861 Mercy has no place in this war, I thought to myself. That was the first rule that my drill instructors had hammered into my skull; show no mercy. If you don't kill them, they will kill you. I struggled with myself for a moment before coming to a decision. I had to save him. He'd saved me. If I let this war destroy who I was, then I was letting the Yankees win. I ran towards the struggling Yank with difficulty and pain, and tossed him my bayonet. It slid away from him. He stopped pummelling the bandit, and reached for the bayonet. His fingers just scraped the edge of the blade...not enough for him to grasp it, no matter how hard he tried. I had overthrown. I cursed, and strode up to the fight, and kicked the bandit off him. The Yank sucked in a deep breath and got to his feet. He picked up the bayonet and slashed the bandit's throat. With a spray of blood that covered both of us, the bandit fell to the ground, twitching. "Thanks," the Yank told me, his voice raw. "Why did I even help you?" I replied, talking to myself more than him. I was disgusted with myself. I yanked the bayonet out of his hand, and started to stalk away. "Wait!" he called. "You saved my life!" "Once. Don't push your luck," I told him sharply, not stopping. "Fine...you don't want me around. Neither of us wants to be a traitor," he said, and I realized he was only about a year older than I. "But even so...you didn't have to help me. You're a cavalryman, right? I recognize your patch. That means you need a horse to be effective. I'm a scout, and I saw the bandits' horses not that far away. They seem to be trained, they were probably all stolen from soldiers in the first place. Just go about a hundred yards away from camp, into that thick copse of trees that looks like a fist. That's where their camp is. You can probably find everything you need there...but hurry!" It seemed that the Yankees were winning this battle by now, and the bandits were retreating. If I took too long to get there, and if the scout's story was true, I would be walking right into bandit central. "Thanks, I guess," I muttered sourly. *end of page* What will you do?
