Oct 16, 2020 3:15 am
LEGION OF LIBERTY: SUPERHEROES OF 1776
Genre: Flintlock fantasy, pulp superhero, alternate history.
System: Savage Worlds Adventure Edition (SWADE).
Number of Players: 4 to 6.
Posting Rate: 3 to 4 times per week.
Prior Experience: None required. Players new to Savage Worlds are welcomed.
SONS OF LIBERTY, DAUGHTERS OF THE REVOLUTION
Legion of Liberty: Superheroes of 1776 is a flintlock fantasy setting for Savage Worlds Adventure Edition (SWADE). The game takes place during the American War of Independence which spanned 1775 to 1783. The premise is that, for reasons no one quite understands, a tiny portion of people spontaneously developed superpowers about thirty years ago. This phenomenon has occurred (and continues to occur) among people of all races, nationalities, faiths, and backgrounds. Even stranger is that it only happens in the New World. Thus, the European Colonial powers, which include France, Spain, and Britain, are engaged in a fierce arms race to develop loyal superhuman fighting forces. Meanwhile, indigenous superhumans must contend with competing European interests as well as conflict between their own nations.
Superpowered humans are collectively known as preterhumans (as in, preternatural). American preterhumans are called "Legionnaires" or "Irregulars". British preterhumans are called "Stalwarts" or "Black Coats" (due to their distinct black uniforms). As a whole, preterhumans are viewed with a mixture of awe and fear by normal people. Religious communities can't decide if they're angels or demons, and scientists of the Enlightenment want to study them like animals.
In the Legion of Liberty, players serve in the Continental Army as powerful young preterhumans fighting against the British in the Revolutionary War. The focus of this game is on the historical military actions of the American Revolution, but with the added involvement of superheroes. The actions of the player characters will help determine the course of the war. Each character has been recruited by the Legion of Liberty - a secretive unit of the American Continental Army that conscripts and trains those with powers. Members operate in groups called cohorts (basically, superhero teams). The Legion is commanded by Paul Revere, the Fastest Man Alive. The King's Royal Preterhuman Regiment is the British Army's equivalent to the Legion.
The term "preterhuman" also encompasses those with unique abilities that are not necessarily classic superpowers. This includes inspired inventors who can build bizarre gadgets beyond the technology for the time period, as well as those who practice the ways of so-called "magic".
Note that this is a low level supers game. There are no equivalents in power to Superman or Wonder Woman. Rather, these supers are more on the level of pulp superheroes. Preterhumans born in the New World are powerful, but not so powerful that they can stand alone against artillery or an armed battalion. While a trained Legionnaire or Stalwart can wipe the floor with a regular human, or maybe even a squad of soldiers, a truly large group of opponents is still very dangerous and potentially lethal.
To participate in this game, you'll need a copy of the Savage Worlds Adventure Edition rule book. I'll provide anything else that you need. I have a number of specific guidelines and rules for character creation, but these will be described in the game threads.
So what do you say? Does anyone want to get into some supers action in the name of liberty and freedom?
Should you feel like reading it, here is a brief bit of fiction to give you a sense of the setting.
[ +- ] Short Story
The snow was still falling, as it had been the previous few nights. It was turning out to be a long and frigid winter. Colonel Charles Scott and his officers were sequestered inside an old farmhouse. Although the structure was drafty and ill-lit, it served as good a command post as any. Scott was surrounded by his captains, all of whom leaned over the wooden table to study the unfurled parchment. One of the officers held up an oil lamp to better illuminate the view for everyone. Even then, the colonel had to strain his eyes to look at the roughly sketched map of the area.
"We found Captain Napier in the creek on the other side of the hill. The bodies of the other men from the evening patrol were found 300 paces away." Major Blayne pointed out the locations on the map as he spoke. "As with the other murdered patrols, the throats were slit. They were set upon quickly, by the looks of it. A single man had not a chance to fire his musket..."
The colonel exhaled; the cold air turning his breath into white vapor. "Why was Captain Napier's corpse so far from the others, I wonder."
Major Blayne shifted uncomfortably. "It appears he ran, sir."
Scott stroked his chin thoughtfully but said nothing. Months ago, he and his troops - the 5th Virginia Regiment - had trekked north to join with General Washington's forces to cross the Delaware. Together with other units of the Continental Army, they'd secured victories at Trenton and Princeton against the red coats and Hessians. With the onset of winter, however, Washington ordered Colonel Scott and his men to pass the season in the small village of Chatham, New Jersey. Meanwhile, Washington and his forces wintered in nearby Morristown.
The villagers of Chatham had taken the soldiers into their homes, but food, medicine, and warm clothes were scarce. Many of Scott's men were getting sick and weak, and desertion was becoming a problem. The only solution had been to send out foraging parties to secure supplies, and for a short while this was effective. Several ambushes against the British had yielded food and blankets. Yet something changed after a series of skirmishes near Quibbletown. When his men returned to Chatham, something else had returned with them.
Major Blayne interrupted his commanding officer's thoughts. "Sir, 'tis the work of skilled skirmishers. Perchance one of Howe's light infantry companies. Captain Napier and his pickets make forty-seven casualties in less than two week's time."
Colonel Scott glowered. His reply was more brusque than intended. "I am quite capable of counting, thank you, Major." Inwardly, the colonel scolded himself; he didn't have the luxury of letting slip fear or frustration in front of the men. This was in spite of the fact that the situation was becoming dire. Initially the attacks were limited to foraging parties, but now nightly patrols were being massacred. It was at the point that going out after dark was a mortal risk. The colonel had ordered several messages to be hand delivered to Washington to apprise him of recent events and to request support, but it was impossible to know if the general had received anything. None of the messengers ever returned.
"Mayhaps Hessian Jägers," piped in another captain named Sunderland.
"I respectfully disagree. 'Tis not the British Regulars or the Hessians," interjected Captain Howlett. "It must be a loyalist militia. Only men born and raised in these woods could outmaneuver us so completely. Our patrols are being waylaid with far more efficiency than the lobsters or their European auxiliaries could muster in a foreign land."
"There are no reports of loyalist units in the area," replied Blayne.
Before the colonel could utter his response, the door opened. Lamps and candles guttered as wintery air whipped into the room. The soldiers turned to see a trio of strangers step out of the darkness, closing the door behind them. The three newcomers were dressed in matching greatcoats of charcoal gray, and their faces were bundled in wool wraps pulled all the way up to the eyes. Dusting the snow off of themselves, they began removing their hats and wraps without a word.
The colonel eyed the new arrivals. "I thought I said no interruption during this meet with my officers. How did you circumvent my guards?"
The frontmost stranger, a young woman, doffed her tricorn hat and tucked it beneath her arm. She was comely; possessed of long auburn hair as dark red as the leaves of New York in autumn. The two companions behind her were noteworthy in their appearance, as well, but for different reasons. One was a bald-pated man with what appeared to be a Masonic "all-seeing eye" tattooed upon his forehead. The other was not a colonist but a native man. The Colonel guessed that he was from one of the Iroquois tribes. Based on the markings decorating his face, probably Oneida. Needless to say, they were a very motley group of travelers.
Major Blayne frowned. He addressed the strangers with a tone of reprimand. "Colonel Scott of the Continental Army asked you a question."
The woman extracted a small, wax-sealed envelope from within her coat and silently handed it to the closest captain. The officer looked at the seal and then hastily brought it to Colonel Scott. At a glance, the colonel immediately recognized the coat of arms pressed into the red wax – it was the personal signet of their Commander-in-chief, General Washington.
Scott forwent the use of a letter opener, instead tearing the envelope with his hands to read the missive therein. He furrowed his brows at the brief message written in Washington’s own cursive penmanship. It was highly vague, stating simply that the three persons presently in his company were there to provision him with aid. The bottom of the paper bore the eminent general’s signature.
The woman spoke on the trio’s behalf. Her accent indicated that she hailed from one of the New England colonies. "Colonel, I am Sergeant Amelia Rosetree. I believe that my cohort can be of assistance."
Scott looked up from the letter. His voice was tinged with exasperation. "Assistance? There must be some confusion. My patrols are being whittled away by the enemy. We need immediate reinforcements if we’re to survive till Spring. ‘Tis fresh troops and supplies that I need, madam. Not three couriers."
Sergeant Rosetree’s reply was measured and patient. "Wrote you not to Washington beseeching reinforcements? We are here, as requested, sir."
Scott and his captains stared incredulously at the three strangers, until a look of understanding suddenly dawned upon the colonel’s face. As Major Blayne prepared to harangue the trio for their perceived impertinence, the colonel raised a hand to silence him. He studied the strangers with newfound cautiousness. "…You are Paul Revere’s men, yes? You are part of the Legion?" The way the colonel said Legion, one could almost hear the capital ‘L’ in the word.
Sergeant Rosetree responded without confirmation or denial. "It is not British or Hessian infantry that are harrying your men. In truth, your patrols are being systematically dispatched by a preterhuman serving the Crown. A Black Coat. I dare say it is a gentleman who bears the nom de guerre Viscount Tenebrous. We have been searching for this dishonourable wretch since last year’s fighting at Harlem Heights. He commands shadow and darkness with the same ease you command these men." The woman stole a glance out the window and into the gloom outside. "On a night such as this, our assassin has a bounty of darkness with which to commit his foul deeds. Be assured that once he has cut his way through the remainder of your officers, yours is the final throat he will come for, Colonel."
Scott and his captains exchanged wide-eyed looks. Following a brief moment of quiet, he looked to the Sergeant. "You and your cohort… you can eliminate this cutthroat?"
Rosetree nodded. "That is our objective," she replied. "With your leave, sir, we shall commence forthwith."
Colonel Scott was not without his reservations. He’d heard his share of campfire tales about the Legion and its elite, empowered conscripts. Some believed them to be sent by God, while others warned they were tools of the Devil. Enlightenment rationalists thought them solecisms of the natural world. The colonel could say with no certainty which was the case. All he knew was that their aid was a necessary antidote for the current circumstances.
"Proceed," urged Scott.
The Sergeant turned to face her companions, first addressing the man with the tattooed visage. "Israel, whisper to the trees and heed what secrets they tell you. Pierce the dark with your eyeless sight and find our man." Then she looked to the Oneida. "Ka-kek-ta-ton, take to the sky and scout the tree line. I suspect the Viscount is nearby watching the village. Flush him out like the cowardly fox he is. Signal me once you have located the Black Coat. Do not engage until I have arrived. The three of us together will lay him low."
The two men responded with curt nods of acknowledgement. The Sergeant returned her attention to the gathered Revolutionists. Unlike before, her eyes now burned bright and hot like St. Elmo’s Fire. The officers in that room – battle-hardened veterans each and all – recoiled at the sight.
Amelia Rosetree smiled and saluted the officers. The trio of preterhumans then slipped back into the darkness to begin hunting their quarry.
"We found Captain Napier in the creek on the other side of the hill. The bodies of the other men from the evening patrol were found 300 paces away." Major Blayne pointed out the locations on the map as he spoke. "As with the other murdered patrols, the throats were slit. They were set upon quickly, by the looks of it. A single man had not a chance to fire his musket..."
The colonel exhaled; the cold air turning his breath into white vapor. "Why was Captain Napier's corpse so far from the others, I wonder."
Major Blayne shifted uncomfortably. "It appears he ran, sir."
Scott stroked his chin thoughtfully but said nothing. Months ago, he and his troops - the 5th Virginia Regiment - had trekked north to join with General Washington's forces to cross the Delaware. Together with other units of the Continental Army, they'd secured victories at Trenton and Princeton against the red coats and Hessians. With the onset of winter, however, Washington ordered Colonel Scott and his men to pass the season in the small village of Chatham, New Jersey. Meanwhile, Washington and his forces wintered in nearby Morristown.
The villagers of Chatham had taken the soldiers into their homes, but food, medicine, and warm clothes were scarce. Many of Scott's men were getting sick and weak, and desertion was becoming a problem. The only solution had been to send out foraging parties to secure supplies, and for a short while this was effective. Several ambushes against the British had yielded food and blankets. Yet something changed after a series of skirmishes near Quibbletown. When his men returned to Chatham, something else had returned with them.
Major Blayne interrupted his commanding officer's thoughts. "Sir, 'tis the work of skilled skirmishers. Perchance one of Howe's light infantry companies. Captain Napier and his pickets make forty-seven casualties in less than two week's time."
Colonel Scott glowered. His reply was more brusque than intended. "I am quite capable of counting, thank you, Major." Inwardly, the colonel scolded himself; he didn't have the luxury of letting slip fear or frustration in front of the men. This was in spite of the fact that the situation was becoming dire. Initially the attacks were limited to foraging parties, but now nightly patrols were being massacred. It was at the point that going out after dark was a mortal risk. The colonel had ordered several messages to be hand delivered to Washington to apprise him of recent events and to request support, but it was impossible to know if the general had received anything. None of the messengers ever returned.
"Mayhaps Hessian Jägers," piped in another captain named Sunderland.
"I respectfully disagree. 'Tis not the British Regulars or the Hessians," interjected Captain Howlett. "It must be a loyalist militia. Only men born and raised in these woods could outmaneuver us so completely. Our patrols are being waylaid with far more efficiency than the lobsters or their European auxiliaries could muster in a foreign land."
"There are no reports of loyalist units in the area," replied Blayne.
Before the colonel could utter his response, the door opened. Lamps and candles guttered as wintery air whipped into the room. The soldiers turned to see a trio of strangers step out of the darkness, closing the door behind them. The three newcomers were dressed in matching greatcoats of charcoal gray, and their faces were bundled in wool wraps pulled all the way up to the eyes. Dusting the snow off of themselves, they began removing their hats and wraps without a word.
The colonel eyed the new arrivals. "I thought I said no interruption during this meet with my officers. How did you circumvent my guards?"
The frontmost stranger, a young woman, doffed her tricorn hat and tucked it beneath her arm. She was comely; possessed of long auburn hair as dark red as the leaves of New York in autumn. The two companions behind her were noteworthy in their appearance, as well, but for different reasons. One was a bald-pated man with what appeared to be a Masonic "all-seeing eye" tattooed upon his forehead. The other was not a colonist but a native man. The Colonel guessed that he was from one of the Iroquois tribes. Based on the markings decorating his face, probably Oneida. Needless to say, they were a very motley group of travelers.
Major Blayne frowned. He addressed the strangers with a tone of reprimand. "Colonel Scott of the Continental Army asked you a question."
The woman extracted a small, wax-sealed envelope from within her coat and silently handed it to the closest captain. The officer looked at the seal and then hastily brought it to Colonel Scott. At a glance, the colonel immediately recognized the coat of arms pressed into the red wax – it was the personal signet of their Commander-in-chief, General Washington.
Scott forwent the use of a letter opener, instead tearing the envelope with his hands to read the missive therein. He furrowed his brows at the brief message written in Washington’s own cursive penmanship. It was highly vague, stating simply that the three persons presently in his company were there to provision him with aid. The bottom of the paper bore the eminent general’s signature.
The woman spoke on the trio’s behalf. Her accent indicated that she hailed from one of the New England colonies. "Colonel, I am Sergeant Amelia Rosetree. I believe that my cohort can be of assistance."
Scott looked up from the letter. His voice was tinged with exasperation. "Assistance? There must be some confusion. My patrols are being whittled away by the enemy. We need immediate reinforcements if we’re to survive till Spring. ‘Tis fresh troops and supplies that I need, madam. Not three couriers."
Sergeant Rosetree’s reply was measured and patient. "Wrote you not to Washington beseeching reinforcements? We are here, as requested, sir."
Scott and his captains stared incredulously at the three strangers, until a look of understanding suddenly dawned upon the colonel’s face. As Major Blayne prepared to harangue the trio for their perceived impertinence, the colonel raised a hand to silence him. He studied the strangers with newfound cautiousness. "…You are Paul Revere’s men, yes? You are part of the Legion?" The way the colonel said Legion, one could almost hear the capital ‘L’ in the word.
Sergeant Rosetree responded without confirmation or denial. "It is not British or Hessian infantry that are harrying your men. In truth, your patrols are being systematically dispatched by a preterhuman serving the Crown. A Black Coat. I dare say it is a gentleman who bears the nom de guerre Viscount Tenebrous. We have been searching for this dishonourable wretch since last year’s fighting at Harlem Heights. He commands shadow and darkness with the same ease you command these men." The woman stole a glance out the window and into the gloom outside. "On a night such as this, our assassin has a bounty of darkness with which to commit his foul deeds. Be assured that once he has cut his way through the remainder of your officers, yours is the final throat he will come for, Colonel."
Scott and his captains exchanged wide-eyed looks. Following a brief moment of quiet, he looked to the Sergeant. "You and your cohort… you can eliminate this cutthroat?"
Rosetree nodded. "That is our objective," she replied. "With your leave, sir, we shall commence forthwith."
Colonel Scott was not without his reservations. He’d heard his share of campfire tales about the Legion and its elite, empowered conscripts. Some believed them to be sent by God, while others warned they were tools of the Devil. Enlightenment rationalists thought them solecisms of the natural world. The colonel could say with no certainty which was the case. All he knew was that their aid was a necessary antidote for the current circumstances.
"Proceed," urged Scott.
The Sergeant turned to face her companions, first addressing the man with the tattooed visage. "Israel, whisper to the trees and heed what secrets they tell you. Pierce the dark with your eyeless sight and find our man." Then she looked to the Oneida. "Ka-kek-ta-ton, take to the sky and scout the tree line. I suspect the Viscount is nearby watching the village. Flush him out like the cowardly fox he is. Signal me once you have located the Black Coat. Do not engage until I have arrived. The three of us together will lay him low."
The two men responded with curt nods of acknowledgement. The Sergeant returned her attention to the gathered Revolutionists. Unlike before, her eyes now burned bright and hot like St. Elmo’s Fire. The officers in that room – battle-hardened veterans each and all – recoiled at the sight.
Amelia Rosetree smiled and saluted the officers. The trio of preterhumans then slipped back into the darkness to begin hunting their quarry.
DISCLAIMER
[ +- ] Please Read
Three things I want to get out of the way.
Firstly, I'm not a historian. I'm American and I love history, but I'm certainly not an expert on the American Revolution. For any history purists that might be out there, I'll try my best to be as accurate as possible but I probably will get things wrong. Keep in mind, however, that this is an alternate history game so some details (even some major events) will intentionally be different.
Secondly for any UK players who might read this, I hope this doesn't offend any sensibilities. It's just intended for some good fun and period roleplaying. Although the British Army and its supers are the antagonists, my game will depict how there are good and bad people on both sides.
Thirdly, this game is set in the 18th century, and we all know that some grim realities are historically part of that time period in America (slavery, conflicts with indigenous peoples, treatment of women, etc.). To put it plainly, these are NOT subjects that I wish to explore or address within the scope of my game. That's not to say that I want to pretend they didn't happen. It's just that I'm not comfortable delving into that subject matter for a pulp superhero game. We can assume that those realities indeed exist in the background, but the background is where they'll stay.
Thanks for understanding.
Firstly, I'm not a historian. I'm American and I love history, but I'm certainly not an expert on the American Revolution. For any history purists that might be out there, I'll try my best to be as accurate as possible but I probably will get things wrong. Keep in mind, however, that this is an alternate history game so some details (even some major events) will intentionally be different.
Secondly for any UK players who might read this, I hope this doesn't offend any sensibilities. It's just intended for some good fun and period roleplaying. Although the British Army and its supers are the antagonists, my game will depict how there are good and bad people on both sides.
Thirdly, this game is set in the 18th century, and we all know that some grim realities are historically part of that time period in America (slavery, conflicts with indigenous peoples, treatment of women, etc.). To put it plainly, these are NOT subjects that I wish to explore or address within the scope of my game. That's not to say that I want to pretend they didn't happen. It's just that I'm not comfortable delving into that subject matter for a pulp superhero game. We can assume that those realities indeed exist in the background, but the background is where they'll stay.
Thanks for understanding.
Last edited October 19, 2020 6:40 pm
