Get Timers Now!
Oct 17 - 07:23:29
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Competition Time Started by: Lincoln_Lawyer on Oct 11, '21 09:40

So following yet another god awful tragedy of a competition at the hands of the Kuku bloodline I have decided to run a competition of wmy own, if Kuku can do it then surely anyone can. So without further ado, here is my offering.


The Competition


Until 12pm game time on the 25th October I invite anyone who is a sponsored member of a crew to post an origin story about themselves. Why did you become what you are today? There are no word counts, but please bear in mind that the judges hopefully will have quite a few stories to read and judge. Just read your finished story aloud hear so that everyone can enjoy them.


The Prizes. 


Currently the prize fun sits at 100 credits. This will be divided up as 60% for 1st prize, 30% for 2nd prize and 10% for 3rd prize. Should I recieve any donations they will be added to the pot, but the ratios will remain the same.




Our current judges are: Dagda, Sonic, AmeliaGato and Dr_Satan. Each judge will score each story out of 20 posted in a back alley post. The scores will be added together, and the highest 3 scores will be awarded the prizes. All scores will be release on conclusion of the competition to preserve transparency and fairness. In the event of a tie, the prizes will be added together and split evenly either 2 or 3 ways.


And thats it, simples as a certain Meerkat might say. I look forward to reading your entries. On a personal note, I'd like to thank those in my own crew, particlarly SatoruGojo and Freyja for their support in helping me make this dream a reality.





Sonic has gratiously sweetened the pot by 50 credits, 25 to the winner, 15 to 2nd place and 10 to 3rd. I'd like to personally thank Sonic for his kind generosity.

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Another update, Dr_Satan has generously donated another 25 credits to the prize fund. Bringing the total prize pool to 175 credits.

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Sorry, I'm sure many of you are sick and tired of my appearances in the streets, but I just want to clarify something brought to me by one of the judges.


All entries should be read here, where I have made the original announcement, just so that everyone knows its an official enty.


OOC: Post your story in this thread if you want it to be considered for anprize.

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Morning everyone, one hell of a competition we have on hands here and I'm more then happy to judge. To help spark the the competition I'll be passing out some random perks just because.

Thanks Lincoln_Lawyer, and let the games begin!

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And yet another update, CLO has generously sweetened the pot by 25 credits. So now the prizes stand at:


115 credits for first place.

60 credits for second place.

25 credits for 3rd place.

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His eyelids slowly parted showing the image of a father smiling and then they closed...


His eyelids parted again and it replayed a memory of him stealing his next door neighbours bike...


His eyelids quickly parted once more and it replayed another memory years later at his next door neighbours birthday and presenting him with a gift wrapped up suspiciously like his old bike, the present looked deflated and there was a smile on the boys face as he handed the present over to the other boy.


The memories grew more vivid and it showed his father shooting at his own comrades, and it disturbed the young man, but he could see that what his father was doing was actually throwing off their enemies, at least they all seemed to be please he was shooting in their direction. The young man didn't exactly know why he was there but I guess when his father kept shouting "The Family Business!" there wasn't much else he could say or do...


He watched his father miraculously survive the war, dodging bullet after bullet, only too see him die shortly after when a new one started. His thoughts were "What an idiot!". So he decided to start his own path...


People started calling me Tombstone because of my con jobs. The amount of narcotics I could fiddle from the health agencies was insane and old rich men's wives easily gave me all their husbands hard earned cash when I threw them some bullshit story about being able to double my own in a big deal. When the con ended one of the affected would tend to take their life...Hence the public named the unknown con man Tombstone.


I made a clean fortune, I didn't exactly need a family to earn money and live a lavish life but things started to become riskier and I didn't feel I could escape my own tombstone for long...


One of Uncle Sonics men came knocking at my door and it only felt right to join the family business. I did hide from Auntie Seraphyna but that's only because she always wanted me to stay away from this business, but once she give me the first telling off, it was all back to work.


He closed his eyes and wondered why all those memories ran through his head and again when he started to blurt everything out about himself. He walked away disgusted with himself.

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A small query regarding the prizes. Are the prizes going to be awarded to the 1st, 2nd and 3rd best entries in this competition or has there been an allowance made if someone happens to die who hasn't even made an entry into the contest but gets some (most) of the prize pool anyway? 

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To answer your question, the prize pool is reserved for the winning entries.

In the event that Lincoln (as the host), decides to lose his mind and go rogue in an attempt to scam everybody and run off with the prizes for himself, I will honour the full prize pool. In addition, I will also give compensation to the children of the fallen.

I hope that clarifies matters for you.

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PauliePoorAnalogy, if I as the creator of this competition where to go rogue and start murdering people, then I would assume that the crew leaders of my victims would do everything in their power to seek compensation. However, as no member of my family has ever gone rogue that is a highly doubtful scenario. I have also made sure that all prize funds are in credits so that should I die, the winners will still get their prizes, rather than allowingnme to transfer the cash to my cronies and apparently die with the prize money.


A small query for you, given that I ensured that first and second place received a prize for their entry, despite the Kuku bloodline and its cronies doing their best to ensure that only they themselves benefited, will you be covering the prizes for this competition if I and Sonic decided to run away with the credits?

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That is warm music to my heart, SatoruGojo. Let us hope that Lincoln does no such thing as we do not want to lose such a bright and shining light in these troubled times. 

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I have like 500k bro. I can't cover a good meal most days. 

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It's Wednesday night, I'm armed to the teeth, and I am deep in the depths of this castle. Townsfolk have been disappearing for weeks and the village elders are convinced it's the work of the vampire that sleeps here. In case of emergency, I've brought along my drudge Zeitgeist because I know these nosferatu-types prefer the blood of virgins. So we move further into the darkness, slowly making our way down this long, spiraling staircase, when I see a torch light up at the very bottom. What the hell? Last I checked, vampires were afraid of fire, not wielding it. I hear an audible gulp from my acolyte. Is it a werewolf? Some kind of freaky Frankenstein? It starts to run up towards us, we see nothing but a beacon of light bobbing up the stairs. Part of me wants to run away. Part of me is consumed by morbid curiosity. It's getting closer. So close we can almost see it. It's...Huh? It's not a monster at all. Jesus Christ, it's the Lincoln_Lawyer and, man, he looks filthy. His mouth is caked in dry blood and hair. All I smell is wet dog. He tells us he's been down here for weeks. He wants us to point him to the exit. He's desperate. He's begging us. He says he'll do anything for a sip of water. Tough luck, counsellor, I'm spoken for. With one punishing kick, I send that rube tumbling back down the tower stairs like he'd paid me for the privilege. The village people are euphoric, they celebrate riotously. I'm made a Made Man on the spot, a legendary life of crime sparking to life in one fell swoop. Little is known of the fate of the Lincoln_Lawyer but some say he still haunts these streets to this day, siphoning hard-earned perks to lost boys as redemption for his sins. 

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Another quick update, we have a special guest judge offer his services to the competition. I've known this man for quite some time, and have always found his intregrity beyong reproach. May I introduce our special guest Judge, @Toby.

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SammyAdams came from a small family in Boston, Massachusetts. His name was given to him based around the beer Samuel Adams. His father was in the mafia life while his mother was the innocent one who stayed at home taking care of him and his siblings. Growing up, Sammy was a good kid, always doing his schoolwork and never getting himself into legal trouble. He would often help at homeless shelters and volunteer at schools during events. Sammy’s father kept his mafia life to himself for the most part and didn’t involve the kids.

One day, his mother had received a random call and the call was that Sammy’s dad was shot dead by a rival family. This left Sammy’s mother with three kids and no job to make money to support them. She had no idea what to do. Sammy being the oldest received the news first. He immediately broke down crying. Sammy felt being the oldest, that he had to do something. He offered to help his mother break the news to his siblings to help.

Sammy was determined to step up as the head of the house. He flew the family out to Los Angeles and get out of dodge in Boston because he never knew what could happen next. While living in Los Angeles, he got a job and paid all the bills. Shortly after, he jumped ship and joined a mafia family. Knowing he could end up like his father, Sammy made steps to avoid any issues with his mother. He put money away for the family if anything were to happen to him, they would be good.

Sammy then decided to move to Detroit alone, to join The Speed Demons. He did this for personal reasons and left his family in Los Angeles. Although they were far away, he would often wire them cash to keep up with the bills. His thoughts were, if anything happened to him, he would want his family far away so they couldn’t be tracked down.

Sammy is now the ‘man of the house’ or ‘head of the Adams family’ and would do anything to keep them safe, even if it was sacrifice himself. He knew his father would be proud of him.

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"Hello, I'm AntonioMontana, a political prisoner, and this is my story."

Tony was in the holding centre, and he was getting bored and fed up.  He’d fled his homeland, sick of the persecution there, and worried that the malcontents that stormed the Capitol building would regroup and become a force to be reckoned with.  Tony had grown tired of the politics of his country, as well as the organised crime subculture to which he belonged.  He knew he had to do something, so we went out and murdered someone.  As he predicted, he was soon arrested and charged with murder. 

Truth be told, Tony hadn’t thought too far ahead: he just knew that he needed out of society, and the criminal subculture to which he belonged.  He felt confident in his ability to think on his feet.  He knew he’d soon be making moves.  Already, he had bested Frankie the Fool at Trivial Pursuit and made himself a pack of smokes.  It was whilst smoking one of these that he heard a voice over the tannoy: 

Montana!  Lawyer visit for you!” 

A lawyer” Tony thought to himself.  He hadn’t told the leader of his criminal subculture family that he was in jail.  Part of the reason he was there was to escape the clutches of his criminal subculture family.  “What is going on here” thought Tony.  But he went to meet his lawyer anyway. 

His lawyer was like no lawyer, indeed, no man, he’d ever met before.  He was wearing a bright red suit with multi-coloured polka dots, and a white shirt with oversized red buttons.  He’d fashioned his hair into a strange feather cut, and his unusually large glasses made his eyes seem bigger than a normal persons.  He had a strange nose, man.  Like a long nose.  Hard to describe.  And he must have had very big feet too, because he had long floppy shoes. 

Hello, I’m Lincoln.  They call me “Lincoln_Lawyer.” He stood up to shake my hand but, whilst doing so, he knocked the table he was sitting behind over, and then managed to fall on top of it, with his ass still wedged into the chair he’d been sitting in. 

Instinctively, Tony tried to help the man up.  He reached down and grabbed his hand, but a mild electric shock surprised him and he jumped back.   

What is going on here” thought Tony, as he watched Lincoln climb to his feet, a series of beeping noises and sparks occurring as he did so. 

Finally, Lincoln got to his feet and said to Tony “sorry about that.  I’m still getting used to being law man.  My previous station in life has been hard to escape.  Anyway, right now you’ve got the law, and your criminal subculture after you.  You have to do what we say, or you’re in trouble.”  Just as he said that, his trousers fell down, and he bent over to pull them up, banging his head on the table as he did so. 

Tony was horrified at what he saw.  His belief in equality for all humans was being tested.  “Who is this jackass” thought Tony.  But Lincoln addressed him again. 

You must kill this man, WooHoo.  If you don’t, you stay here in this jail, and I will ensure your stay is miserable” – scared, Tony replies “Why do you want this man dead?” 

Lincoln replies “he is a bad man.  He picked my granda’s pocket, so my grandad punched him a few times and took some money off him.  My grandad was a Made man, powerful, part of a big criminal subculture.  And this punk, this man, WooHoo well, he just shot him in the face." 

Tony smiled.  He liked the sound of this guy WooHoo.  He thought that WooHoo and him could, between them, take over a significant section of the world.  He had no intention of killing WooHoo, but felt that he could take advantage of Lincoln. 

OK” said Tony “I will kill WooHoo, but first you have to write me a legal contract detailing exactly what I have to do and what I received.  

Lincoln agreed and wrote the contract up for Tony.  Tony said thank you, stealing Lincoln’s watch with the two handed handshake he used to instil confidence whilst tricking some idiot. 

As Tony went to find WooHoo to plan to kill Lincoln and steal his business, he heard a banging noise.  Lincoln’s trousers had again fell down, and he’d banged his head trying to pick them up. 


Careful” said Tony.  “Be careful Lincoln_Lawyer” 


Thank you. 

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I was jaded with life on the docks. Loading and unloading. Unloading and loading. Same old repetitive shit that could drive a man insane. I'd had enough and told my man in charge that I'd had enough.

"I've had enough," I said looking him right in the face. "This repetitive shit could drive a man insane". He didn't look impressed.

"I'm not impressed," he said looking me in the eye, "I need every hand down here at the moment." I gave him my word I would stay. 

I left the second his back was turned. 

That afternoon I was walking down the street, wondering how I was going to pay the rent without a job when I passed a local art gallery. A satanic looking gangster-doctor stood outside the entrance staring at the door looking confused. I knew he was a satanic gangster doctor because he had a stethoscope around his fedora, which was draped over his never-been-washed greasy mop of hair and he was dressed in a pretty dorky looking dyed-black medical coat. I watched as he said a few words to the entrance and then stood back puzzled. He pressed his ear against it gently tapping different sections of the timber. Finally, he began to caress it with his hips. I couldn’t stand idly by any longer.

“Mate, use the fucking handle,” I called out to him, pointing at the large knob and the handle next to him. 

He looked at me and I could almost see the sun shining off the docile smoothness of his brain as he tried to comprehend my instructions. From around the corner another man ambled into view. He carried a briefcase and had what looked like prizes to a competition that weren’t his to give out, tucked under his arm.

“What do you want?” He snarled at me, immediately defensive.

I shrugged, not wanting a fight. “I saw your man there trying to shag the door and thought I would help him out, that alright?”

“Listen punk, Dr_Satan is kind of a big deal around here. He doesn’t need help from the likes of you to pull off an art gallery job,” Prize Thief snapped, prodding me in the chest the whole time. “And anyway, If he doesn’t pull off the job, what are you gonna do about it? Are you going to cover the whole score if it doesn’t work? Are you? Eh?”

I stepped back; my turn to be confused. “Well, er, no I wasn’t going to do that. Just thought I’d show him how to get inside…”

“MY POINT EXACTLY!” Prize Thief yelled triumphantly, turning on his heel and stalking away. I watched him go, seeing him pause briefly to give away the things under his arm to a nonplussed passerby who had done nothing to deserve them. What a bizarre exchange.

“Sorry about that guy,” Dr Satan said, looking embarrassed. “He does that. Anyway, here, fancy giving me a hand with this job after all? That door was kinda tricky…”

With nothing else to do, I helped with the job. We failed miserably. Got pinched. Locked up. Served out our time. When my stretch was done, I was invited to join Dr_Satan’s posse. I heard through the grapevine that Prize Thief had made something of himself and his days of giving out prizes to people who didn’t do anything to earn them were certainly not behind him. 

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Her dark hair swayed before her. Loosely flowing down her back and when Sera tried to reach out for it, her fingers brushed air.

Startled, Sera blinked and the image was gone. A flood of memories came rushing back at her though.

Inhale, exhale.

"Lissa," the word murmured quietly. "She was my reason I started into this world of crime. Her love for the Speed Demons. The way she carried herself. And oh those wicked ideas of hers. Always insane and a little crazy but so much fun.

Lissa was the one who was carefully planning things. I was the pyromaniac. Together we taught each other our interests. But she had grown to love the organized crime world. Her boss, her friends, and even the time she spent with the random dealers around the cities. Her love for all of these things was intense. More intense than the people around her knew.

Don't get me wrong, she could come across as the most cold person in the room. And when she decided that she had enough of you, the outcome was always bloody for the other side.

As intense as her feelings were, I couldn't help but to love all of these people and cities too. But what really brought me to where I am now when I was nothing more than a random person setting fires to buildings. Doing errands here or there between meetings with my best friend. What really brought me to where I am now? A leader of 12th Street."

A dozen more memories flashed through her mind but what held the most was Lissa's smile. She always gave it to so freely when they were around each other. She knew Lissa loved her, but before an unfortunate homicide, she had wondered just how much with the new life. Was it possible to be loved the same?

"Simple answer: Lissa's death.

I watched her die right in front of my eyes. I would have burned the world down to bring her back to life, but Sonic spotted me. Offering me to pick up where she left off, and since then I have given it my all.

Every action. Every decision. I try to resemble the good in her. I loved all these people well before I had met them because of her.

My journey into this world is because of her. She is the reason why I am where I am today. Through her I learned loyalty, compassion, and an unstoppable work ethic that just keeps on driving me to do better than I did yesterday. Not just for her, or me, but for the family I now currently lead. For Sonic, and for the city I now get the pleasure of representing wherever I go."

Sera rubbed her temples gently and blinked back a tear that was threatening to come from her. A fleeting image of Lissa was all it took to bring about her emotions. Tucking them away in her mind, she shook her head. A slow smile forming on her lips.

"That's my story."

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Lincoln_Lawyer - historically, competitions have been linked to a number of avoidable deaths.

In the event of the death of an entrant, will prizes be awarded to their son or daughter?  And who will oversee this process? 

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Are we limited to one entry per person? I have lived a life of many chapters, each more thrilling than the last. 


I'm standing outside, the rain is pouring down hard, my face is tilted straight upwards, and my mouth is wide open. It's showering down into my lungs at maximum velocity and I'm gargling it up like a fountain. I want to stop, more than anything, but I have to stay strong. This is my penance. Sister Agnes has been greatly disturbed by my actions of late. I can't afford to lose her friendship, some say she is all that stands between the fragile walls of my self-control and a terrible bloodlust that could destroy the foundations of this thing of ours entirely. I'm miserable, but know I have to tough out my absolution, when out of the corner of my eye, who do I see? Zeitgeist. My greatest rival. I can barely stand the sight of him. He's putting on a wig. That's weird. And now he's putting on a habit. Wait a second. There isn't a sexual partner in sight. That's pretty normal, but now I was completely clued in. I feel something rising inside of me, something I can't control. I have to stop it, but it is too powerful. It escapes: "Zeitgeist, your celibate trickery has fooled me for the last time!!!!", I yell, before sighing, normally. All that rainwater for nothing. I turn around and sell some drugs and am quickly promoted to Capo, taking yet another step in my meteoric rise. 

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Yes Eddie, you are limited to one entry, regardless of how many chapters there are in you life, you only have one origin story.


Antonio, if you die you die, i am not a geneticist, so proving who is the son or daughter of whom is a little tricky. Like if some one were to shoot you in the face, and then have an associate impersonate your son or daughter, how would I know whether that person actually carried your DNA?

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