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Some things to read, when theres nothing else to read


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Ludovico

Sun Feb 14 2010, 03:52PM

Registered Member #2177

Joined: Thu Apr 26 2007, 08:52AM
Posts: 207

Ok, probably because I miss this place a little bit. Or maybe because I think on no other site I'd get interested feedback on stories about gangsters and the like, I'm going to post some things on here (soon) that I've written about that good ol' section of society we call Criminals.

There will be poems, stories, speculations, etc.

Oh, and if you wanna write some stuff (and you know, not have it about the various RPGs we have) feel free to post it here. Discussions, comments, and insults are all welcome here as we post and post and post until a real RPG gets up and running.

Ludovico

Mon Feb 22 2010, 12:37PM

Registered Member #2177

Joined: Thu Apr 26 2007, 08:52AM
Posts: 207

How to Rob [Vol. 1]

The assaliant walked down the street, doesn't matter what city or what small town a few miles off the map, it's really all the same in the long run. He checked his pocket for his flick knife, he'd been feelin' like using it for the past few weeks. No hours at work and no luxuries meant he was feeling more than frustrated, he didn't *need* the money or anything, he had a car (with gas in it every week) and food and a bed and...everything. Even had a game system or two, so he wasn't too bored but, something just called in his young soul. God knows why, maybe it was rap music, maybe 80's rock, maybe it was all the movies he'd seen or maybe it was the fact he couldn't beat the ever loving shit out of the guy who made him feel inadequate on a daily basis at school.

Either way he walked around near dark alleyways and shady abandoned warehouses, all the stereotypical places you'd think someone would get mugged. But nothing, no one walking around (duh) no one playing dice like in the movies, nothing. So he went back onto the main streets and walked back home. Suburban communites are big, you can get lost in some if you don't know your way around. It was then he spotted, someone.

It was night, so the figure was a shadow at first but The assaliant could make out a male figure, just walking. Old, young, didn't matter this was it, what all those songs talked about what all those movies made out for someone to be respected for.

He approached him from across the street ad was stopped by something on his back, middle of the street someone says "Quit walkin' whiteboy"

..."fuck" The assaliant thinks to himself, not him, shit.
"Waddya want?"
"Shut the fuck up!" and he was smacked in the back of the head, he went down to the ground and was being kicked by multiple pairs of legs, shouldn't go walking in the ghetto next time he figures. Pair of hands dug into his pockets and took the $20 his dad gave him and they started to get at his jacket when someone said

"Hey! Stop it! Whats goin' on here!?" and he saw someone running towards the scene. INstead of some huge brawl the muggers ran off, $20 was enough for about three guys maybe. Shame, he just got his hands on his knife as they ran off and the person came up to him.

"Are you okay kid? The hell happ-end"

The assaliant put the knife to the person's throat.

"He...hey kid you don't gotta do this come on, don't be a dick"
The assaliant kicked him in the balls and said
"Wallet now motherfucker, now!"

The person handed him his wallet, an old brown looking thing, wasn't much cash in it but it had cards which he figured was useful. Without thinking about his next move he kicked the person on the ground and ran home.

About 3 credit cards and some bank information he observed was all there was. Was this what gangsters do? Rob those who try to help them, what if The Person recognized him someday? What if he couldn't get rid of the cards? What if his parents noticed the bruises anywhere on his body? What if? What if...anything?

What if indeed.

Clyde Barrow

Tue Mar 02 2010, 04:07PM

Registered Member #1586

Joined: Sun Dec 03 2006, 04:16PM
Posts: 369

hells yeah mayne

Ludovico

Thu Mar 11 2010, 01:42AM

Registered Member #2177

Joined: Thu Apr 26 2007, 08:52AM
Posts: 207

My Odds Are Good
_________________

"Ok, I have a knife in my left pocket accessble by my left hand, a gun in my right jacket pocket accessble by my right, a used vest for bullets plus my dad's old biker jacket for knife protection. Steel baton in my sleeve I'll keep concealed till I'm ready to strike, a boot knife, and a gun in an ankle holster, 3-5 guys tops all only having one weapon, if I pla my cards right I'll have the upper hand. Oh yeah, my odds are good"

Thoughts raced through the Assailant's head, different time, different place. This time things were different, this time it was just kids having fun.

That is until some other guys decided that one of his friends were having too much fun, and gunned one of his number down for daring to even try and sell coke on what they fancied was "Their Turf".

"Their Turf" The Assailant scoffed under his breath, walking. It was cold outside, and grey, kind of a day that makes any interior look good, even if it is some dilapidated house in a bad, bad neighborhood.

Chills

Shakes

The chills and shakes you get just before you do something ballsy, something important. But by the time he started jogging up the steps he was in the zone, rolling natural 21s as the geeks would say. Yeah, his odds were good as he went up the stairs to the right apartment, to opening the door to the right apartment, to the men turning their heads back to look at him.

1

2

3

4
...4, yeah that was them, fuckin' tar babies. Instead of some long speech or grand intro he wasn't in character for, he went to charge one of them screaming

"This is for [X]!!!!"

It all seemed so slow to begin with, knife in left pocket, gun in right jacket pocket, used vest, dad's old biker jacket, bootknife, steel baton in sleeve (which was now fully out), and another gun in an ankle holster. He even had them by surprise

"Yeah, my odds are good" he thought

And indeed his odds were good. His odds were good up until the time the 5th guy came out of the kitchen with a pump-action shotgun and shot The Assailiant dead in the face.

Dead

In the face.

With a shotgun.

If we could hear the thoughts of someone's soul as he lay dieing on the tenement floor it'd be

"Nah, no comin' back from that shot"

And yeah, his odds were good.

Ludovico

Mon Apr 05 2010, 04:43PM

Registered Member #2177

Joined: Thu Apr 26 2007, 08:52AM
Posts: 207

You wanna hear a about a true hustle?
You wanna see someone whos committed to the bust and sell?
Well you don't need to go down to the country jail
And listen to what all the gangsters try and wail
Least not me, I got to see, my father go out and be
A

A gang-star on-par with a hustlar, more ruthless than pirates yellin yar and yeah he even drove a nice new car. And he said he still wanted more for tommorow and me and my siblings times 3 can't you all see thats a real hustlar?
I said, I got to see me father be a
[repeat]

How hard is it really to deal drugs by the pound when they often grow from the ground and are made at the sound of workers doin' it 9 ta 5 they rely on drugs like hits and get paid shit-bits by the kingpin.
Who only worried about himself, nevermind that lets get back to the storybook on the shelf.
How hard is it really? To know you have a customer flow as big as little Joe of junkies and kids who wanna blow dro and that, you can rely on your gun to solve all those problems that make you wanna run?
People give workin; stiffs shit but they hustle alot, everyday, not just a bit.

[chorus]

Could you ever, go out and get a job when all your clothes make you look like a slob and say "Hi Bob! Nice weather we're having?" when you can't stand that S.O.B. and take the paycheck and make it all look after 3 kids in need you gotta feed cause they your seed and no this ain't prohibition you can't sell bootleg mead.
Can you, go into overtime when you didn't wanna but ya gotta and more than that can you find out who shot ya?
In the back, even workin stiffs don't take shit from anyone who attacks. Mr NRA don't play as they say and what you thought you could make a mil in a day by bustin mary May? Mary May has a mossburg shotty and you just fucked with the wrong little hottie and you'll end up worse than Gotti if you underestimate these kids and this shit and all these fuckin' powdered wigs who have the authority to make you go blind kid so don't be a sucker stay on your grind kid.

A Master's is worth more than a felony, people can fear a guy with a gun called Melony, but not everyone has a mastery degree overseas that can be used to count fat G's. Long as you on your hustle cousin, you can be bustin' till the cows start cussin, and be home in time to touch some cute little muffin, I ain't frontin', it ain't hard to be a G but it is hard to be a Hustlar you see?

[chorus] (outro)

Riggs

Tue Apr 20 2010, 09:59AM

Registered Member #5859

Joined: Wed Jun 11 2008, 02:54PM
Posts: 22

eh, what the hell...I'll throw up a song I wrote pretty recently (today to be exact.) It's structured a little weirdly just reading it, but it works well when played.

Wing tipped shoes click-clacking on the cobblestone
A colorful scene where a bright young man lies on his throne

Millions upon millions of dollars spent and earned
falling into misplaced grief

Those who truly cared wouldn't dare to ever show their face
Overwhelmed by sudden disbelief

Mr. Paul was certainly a bright young lad
Believed in a better future for the world that dealt its dirty hand

Billions upon billions of emotions shared and gained
Trickling down the dirt like rain from a windowpane

Those who were there, so emotionless and cold
Interested only in what they believe they were owed

Dr. John did everything he could
To save a bright young man, gone before good
Georgie boy dug the grave silently
As the stars implied Mr. Paul was a distant memory

The casket cascaded down the slippery slope
Not a single rose or memory placed upon the poor boy's fold

The sun is non-existent, yet there's no sadness to be found
This graveyard scene is vaguely abrupt and loud

No final words, no intentions of resting in peace
His innocent name turned into meaningless grease

Long, thin heels click-clacked back up the cobblestone
The young boy's face buried and left all alone

They piled in their cars and they made their way
Back to the safe place they took for granted everyday

Billions upon billions of emotions dead and raped
By unconventional slobs drowning in their unconscious disgrace

Dr. John did everything he could
To save a bright young man, gone before good
Georgie boy dug the grave silently
As the stars implied Mr. Paul was a distant memory

Dr. John called the time in shame
Taken back by the blood on his hands
Georgie boy closed his eyed and prayed
As the stars slowly began to fade away

Il Ritorno- Michael Riggi- Underboss for Marko Corlupo

Godfather RPG- Aldo Giovezza- Soldier for Fabrizio Panzitta

Godfather RPG- Vincent Riggs- Consigliere for Jimmy Greco (Deceased)

Clyde Barrow

Fri Apr 23 2010, 08:35AM

Registered Member #1586

Joined: Sun Dec 03 2006, 04:16PM
Posts: 369

This is what happens when metalheads start writing country songs...

Well times, they've been rough
But Jesco had enough
He finally set himself free
We found him hangin' from that tree
And out there in the barn
ol' John sawed off his arm
He bled to death out there
But no one seemed to care
And then there was Mary Ann
She ran around on her man
They found her severed head
Out there in the shed
He said he would never hurt her
But he went down for murder
They tied him to a plank
and burned him at the stake
Then Billy wound up dead
He fell and busted his head
He was just out cold
Til the vultures picked his bones
Ronnie was doin' well
But now he's burnin' in hell
He drown down in the creek
And no one found him for weeks
Well some were never found
and the rest are in the ground
Some were never found
and the rest are in the ground


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