RCN 2020 Worldbuilding (RCN Only)

[Logon]

The premise of this roleplay is simple. You apply for a spot on the map, and if accepted, your country exists as something you can now roleplay as. What happens in your country is your choice - You decide what country you will assume control of, and its future. There are some rules that I will lay in stone, though -

1. No godmodding - No overpowered technology, no roleplaying other people or the casualties of others, etc. If it's details about another nation, ask their permission.
2. The day / month / year will always be the same as it is in real life. No skipping ahead of time - Though you are allowed to reference the past in your posts to establish things.
3. As such, stick to real-world technology. You can have near future tech with my permission.
4. You may not possess nuclear weapons or other certain WMDs unless you contact myself (Logon AKA Nordhagen or Conservative Nations Roleplay).
5. Have fun and be friendly towards other roleplayers. If you have a dispute that neither of you can solve, please contact me on Discord or TG.
6. On celestial bodies, everything is the same as in real life, with the exception of our RL home, Earth. This has been replaced by our much-better conservative world.
7. Wars must be approved by whoever is running the roleplay (The Minister of the Interior), and to prevent numberwanking each side must present basic military information and numbers to myself before a war is approved. This isn't supposed to be a game of Hearts of Iron - Please keep wars and the reasoning behind wars as realistic as possible. Additionally, both sides of a war must be reasonably comfortable with the war. Additionally all peace terms at the conclusion of a war must be agreed upon by all combatants. We're not trying to have a horrid mess after all.
8. Additionally, the outcome of a war or battle should be mutually agreed upon by both sides OOC. If you can't settle it, ask me.

[Attancia]

First

[Blueflarst]

Second

[New Waldensia]

Tag for future ease of locating.

[Attancia]

Three Angevin-Class destroyers swiftly cut through the morning mist through the Straveria sea. They were on a basic training exercise, aiming for South Attancia Island.

A captain stood grimly on the bow of the forward boat. He had a classic, briar wood pipe firmly stuck in his mouth. He leaned over the railings, and stared down into the deep, dark swathes of ocean below him. It was 25 years ago when his father had died, on a boat just like the one he was on. A tragic accident. After hearing the news, Jude McGrouther vowed to fulfil his father's legacy. And so, here he was.

The boats carried on for several hours, as the sun began to climb higher in the sky. A subordinate walked out to address the captain.

"Sir, with all do respect, you are requested inside. Urgently."

"Oh? Why would that be?" replied the captain.

"I wasn't told. I only know it's urgent, sir."

"Alright. Tell them I'll be there in a minute."

"Sir, yes sir."

The subordinate walked back inside, as the captain stared out into the waves. He had done his job. Fulfilled his father's legacy. What should he do now? What did his life have in store for him next? He pondered this, until reality got the better of him and he went inside. In the bridge, the first mate and several other crew members were standing around a table.

"Sir, you're here. We have some trouble to address."

"What would that trouble be?"

"All communications with destroyer A-8080, our sister ship, have been lost. Thanks to the mist, it is impossible to see them. We cannot guess what has happened. Our only hope is that they haven't met any real trouble."

[Nordhagan]

Fenner, Nordhagan.

“Mr. President-General, sir.” said an aide, walking in.

“What’s the bad news this time?’ asked President-General David Hyde.

“It’s shaky in the House again sir. The Confederalists are squawking about the federalization amendment. They’re threatening to pull out of the coalition if you give your support to it. Their Secretaries aren’t too happy and might withdraw from the Cabinet, if that happens...”

“...then I lose my Presidency. Oh yes, I understand.”

The federalization amendment was a proposed amendment by the Federal Union (or Unionist) Party. The latest election, in 2019, had demonstrated the split in the country over the status of its constituent cantons, districts, and Turyan zones. These cantons, of which there were 25, had significant self government, to a degree that they were almost independent. Some of them had begun to assert their independence lately, Diacook had just recently sent its First Minister on a “fact-finding” mission to Libervalley. While such trips were not unheard of, it was very rare for negotiations to proceed on them, but they had with Diacook. Even in the last election, Avalon’s legislature had nearly a fourth made up by the Secessionist Party, which succeeded in getting one of its members put on the Cantonal Council. Dissatisfaction with the corrupt Cantonal governments versus the relatively smooth, efficient, but weak central government had created a flashpoint over the future of the nation.

But this latest election had more or less split the country among five opinions.

Confederalism was the status quo. Confederalists made up somewhere between a fourth of the country. Some had advocated for outright secession. The Confederalists, and some members of the Gold Belt and Industrial Workers parties.

Federalism, a theory subscribed to by about a fourth of the country, advocated for reasonably self governing subdivisions, and was upheld by the Unionists, Hyde’s party. Some members of the Gold Belt and Industrial Workers also were Federalists.

Provincialism, a left wing theory, was held by about a fourth of the country, and called for the transformation of the Cantons into provinces, with mainly administrative powers, versus law making powers. This was supported by the Republican Party.

Unitarianism believed in the total abolition of the Cantons and the centralization of all power into the central government, this theory was held by a fifth of the country, and was upheld by the far right and far left Freedom Party and Coalition for Progress, respectively.

The final theory was Regionalism, only about ten percent of the country voted for Regionalist parties, which tended to want to unify around broad regions of the country, with some self government. The Greater Regionalist Coalition, Gold Belt, Parliamentarian, and Industrial Workers all officially subscribed to Regionalism.

Hyde’s party had formed a coalition with the Confederalists, a mistake looking back to it, but no one had wanted to ally with the left wing Republicans on the canton question. And no one dared listen to the Freedomites, a virtually fascist party.

Of course, the coalition, and the country, was on the verge of collapsing.

[Nordhagan]

Crystal Cove, Tolden County, Kingdom of Toroda, February 6th, 1722

The upset sea crashed against the rocks as the Cardinal pulled alongside the stricken merchant vessel. This island had been a small relief area for a particular Hoxxes merchant’s ships. His ships had left cabins and food stores on the island’s small natural harbor.

Edward Haytham, captain of the Cardinal looked on as the Nordhaganite sailors aboard raised their weapons and fired on the pirates. At this range musket fire was nothing more than an annoyance. Had the muskets been massed, like when Haytham had been a mere sailor in the Torodan Royal Navy in the war against Nordhagan in 1709, it might’ve done some damage. That war was nasty, with the smaller Torodan Kingdom and Attancia fighting against Nordhagan. The Attancians happily abandoned Toroda after undergoing a defeat in a large battle. Then Toroda had lost and had Journ County stolen from it, an entire fifth of its territory given over to Lordis, a puppet of Nordhagan. Haytham, a commerce raider, had been a pirate ever since, retreating into Torodan territory to escape Nordhaganite ships. He’d long been a scourge of the Straveria Sea, and was hunted by the authorities. Well, Nordhaganite authorities.

That particular kingdom had become quite powerful in recent years, and was flexing its naval muscle now that it stretched from the Econic to the Straveria. Originally just consisting of Inanis, Lueur, and Green Ridge, it had now expanded to cover several provinces more. Its king, two generations ago a small power in the land, had, through a series of lucky fights and strategic marriages, had brought Mitka, Sarrish, Glyphidia, and Pacua into his fold. Phraxos, Lordis, Oreelios, Arnica, and Diacook were all puppet kingdoms ruled by close relatives. In a recent war Toroda, Gaxton, and Delegan had nearly lost everything.

Of course those three kingdoms had not gone without a fight. A coalition, the “Coalition of the Sword” had been a going concern for most of the last several years. A flag, black with white sword, had de facto replaced the national flags of the three kingdoms.

Another round of musket snapped Haytham out of his nostalgia. This round was not so ineffective, the pirate next to him clutched a bleeding arm.

“Get him below decks. He’ll be fine if he don’t get infected.” snapped Haytham. He hated seeing his men wounded but what could you do?

“Cap’n, we got hunters from the south!”

Haytham looked over. Indeed, off the distance, were the red sails of pirate hunters.

“Aye. Looks to be a Man O’ War and two frigates.” said Haytham, raising an eyeglass. He continued, “We’ll outrun ‘em the best we can, our girl may not be powerful but she’s faster than them bastards. Pilot! Take us around the cove, everyone else cut ropes!”

Various crewmen stopped pulling in the merchant vessel, whose defenders had started cheering, and cut the ropes. The pilot on deck began manipulating the wheel to go around the west side of the island.

Haytham laughed. Yes, he was losing out on potential loot, which was a disappointment to be sure, but what were the Nordhaganites thinking? They sent out three heavy warships to take down a small and light vessel? He’d outrun them in a second.

Then he turned the curve around the island and saw two brigs and a frigate, flying the Nordhaganite flag.

“Pilot! Hard to port! Full sail!” screamed Haytham.

The responsive pirate vessel shifted course, but it was not enough. The brigs began pursuing, nearly as fast as the Cardinal. One of the brigs fired chain shot, which toppled the upper halves of the masts, slowing the Cardinal to a stop. The two men in the crow’s nest fell out of their basket. One managed to grab and hold onto the ship’s netting, the other was not so quick and hit the wooden deck with a sickening crunch. He did not get back up.

Dead in the water, the crew of the Cardinal prepared to be boarded.

And sure enough, the frigate pulled alongside the brig and threw ropes over her. A horde of Nordhagan Royal Marines, dressed in their gleaming uniforms, identical to their Army counterparts but in white as opposed to green (a color which had earned the Royal Marines the moniker of “the Albinism Corps”).

Haytham drew his sword and stuck a marine who jumped aboard, who went down groaning. The pilot drew his flintlock and fired a shot at close range to marine officer, easily identifiable because of his blue piping. The shot hit and the officer crumpled.

“C’mon you bastards! Kill them all!” he screamed.

Haytahn stabbed another marine and grabbed a musket from a box on the deck. He picked it up and fired point blank at a marine stabbing his pilot. Another one came at him, swinging his sword overhead. Haytham used the musket as a quarterstaff to block the sword and hit the marine with the butt of his rifle in the face, and used the barrel side to hit him again. Thoroughly stunned, the marine could hardly react when Haytham kicked him over the side.

Two more came up behind Haytham, one of which stabbed him in the shoulder. Numbed by anger and adrenaline, Haytham turned around and tried to bayonet a marine, but only succeeded in slicing his stomach open. His colleague was intelligence enough to jump out of the desperate swipe, but not intelligence enough to realize that Haytham immediately thrust the bayonet into his chest. The musket’s bayonet, thoroughly lodged in the chest, was useless to Haytham.

An officer shot Haytham in the stomach, but still fueled by adrenaline, he hardly noticed. The officer came close with a dagger, but was met by Haytham’s fist. As he reeled back, dropping his flintlock, Haytham picked it up and used the handle as a club, shattering the officer’s skull. He smacked another marine in the temple with the handle before stabbing him in the stomach, but was shot in the back by another flintlock. He fell to the floor, but before he could be finished he took out his second and final pistol and shot a marine in the stomach, just before another one stuck him the chest with a sword.

---

Radcliffetowne, Jeremiah County Kingdom of Toroda, February 12th, 1722

Corporal Kenway Rackham stared out at the drizzly evening fog. This small and chilly stone building at the entrance to Radcliffe Cove was technically owned by the town’s militia, which he was technically a gunnery sergeant in. Technicalities aside, the militia was nothing more than an instrument of the pirates that made Radcliffetowne their home. Rackham looked out across the water as he heard thunder. Radcliffetowne was always drizzly, but thunderstorms were a rarity in winter.

Then the gunnery towers in the beachfront and top of the rock spires blocking most of the cove from the ocean exploded. More thunder, cannonfire really, raked the port, sinking numerous ships. Explosions thundered in the town as rounds hit buildings, people, anything and everything. The thundering went on into the night, suddenly stopping at dawn. Boats full of whitecoated marines floated into the cove, past the narrow rock entrance. Luckily, the designers of the town’s defenses prepared for such an event.

Rackham’s gunnery platform, and its twin on the other side of the narrow gap allowing entrance into the cove, were both sighted behind the rocky spires. While this meant that his battery could not fire into the open sea, a job reserved for other batteries, they could fire, with great effect, on anything entering into the cove while remaining virtually immune to offshore guns.

And so he gave the order to fire. Between his battery and their twin, 28 guns were trained on the marines, and they quickly began firing with great effect. One or two shots was enough to stop the troop boats in their track, and any marines that swam ashore came out with wet powder, reduced to sword and dagger.

Some of the whitecoats did just that, but musket fire in the town itself meant that the defenders there were just fine. Bursts of light and smoke cut down the disparate whitecoats, most of whom lay dead or dying on the beach. The first wave had failed.

Hours later, four more waves had crashed against the town’s defenses, but with a combination of cannon and musket fire, the first two had failed. At this point the town’s beach was so full of dead marines it looked to be made of white coats. But the third wave managed a tenuous beachhead on the shorefront. The fourth wave enlarged that same beachhead and took control of part of the towns beachside market. Withering musket fire stalled their advance, but further troop carriers would not be under musket fire the moment they crashed upon the sand. The shelling started up again, mortar fire that began to smash up the town and coastal defenses. The twin of Rackham’s platform, in the distance suffered a hit and one of the central turreted guns collapsed. The whitecoats in the town moved at the same time, freed from the burden of cannonfire and with many of the town’s defenders in cover from shelling, it looked as if the town’s defenses would finally fall.

And then the shelling stopped. Off in the distance thunder-no it was artillery- sounded. But no shells were incoming…

It was at that moment a scout ran into the gunnery platform shouting, “Sergeant! The navy’s got here sir!”

Rackham went up to the observation and looked through the spyglass, and sure enough there was a fleet, much larger than the Nordhaganite task force, made up of Torodan, Gaxtonian, and Deleganian vessels.

For the time being, the town was held.

---

Epilogue

The war was a futile one. Nordhagan, the rising power, allowed with Avalon, destroyed the Coalition of the Sword. Toroda and Gaxton were both annexed as provinces, dissatisfied provinces, but provinces nonetheless. The sword, an emblem of their alliance, would be emblazoned on their provincial flags for centuries to come. Delegan would be annexed into Greater Avalon without much pomp.

The young kingdom had eliminated more traditional rivalries, but now turned its sights northwards, into the Turyan Confederacy and the United Kingdom of Trelyn-Speyer...

[Attancia]

Eddentown, Mainland Attancia.
29th of August, 2020

Tucked away in the industrial port city of Eddentown, there is an area known as Stockker--oh, and what a vile, disgusting, and abhorrent area it is. Historically, it had been a major industrial plant during the Industrial Revolution, but it really hadn't changed since then--with one exception. Stockker, in its "prime", was buzzing with activity. Platoons of hundreds of workers and slaves would've laboured tirelessly for days on end. They were only tireless because they knew nothing else other than tiredom. However, now, it was empty bar several red light domains and prostitution dens--only the lowest scum would reside there now. At a glance, it would be hard to believe that Stockker had ever been active. The windows of the ancient factories were caked with grime, which, complimented by the dust-ridden air, gave the entire area an eerie lime-green glow when the sun shone on it.

Regardless of the negative appeal, there was one particular type of person who was attracted to Stockker--the organised criminal. The area was renowned for housing many organised crime groups, who committed all manner of crimes and specialised in all manner of atrocities...

---

A slim man in a musty tweed suit dashed quietly down one of the many slim alleyways of Stockker. The unpleasant stench of grime hung over him, though he didn't gag. He was used to it. The coal dust on the once-red brick walls rubbed off on his hands, leaving charred marks. He swung round a corner, and arrived at a sturdy spruce door. It looked quite out of place, compared to its crumbling surroundings. He knocked thrice. Knock knock knock.
The door opened to show a most miserable scene. A board, seemingly meant to substitute for a bed, was lying on the floor in the corner of the room. A bedraggled cat sat on it, pitifully licking what appeared to be its paws. A cast-iron chandelier hung from the ceiling, with a measly candle dripping wax on the floor. The chain that it hung from was rusty and cracked. And at the door, a man stood. Well, it would be hard to describe him as a man. The best quantification would probably be "a humanoid maggot". His bloodshot eyes were set far back in his wrinkly head, overshadowed by a most crumbly brow. His ears looked like waffles. His neck was as thin as could be... the only features that could be made out were the various tubes, arteries, and pipes that went down into his body. He raised his hand and made some sort of hand gesture, then, with his unsmiling mouth, made a gurgle that sounded slightly similar to "Come."

The slim man in the tweed walked in and sat on the board, brushing the cat off. The host pulled out a mouldy oak chair, which he set on the other side of the room. Sitting down, a distinct crack came from his knee.
"Damnit, I won't be able to keep doing this blasted routine for long. Ach, m'knee." His accent was broad and northern.
"Oh don't worry bout it. We're nearly done, we are. Check this out." The man in the tweed revealed a briefcase under his jacket. It contrasted with the rest of Stockker--the leather shone as if it had been polished recently by a professional.
"I'll be damned..." The old man remarked.
"You will be damned alright after you've seen what's in this beauty, mate." Replied the holder.

He clicked open the shining gold locks sealing the case. As he opened it, the old man's face lit up with astonishment. "Blimey..."
"Yup." Was his reply.
A crinkled piece of parchment sat encased in glass inside. In bold writing, it was titled ON THE MCGROUTHER OPERATION -- BY G. LAURENCE.
A brief summary of the paper was written in scribbled, inky handwriting.

On the 30th of August, 1995, Captain R. McGrouther set sail on the convoy escorting the maiden voyage of the P.S.S. Siren. The convoy never returned and no wreckage was found. All crew members were presumed dead, though no distress signals were sent. No, actually, no signals of any type were sent. While the Government ceased investigation in the year 1999 due to no evidence of any sort being found, the mystery continued to stay at large. The true nature of the "catastrophe" is included in this document, and so is the documentation of the second accident that shall occur on the 30th of August 2020.

A few lines down, a separate line was written in the same handwriting.

In crime, never judge a book by its cover--don't even judge the book until you've read every page. The smallest details can be hidden in a single line.

[New American Unionist State]

Jack Smith quietly watches the sea churn before him on the deck of his summer home known as the "Blue Marble Retreat". Its that time of year when the storms get harsh and the wind becomes even worse... Back during the war of unification Jack was admrial during the war. As he stands on his deck overlooking the sea he shuts his eyes and his mind is taken back to when. 20 years ago Jack led his navy of the very same costline in a horrible storm. Jack often gets the nightmares about the battle that very day... The visions of the death, the churning waters, and defening booms of missles and big ship guns haunt him... Yet Jack insisted on building his presidental retreat here. A handsom looking man in his late 30's Jack was elected president of the NAU when the war was over. The job is stressful enough. That of course is why he has his vacation retreat. Jack stands there in the storm for around 5 minutes as he lets his emotons take over and lets his stress leave his body. However his peace and quiet is interupted by an advisor who comes up next to Jack. "Mister president sir... We have some news from the war in the west... The city of New boston has fallen". Jack cotomplates this for a minute. The war that the advsior mentioned started 3 months earlier and is more or less a continuation of the War of Unification. Remaining Gurrrlia groups that oposed the Union went into the western Jungles and contiuned their fighting agnist the Union. The war has been a thorn in Jacks side for most of his presidency. Mainly due to the fact that gurriala forces are hard to get rid of. The Union as a whole gets less and less lawful and developed the more west you go in the nation. That is why the good portion of the population lives along the east coast. "I think its time for me to pay a vist to the front. For how dangerous it may be I think it would be for the best..." Jack replies. "Very well sir." the advisor says. "I will run it with the press secretary and your minister of defnece to see if it would be safe for you to go." The advisor then leaves the deack and retreats back into the building. Jack watches him go and then he too after taking one last look at the storm on the water, follows and leaves the deck for the warmth of the inside.

[Npc West Florida]

Provinces of Florida

Florida, the land where fascism and monarchist hold power. It is often called “west Florida”, even though there isn’t a East Florida, but it was called that during the civil war 10 years ago where the Monarchists and fascists fought the communists, which had been gaining a foothold in Florida.

Life in Florida is mostly peaceful, except for the labor camps you go to for jaywalking. Wars in Florida rarely happen, only happening every 10 years or so.

However, a danger was there, the dictator George Patton was sick and dying. He was believed to have Covid-19, of which there had been 50,000 cases of in Florida over the last year.
However he is not without hope, he can still recover from his illness. And being the religious and superstitious man he is, he took out a rabbit ear and ate it raw, then prayed for 2 hours. Will it work? Only time will tell, only time will tell.

[Attancia]

"The Hidden Valley", West Attancia
19th December, 2020

Two flights of HW-XXIIs screamed through the clear, crisp sky at nearly Mach 2. Observing shepherds on the ground could barely make out their tiny silhouettes against the gleaming dome of the atmosphere. The only distinguishable feature was their terrifyingly loud engines, which made the pleasant valleys below tremble with trepidation. Flocks of sheep cowered against each other in attempts to hide from the omnipotent noise.



If their appearance could be comprehended, which it couldn't, considering that they could only be seen as a tiny blur in the lower stratosphere, but if it could, one would notice that they were each carrying two AIM-120 AMRAAMs and two AIM-9 Sidewinders. Internally, two GBU-32 450kg bombs were ready for deployment--the air-to-ground loadout.

Their target? A notoriously high and dangerous mountain known as "The Sentinel". It loomed tall and evil a few kilometres away. Its jet-black peak cast a terrifying shadow over the local landscape. However, despite its dark majesty, it was nothing compared to the military might and diligence of the Attancian Air Force.

The jets began to close in.

"This is Alpha Actual. Flight Alpha form V formation behind me. Requesting Beta Actual follows Alpha 5, and commands his Flight does the same."

"Roger."

"Roger."

"Roger that, Alpha Actual. This is Beta Actual. Flight Beta follow the lines formed by Alpha. Beta 2 follow me, Beta 3 and Beta 4 follow Alpha 4.

"Roger."

The aircraft, by this point, had nearly reached the mountain. Alpha Actual began a dive, with the rest of the Squadron following suite. Their engines screeched as they lowered, the horrific noises echoing and reverberating around the valleys. They maintained their speed, however. The planes shot forward with such precise movements they might only be controlled by the elite Attancian air force. They edged ever closer to the mountain. 2 kilometres. 1.5 kilometres. 1 kilometre. 0.5 kilometres away. The squadron decelerated as the aircraft prepared to drop their massive loads on the dummy targets below. The first jet fired two GBU-32s. Then the second and third. The fourth and fifth. The sixth and seventh. The eighth and the ninth.

The first angel sounded his trumpet, and there came hail and fire mixed with blood, and it was hurled down on the earth. A third of the earth was burned up, a third of the trees were burned up, and all the green grass was burned up.

All that remained of the dummy targets was ash. Smouldering craters lay where they had been.

This was a standard exercise. Nothing out of the ordinary.

[Npc West Florida]

The National News Network

Early this morning, January 1st, the all loving and powerful supreme commander died at the age of 63 of Covid-19. Falling ill on December 18th, Patton had been recovering from his illness until December 30th. However the plight of Covid-19 is not limited to the higher up. Since it’s first known case in Florida, which was February 16th, a estimated 66,000 people had fallen ill, with 57,646 confirmed cases, and 27,643 deaths.
Under former President, now supreme commander, Tony Steele Florida has begun taking more preventive measures against Covid-19. The Government recommends you do the following things as a preventative:

• Wash your hands frequently
• Keep in groups of 6 or less
• Keep at least 6 feet between you and other people
• Don’t eat raw rabbit feet, seriously, it didn’t help Patton

And here is his list of what you are required to do:

• Where a mask
• Quarantine for 18 days after any possible exposer
• Quarantine for 14 days before and after any event or public holiday

His government has also released the following statistics regarding Covid-19, much of it never released before this article.

No. of Estimated cases: 66,000
No. of confirmed cases: 57,646
No. of deaths: 27,643
No. of tests: 84,467
No. of deaths with unknown causes: 69,420

Though as of yet there is no known cure for Covid-19, Supreme Commander Steele has created a task force of the 30 most experienced scientists and doctors in the country to work on a cure and/or vaccine, along with helping to educate the public about Covid 19.
As part of their work, they have requested that we issue a guide they put together listing the symptoms of Covid-19.

• Fever or chills
• Cough
• Shortness of breath or difficulty breathing
• Fatigue
• Muscle or body aches
• Headache
• New loss of taste or smell
• Sore throat
• Congestion or runny nose
• Nausea or vomiting
• Diarrhea
• Trouble breathing
• Persistent pain or pressure in the chest
• New confusion
• Inability to wake or stay awake
• Bluish lips or face

If you experience any of these symptoms, call your doctor and quarantine immediately.