• hmenear94

ANARCHIST PARTIZAN (Into the Archipelago Custom Class)

"I am truly free only when all human beings, men and women, are equally free. The freedom of other men, far from negating or limiting my freedom, is, on the contrary, its necessary premise and confirmation."

- Mikhail Bakunin


"I am an antichrist. And I am an anarchist."

- Sex Pistols


Continuing work on my own piratey OSR heartbreaker. A Southeast Asian/Chinese/Japanese/Carribean-golden-age-of-piracy-inspired mess of ghosts, swashbuckling, colonial awfulness, coy djinn, unknowable strangeness deep beneath the waves, opium and frilly silk shirts. It's basically Into the Odd/Cairn jammed into a big cauldron with the class system from the GLOG (and the GROG Pirate Hack by Skerples + wherever he got his dueling rules from) heavily inspired by Troika! and BX, not to mention World of Dungeons and Mausritter's magic system.

This is the next class I wanted to present, the Anarchist Partizan. There's revolution brewing in the Archipelago. In far off Bouveronne, a decadent imperialist hulk that clings like a fat tick to the belly of this place, the Revolution has alrwady begun. Already, the powder-wigged gentry have begun to flock here, where they believe they'll be safe in a syrupy golden morass of subservience and colonial privilege. This is the class for players who want to remind qualing toffs that there's nowhere safe on earth for the rich.


For too long have the people of the Archipelago felt the weight of The Boot. The mercantile barons trade in guns and spice, and they only grow richer when the first is used to steal the second. Enough. Enough with tribute paid to a foreign crown. Enough with running from the navy’s gunboats. Enough with scraping by on bad rum and black bread in the dark corners of unfashionable drinking dens. Our flag means revolution, comrade. Already, on the streets of Old Bouveronne, they feel it coming. Soon, the quaking governors with their powdered, perfumed inhumanity will feel it here too.


Equipment: You have a brace of pistols (D8, B), an officer’s sabre (D8), and 2D6 Bombs (D10, Blast). You wear the drab black coat that passes for fashion in anarcho-dissident circles, a tricorn dockworkers’ hat, and a geometric black tattoo that marks you as an enemy of every state. You also have a satchel overflowing with cheaply printed revolutionary pamphlets, a writing set, and D6 notebooks filled with your own very serious poetry.


Choose one Move when you create your character. You may choose more as you level up.


[] Firebrand. You have a gift for stirring up the blood, and subsequently trouble. Once per session, you can turn the sympathies of a crowd of common folk to your point of view, even inciting them to violence. Given 10/L hours in a port or town, you can incite a full scale riot. L times per session, if you are allowed to make a rousing speech, you and your allies all gain Armour 1 (unless they already have Armour 1 or higher) for the remainder of the engagement.


[] Bloody Revolution. When you attack someone of noble blood, or someone who is directly protecting a member of the aristocracy, your attacks are Enhanced. Even temporarily allying with a member of the nobility who does not renounce their title requires a WIL save to resist stabbing them and firebombing their home.


[] Bomb Maker. You learn to make bombs. Fire bombs, smoke bombs, flash bombs, gas bombs; bombs of sizes and functions, from grenades all the way up to the kind of fireworks display that can level a fort. When acquiring supplies, your revolutionary contacts cut all prices in half, although you still might struggle to find explosives in the kind of quantities you need.


[] Book Learning. Most people in the Archipelago can read and write a bit. You can compose political tracts, poetry, incendiary pamphlets; you can even understand some of the works produced by your more verbose and impenetrable contemporaries. Given time, ink, and parhment, you can produce works of gravity and note. To many, this is a kind of magic (pg. 21). Foment rebellion with a series of cutting political cartoons; stir the heart of a cruel governor with a beautifully written letter; forge a royal pardon in a pinch.


[] Friends in the Hills. You are tapped into the local networks of anarchist cells and can usually be relied upon to find them in case you need extra muscle, a place to lay low for a few days, someone to buy all these stolen guns.


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