Mafia RPG!!!!!!!!

[Final Warrior]

Yep. It's another one of those. Yeah, many failed miserably, including one of mine. Hopefully this one won't suffer the same fate.

RULES:

This is freelance. Do what you want, when you want, how you want, so long as it's within the rules.

You can travel anywhere in the world of the 1930's (about 1929-1941).

All items (weapons, food, etc.) must be in keeping with the time period (so that means no Deseet Eagles, Barretts, USAS auto-shottys, AK's, SPAS-12, etc.). If someone would be so kind as to come up with a list of 1930's weapons, it'd be much appreciated.

No hostile take-overs. Not yet, anyways.

Please make appropriate characters (that means no elves, dragons, werewolves, or anything related to fantasy/future).

You can RP missions for other people as a mid-ranking "officer" of a faction, but you cannot directly control that "officer" elsewhere.

I (and only I) will advance your character in faction rankings.

Obey all other RPR rules.

AVAIABLE FACTIONS (this is where I take some liberties...)

Italian Mafia: Your stereotypical group of Italian-accented, gun-toting, whiskey-loaded gangsters. (Hey, it's not my gfault America depicts the Mafia as this!)

American Mob: THink Al Capone.

Russian Mafia: Like the Itlian Mafia, but composed mainly of Russians. Angry Russians. (No offense to the Russians out there)

Chinese Triad: The Triads as as violent as any other faction, ut slightly more subtle.

Japanese Yakuza: Two Words: Whee, katana! But seriously, these are the Japanese gangs.

Freelancers: Those that are freelancers belong to no specific group. They do jobs for the highest bidder, and their disposition towards other groups depend upon the characters.

(I realize that during the 1930's, probably only the Italian and American Mobs existed. But the others are needed as well)

CHARACTER SHEET:

Name: Your character's name
Nationality: Your character's nationality
Faction: The faction your character belongs to
Enemy Faction: The faction that your character dislikes (this can be left blank)
Physical Attributes: Interesting stuff about your character's body (NOT that kind of stuff...)
Personality: What your character is like, morally and emotionally
Accomplishment(s): Things that your character is famous for (you can leave this blank)
History: Your character's background (this can be left blank)

My Character:

Name: Raphael Leone

Nationality: French

Faction: Freelancer

Enemy Faction: None

Physical Attributes: Height: 6' 3", Weight: 126 lbs, muscular, dirty blond hair cropped short, sky-blue eyes, agile

Personality: Cold, calculating, ruthless, emotionless

History: Born to an Italian father and a French mother, Raphael quickly learned varying arts. He became an accomplished pianist and an even better shot. His sister was well-known for being beautiful, kind, and in the underworld, deadly with a knife. His father died when he was 12, his mother dying two years later of grief. Raphael inherited (sp?) everything, divided it with his sister, and sold everything off. He moved to America with about $4600, a tommygun in his suitcase, a Colt 1911 in a shoudler-holster, a .44 Magnum in his jacket, and a dozen knives and daggers hidden around. He took on varying jobs, and now lives in a Chicago apartment.

Accomplishments: A well-known pianist in his hometwon, and an even better-known person in the underworld thanks to his father. Is famous for the "Red Prade" where he and five other Italians tore through a parade, winding up killing a dozen police men, two of the mayor's secretaries, and the mayor himself. Raphael was recognized for his long, blonde hair, which he later had to cut and then masquerade as a begger for two months until the heat subsided.

I'll start the RPG as soon as a few more people join.

 

[The Conman]

Name: Charles David Peirce

Nationality: Brittish/Scottish

Faction: Freelancer

Enemy Faction: Italian Mafia, New York

Physical Attributes: Height: 6' 1", Weight: 230 lbs, muscular, long dirty blond hair , Dark grey eyes, Powerful

Personality: Tollerant, Sarcastic, ruthless, He does his best to hide emotions, but it dosent always work

History: Charles was born in Toronto on May 25, 1897 to a Ship Captian (Robert Peirce, England) and a housewife (Louise McGuffin,Scotland, Father David McGuffin). He lived the majority life up until 1916 in Toronto. His father came and went via Rail to Nova Scotia, where his pulp and paper ship went to ports in Panama, Brazil, and Calafornia. He went with them as a Navigator in training from 1912 to 1914, hoping to become a captian someday That was all about to change. When he was 19 PM King signed a conscription bill, and he was drafted.

He was a pilot for the RAF and as such witnessed the horrors of war first hand. He was shot down,in april of 1917, and managing to land the aircraft, had to make his way back to allied lines. This is where he realized, to his horror, that he was good at killing with whatever was lying around. He was also an extremly good shot with his pistol and any other pistol that he could find. He was also good at throwing knives, a skill which one of the crewmen on his fathers ship showed him how to do.

When the war ended in 1918, he was a Sergent Major, and as such got a fat paycheck. He went to New York to invest. By 1921 he was doing fairly well for himself, owning a Studabaker and saving for a house. by 1927 he owned a boat tail speedster (car), a house, and he had a girlfreind who he was going to marry.

Fast forward to October 28th, 1929, Black Monday. All at once his and americas dreams came crashing down. He owed money to a loanshark, who he dealt with allot before and never had a problem. Now he did. He couldent pay the loanshark , so the sharks mafia contacts killed his girlfreind, and burned his house to the ground. all he had was his Speedster, and an M1911.

He killed the Shark, he killed 38 lower mafia grunts, and killed all the Don's sons, and burnt his businesses to the ground, allong with taking 3 million and change from the safe in one of the sons houses.

He Now lives in an appartment Chicago, as a freelance hitman. He has been hired for jobs by Al Capone twice, but is still a freelancer.

 

[Hot Action Akule]

feel free to use my old threads format/ posts/ ect.

 

[Tibius]

Name: Johnny 'One Shot' Scapaleti

Age: 27

Nationality: Italian

Faction: Italian Mafia

Enemy Faction: N/A

Physical Attributes: About 6'4" in height, weighing at about 265lbs, with Brown hair which he would always come back and grease. He has a fair built muscular body with little fat on him.

Personality: He trust's no one but his family and will kill anyone if they lay a hand on someone he loves or even speaks to them the wrong way.

History: Born on a boat coming to America with his father George Scapaleti and his mother Marilyn Scapaleti. Him, his father, and his mother lived in an apartment in the Italian section of New York City. He lived only about thirty feet from the bar the Italian Mafia owned and ran. One day while sitting on the door step, at about the age of seven, there was a fight over a parking space in front of his house. One guy came out of his car with a bat and started beating on the guy's windshield and Al Germani shot the guy right in front of Johnny. The cops showed up a half hour later, asked Johnny to identify who was the one who murdered the guy. Johnny denied to say it was anyone who was lined up there that day. Ever since then, Al Germani made Johnny his son. Now Johnny works for the Italian Mafia and is still good friends with Al Germani (Um, Final you have to make the rank of Al.)

Accomplishments: Working for the Italian Mafia since the age of seven, starting out from handing out drinks and rolling the dice in craps/gambling for Al Germani, he is now twenty seven. Al Germani taught the kid everything, except how to become the best damn shot east of the Mississippi. He never needed more then one bullet to kill anyone in his life. Now he is working on moving to the top.

 

[Final Warrior]

One more person and we can start.

 

[Hot Action Akule]

**** it i might jump in if it is a bit more refined. As for weapons pictures italian name listings, all that jazz use my old mafia rpg.

 

[Final Warrior]

OOC: Ah, screw it. Let's start.

BoT:

RING! RING! RING!

"Goddamn alarm clock..."

I got up out of bed. Another day, another dollar. As I tapped around on my cornertable, my hand grasped a framed photo. I finally opened my eyes and ooked at the picture. It was a photo of a girl in a beautiful white prom dress, about the age of 17, smiling happily. Next to her was a man, dressed in a black tuxedo, his face entirely neutral. In the corner was a signature reading "Miranda".

"Goddamn, Miranda... why?"

I finally turned off the alarm. I grabbed my clothes off a chair. Black, of course. I pocketed my Colt 1911 and .44 and stepped out the door.

"Beautiful, beautiful Chicago... yeah, right."

I walked down the street to a local Italian restaurant, where I was greeted as "Leone" and "Raph". A waiter came up to me and thumbed to the back room. Giovanni had another job for me.

EDIT: OOC: The Mafia RPG no longer exists, BTW.

 

[Hot Action Akule]

OOC: Its in fan fic for some reason. theres listings on different pages.

 

[Pale_Horse]

Ok here is my character. Hope it fits well with the game.

Name: Jin-Quan"Jin" or "The Dragon" Trang.
"Jin" to the english world.

Nationality: Chinese

Faction: None

Enemy Faction: Anyone who is disrespectful to him or anything he holds dear. This is mostly found to be the Italians. He sees them as, unorganized childlike bullies. With only their eyes on the small time prize. Some Triads wishing to hunt him down for the death of their leader.

Physical Attributes: Age: 33 Height: 5' 9", Weight: 175 lbs, Toned, but ripped. long black hair to the waist (often fashoned, into one single long braid). Covered in asian tatoos,one of which is giant chinese dragon on back, with the tail over his left shoulder piercing the heart.

Personality: Cold, calculating, quite, humorless and to himself. Your classic loner. Believes highly in honor, family, loyalty and his native history. Silent and deadly. Very intellegent, but hides it, in an attempt to seem young and inexperianced. A ladies man. Expliots a weakness within his enemies, weather it is trust, bravado, arrogence, ect. His only major flaw is he hates guns, sees them as a cowardly way to kill. He likes to get his hands dirty.

History: A orphan child, raised on the streets of Hong Kong China, learned very young, that if you want something you had to take it. By the age of 12, he was running numbers. Was taken into the Triads as the youngest member ever in it's history, because of his ruthless ways, and natural born leadership potental. He soon worked his way up the mafia ladder till he finally made his first kill. His father. A order given to him from the top. He was told, that his birth father killed his mother, for cheating on him. He was to prove his loyalty to his "new family" and to honor his mothers death. Happily he accomplished the deed, with gruesome joy. As a bonus, he sent the hands, feed and head to his new families rivals. He ground up his fathers heart into a fine powder, and sprinkled it on top of his mothers grave. The eyes were sent to his new father. The leader of the Triads.
As a retaliation, from the rival families, Jin-Quan, was set up as the murderer of his new father. Ostrasised from his Triad brothers, and having nowhere to go or, having no one to depend on he left his homeland, for america.

Accomplishments: Master in the martial arts. Deadly hand to hand, or with other asain weapontry, Jin-Quan has managed to kill hundreds of people who, have offended him. Many of which are still considered missing. Has taken up a small group of chinese that are eager to prove themselves. He has taught them everything he can within the 13 years in New York City. Can speak Chinese (both dialects) English, and Italian, (but few know of the Italian). Has a interest in Psycology, and Classic american litature.

 

[Final Warrior]

OOC: You want to introduce yourself, or do you want me to introduce you?

BoT:

I walked into the backroom, where Giovanni was seated, chatting to some close comrades. He looked up and noticed me.

"Raphael! Good of you to drop in. I trust you got my message?"

I replied, "If I hadn't, I wouldn't be here."

Giovanni smiled even more at this. "Yes, well, messengers can be the bane of any good organization."

Organization. Good one, GIovanni. Your "organization" is nothing but a bunch of well-armed goons, doing jobs for the hgher-ups.

"Anyways, I have a hit for you. Thomas Reemings. He's been... ah, defying us. Hasn't been paying for protection from hoodlums, you see?"

This miffed me. "I am not a petty collector, nor do I work for the Mafia. If you want a collector, find someone else."

Giovanni's smile disappeared at this. "I'm not asking for you to collect. I'm not even asking you to get me a bunch of hoodlums. No, Reemings hired some guards. What he called 'real protection'. Well, I need you to kill him. Quick and easy as that."

This was something more suited for me. "How much, where, when, and in what way?"

Giovanni's reply was satisfying. "Three grand, Jackal's Rest, today, however you want."

Jackal's Rest. A somewhat large store. He'd be travelling with at least one bodyguard. "How heavily armed is his protection?"

"According to what Weasel told me, one has a shot glass, two have typewriters, and the other has a lot of peashooters."

He'd be out in public... pistols, maybe a sawn-off. Nothing I couldn't handle. "Done. I'll be back soon."

 

[RuneyPoo]

(I am Tibius for future reference.)

Johnny wakes up in his Hotel room and stands up. He walks into the bathroom and looks into the mirror, he turns on the faucet and splashes his face with some water. He then rubs some water through his hair and then brushes it down. He takes some hair wax and shapes his hair till he likes it. He decided to go with a layed back hair-do today. He walks back to his bed and sits down, then puts his clothes on. He puts on his gun strap which is holding a M1935 then he walks over to the table where a Walther PP is sitting and picks it up, placing it into his sock.

He leaves the hotel and gets in his car, driving about two miles to get to a bar. At the bar he hugs and kisses three people who are his family and friends. He sits down and waits for Armani Georgio to meet him at the bar.

 

[Kuzmich]

OOC: There was no Russian mafia in the 30s or the 40s, and Russian mafia is nothing like Italian mafia, the structure is completely different. As for the list of weapons:

Maxim Machine Gun
PPSH (submachine gun)
Tulsky Tokorev (pistol)
Springfield Rifle
Thomas Sub-Machine Gun

That is all i can come up with right now, i'll join the RP next time i am on cause i don't have time right now.

 

[Final Warrior]

I reached Jackal's Rest. It was an 'okay' bar. Nothing low-down or illegal, but it wasn't fancy. I saw two big guys standing outside the entrance, heavy grey trench coats, with lumpy objects under them. "Typewriters..." I said under my breathe. "Great." I got out of my car and went passed the two guards and into the bar.

There he was, flanked by his other two buddies. How the hell can he afford them? Oh well. One had a sawn-off and the other had pistols... this was going to be a hard hit. I looked around, and went up to the barkeep.

 

[Vanduhwheel]

Name: Enzo Romani
Nationality: Italian
Faction: Free Lancer
Enemy Faction: Yakuza
Physical Attributes: 5'3 150 lbs, is short but very muscular. 18 years old. Has short Black hair, and a large scar along the right side of his face.
Personality: Quiet, Violent, Easily Enraged, Eager to prove himself to the Italian Mafia. is notorius among the youth for his Impulsiveness.
Accomplishment(s): Is famous for chopping of his teacher's hand with a machete.
History: Enzo was born in America to his italian parents, when he was ten years old his father committed suicide before he could be apprehended for the murder he had commited, his mother survived, but abandoned him when he was 14. from then on he lived on the street, committing crimes, and working for assorted gangs for money and a place to sleep. Enzo became an erand boy for the american and italian mob at 15, but now works only for the italian's ever since he broke off relationship with the American Mafia's leader's granddaughter. He recieved his large scar when he was 17 in a fight with a yakuza. The yakuza sliced his face with a knife, but Enzo retaliated by shooting him 25 times with Thompson sub-machine gun, and burying him in the Yakuza's leader's front yard.

I wake up in a dark alley at about 12 noon, and slowly rise to my feet. I look around quickly to see if anyone is nearby, then walk over to a garbace receptacle and pick up a small handgun, and slip it into my pants. I walk out of the alley and onto the bright street, and walk over to Jackal's Rest a middle class bar intending to use the washroom to clean up a bit. As I approach it i notice the two guards standing on both sides and am extremely annoyed with there staring.

I walk into the bar and approach the bar keep, an aquataince of mine and say

"Hey joey you mind if i use the washroom real quick?"

he responds with "Sure Enzo, just make sure to keep that gun of yours out of sight of these guards...unless you want something to go down"

I nod and walk slowly toward the back where the restroom is located. A reach it and knock upon the door, and hear a frenzy of japanese words. I decide to wait for him to get out. 5 minutes later a japanese man, maybe 20 years old walked out with a knife in his hand

"Enzo Romani..we've been looking for you"

He then attempted to stab me but i caught his arm before it reached my chest. I then hastily drew my gun and barreled 6 shots into his stomach, this sad excuse for a man lunged backward and hit the wall, and slid down to a sitting position leaving a trail of blood along the wall...the man was dead..How did he dare attack Enzo Romani. I kicked his dead body and walked out the back door into an alley and began to run, i had to get out of there before the police arived.

 

[Final Warrior]

I asked the barkeeper for a whiskey and sat down at the bar. Looking around, I made sure that no one was looking my way. From my jacket I pulled out a little bottle with some pills and slipped them into the drink beside me, which happened to be the only drink in the bar, beside those of the guards.

Reemings came from the back of the bar and sat down next to me. He picked up his glass and downed his drink, a regular beer, in a few gulps. I got up and headed for the bathroom, where I knew Reemings was going to be going next.

 

[Static]

Name: Delgado.
Nationality: Columbian
Faction: Freelancer
Enemy Faction: Asain Mafias.
Physical Attributes: Multiple scars on his face mark the number of friends he has killed. The first going from his forehead to his left eye brow above his eye. The second from his right cheek Bone to his chin. His third was his brother's mark who betrayed him in their upcoming cocaine drug ring, that scar resided on his right temple.

Brown skinned with a short hair cut and mustache. His body is stocky and well built. An even supply of fat and muscle beneath it.

Personality: Makes himself known to the point where he won't be forgotten. Normally is strung out from his personal cocaine addiction but always keeps himself well composed.

Accomplishment(s): Marking his own face for ones he respected.

History: After killing his brother he left his drug responsiblities to his trusted right hand man who went by the name Escabar. Escabar was scepitcal at first because he had has a small boy named Pablo and worried for his well being. (prolly interfers with real history but who cares) After they reached a deal Escabar would manage and run the ring and Delgado would in return get all the free coke he could ask for.

In search for crimes other than drug peddling he comes to america to find himself a worthy man to call his Boss. Even though Delgado was a man of pride he never thought of himself in such high respects not to bow down to another man's honor.

(i will jump in at a later time or get written in, Whichever comes first)

 

[Final Warrior]

Reemings walked into the bathroom, where I was wshing my hands. Perfect. He was holding his stomach, as though in great pain, and opened a stall. I heard the sounds on a zipper being pulled and on pants hitting the floor. At this, I pulled out my Colt .45 and opened the stall door, where Reemings sat.

"What the f-!" exclaimed Reemings.

"Giovanni doesn't like you not paying money."

"Dammit, I have real protection out there! You so much as fire that gun, they'll come in here and I'll have company in Hell!"

"Hmm... you're right." I pocketed my pistol and turned around, my hand still in my coat.

"Yer damn right I a-!"

His sentence ended in a gurgle as I transfixed him with a knife into the throat.