Redistani Life

2026-06-11T04:48:21Z

ToasterRobotor: /* The Truths */

== Fresh Off The Boat ==
[[File:Redistani victory.png|200px|thumb|REAL HISTORY, by Zion]]
If you're a new player, Reborn's setting can be somewhat daunting to get into. With a focus on allowing players to expand the world of Redistan, getting into the game now can be overwhelming as there is simply so much to learn.
You should always ask someone in game to educate you on something if you don't know, especially the wealthy and gulean. They're well educated and often willing to share that knowledge. The tourists, especially.

However, you or others might feel it is somewhat 'immersion' breaking when you don't understand basic facts about the setting. As such, this page serves to introduce some of the commonly known truths of Redistan. This is not an exhaustive list, the only way to know everything is to go out and learn it yourself.

Of course, you can always just jump in and ignore this giant document. If you've got confidence, you'll make it out just fine. '''[[Reborn|Roles can be found here.]]'''

== The Primer ==

In the times before, in the year 063BBC, GREAT LEADER brought upon Redistan a glorious triumph. A society stuck entirely underground for all of recorded history, unable to face the shame of the blue sky above, finally triumphing over nature itself by blocking out the disgusting blue skies above with thick layers of ashen smoke. The very light in the air turned a glorious deep red under The Cloud's watchful gaze. The people of Redistan could finally marvel at the wonders of the surface without distress. This short period of the colonisation of New Redistan was quickly disturbed by the calls of war. Blusnia could not bare to see the very light itself turn red. All out war was waged over the surface. Conscripts were raised. The Redcoat and Bluecoat armies marched on one another, signalling the beginning of the Great War for the Surface, a 16 year period of devastating trench warfare that ended in a crushing defeat for Blusnia, with a 54% battle loss rate (46% win rate), in the fine year 047BBC.
Attrition had taken its toll and Blusnia retreated back to its core territories, leaving the colonists of New Redistan to recuperate their losses from the war.
[[File:makelovenotwar_redsting05.png|390px|thumb|right|Redistani spirit, by Redsting]]

The Interwar period was long and fraught with conflict. Without full mobilisation, border conflicts were constant and unending. Neither side dared do more than probe the other, testing their weakness. Although the constant ash cloud enveloping New Redistan actively shredded the engines of any Blusnian bombers stupid enough to get close, the Blusnian shelling campaigns proved an unending source of stress for the colonists. Despite their constant adversity, the wonders of surface life were simply too many to give up. Real flour, real milk, real sunlight! It all seared their underground-accustomed eyes and skin in the most unimaginably perfect way possible. 44 years passed without major conflict. The death tolls climbed, the colonists lost much, but neither side would mobilise. The patch of uninhabitable land that was the New Redistani/Blusnian border, once a small gash of scar tissue in the land, barely wider than a billboard, had now grown to over 500 metres across. Forgotten soldiers, lost helmets, discarded landmines and failed bombs littered the lands between. The fields served as a museum, showcasing the slow but steady improvements both nations had made to their arsenals over the past four decades. Each side was no longer reliant on ancient surplus, but had instead constructed designs of their own. One contemporary soldier was now equivalent in firepower to ten Great War soldiers.

In 003BBC, Redistan, having now come close to depleting the forests of New Redistan, was sure to face a crisis. Without unending material to burn, The Cloud would surely break up! The horror of the blue sky above would reveal itself once more! With science being too slow to answer, there was only one choice. The disgusting emerald jungles of the filthy wine drinking, snail and cheese eating Greenslanders. The giant Greenslandian trees would be brought back and incinerated. The Redistanis had exploited the wood of the roots for so long. Now they could finally take the trunks. Whatever they couldn't take back, they would raze.

Greensland was rife with vibrant Green foliage, rich Blue skies and clear, deep azure water. It was something out of a horror book. From the Redcoats army, a sizeable division of patriots willing to endure the torture of the blue sky were sent to reclaim the jungle for Redistan. With captured Blusnian tilt-rotors, now finally usable when not in an airspace of pure ash, the loyal 5th & 4th Volunteer Redistani Patriot Divisions made their way onward to a self-assured victory, flanked by napalm dropping Redistani tilt-rotors, flying low enough to trim the hedges. Typically neutral to both, sharing a border with the New Redistanis had made the Greenslanders paranoid. Decades of preparation and training for an invasion by an overwhelming force, as well as begrudging proxy support from the Blusnian government in the form of trainers and munitions, made the Greensland war go from a patriotic stomp to a devastating crawl through thousands of miles of infested jungle, both bug and frog.

The Blusnians knew an opportunity when they saw one. With the most dedicated and loyal of Redistan's troops otherwise occupied, Mr. President O. Obluma realised the border forces could be ground down and the filthy Redistani colonists behind them could finally be put down. Pushing against the frigid North-Eastern New Redistani/Blusnian border, the full mobilisation of the Bluecoats signaled the start of the Cold Hot War. Committed to the defensive, the Redcoats forced hard to move from their posts for very long. Both sides spent the war exchanging the same pieces of land over and over until the border towns and bases they fought so desperately over were little more than fields of snowed in rubble, covered in tattered Red and Blue rags and paint. Three years into the conflict,--the war in Greensland still ongoing, however looking unfortunate for the Greenslanders--, the Redistanis discovered what,--were religion not illegal--, could only be described as a miracle. Redspace, the very fabric of reality itself, or so scientists at the time claimed. Such a finding could put an end to the war just by its own merits. But the Blusnians were a backwards people and it was a well known fact that they would refuse to listen to reason. The Warp Corps were established. The very next day, roughly fifty thousand brave new Volunteers were reported MIA. Their sacrifice, however, was not in vain. Many of the Warp Corps squads had managed to make it to Blue York, the revolting Blusnian Capitol. One such squad had even made it into the Blusnian National House of Government, once a 'grand' house of opera.

President Obluma was famously made to sign a Declaration of Total Surrender, '''WITH A RED PEN'''. He had saved his own life, as well as much of his cabinet's, at the cost of his people's sovereignty. Redistani troops marched for Blusnia as the period of occupation was set to begin. The fighting continued as dissident Blusnian platoons refused life under the Redistani boot and disregarded their leader's orders to surrender. In Greensland, the war continually looked worse and worse for the Greenslanders, as the Blusnian support quickly left and the munitions shipments dried up. Spirits were high in Redistan and New Redistan alike, as the Great Enemy had finally been conquered.

A week and a half later, as the occupying forces got more and more out of control, looting from, destroying the homes of and murdering the Blusnians they had so long considered below them, a debate still fiercely raged throughout the halls of the Crimson Court, the seat of GREAT LEADER in THE CAPITAL. What was to be done with Blusnia? With former President Obluma in captivity, yet alive and a war that was thought to be impossible to win won, the nation's dreams had been achieved. It was a question that didn't need to be answered. No one is quite sure why it hadn't happened sooner, but that very day nuclear warhead equipped missiles erupted from their hiding places in the ground, destined for the now sprawling colonial cities of New Redistan. It is said the first Blusnian missile didn't even detonate, it simply crushed an orphanage. Retaliation was swift, but ultimately pointless. The occupying troops were told to find cover as Redistani warheads came hurtling towards them, but many refused, taking as many Blusnians with them as they could. Those whom could, retreated back underground, to the old country. For most, it was too late. For many, they didn't see the point of returning when they had spent their entire life above ground.

Although New Redistan was lost, the Blusnian menace could once and for all be considered near-extinct. The few that remained lived in Redistani captivity, handed out as party favours to Redistani elite or wheeled out for public torment. Of note was Redhater Childmolestor, the former Vice President of Blusnia, kept on agony support as he faced later health struggles. This was christened the '''Great Triumph''', a momentous occasion signalling the end of Eternal War with Blusnia.

----

[[File:newspaper1.png|240px|thumb|right|Quentin Brasser's first strike]]
This brings us 44 years later, to the time of Reborn. GREAT LEADER lives, ruling Redistan righteously from THE CAPITAL in the western reaches of Redistan. Redistan still stands, but it finds itself in a state of turmoil. Without an external threat such as the Blusnians, a small minority of people find themselves questioning the harshness of GREAT LEADER's rule. These people are collectively known as Separatists. Most simply want to separate themselves from GREAT LEADER, form a Redistan of their own. Others, in the extreme minority, reject their Red identity entirely, pronouncing themselves to be the successors of the Blusnian state. Infighting is common amongst Separatists as they all have differing ideas on what they want to achieve. While small uprisings were common over the past four decades, it is only now that it has become problematic. A large scale uprising was attempted in Eastern Redistan two years ago and although it was extremely bloody for all sides involved, it ultimately failed. Last year, one of the Great Five Cities, Redlin, was reduced to rubble after months of fighting. Although it was thought the destruction in Redlin would have an adverse affect on many Redistani people, pre-existing conceptions about the city made most write it off as 'inevitable'. Regardless, the Separatist threat in Redistan is very much still alive and not to be underestimated.

[[File:newspaper2.png|240px|thumb|right|Brasser strikes again]]
043 PGT marked a new era of Redistani history. The former Redbournian Minister for Sanitation Quentin Brasser made an attempt on Lord Governor-General Redtwo Maroon III's life following a political dispute around sanitation service funding, horrifically disfiguring him in the process. Fleeing the Governor-General's manor, the 'Sewer Monster' (as he has become known) remains at large, abusing his knowledge of the labyrinthine Redbourne sewer system to avoid capture. His act has incited the rise of the so-called Brasserites, separatists who align themselves directly under his supposed cause. It is unknown what degree of control Brasser has over his so-called followers.

Later in the year, despite the best efforts of some of the nation's wisest scalpels, Redhater Childmolestor's agony support failed and he passed away at the age of 85. The nation was faced with a philosophical dilemma: with an upcoming generation who would never know the joy of Kill Blue, what would they look towards?
[[File:newspaper3.png|240px|thumb|right|The Blusnian extinction]]

An answer quickly came. A Redbourne Warmonger Rifle Company gala, held in honour of the Warmonger family, ended in tragedy as (presumed) Brasserites orchestrated a terror bombing. Colonel Michelangelo De Giuli, one of the nation's most tolerated Italians and the hero of the 042 Collective Bargaining Tragedy, perished in the massacre. Tolerant of differing opinions for too long, GREAT LEADER knew there was only one option left. WAR. Never again would a separatist be allowed to sleep soundly. Redlin, never again. The gala, never again. The Blusnians had it in their inhuman nature to torment and kill, and how much they could be blamed for it is a subject of debate, but the Separatist hordes? They've chosen this path. They've volunteered to forsake their humanity. Brasser will be brought to justice.
[[File:newspaper4.png|240px|thumb|right|The Tragedy of Saint De Giuli]]

== The Date ==

Redistani time is measured differently to Earth time. On Earth, time is measured by the position of the sun. Of course, being underground for centuries, the Redistanis have no sun to measure their time by. Blusnians measured their time in a different way which will not be described here.

Time in Redistan runs on a 2 hour 'shift' system. Citizens are expected to be awake for an hour and a half and be productive during this time. They have a half hour to sleep before the next shift begins. It is believed by sleeping in patterns like this that maximum human productivity can be achieved.
There are 10 shifts, in one day. This makes a day 20 hours long. A day is arbitrary to most citizens, it is simply a method of keeping track of time.
Similarly, there are 10 days (sometimes erroneously referred to as shifts) in a week. A week is 200 hours long.

In a year, there are 46 weeks. This number is of great patriotic meaning to the Redistani people. There are 9200 hours in a Redistani year.

This means there are 460 Redistani Days in a year. This is equivalent to 383 Real Life days. A real year is 8770 hours long.

This means that every 20 Redistani years is actually one real life year ahead.

A 20 year old Red is actually 21 in Earth years.

A 40 year old Red is actually 42 in Earth years.

A 60 year old Red is actually 63 in Earth years.

And so on.

'''THE FORMAT:'''

Date format is also unique from ours.

Redistani dates are formatted as following:

YYY/WW/DD(SS)

SS stands for shift. The shift parenthesis part of the date can typically be omitted, as it is not typically relevant.

Alternative formats include

DD(SS)/WW/YYY

and the ever awful

WW(SS)/YYY/DD

Year will usually be accompanied by a signifier of the period.

Currently, there are two. '''PGT''' and '''BBC'''.

PGT is standard time. The current year is 043PGT. Some may just write it as 043 or informally '43.

BBC stands for Before Blusnian Capitulation. It is counted backwards. The year 010BBC is ten years before the fall of Blusnia. It is not correct to write such a date as -010PGT, but some like to do it regardless.

It has been 87 Redistani years since the end of the '''[[Roles|Great War]]'''.

Recently introduced is a naming scheme for every 200 hour week to help Redistanis remember what week they're currently in and what it signifies.<br><br>
<small>
## Red
## Glory
## Imperial Red
## Cordovan
## Blood Red
## Patriot's
## GIGARED
## Hyperred
## THE CAPITAL red
## Light Red
## Dark Red
## Middle Red
## Cardinal Red
## Redlin
## New THE CAPITAL
## Red Brick
## Brick Red
## Megared
## Flag Red
## Redistani Red
## Sentry's Rest
## Red Two
## Rest
## GREAT LEADER
## GREAT LEADER Red
## Redwood
## Not Blue
## Carmine
## Poppy Red
## Red Three
## Soldier
## Salmon
## Fire Engine Red
## Madder
## Superred
## Red Four
## Remembrance
## Scarlet
## Tomato
## Light Red
## Cinnabar
## Garnet
## Red Five
## Victory
## Triumph
## Redistani
</small>

== The Truths ==
''Some factoids/terms to help you settle in.''

- '''GREAT LEADER''': Just as it is THE CAPITAL, not The Capitol or The Capital, his name is GREAT LEADER. It is not a title. It is a name.

- '''Don't Be A Blue''': Don't. They're all dead. You'll be too, if you try to imitate them.

- '''Cars don't exist''': Cars do not exist in Redistani society. The concept has been observed, as the Blusnians enjoyed them, but Redistani transport relies on rail, ocean and foot. If you're not getting around by train/tram/boat, you're walking.
[[File:in_memoriam.png|240px|thumb|right|Saint De Giuli, revered despite his ethnic handicap]]
- '''Real world religions do not exist''': Religions we are familiar with do not exist. The concept of religion outside of putting Red or The State on a pedestal does not exist in the Redistani citizen's mind. Worshipping a God does not happen because there are no historical religions. There are secular Saints, great figures that are cherished due to their contributions to The State, but they are not deified. Trench Jesus was a man of great achievement. Suggesting he was anything more than a great man is disrespecting him, his abilities and his achievements.

- '''Bureaucracy is a lifeline''': Without your paperwork, you do not exist. Hold it tightly.

- '''The Redcoat Army''': Also known as The Redcoats. The former standing army of Redistan during the Great Wars. Disbanded after the Great Triumph, after which all of Redistan's enemies were no longer.

- '''The Peace Corps''': The internal volunteer army of Redistan. Currently the largest branch of the military, serving as both a martial police force and loyalist infantry force against the Separatists. Members of the Peace Corps are known as Peacekeepers.

- '''The Separatists''': A term that loosely groups hundreds of individual schools of thought. Some believe the government isn't cruel enough. Others want independence to form a Red state of their own. Some are just plain insane. They all have one thing in common, though. They all eat babies.

- '''The Italians''': The Post-Italians are not foreigners. They are simply Redistan's only ethnic minority. Although many may consider them lesser, an Italian is still a million times better than a Blusnian, because an Italian is a Redistani all the same.

- '''The Gules''': People with redder shades than you (carmine, vermilion) are paying a subscription fee to a governmental department to be deemed so. They have more money than you, so they are better. Those people are known as gules (or gulean), a patriotic term for a proud depiction of the colour red. The term 'noble' or 'nobility' has fallen out of vogue in Redistan due to a recently uncovered connection to Blusnian patterns of thought.

== The World ==
There are many regions in Redistan. As the Region you were born in is now selectable, it is a gameplay mechanic too. It can be worth coming up with a plausible backstory for your character, as you may be questioned on your home locale should you ever venture through the gate. The 'Great Five' cities were once THE CAPITAL, St. Redersburg (now known as Warmongrad), Redlin, Redbury and Redbourne. ''This is not an exhaustive list of the regions in Redistan, only the ones that appear in the character creator.''

'''THE CAPITAL''' - A sprawling, stacked mess of a city. Endless, heaped slums hug the coasts and ports of the city with some of them, such as the Spaghetto, becoming what is essentially a self contained city. Gargantuan elevators transport cargo and people to the upper levels, housing the hundreds of Ministries and other organisations keeping the necrotic bureaucratic heart of Redistan pumping. Society here is quite stratified, as the various stratas of Gules restrict the upper levels entirely to themselves. The majority of Redistan's Gules live here, enjoying a life of joyful ignorance and endless entertainment. A particularly popular pass time here is show business. Gules love their matinees. ''It would take an entire week to reach THE CAPITAL by boat from where Reborn takes place.''

'''Warmongrad''' - The quietest big city in Redistan, Warmongrad is seen as a giant retirement home more than anything else. This city is located close to THE CAPITAL and as such, has no slums. It evicts all its poor people to the Spaghetto. Most people from here are the children of gules, grew up servicing them or were taken in as apprentices by bored retirees.

'''Greater Western Redistan''' - The region between THE CAPITAL and Redlin. It's a commoner's land, full of smaller port cities. The main exports here are white collar and mining work.

'''Redlin''' - Formerly the industrial heart of Redistan, located smack dab in the middle of the P. Sea. Always seen as a den of villainy and general crime. The Battle of Redlin, the bloodiest battle to occur on core Redistani soil, happened here over the course of 14 weeks in 039PGT, leaving the city in a mostly unusable state. Rather than rebuild it, it was decided that the city would be easily converted into the world's largest prison, perfect for incarcerating all the surrendering forces who miraculously survived the Battle of Redlin. All hail Lord Warden Chadwick Warmonger XIV, first of his name and heir to the Warmonger Rifle Company fortune.

'''Great Central Agricultural Sector''' - A sprawling brick of stacked hydroponic farms. The majority of Great Central City hosts little more than apartment complexes for hydroponic technicians.

'''Sir Redford Fungal Plains''' - Formerly a great fungal forest. Redistan's appetite for warm bungalow interiors exhausted the forests. Now the wood is harvested from the roots of gargantuan trees peaking through the cave roof. The least populated region in the nation.

'''Redbury''' - Known as the Party Capital of the planet and formally split into East and West Redbury for administrative purposes, this city enjoys a strangely warm microclimate and is host to the majority of Redistan's casinos. The hometown of famed gambler Mr. Redz, although mysteriously, he hasn't been seen there in months. Also home to the Colovian Canal, pathway to the North Redistani Sea and the fetid, sparsely populated Northern Tropics.

'''The Redbury Salt Flats''' - Geographically part of the Great Leone Desert. Bureaucratically separate. Dubbed The Boneyard by some, as debts are always settled out on the salt flats.

'''Great Leone Desert''' - An artifical sun of unknown design keeps the Great Leone in eternal sunset. Caveboys were just fantasy, until people began mimicking them. A turbulent region. Birth AND death place of the Higgins Brothers gang.

'''Greater Redbourne Area''' - Once of immense military and strategic value, many of the installations now lay dormant. Many real estate developers see these abandoned bunkers as perfect real estate, for whatever reason. The game is set in this region.

'''Redbourne''' - Known as the Great Red Jewel of the East, Redbourne is a shithole. Tensions are high here as people believe 'the next Battle of Redlin' is about to take place. Peacekeepers patrol the streets in higher numbers than ever and terrorism is on the rise as firebombs become a way of life. Although it is the closest city, it is still a two hour trip by boat from the Bunker, so don't expect any quick visits. With the second largest port and population in the nation, the Redbourne city motto is 'We're Here Too'.

'''New Redistan''' - The surface colonies of Redistan. Destroyed in the Great Triumph. Your character must be 40 or older to come from here. The sky was red. It was beautiful.

File:Newspaper4.png

2026-06-11T04:47:09Z

ToasterRobotor:

File:Newspaper3.png

2026-06-11T04:46:54Z

ToasterRobotor:

File:Newspaper2.png

2026-06-11T04:46:34Z

ToasterRobotor:

Redistani Life

2026-06-11T04:46:20Z

ToasterRobotor: /* The Primer */

== Fresh Off The Boat ==
[[File:Redistani victory.png|200px|thumb|REAL HISTORY, by Zion]]
If you're a new player, Reborn's setting can be somewhat daunting to get into. With a focus on allowing players to expand the world of Redistan, getting into the game now can be overwhelming as there is simply so much to learn.
You should always ask someone in game to educate you on something if you don't know, especially the wealthy and gulean. They're well educated and often willing to share that knowledge. The tourists, especially.

However, you or others might feel it is somewhat 'immersion' breaking when you don't understand basic facts about the setting. As such, this page serves to introduce some of the commonly known truths of Redistan. This is not an exhaustive list, the only way to know everything is to go out and learn it yourself.

Of course, you can always just jump in and ignore this giant document. If you've got confidence, you'll make it out just fine. '''[[Reborn|Roles can be found here.]]'''

== The Primer ==

In the times before, in the year 063BBC, GREAT LEADER brought upon Redistan a glorious triumph. A society stuck entirely underground for all of recorded history, unable to face the shame of the blue sky above, finally triumphing over nature itself by blocking out the disgusting blue skies above with thick layers of ashen smoke. The very light in the air turned a glorious deep red under The Cloud's watchful gaze. The people of Redistan could finally marvel at the wonders of the surface without distress. This short period of the colonisation of New Redistan was quickly disturbed by the calls of war. Blusnia could not bare to see the very light itself turn red. All out war was waged over the surface. Conscripts were raised. The Redcoat and Bluecoat armies marched on one another, signalling the beginning of the Great War for the Surface, a 16 year period of devastating trench warfare that ended in a crushing defeat for Blusnia, with a 54% battle loss rate (46% win rate), in the fine year 047BBC.
Attrition had taken its toll and Blusnia retreated back to its core territories, leaving the colonists of New Redistan to recuperate their losses from the war.
[[File:makelovenotwar_redsting05.png|390px|thumb|right|Redistani spirit, by Redsting]]

The Interwar period was long and fraught with conflict. Without full mobilisation, border conflicts were constant and unending. Neither side dared do more than probe the other, testing their weakness. Although the constant ash cloud enveloping New Redistan actively shredded the engines of any Blusnian bombers stupid enough to get close, the Blusnian shelling campaigns proved an unending source of stress for the colonists. Despite their constant adversity, the wonders of surface life were simply too many to give up. Real flour, real milk, real sunlight! It all seared their underground-accustomed eyes and skin in the most unimaginably perfect way possible. 44 years passed without major conflict. The death tolls climbed, the colonists lost much, but neither side would mobilise. The patch of uninhabitable land that was the New Redistani/Blusnian border, once a small gash of scar tissue in the land, barely wider than a billboard, had now grown to over 500 metres across. Forgotten soldiers, lost helmets, discarded landmines and failed bombs littered the lands between. The fields served as a museum, showcasing the slow but steady improvements both nations had made to their arsenals over the past four decades. Each side was no longer reliant on ancient surplus, but had instead constructed designs of their own. One contemporary soldier was now equivalent in firepower to ten Great War soldiers.

In 003BBC, Redistan, having now come close to depleting the forests of New Redistan, was sure to face a crisis. Without unending material to burn, The Cloud would surely break up! The horror of the blue sky above would reveal itself once more! With science being too slow to answer, there was only one choice. The disgusting emerald jungles of the filthy wine drinking, snail and cheese eating Greenslanders. The giant Greenslandian trees would be brought back and incinerated. The Redistanis had exploited the wood of the roots for so long. Now they could finally take the trunks. Whatever they couldn't take back, they would raze.

Greensland was rife with vibrant Green foliage, rich Blue skies and clear, deep azure water. It was something out of a horror book. From the Redcoats army, a sizeable division of patriots willing to endure the torture of the blue sky were sent to reclaim the jungle for Redistan. With captured Blusnian tilt-rotors, now finally usable when not in an airspace of pure ash, the loyal 5th & 4th Volunteer Redistani Patriot Divisions made their way onward to a self-assured victory, flanked by napalm dropping Redistani tilt-rotors, flying low enough to trim the hedges. Typically neutral to both, sharing a border with the New Redistanis had made the Greenslanders paranoid. Decades of preparation and training for an invasion by an overwhelming force, as well as begrudging proxy support from the Blusnian government in the form of trainers and munitions, made the Greensland war go from a patriotic stomp to a devastating crawl through thousands of miles of infested jungle, both bug and frog.

The Blusnians knew an opportunity when they saw one. With the most dedicated and loyal of Redistan's troops otherwise occupied, Mr. President O. Obluma realised the border forces could be ground down and the filthy Redistani colonists behind them could finally be put down. Pushing against the frigid North-Eastern New Redistani/Blusnian border, the full mobilisation of the Bluecoats signaled the start of the Cold Hot War. Committed to the defensive, the Redcoats forced hard to move from their posts for very long. Both sides spent the war exchanging the same pieces of land over and over until the border towns and bases they fought so desperately over were little more than fields of snowed in rubble, covered in tattered Red and Blue rags and paint. Three years into the conflict,--the war in Greensland still ongoing, however looking unfortunate for the Greenslanders--, the Redistanis discovered what,--were religion not illegal--, could only be described as a miracle. Redspace, the very fabric of reality itself, or so scientists at the time claimed. Such a finding could put an end to the war just by its own merits. But the Blusnians were a backwards people and it was a well known fact that they would refuse to listen to reason. The Warp Corps were established. The very next day, roughly fifty thousand brave new Volunteers were reported MIA. Their sacrifice, however, was not in vain. Many of the Warp Corps squads had managed to make it to Blue York, the revolting Blusnian Capitol. One such squad had even made it into the Blusnian National House of Government, once a 'grand' house of opera.

President Obluma was famously made to sign a Declaration of Total Surrender, '''WITH A RED PEN'''. He had saved his own life, as well as much of his cabinet's, at the cost of his people's sovereignty. Redistani troops marched for Blusnia as the period of occupation was set to begin. The fighting continued as dissident Blusnian platoons refused life under the Redistani boot and disregarded their leader's orders to surrender. In Greensland, the war continually looked worse and worse for the Greenslanders, as the Blusnian support quickly left and the munitions shipments dried up. Spirits were high in Redistan and New Redistan alike, as the Great Enemy had finally been conquered.

A week and a half later, as the occupying forces got more and more out of control, looting from, destroying the homes of and murdering the Blusnians they had so long considered below them, a debate still fiercely raged throughout the halls of the Crimson Court, the seat of GREAT LEADER in THE CAPITAL. What was to be done with Blusnia? With former President Obluma in captivity, yet alive and a war that was thought to be impossible to win won, the nation's dreams had been achieved. It was a question that didn't need to be answered. No one is quite sure why it hadn't happened sooner, but that very day nuclear warhead equipped missiles erupted from their hiding places in the ground, destined for the now sprawling colonial cities of New Redistan. It is said the first Blusnian missile didn't even detonate, it simply crushed an orphanage. Retaliation was swift, but ultimately pointless. The occupying troops were told to find cover as Redistani warheads came hurtling towards them, but many refused, taking as many Blusnians with them as they could. Those whom could, retreated back underground, to the old country. For most, it was too late. For many, they didn't see the point of returning when they had spent their entire life above ground.

Although New Redistan was lost, the Blusnian menace could once and for all be considered near-extinct. The few that remained lived in Redistani captivity, handed out as party favours to Redistani elite or wheeled out for public torment. Of note was Redhater Childmolestor, the former Vice President of Blusnia, kept on agony support as he faced later health struggles. This was christened the '''Great Triumph''', a momentous occasion signalling the end of Eternal War with Blusnia.

----

[[File:newspaper1.png|240px|thumb|right|Quentin Brasser's first strike]]
This brings us 44 years later, to the time of Reborn. GREAT LEADER lives, ruling Redistan righteously from THE CAPITAL in the western reaches of Redistan. Redistan still stands, but it finds itself in a state of turmoil. Without an external threat such as the Blusnians, a small minority of people find themselves questioning the harshness of GREAT LEADER's rule. These people are collectively known as Separatists. Most simply want to separate themselves from GREAT LEADER, form a Redistan of their own. Others, in the extreme minority, reject their Red identity entirely, pronouncing themselves to be the successors of the Blusnian state. Infighting is common amongst Separatists as they all have differing ideas on what they want to achieve. While small uprisings were common over the past four decades, it is only now that it has become problematic. A large scale uprising was attempted in Eastern Redistan two years ago and although it was extremely bloody for all sides involved, it ultimately failed. Last year, one of the Great Five Cities, Redlin, was reduced to rubble after months of fighting. Although it was thought the destruction in Redlin would have an adverse affect on many Redistani people, pre-existing conceptions about the city made most write it off as 'inevitable'. Regardless, the Separatist threat in Redistan is very much still alive and not to be underestimated.

[[File:newspaper2.png|240px|thumb|right|Brasser strikes again]]
043 PGT marked a new era of Redistani history. The former Redbournian Minister for Sanitation Quentin Brasser made an attempt on Lord Governor-General Redtwo Maroon III's life following a political dispute around sanitation service funding, horrifically disfiguring him in the process. Fleeing the Governor-General's manor, the 'Sewer Monster' (as he has become known) remains at large, abusing his knowledge of the labyrinthine Redbourne sewer system to avoid capture. His act has incited the rise of the so-called Brasserites, separatists who align themselves directly under his supposed cause. It is unknown what degree of control Brasser has over his so-called followers.

Later in the year, despite the best efforts of some of the nation's wisest scalpels, Redhater Childmolestor's agony support failed and he passed away at the age of 85. The nation was faced with a philosophical dilemma: with an upcoming generation who would never know the joy of Kill Blue, what would they look towards?
[[File:newspaper3.png|240px|thumb|right|The Blusnian extinction]]

An answer quickly came. A Redbourne Warmonger Rifle Company gala, held in honour of the Warmonger family, ended in tragedy as (presumed) Brasserites orchestrated a terror bombing. Colonel Michelangelo De Giuli, one of the nation's most tolerated Italians and the hero of the 042 Collective Bargaining Tragedy, perished in the massacre. Tolerant of differing opinions for too long, GREAT LEADER knew there was only one option left. WAR. Never again would a separatist be allowed to sleep soundly. Redlin, never again. The gala, never again. The Blusnians had it in their inhuman nature to torment and kill, and how much they could be blamed for it is a subject of debate, but the Separatist hordes? They've chosen this path. They've volunteered to forsake their humanity. Brasser will be brought to justice.
[[File:newspaper4.png|240px|thumb|right|The Tragedy of Saint De Giuli]]

== The Date ==

Redistani time is measured differently to Earth time. On Earth, time is measured by the position of the sun. Of course, being underground for centuries, the Redistanis have no sun to measure their time by. Blusnians measured their time in a different way which will not be described here.

Time in Redistan runs on a 2 hour 'shift' system. Citizens are expected to be awake for an hour and a half and be productive during this time. They have a half hour to sleep before the next shift begins. It is believed by sleeping in patterns like this that maximum human productivity can be achieved.
There are 10 shifts, in one day. This makes a day 20 hours long. A day is arbitrary to most citizens, it is simply a method of keeping track of time.
Similarly, there are 10 days (sometimes erroneously referred to as shifts) in a week. A week is 200 hours long.

In a year, there are 46 weeks. This number is of great patriotic meaning to the Redistani people. There are 9200 hours in a Redistani year.

This means there are 460 Redistani Days in a year. This is equivalent to 383 Real Life days. A real year is 8770 hours long.

This means that every 20 Redistani years is actually one real life year ahead.

A 20 year old Red is actually 21 in Earth years.

A 40 year old Red is actually 42 in Earth years.

A 60 year old Red is actually 63 in Earth years.

And so on.

'''THE FORMAT:'''

Date format is also unique from ours.

Redistani dates are formatted as following:

YYY/WW/DD(SS)

SS stands for shift. The shift parenthesis part of the date can typically be omitted, as it is not typically relevant.

Alternative formats include

DD(SS)/WW/YYY

and the ever awful

WW(SS)/YYY/DD

Year will usually be accompanied by a signifier of the period.

Currently, there are two. '''PGT''' and '''BBC'''.

PGT is standard time. The current year is 043PGT. Some may just write it as 043 or informally '43.

BBC stands for Before Blusnian Capitulation. It is counted backwards. The year 010BBC is ten years before the fall of Blusnia. It is not correct to write such a date as -010PGT, but some like to do it regardless.

It has been 87 Redistani years since the end of the '''[[Roles|Great War]]'''.

Recently introduced is a naming scheme for every 200 hour week to help Redistanis remember what week they're currently in and what it signifies.<br><br>
<small>
## Red
## Glory
## Imperial Red
## Cordovan
## Blood Red
## Patriot's
## GIGARED
## Hyperred
## THE CAPITAL red
## Light Red
## Dark Red
## Middle Red
## Cardinal Red
## Redlin
## New THE CAPITAL
## Red Brick
## Brick Red
## Megared
## Flag Red
## Redistani Red
## Sentry's Rest
## Red Two
## Rest
## GREAT LEADER
## GREAT LEADER Red
## Redwood
## Not Blue
## Carmine
## Poppy Red
## Red Three
## Soldier
## Salmon
## Fire Engine Red
## Madder
## Superred
## Red Four
## Remembrance
## Scarlet
## Tomato
## Light Red
## Cinnabar
## Garnet
## Red Five
## Victory
## Triumph
## Redistani
</small>

== The Truths ==
''Some factoids/terms to help you settle in.''

- '''GREAT LEADER''': Just as it is THE CAPITAL, not The Capitol or The Capital, his name is GREAT LEADER. It is not a title. It is a name.

- '''Don't Be A Blue''': Don't. They're all dead. You'll be too, if you try to imitate them.

- '''Cars don't exist''': Cars do not exist in Redistani society. The concept has been observed, as the Blusnians enjoyed them, but Redistani transport relies on rail, ocean and foot. If you're not getting around by train/tram/boat, you're walking.

- '''Real world religions do not exist''': Religions we are familiar with do not exist. The concept of religion outside of putting Red or The State on a pedestal does not exist in the Redistani citizen's mind. Worshipping a God does not happen because there are no historical religions. There are secular Saints, great figures that are cherished due to their contributions to The State, but they are not deified. Trench Jesus was a man of great achievement. Suggesting he was anything more than a great man is disrespecting him, his abilities and his achievements.

- '''Bureaucracy is a lifeline''': Without your paperwork, you do not exist. Hold it tightly.

- '''The Redcoat Army''': Also known as The Redcoats. The former standing army of Redistan during the Great Wars. Disbanded after the Great Triumph, after which all of Redistan's enemies were no longer.

- '''The Peace Corps''': The internal volunteer army of Redistan. Currently the largest branch of the military, serving as both a martial police force and loyalist infantry force against the Separatists. Members of the Peace Corps are known as Peacekeepers.

- '''The Separatists''': A term that loosely groups hundreds of individual schools of thought. Some believe the government isn't cruel enough. Others want independence to form a Red state of their own. Some are just plain insane. They all have one thing in common, though. They all eat babies.

- '''The Italians''': The Post-Italians are not foreigners. They are simply Redistan's only ethnic minority. Although many may consider them lesser, an Italian is still a million times better than a Blusnian, because an Italian is a Redistani all the same.

- '''The Gules''': People with redder shades than you (carmine, vermilion) are paying a subscription fee to a governmental department to be deemed so. They have more money than you, so they are better. Those people are known as gules (or gulean), a patriotic term for a proud depiction of the colour red. The term 'noble' or 'nobility' has fallen out of vogue in Redistan due to a recently uncovered connection to Blusnian patterns of thought.

== The World ==
There are many regions in Redistan. As the Region you were born in is now selectable, it is a gameplay mechanic too. It can be worth coming up with a plausible backstory for your character, as you may be questioned on your home locale should you ever venture through the gate. The 'Great Five' cities were once THE CAPITAL, St. Redersburg (now known as Warmongrad), Redlin, Redbury and Redbourne. ''This is not an exhaustive list of the regions in Redistan, only the ones that appear in the character creator.''

'''THE CAPITAL''' - A sprawling, stacked mess of a city. Endless, heaped slums hug the coasts and ports of the city with some of them, such as the Spaghetto, becoming what is essentially a self contained city. Gargantuan elevators transport cargo and people to the upper levels, housing the hundreds of Ministries and other organisations keeping the necrotic bureaucratic heart of Redistan pumping. Society here is quite stratified, as the various stratas of Gules restrict the upper levels entirely to themselves. The majority of Redistan's Gules live here, enjoying a life of joyful ignorance and endless entertainment. A particularly popular pass time here is show business. Gules love their matinees. ''It would take an entire week to reach THE CAPITAL by boat from where Reborn takes place.''

'''Warmongrad''' - The quietest big city in Redistan, Warmongrad is seen as a giant retirement home more than anything else. This city is located close to THE CAPITAL and as such, has no slums. It evicts all its poor people to the Spaghetto. Most people from here are the children of gules, grew up servicing them or were taken in as apprentices by bored retirees.

'''Greater Western Redistan''' - The region between THE CAPITAL and Redlin. It's a commoner's land, full of smaller port cities. The main exports here are white collar and mining work.

'''Redlin''' - Formerly the industrial heart of Redistan, located smack dab in the middle of the P. Sea. Always seen as a den of villainy and general crime. The Battle of Redlin, the bloodiest battle to occur on core Redistani soil, happened here over the course of 14 weeks in 039PGT, leaving the city in a mostly unusable state. Rather than rebuild it, it was decided that the city would be easily converted into the world's largest prison, perfect for incarcerating all the surrendering forces who miraculously survived the Battle of Redlin. All hail Lord Warden Chadwick Warmonger XIV, first of his name and heir to the Warmonger Rifle Company fortune.

'''Great Central Agricultural Sector''' - A sprawling brick of stacked hydroponic farms. The majority of Great Central City hosts little more than apartment complexes for hydroponic technicians.

'''Sir Redford Fungal Plains''' - Formerly a great fungal forest. Redistan's appetite for warm bungalow interiors exhausted the forests. Now the wood is harvested from the roots of gargantuan trees peaking through the cave roof. The least populated region in the nation.

'''Redbury''' - Known as the Party Capital of the planet and formally split into East and West Redbury for administrative purposes, this city enjoys a strangely warm microclimate and is host to the majority of Redistan's casinos. The hometown of famed gambler Mr. Redz, although mysteriously, he hasn't been seen there in months. Also home to the Colovian Canal, pathway to the North Redistani Sea and the fetid, sparsely populated Northern Tropics.

'''The Redbury Salt Flats''' - Geographically part of the Great Leone Desert. Bureaucratically separate. Dubbed The Boneyard by some, as debts are always settled out on the salt flats.

'''Great Leone Desert''' - An artifical sun of unknown design keeps the Great Leone in eternal sunset. Caveboys were just fantasy, until people began mimicking them. A turbulent region. Birth AND death place of the Higgins Brothers gang.

'''Greater Redbourne Area''' - Once of immense military and strategic value, many of the installations now lay dormant. Many real estate developers see these abandoned bunkers as perfect real estate, for whatever reason. The game is set in this region.

'''Redbourne''' - Known as the Great Red Jewel of the East, Redbourne is a shithole. Tensions are high here as people believe 'the next Battle of Redlin' is about to take place. Peacekeepers patrol the streets in higher numbers than ever and terrorism is on the rise as firebombs become a way of life. Although it is the closest city, it is still a two hour trip by boat from the Bunker, so don't expect any quick visits. With the second largest port and population in the nation, the Redbourne city motto is 'We're Here Too'.

'''New Redistan''' - The surface colonies of Redistan. Destroyed in the Great Triumph. Your character must be 40 or older to come from here. The sky was red. It was beautiful.

File:Newspaper1.png

2026-06-11T04:19:14Z

ToasterRobotor:

Redistani Life

2026-06-11T04:18:08Z

ToasterRobotor: /* The Primer */

== Fresh Off The Boat ==
[[File:Redistani victory.png|200px|thumb|REAL HISTORY, by Zion]]
If you're a new player, Reborn's setting can be somewhat daunting to get into. With a focus on allowing players to expand the world of Redistan, getting into the game now can be overwhelming as there is simply so much to learn.
You should always ask someone in game to educate you on something if you don't know, especially the wealthy and gulean. They're well educated and often willing to share that knowledge. The tourists, especially.

However, you or others might feel it is somewhat 'immersion' breaking when you don't understand basic facts about the setting. As such, this page serves to introduce some of the commonly known truths of Redistan. This is not an exhaustive list, the only way to know everything is to go out and learn it yourself.

Of course, you can always just jump in and ignore this giant document. If you've got confidence, you'll make it out just fine. '''[[Reborn|Roles can be found here.]]'''

== The Primer ==

In the times before, in the year 063BBC, GREAT LEADER brought upon Redistan a glorious triumph. A society stuck entirely underground for all of recorded history, unable to face the shame of the blue sky above, finally triumphing over nature itself by blocking out the disgusting blue skies above with thick layers of ashen smoke. The very light in the air turned a glorious deep red under The Cloud's watchful gaze. The people of Redistan could finally marvel at the wonders of the surface without distress. This short period of the colonisation of New Redistan was quickly disturbed by the calls of war. Blusnia could not bare to see the very light itself turn red. All out war was waged over the surface. Conscripts were raised. The Redcoat and Bluecoat armies marched on one another, signalling the beginning of the Great War for the Surface, a 16 year period of devastating trench warfare that ended in a crushing defeat for Blusnia, with a 54% battle loss rate (46% win rate), in the fine year 047BBC.
Attrition had taken its toll and Blusnia retreated back to its core territories, leaving the colonists of New Redistan to recuperate their losses from the war.
[[File:makelovenotwar_redsting05.png|390px|thumb|right|Redistani spirit, by Redsting]]

The Interwar period was long and fraught with conflict. Without full mobilisation, border conflicts were constant and unending. Neither side dared do more than probe the other, testing their weakness. Although the constant ash cloud enveloping New Redistan actively shredded the engines of any Blusnian bombers stupid enough to get close, the Blusnian shelling campaigns proved an unending source of stress for the colonists. Despite their constant adversity, the wonders of surface life were simply too many to give up. Real flour, real milk, real sunlight! It all seared their underground-accustomed eyes and skin in the most unimaginably perfect way possible. 44 years passed without major conflict. The death tolls climbed, the colonists lost much, but neither side would mobilise. The patch of uninhabitable land that was the New Redistani/Blusnian border, once a small gash of scar tissue in the land, barely wider than a billboard, had now grown to over 500 metres across. Forgotten soldiers, lost helmets, discarded landmines and failed bombs littered the lands between. The fields served as a museum, showcasing the slow but steady improvements both nations had made to their arsenals over the past four decades. Each side was no longer reliant on ancient surplus, but had instead constructed designs of their own. One contemporary soldier was now equivalent in firepower to ten Great War soldiers.

In 003BBC, Redistan, having now come close to depleting the forests of New Redistan, was sure to face a crisis. Without unending material to burn, The Cloud would surely break up! The horror of the blue sky above would reveal itself once more! With science being too slow to answer, there was only one choice. The disgusting emerald jungles of the filthy wine drinking, snail and cheese eating Greenslanders. The giant Greenslandian trees would be brought back and incinerated. The Redistanis had exploited the wood of the roots for so long. Now they could finally take the trunks. Whatever they couldn't take back, they would raze.

Greensland was rife with vibrant Green foliage, rich Blue skies and clear, deep azure water. It was something out of a horror book. From the Redcoats army, a sizeable division of patriots willing to endure the torture of the blue sky were sent to reclaim the jungle for Redistan. With captured Blusnian tilt-rotors, now finally usable when not in an airspace of pure ash, the loyal 5th & 4th Volunteer Redistani Patriot Divisions made their way onward to a self-assured victory, flanked by napalm dropping Redistani tilt-rotors, flying low enough to trim the hedges. Typically neutral to both, sharing a border with the New Redistanis had made the Greenslanders paranoid. Decades of preparation and training for an invasion by an overwhelming force, as well as begrudging proxy support from the Blusnian government in the form of trainers and munitions, made the Greensland war go from a patriotic stomp to a devastating crawl through thousands of miles of infested jungle, both bug and frog.

The Blusnians knew an opportunity when they saw one. With the most dedicated and loyal of Redistan's troops otherwise occupied, Mr. President O. Obluma realised the border forces could be ground down and the filthy Redistani colonists behind them could finally be put down. Pushing against the frigid North-Eastern New Redistani/Blusnian border, the full mobilisation of the Bluecoats signaled the start of the Cold Hot War. Committed to the defensive, the Redcoats forced hard to move from their posts for very long. Both sides spent the war exchanging the same pieces of land over and over until the border towns and bases they fought so desperately over were little more than fields of snowed in rubble, covered in tattered Red and Blue rags and paint. Three years into the conflict,--the war in Greensland still ongoing, however looking unfortunate for the Greenslanders--, the Redistanis discovered what,--were religion not illegal--, could only be described as a miracle. Redspace, the very fabric of reality itself, or so scientists at the time claimed. Such a finding could put an end to the war just by its own merits. But the Blusnians were a backwards people and it was a well known fact that they would refuse to listen to reason. The Warp Corps were established. The very next day, roughly fifty thousand brave new Volunteers were reported MIA. Their sacrifice, however, was not in vain. Many of the Warp Corps squads had managed to make it to Blue York, the revolting Blusnian Capitol. One such squad had even made it into the Blusnian National House of Government, once a 'grand' house of opera.

President Obluma was famously made to sign a Declaration of Total Surrender, '''WITH A RED PEN'''. He had saved his own life, as well as much of his cabinet's, at the cost of his people's sovereignty. Redistani troops marched for Blusnia as the period of occupation was set to begin. The fighting continued as dissident Blusnian platoons refused life under the Redistani boot and disregarded their leader's orders to surrender. In Greensland, the war continually looked worse and worse for the Greenslanders, as the Blusnian support quickly left and the munitions shipments dried up. Spirits were high in Redistan and New Redistan alike, as the Great Enemy had finally been conquered.

A week and a half later, as the occupying forces got more and more out of control, looting from, destroying the homes of and murdering the Blusnians they had so long considered below them, a debate still fiercely raged throughout the halls of the Crimson Court, the seat of GREAT LEADER in THE CAPITAL. What was to be done with Blusnia? With former President Obluma in captivity, yet alive and a war that was thought to be impossible to win won, the nation's dreams had been achieved. It was a question that didn't need to be answered. No one is quite sure why it hadn't happened sooner, but that very day nuclear warhead equipped missiles erupted from their hiding places in the ground, destined for the now sprawling colonial cities of New Redistan. It is said the first Blusnian missile didn't even detonate, it simply crushed an orphanage. Retaliation was swift, but ultimately pointless. The occupying troops were told to find cover as Redistani warheads came hurtling towards them, but many refused, taking as many Blusnians with them as they could. Those whom could, retreated back underground, to the old country. For most, it was too late. For many, they didn't see the point of returning when they had spent their entire life above ground.

Although New Redistan was lost, the Blusnian menace could once and for all be considered extinct. This was christened the '''Great Triumph''', a momentous occasion signalling the end of Eternal War with Blusnia.

----

[[File:newspaper1.png|390px|thumb|right|Quentin Brasser's first strike]]
This brings us 44 years later, to the time of Reborn. GREAT LEADER lives, ruling Redistan righteously from THE CAPITAL in the western reaches of Redistan. Redistan still stands, but it finds itself in a state of turmoil. Without an external threat such as the Blusnians, a small minority of people find themselves questioning the harshness of GREAT LEADER's rule. These people are collectively known as Separatists. Most simply want to separate themselves from GREAT LEADER, form a Redistan of their own. Others, in the extreme minority, reject their Red identity entirely, pronouncing themselves to be the successors of the Blusnian state. Infighting is common amongst Separatists as they all have differing ideas on what they want to achieve. While small uprisings were common over the past four decades, it is only now that it has become problematic. A large scale uprising was attempted in Eastern Redistan two years ago and although it was extremely bloody for all sides involved, it ultimately failed. Last year, one of the Great Five Cities, Redlin, was reduced to rubble after months of fighting. Although it was thought the destruction in Redlin would have an adverse affect on many Redistani people, pre-existing conceptions about the city made most write it off as 'inevitable'. Regardless, the Separatist threat in Redistan is very much still alive and not to be underestimated.

== The Date ==

Redistani time is measured differently to Earth time. On Earth, time is measured by the position of the sun. Of course, being underground for centuries, the Redistanis have no sun to measure their time by. Blusnians measured their time in a different way which will not be described here.

Time in Redistan runs on a 2 hour 'shift' system. Citizens are expected to be awake for an hour and a half and be productive during this time. They have a half hour to sleep before the next shift begins. It is believed by sleeping in patterns like this that maximum human productivity can be achieved.
There are 10 shifts, in one day. This makes a day 20 hours long. A day is arbitrary to most citizens, it is simply a method of keeping track of time.
Similarly, there are 10 days (sometimes erroneously referred to as shifts) in a week. A week is 200 hours long.

In a year, there are 46 weeks. This number is of great patriotic meaning to the Redistani people. There are 9200 hours in a Redistani year.

This means there are 460 Redistani Days in a year. This is equivalent to 383 Real Life days. A real year is 8770 hours long.

This means that every 20 Redistani years is actually one real life year ahead.

A 20 year old Red is actually 21 in Earth years.

A 40 year old Red is actually 42 in Earth years.

A 60 year old Red is actually 63 in Earth years.

And so on.

'''THE FORMAT:'''

Date format is also unique from ours.

Redistani dates are formatted as following:

YYY/WW/DD(SS)

SS stands for shift. The shift parenthesis part of the date can typically be omitted, as it is not typically relevant.

Alternative formats include

DD(SS)/WW/YYY

and the ever awful

WW(SS)/YYY/DD

Year will usually be accompanied by a signifier of the period.

Currently, there are two. '''PGT''' and '''BBC'''.

PGT is standard time. The current year is 043PGT. Some may just write it as 043 or informally '43.

BBC stands for Before Blusnian Capitulation. It is counted backwards. The year 010BBC is ten years before the fall of Blusnia. It is not correct to write such a date as -010PGT, but some like to do it regardless.

It has been 87 Redistani years since the end of the '''[[Roles|Great War]]'''.

Recently introduced is a naming scheme for every 200 hour week to help Redistanis remember what week they're currently in and what it signifies.<br><br>
<small>
## Red
## Glory
## Imperial Red
## Cordovan
## Blood Red
## Patriot's
## GIGARED
## Hyperred
## THE CAPITAL red
## Light Red
## Dark Red
## Middle Red
## Cardinal Red
## Redlin
## New THE CAPITAL
## Red Brick
## Brick Red
## Megared
## Flag Red
## Redistani Red
## Sentry's Rest
## Red Two
## Rest
## GREAT LEADER
## GREAT LEADER Red
## Redwood
## Not Blue
## Carmine
## Poppy Red
## Red Three
## Soldier
## Salmon
## Fire Engine Red
## Madder
## Superred
## Red Four
## Remembrance
## Scarlet
## Tomato
## Light Red
## Cinnabar
## Garnet
## Red Five
## Victory
## Triumph
## Redistani
</small>

== The Truths ==
''Some factoids/terms to help you settle in.''

- '''GREAT LEADER''': Just as it is THE CAPITAL, not The Capitol or The Capital, his name is GREAT LEADER. It is not a title. It is a name.

- '''Don't Be A Blue''': Don't. They're all dead. You'll be too, if you try to imitate them.

- '''Cars don't exist''': Cars do not exist in Redistani society. The concept has been observed, as the Blusnians enjoyed them, but Redistani transport relies on rail, ocean and foot. If you're not getting around by train/tram/boat, you're walking.

- '''Real world religions do not exist''': Religions we are familiar with do not exist. The concept of religion outside of putting Red or The State on a pedestal does not exist in the Redistani citizen's mind. Worshipping a God does not happen because there are no historical religions. There are secular Saints, great figures that are cherished due to their contributions to The State, but they are not deified. Trench Jesus was a man of great achievement. Suggesting he was anything more than a great man is disrespecting him, his abilities and his achievements.

- '''Bureaucracy is a lifeline''': Without your paperwork, you do not exist. Hold it tightly.

- '''The Redcoat Army''': Also known as The Redcoats. The former standing army of Redistan during the Great Wars. Disbanded after the Great Triumph, after which all of Redistan's enemies were no longer.

- '''The Peace Corps''': The internal volunteer army of Redistan. Currently the largest branch of the military, serving as both a martial police force and loyalist infantry force against the Separatists. Members of the Peace Corps are known as Peacekeepers.

- '''The Separatists''': A term that loosely groups hundreds of individual schools of thought. Some believe the government isn't cruel enough. Others want independence to form a Red state of their own. Some are just plain insane. They all have one thing in common, though. They all eat babies.

- '''The Italians''': The Post-Italians are not foreigners. They are simply Redistan's only ethnic minority. Although many may consider them lesser, an Italian is still a million times better than a Blusnian, because an Italian is a Redistani all the same.

- '''The Gules''': People with redder shades than you (carmine, vermilion) are paying a subscription fee to a governmental department to be deemed so. They have more money than you, so they are better. Those people are known as gules (or gulean), a patriotic term for a proud depiction of the colour red. The term 'noble' or 'nobility' has fallen out of vogue in Redistan due to a recently uncovered connection to Blusnian patterns of thought.

== The World ==
There are many regions in Redistan. As the Region you were born in is now selectable, it is a gameplay mechanic too. It can be worth coming up with a plausible backstory for your character, as you may be questioned on your home locale should you ever venture through the gate. The 'Great Five' cities were once THE CAPITAL, St. Redersburg (now known as Warmongrad), Redlin, Redbury and Redbourne. ''This is not an exhaustive list of the regions in Redistan, only the ones that appear in the character creator.''

'''THE CAPITAL''' - A sprawling, stacked mess of a city. Endless, heaped slums hug the coasts and ports of the city with some of them, such as the Spaghetto, becoming what is essentially a self contained city. Gargantuan elevators transport cargo and people to the upper levels, housing the hundreds of Ministries and other organisations keeping the necrotic bureaucratic heart of Redistan pumping. Society here is quite stratified, as the various stratas of Gules restrict the upper levels entirely to themselves. The majority of Redistan's Gules live here, enjoying a life of joyful ignorance and endless entertainment. A particularly popular pass time here is show business. Gules love their matinees. ''It would take an entire week to reach THE CAPITAL by boat from where Reborn takes place.''

'''Warmongrad''' - The quietest big city in Redistan, Warmongrad is seen as a giant retirement home more than anything else. This city is located close to THE CAPITAL and as such, has no slums. It evicts all its poor people to the Spaghetto. Most people from here are the children of gules, grew up servicing them or were taken in as apprentices by bored retirees.

'''Greater Western Redistan''' - The region between THE CAPITAL and Redlin. It's a commoner's land, full of smaller port cities. The main exports here are white collar and mining work.

'''Redlin''' - Formerly the industrial heart of Redistan, located smack dab in the middle of the P. Sea. Always seen as a den of villainy and general crime. The Battle of Redlin, the bloodiest battle to occur on core Redistani soil, happened here over the course of 14 weeks in 039PGT, leaving the city in a mostly unusable state. Rather than rebuild it, it was decided that the city would be easily converted into the world's largest prison, perfect for incarcerating all the surrendering forces who miraculously survived the Battle of Redlin. All hail Lord Warden Chadwick Warmonger XIV, first of his name and heir to the Warmonger Rifle Company fortune.

'''Great Central Agricultural Sector''' - A sprawling brick of stacked hydroponic farms. The majority of Great Central City hosts little more than apartment complexes for hydroponic technicians.

'''Sir Redford Fungal Plains''' - Formerly a great fungal forest. Redistan's appetite for warm bungalow interiors exhausted the forests. Now the wood is harvested from the roots of gargantuan trees peaking through the cave roof. The least populated region in the nation.

'''Redbury''' - Known as the Party Capital of the planet and formally split into East and West Redbury for administrative purposes, this city enjoys a strangely warm microclimate and is host to the majority of Redistan's casinos. The hometown of famed gambler Mr. Redz, although mysteriously, he hasn't been seen there in months. Also home to the Colovian Canal, pathway to the North Redistani Sea and the fetid, sparsely populated Northern Tropics.

'''The Redbury Salt Flats''' - Geographically part of the Great Leone Desert. Bureaucratically separate. Dubbed The Boneyard by some, as debts are always settled out on the salt flats.

'''Great Leone Desert''' - An artifical sun of unknown design keeps the Great Leone in eternal sunset. Caveboys were just fantasy, until people began mimicking them. A turbulent region. Birth AND death place of the Higgins Brothers gang.

'''Greater Redbourne Area''' - Once of immense military and strategic value, many of the installations now lay dormant. Many real estate developers see these abandoned bunkers as perfect real estate, for whatever reason. The game is set in this region.

'''Redbourne''' - Known as the Great Red Jewel of the East, Redbourne is a shithole. Tensions are high here as people believe 'the next Battle of Redlin' is about to take place. Peacekeepers patrol the streets in higher numbers than ever and terrorism is on the rise as firebombs become a way of life. Although it is the closest city, it is still a two hour trip by boat from the Bunker, so don't expect any quick visits. With the second largest port and population in the nation, the Redbourne city motto is 'We're Here Too'.

'''New Redistan''' - The surface colonies of Redistan. Destroyed in the Great Triumph. Your character must be 40 or older to come from here. The sky was red. It was beautiful.

Reborn Roles

2026-06-11T04:16:14Z

ToasterRobotor: /* Proud Redistanis */

[[File:reborn_hallway.jpg|600px|thumb|A Peacekeeper on Patrol, by Zion]]
==Redistan, my Beloved==
Interstation 12: Reborn is the roleplay focused IS12 codebase, with a noir black comedy atmosphere. Set in a Redistani bunker decades after the 'eternal' Redistani-Blusnian war ended, Reborn focuses more on player agency to develop the world and characterization rather than strictly sticking to 50000 word lore articles. That being said, thanks to the three years of development, it can make it a little daunting to jump in as a new player. '''[[Redistani Life|Click here for a comprehensive document detailing what you should already know as a proud Redistani.]]
'''

==Proud Redistanis==

{| style="width: 80%; ax-width: 120em; border-spacing: 2em; clear: both"
|
{| style="width:100%;margin:0; color: #ffffff; background: #bbb; border: 2px solid #634B4F; text-align: center;"
|-
| style="width: 10%; background: #312629; color: #ffffff; border: 5px solid #634B4F; border-top:0px. " | '''Role'''
| style="width: 5%; background: #312629; color: #ffffff; border: 5px solid #634B4F; border-top:0px. " | '''Slots'''
| style="width: 50%; background: #312629; color: #ffffff; border: 5px solid #634B4F; border-top:0px. " | '''Description'''
| style="width: 40%; background: #312629; color: #ffffff; border: 5px solid #634B4F; border-top:0px. " | '''Notes'''
|-
| colspan="4" style="color: #333; padding:2px; padding-left: 50px; background: #bbaaaa; border-left: 1px solid #bbb; border:3px solid #ddd;text-align: center;" | [[File:overseer_map.png]] '''Redclifeans''' - Roles exclusive to the Redscliff/Redscliffe/Redcliffe/Redcliff Disputed zone, a historically contentious minor Redbourne suburb along the eastern stretches of the Genocide-Redbourne Gardens train line.
|-
| [[File:overseer2.png]]<h3>'''The Overseer'''</h3>
| 1
| Once a shifty accountant with a reputation for embezzling, The Overseer is now the reclusive and enigmatic but ever present mayor of the historic city of Redscliff. It is rumoured that he is the fattest man to have ever existed.
| The Overseer is COMPLETELY IMMOBILE. He relies on his goons and his cameras to see and achieve things throughout the bunker. Double-crossing him is a bad idea, considering that he likely has bluemail on you.
|-
| [[File:underlooker.png]]<h3>'''The Underlooker'''</h3>
| 1
| You're the favourite possession of the Overseer. Supposedly.
| You love nothing more than to lick your lollipop. Anyone who tries to take it away from you has made an enemy for life.
|-
| [[File:goon.png]]<h3>'''The Henchmen'''</h3>
| 4
| You're one of the Overseer's loyal goons, tasked with acting as his hands throughout the city. Twisting arms, planting bugs, trailing people and beating those too stupid to listen to instructions will occupy most of your shifts.
| Travel in groups. Four arms is always stronger than two.
|-
| [[File:sycophant.png]]<h3>'''The Sycophant'''</h3>
| 1
| You're a true believer in the mayor's grand vision for the city of Redcliffe. You've been hired on as his personal assistant, cleaner, cook, secretary, bodyguard and yes-man. He is a wise and great man. You can't think of much you wouldn't do for him.
| You are The Overseer's personal assistant, listener and friend (maybe). You don't have any inherent authority over his henchmen.
|-
| [[File:fuckoffboys.png]]<h3>'''The Fuckoff Boys'''</h3>
| 3 + Leader
| Redcliff's local gang. At best, a nuisance. At worst, a threat.
| I don't like telling my boys to fuck off. They don't deserve that.
|-
|-
| colspan="4" style="color: #333; padding:2px; padding-left: 50px; background: #bbaaaa; border-left: 1px solid #bbb; border:3px solid #ddd;text-align: center;" | [[File:portzee.png]] '''Portzeeans''' - Roles exclusive to the Trade Municipality of Portzee, the dying port town nestled in the Greater Redbourne Coast. Portzee is currently undergoing the Portzee/Free Portzee schism and many roles are in different places than they would be in other maps.
|-
| [[File:commandant.png]]<h3>'''The Commandant'''</h3>
| 1
| Obsessed with old world militaria, the Commandant of Portzee demands nothing more than respect and for the masses to finance his lifestyle. It might not be a real title, but you'd do wise not to bring that up to him.
| As Commandant, your underlings will manage most tasks for you. Adjust the tax rate as you see fit, make pointless announcements and perform corrections where needed, otherwise your time is yours to <s>torture</s> enlighten your residents.
|-
| [[File:consort.png]]<h3>'''Consort'''</h3>
| 1
| You're the Commandant's dear partner. Throw your gule-ness around, you've earned it.
| You have as much authority as the Commandant, given you're not going against them. The filthy poors might not like to listen to you, getting a Peacekeeper's truncheon to the face is a quick fix.
|-
| [[File:scion.png]]<h3>'''Scion'''</h3>
| 2
| You're one of the Commandant and Consort's pride and joy. You're a spoiled brat with far too much power, although you're a weak child with little ability to exercise it.
| Try to abuse your parents goodwill to get what you want. They have plenty to share.
|-
| [[File:lieutenant.png]]<h3>'''Lieutenant'''</h3>
| 2
| Every power hungry idiot needs their loyal clinger-ons, and who better than you two? Whether it was the power, money, or you just genuinely like the Commandant, you're both glad to be of service.
| You might not be that smart, but you're both very loyal. Be sure to always remind the Commandant how great they are and how wise their plans are.
|-
| [[File:servant2.png]]<h3>'''Servant'''</h3>
| 1
| Formerly a prisoner from THE CAPITAL, you found your freedom in indentured servitude for a kindly Gulean family in a town you've never heard of. Try to make something nice of it.
| The Commandant is very kind. Thank The Commandant for the privilege of freedom.
|-
| [[File:stabb.png]]<h3>'''Stabb Alley Gang'''</h3>
| 2 + Leader
| You inhabit the wretched Stabb Alley, named after C. Stabb, inventor of the dual-tipped knife. The Italians are too high brow for you and your buddies. You prefer the simple stickup to the shakedown.
| The leader is not a wildcard. The grunts are. Power in numbers, make sure you stick together. One ganger isn't a threat. Three is.
|-
| [[File:slicers.png]]<h3>'''South Wharf Slicers'''</h3>
| 2 + Leader
| After an argument over the most effective use of Claude Stabb's infamous invention went sour, the Slicers came into existence. Those alley idiots don't know shit.
| Slicers for life. Eeungh!
|-
| colspan="4" style="color: #333; padding:2px; padding-left: 50px; background: #bbaaaa; border-left: 1px solid #ddd; border:3px sloid #ddd;text-align: center;" | [[File:avodant.png]] '''The Gatewatch''' - Good morning inspector. Refuse all Italians entry. Glory to Redistan.
|-
| [[File:advo.png]]<h3>'''[[AAM|Advocatus]]'''</H3>
| 1
| A Bureaucrat from back West, sent to this backwater to assure it doesn't become a den of separatists, occasionally reporting back to senior Advocatii in THE CAPITAL. The Redistani Civil War makes mistakes unacceptable. Do not be afraid to be cruel. Glory to Redistan.
| You have total authority over the checkpoint, your men and nothing more.
|-
| [[File:boothstatue.png]]<h3>'''[[AAM|Inspector]]'''</h3>
| 1
| Giddy volunteers to the A.A.M., encouraged to keep their full attention through the retroactive punishment of their family. Some inspectors are in it for the Patriotism of keeping their country safe from those disgusting Separatists. Others just like to see the look on a child's face as they bar them from getting medical attention inside the bunker. Glory to Redistan.
| Your Advocatus is likely unhappy over their assignment to such a diminutive town. Corruption is widespread this far East for a reason. Use that to your advantage.
|-
| [[File:borderguard.png]]<h3>'''[[AAM|Watchdog]]'''</h3>
| 2
| A grunt of the so-called Gatewatch. Although you may often be made to keep in shape with drills or mop up the floors around the checkpoint, you have plenty of downtime too. If only you got a comfy chair to sit in as well...
| Abandoning your post is liable to get you discharged. Be sure to remind the line with the megaphones what restrictions are in place.
|-
| [[File:postmaster.png]]<h3>'''The Postmaster'''</h3>
| 1
| A local representative of the National Postal Service and head of the local Post Office, responsible for processing and distributing packages for transit through the checkpoint.
| You're not actually part of the A.A.M., the National Postal Service simply falls under their authority and you're in a special section of the Checkpoint. Expect no favours from them.
|-
| [[File:courier.png]]<h3>'''Courier'''</h3>
| 1
| You're the Postmaster's loyal assistant, doing whatever they need done and delivering packages whenever they show up. You've got a radio to keep in contact. Remember: nothing stops the mail.
| You're not him. If you get shot in the head, you'll probably just get mugged and left to die in an alleyway.
|-
|-
| colspan="4" style="color: #333; padding:2px; padding-left: 50px; background: #bbaaaa; border-left: 1px solid #ddd; border:3px sloid #ddd;text-align: center;" | [[File:pkudant.png]] '''The Peacekeepers''' - KEEP THE PEACE, DAMNIT!!!
|-
| [[File:headguard.png]]<h3>'''[[Peace Corps|The Sergeant]]'''</h3>
| 1
| A sergeant, with a small squad of disorganised but (usually) loyal troops at your disposal. Coordinate your Cadets and Peacekeepers well. Your equipment may be outdated, but it is plentiful. A weak sergeant makes for a weak squad.
| Your only goal is to KEEP THE PEACE. Your Peacekeepers shouldn't be starting fights in the slums. Don't be afraid to discipline them when they do something stupid.
|-
| [[File:dispatcher.png]]<h3>'''[[Peace Corps|Dispatcher]]'''</h3>
| 1
| You're the local Corps' dispatcher! You man the front desk in the Precinct, take 54-46 calls and direct Peacekeepers to where they need to go. You might not have any direct authority, but you're a respected member of the team regardless. Maybe.
| This is a roleplay heavy role and you'll typically spend a shift shooting the shit with the other Peacekeepers over the radio. If you don't like talking, find another role.
|-
| [[File:pkguard.png]]<h3>'''[[Peace Corps|Peacekeeper]]'''</h3>
| 4
| You might be schlubby, you might be unfit, but you're here and that's all that really counts. Your main jobs are going to be pest control and abusing what little power you have. You can always make up any charge you like, it's not like whoever you're accusing has a book of laws. Maybe if you suck up enough, the Head Peacekeeper will bother with outfitting you with some nicer gear or perhaps you'll even get that promotion you've been pining for. Make sure to follow his words to a T.
| Be glad you're not back West, fighting Separatists on the front lines.
|-
| [[File:robloxmanface.png]]<h3>'''[[Peace Corps|Cadet]]'''</h3>
| 1
| Merely a child, your tendency to bully others and throw your weight around made you a prime pick for the Peace Corps. You might not be on the front lines, but you're sure to make your country and parents proud.
| While you're more proficient with weapons than most children, you are still rather weak. You make for a strong scout, as well as a keen accompaniment to adult peacekeepers. They're sure to teach you well if you ask.
|-
| [[File:scab.png]]<h3>'''[[Peace Corps|Scab]]'''</h3>
| 2
| You've copped slum duty after fucking up bad and now you have to maintain order in what you're pretty sure is a literal cess pit. Make sure Mr. Redz is happy with the security of his factory, he's sure to hand you a little bonus if you do a good job.
| Power in numbers. Just having your partner nearby is likely to scare most opportunists off.
|-
|-
| colspan="4" style="color: #333; padding:2px; padding-left: 50px; background: #bbaaaa; border-left: 1px solid #ddd; border:3px sloid #ddd;text-align: center;" | [[File:scrungtitioner.png]] '''The Practitioners''' - Let's go practice medicine.
|-
| [[File:hprac.png]]<h3>'''Head Practitioner'''</h3>
| 1
| The head honcho. You have the longest beak, so you are in charge. You might not have ever actually seen a bird, but you know how to lead your flock to glory. Remember, if the power goes out, it's not just the Undertaker they're going to blame.
| Always assume your underlings are incompetent. Demonstrate to them the art of practicing medicine.
|-
|-
| [[File:prac.png]]<h3>'''Practitioner'''</h3>
| 3
| One of the Head Practitioner's flock. Your beak size may vary, but it'll never be bigger than the Head's. You're so dedicated to the art of practicing medicine that you voluntarily had your garments stitched into your skin. Best take a shower before heading out of the clinic.
| Absolutely no beakfighting allowed in the clinic. Try to remember your [[Guide to Medicine|schooling]].
|-
| [[File:apprentice.png]]<h3>'''Apprentice'''</h3>
| 2
| You're a young apprentice to the Birdmen, freshly sent from one of the western Academies. Yet to get a worthy beak of your own, it's up to you to prove yourself and truly take in the words of your superiors. You'll get that beak yet, sonny.
| Schooling is all well and good, but it doesn't compare to practical experience. Do not be afraid to ask your superiors for help.
|-
| [[File:chemist.png]]<h3>'''[[Chemist]]'''</h3>
| 1
| You're a contractor under the Birdmen, not as dedicated to medicine as they are. Too bad they stitched the clothing into your skin anyway. At least you'll be left alone most of the time.
| Chemists are most useful when they spend time making premixed chemical combinations or ship chemicals off to the C.C.M. for profit.
|-
| colspan="4" style="color: #333; padding:2px; padding-left: 50px; background: #bbaaaa; border-left: 1px solid #ddd; border:3px sloid #ddd;text-align: center;" | [[File:scrungissary.png]] '''The Customary and Commercenary Ministry''' - Turn a profit, damn the expense!
|-
| [[File:commissary.png]]<h3>'''Commissariat'''</h3>
| 1
| The economic heart of the bunker, supposedly. You know what things are worth. Never pay full value, you have to turn a profit as well.
| Your men are loyal, as long as you pay them well. As long as there's a profit to be made, ANYTHING is justifiable to the C.C.M..
|-
| [[File:cpusher.png]]<h3>'''Crate Pusher'''</h3>
| 3
| You push crates. You also break legs and kidnap people, if the Commissariat needs it done.
| Work hard. Set goals. Invest. C.C.M. mindset.
|-
| [[File:100warbonds.png]]<h3>'''Cargo Kid'''</h3>
| 2
| You're a young entrepreneur, starting that grind early. Your older colleagues are sure to have some tips for you.
| A great learning role with very little responsibility.
|-
|-
| colspan="4" style="color: #333; padding:2px; padding-left: 50px; background: #bbaaaa; border-left: 1px solid #ddd; border:3px sloid #ddd;text-align: center;" | [[File:redzgus.png]] '''The Factory''' - No union? No worries!
|-
| [[File:mrredz.png]]<h3>'''Mr. Redz'''</h3>
| 1
| You're the fattest fuck in all of the bunker. You won ownership of a factory here in a backroom game and it's turning you a tidy profit. Your Foreman will typically have the factory under control, so feel free to go commiserate with your fellow fatass gules. Always have food at hand. It's always time for a Cheeseburger.
| NO ONE FUCKS WITH MR. REDZ.
|-
| [[File:redzbodyguard.png]]<h3>'''Redz' Bodyguard'''</h3>
| 1
| You're Mr. Redz's Bodyguard. Your job is to guard Mr. Redz. With your body.
| Don't let anyone fuck with Mr. Redz.
|-
| [[File:foreman2.png]]<h3>'''Foreman'''</h3>
| 1
| You're Mr. Redz's trusted assistant. Do whatever he asks of you. This will typically be yelling at his workers to work harder.
| Mr. Redz has a lot of money and you work oh so hard for him. Perhaps a bonus is in order?
|-
| [[File:factory.png]]<h3>'''Factory Worker'''</h3>
| 6
| You're true working class, real brown collar shit. Whittle down the hours until the whistle blows so you can get off shift and blow your meagre paycheck at the Italian's place on cigarettes and pasto.
| Keep a steady pace. Work too fast, you never know what might happen.
|-
| [[File:kidfactory.png]]<h3>'''Child Worker'''</h3>
| 2
| Workers are getting harder to come by in Redistan as more and more people are sent to the front during the Civil War. Thank GREAT LEADER child labour is encouraged for proper childhood development.
| Don't be afraid to ask for help. No one expects anything of you, you're a child!
|-
|-
| colspan="4" style="color: #333; padding:2px; padding-left: 50px; background: #bbaaaa; border-left: 1px solid #ddd; border:3px sloid #ddd;text-align: center;" | [[File:scrungchef.png]] '''The Civillians''' - What, no food?
|-
| [[File:cook.png]]<h3>'''Cook'''</h3>
| 1
| Not quite experienced enough to be a proper chef, you at least know enough to run your own hash house. Cook whatever you like, just don't get too Italian with it, it doesn't mix well with the local palate. Don't give your child tap water.
| Food service has very thin margins. Mark up everything you can. The vending machines are far too expensive to be worth it.
|-
| [[File:asscook.png]]<h3>'''Assistant Cook'''</h3>
| 1
| You're the cook's apprentice. You're not going to do much cooking, but he should be able to teach you the art of crying in the walk-in between orders.
| Cooking is best for visual learners. Pay attention to what the cook does if you want to learn.
|-
| [[File:janitor.png]]<h3>'''Janitor'''</h3>
| 3
| Sweep it up, janny. The bunker is filthy and you control the mops. A clean bunker is an orderly one. You're also responsible for keeping the place powered. Shove whatever you can get your mitts on into the incinerator.
| You have good justification for getting into other people's workplaces. Try not to have sticky fingers.
|-
|-
| [[File:mullen2.png]]<h3>'''Mullen'''</h3>
| 1
| A private dick. This bunker is a festering pit of darkness and hyper realistic blood, angels weeping, dead inside, fucked up shit and thick skin. You get the idea. Try to offer your services, there's sure to be someone who has a case.
| When a bum sees a dick coming, he don't stick around.
|-
| [[File:barber.png]]<h3>'''Barber'''</h3>
| 1
| Hair always grows. People always need haircuts. That's your specialty.
| This is a wildcard role. Make sure to take length into account. Haircuts only go one way.
|-
| [[File:tailor.png]]<h3>'''Haberdasher'''</h3>
| 1
| You never could stand the atmosphere in the big city department stores. It might be a shithole, but there's enough money here to make a decent living making high-end clothing.
| You can adjust people's suits and uniforms to fit them, as well as make new pieces of clothing on your sewing machine. You can design copies of clothing brought to you by using sketch paper.
|-
| [[File:bottega.png]]<h3>'''Proprietor'''</h3>
| 1
| You bring some of that Spaghetto 'charm' to the bunker, running a Post-Italian Bottega, a general corner store selling a little bit of everything.
| You've got a price gun. It lets you scan them on your receipt machine to easily calculate prices. Don't be afraid to mark up, convenience is worth a lot.
|-
| [[File:radiohost.png]]<h3>'''Radio Host'''</h3>
| 1
| You run the local 'talk-show' radio station, blasting anything and everything over the airwaves: live call-in radio, radio plays and novellas, news from far off cities, live discussions and more! You name it - 104.6FM's got it.
| This is an extremely roleplay heavy role. The only limit is your imagination. Your round on the radio is logged and stored in a Discord channel for later viewing!
|-
| [[File:columnist.png]]<h3>'''Columnist'''</h3>
| 1
| You're a local print journalist, writing and distributing newspapers on the happenings around town or beyond. No one ever said the news had to be local, topical or even real.
| You don't have to confine yourself to local news if you don't want to, make something fun up happening in other parts of the nation! Newspapers are stored in a Discord channel for later reading!
|-
| [[File:paperboy.png]]<h3>'''Paperboy'''</h3>
| 1
| You're a typical paperboy, a little kid with a bag full of papers and a head full of self-serving delusions of a picturesque future in journalism. Help the Columnist do whatever it is they're needing you to do. You might be a kid, but you can't be picky about journalists these days.
| Some rounds you'll be hawking papers to passers-by, other rounds you might be investigating leads or even writing papers yourself! Listen to the Columnist, they're the REAL journalist.
|-
|-
| colspan="4" style="color: #333; padding:2px; padding-left: 50px; background: #bbaaaa; border-left: 1px solid #ddd; border:3px sloid #ddd;text-align: center;" | [[File:scrungiminal.png]] '''The Underbelly''' - Woah mama mia cunt
|-
| [[File:capo.png]]<h3>'''Caporegime'''</h3>
| 1
| The head of the local branch of Post-Italian troublemakers. You're here representing your Godfather back West in the Spaghetto. There's a multitude of ways to get things done down here, it's just a matter of picking which one.
| Pure violence is typically a poor choice for the mafia. Try to keep your exploits well thought out and executed. Do not play this role if you're bad at leading people.
|-
| [[File:consulente.png]]<h3>'''Consulente'''</h3>
| 1
| The boss's sleazy second-in-command, your job is to advise the Capo on all things Italian, disseminate orders amongst the men and head up negotiations. After all, you've got a genuine passport and a silver (plated) tongue.
| Try to make friends. Better to be stabbed in the back by someone you know than a stranger.
|-
| [[File:vinny.png]]<h3>'''Vinny'''</h3>
| 1
| The namesake of Vinny's Bar and Grill. A made-man without a crew, Vinny mans the bar (and grill) and acts as a sort of 'fixer' from time to time.
| You're usually the first person in the mafia anyone can talk to. First impressions matter.
|-
| [[File:soldato.png]]<h3>'''Soldato'''</h3>
| 2
| You're a loyal made man of the Scrungelli Family, equipped with your own squad of degenerate associates to lead. Follow the orders of your bosses, make up a few of your own along the way and get paid.
| Jumping straight to violence is a bad idea, you can't exploit dead people. '''This is a leadership role'''. Do NOT play this if you just want to goon/cook smeth all round.
|-
| [[File:soldato.png]]<h3>'''Wiseguy'''</h3>
| 2
| You're a loyal made man of the Scrungelli Family, with the unique benefit of being a Crypto-Italian, the kind of Post-Italian talented at hiding their ethnically challenged true nature. Taking on an assumed identity and a cover job you're not particularly qualified for, you're expected to manage the affairs of La Famiglia where they can't typically reach.
| The best way to make yourself useful is to keep pressure on associates on your side of the board. Other members of the mafia know your true Italian name. You must be loyle to your capo.
|-
| [[File:mafioso.png]]<h3>'''Mafioso'''</h3>
| 4
| You're an aspirant associate. Not yet made, but too ingratiated with the mafia to return to normal work, you're working your way up the ladder until you get made. They ''are'' gonna make you, right?
| Listen to your boss (a soldato) and their bosses. They're made, so they're better than you. You must be loyle to your capo.
|-
| [[File:bocconcino1.png]]<h3>'''Bocconcino'''</h3>
| 1
| The Mafia's very own orphan to boss around. Although you're not Italian, they've accepted you as one of their own.
| You're not Italian, yet. People are far less suspicious of you.
|-
| [[File:quack.png]]<h3>'''Quack'''</h3>
| 1
| Kicked out of the Practitioner's League for reasons that were NOT YOUR FAULT, you service the slums. There's a good living in being a mafia doctor.
| This is hardcore Practitioner. You will struggle for supplies. Practitioners who think they can come on your turf need to be taught a lesson.
|-
| [[File:pawnbroker.png]]<h3>'''Pawnbroker'''</h3>
| 1
| A dealer in things people won't need anymore and a specialist in putting people in literally crippling debt, you run a little pawnshop on the not-so-nice side of town. You've let a strange person operate a meat cannery out of your backroom. Make sure they give you the junk they find.
| You start with a LOT of money and a list of debtors. Couldn't hurt to loan some money out, surely the mafia will help you collect interest? Don't forget to take some collateral.
|-
| [[File:undertaker.png]]<h3>'''Undertaker'''</h3>
| 1
| Disgraced for your obsession with touching the dead and let go from a job you weren't really doing in the first place, you now find work operating a cannery out of the back of the pawn shop, having worked out a little deal with the kindly pawnbroker.
| Give anything you find to the pawnbroker. You only care about meat. Any meat'll do for your cans.
|-
| [[File:wildcard.png]]<h3>'''Wildcard'''</h3>
| >20
| A pool of special roles that you can't play by other means, ranging from Gulean tourists, lonesome Caveboy drifters and mercenaries to more in depth roles like barbers and haberdasherers. Most wildcard roles are not listed on this page.
| Follow your instincts and you will do well.
|-
|}
|}

Reborn Roles

2026-06-11T04:15:13Z

ToasterRobotor: /* Proud Redistanis */

[[File:reborn_hallway.jpg|600px|thumb|A Peacekeeper on Patrol, by Zion]]
==Redistan, my Beloved==
Interstation 12: Reborn is the roleplay focused IS12 codebase, with a noir black comedy atmosphere. Set in a Redistani bunker decades after the 'eternal' Redistani-Blusnian war ended, Reborn focuses more on player agency to develop the world and characterization rather than strictly sticking to 50000 word lore articles. That being said, thanks to the three years of development, it can make it a little daunting to jump in as a new player. '''[[Redistani Life|Click here for a comprehensive document detailing what you should already know as a proud Redistani.]]
'''

==Proud Redistanis==

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{| style="width:100%;margin:0; color: #ffffff; background: #bbb; border: 2px solid #634B4F; text-align: center;"
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| style="width: 10%; background: #312629; color: #ffffff; border: 5px solid #634B4F; border-top:0px. " | '''Role'''
| style="width: 5%; background: #312629; color: #ffffff; border: 5px solid #634B4F; border-top:0px. " | '''Slots'''
| style="width: 50%; background: #312629; color: #ffffff; border: 5px solid #634B4F; border-top:0px. " | '''Description'''
| style="width: 40%; background: #312629; color: #ffffff; border: 5px solid #634B4F; border-top:0px. " | '''Notes'''
|-
| colspan="4" style="color: #333; padding:2px; padding-left: 50px; background: #bbaaaa; border-left: 1px solid #bbb; border:3px solid #ddd;text-align: center;" | [[File:overseer_map.png]] '''Redclifeans''' - Roles exclusive to the Redscliff/Redscliffe/Redcliffe/Redcliff Disputed zone, a historically contentious minor Redbourne suburb along the eastern stretches of the Genocide-Redbourne Gardens train line.
|-
| [[File:overseer2.png]]<h3>'''The Overseer'''</h3>
| 1
| Once a shifty accountant with a reputation for embezzling, The Overseer is now the reclusive and enigmatic but ever present mayor of the historic city of Redscliff. It is rumoured that he is the fattest man to have ever existed.
| The Overseer is COMPLETELY IMMOBILE. He relies on his goons and his cameras to see and achieve things throughout the bunker. Double-crossing him is a bad idea, considering that he likely has bluemail on you.
|-
| [[File:underlooker.png]]<h3>'''The Underlooker'''</h3>
| 1
| You're the favourite possession of the Overseer. Supposedly.
| You love nothing more than to lick your lollipop. Anyone who tries to take it away from you has made an enemy for life.
|-
| [[File:goon.png]]<h3>'''The Henchmen'''</h3>
| 4
| You're one of the Overseer's loyal goons, tasked with acting as his hands throughout the city. Twisting arms, planting bugs, trailing people and beating those too stupid to listen to instructions will occupy most of your shifts.
| Travel in groups. Four arms is always stronger than two.
|-
| [[File:sycophant.png]]<h3>'''The Sycophant'''</h3>
| 1
| You're a true believer in the mayor's grand vision for the city of Redcliffe. You've been hired on as his personal assistant, cleaner, cook, secretary, bodyguard and yes-man. He is a wise and great man. You can't think of much you wouldn't do for him.
| You are The Overseer's personal assistant, listener and friend (maybe). You don't have any inherent authority over his henchmen.
|-
| [[File:fuckoffboys.png]]<h3>'''The Fuckoff Boys'''</h3>
| 3 + Leader
| Redcliff's local gang. At best, a nuisance. At worst, a threat.
| I don't like telling my boys to fuck off. They don't deserve that.
|-
|-
| colspan="4" style="color: #333; padding:2px; padding-left: 50px; background: #bbaaaa; border-left: 1px solid #bbb; border:3px solid #ddd;text-align: center;" | [[File:portzee.png]] '''Portzeeans''' - Roles exclusive to the Trade Municipality of Portzee, the dying port town nestled in the Greater Redbourne Coast. Portzee is currently undergoing the Portzee/Free Portzee schism and many roles are in different places than they would be in other maps.
|-
| [[File:commandant.png]]<h3>'''The Commandant'''</h3>
| 1
| Obsessed with old world militaria, the Commandant of Portzee demands nothing more than respect and for the masses to finance his lifestyle. It might not be a real title, but you'd do wise not to bring that up to him.
| As Commandant, your underlings will manage most tasks for you. Adjust the tax rate as you see fit, make pointless announcements and perform corrections where needed, otherwise your time is yours to <s>torture</s> enlighten your citizens.
|-
| [[File:consort.png]]<h3>'''Consort'''</h3>
| 1
| You're the Commandant's dear partner. Throw your gule-ness around, you've earned it.
| You have as much authority as the Commandant, given you're not going against them. The filthy poors might not like to listen to you, getting a Peacekeeper's truncheon to the face is a quick fix.
|-
| [[File:scion.png]]<h3>'''Scion'''</h3>
| 2
| You're one of the Commandant and Consort's pride and joy. You're a spoiled brat with far too much power, although you're a weak child with little ability to exercise it.
| Try to abuse your parents goodwill to get what you want. They have plenty to share.
|-
| [[File:lieutenant.png]]<h3>'''Lieutenant'''</h3>
| 2
| Every power hungry idiot needs their loyal clinger-ons, and who better than you two? Whether it was the power, money, or you just genuinely like the Commandant, you're both glad to be of service.
| You might not be that smart, but you're both very loyal. Be sure to always remind the Commandant how great they are and how wise their plans are.
|-
| [[File:servant2.png]]<h3>'''Servant'''</h3>
| 1
| Formerly a prisoner from THE CAPITAL, you found your freedom in indentured servitude for a kindly Gulean family in a town you've never heard of. Try to make something nice of it.
| The Commandant is very kind. Thank The Commandant for the privilege of freedom.
|-
| [[File:stabb.png]]<h3>'''Stabb Alley Gang'''</h3>
| 2 + Leader
| You inhabit the wretched Stabb Alley, named after C. Stabb, inventor of the dual-tipped knife. The Italians are too high brow for you and your buddies. You prefer the simple stickup to the shakedown.
| The leader is not a wildcard. The grunts are. Power in numbers, make sure you stick together. One ganger isn't a threat. Three is.
|-
| [[File:slicers.png]]<h3>'''South Wharf Slicers'''</h3>
| 2 + Leader
| After an argument over the most effective use of Claude Stabb's infamous invention went sour, the Slicers came into existence. Those alley idiots don't know shit.
| Slicers for life. Eeungh!
|-
| colspan="4" style="color: #333; padding:2px; padding-left: 50px; background: #bbaaaa; border-left: 1px solid #ddd; border:3px sloid #ddd;text-align: center;" | [[File:avodant.png]] '''The Gatewatch''' - Good morning inspector. Refuse all Italians entry. Glory to Redistan.
|-
| [[File:advo.png]]<h3>'''[[AAM|Advocatus]]'''</H3>
| 1
| A Bureaucrat from back West, sent to this backwater to assure it doesn't become a den of separatists, occasionally reporting back to senior Advocatii in THE CAPITAL. The Redistani Civil War makes mistakes unacceptable. Do not be afraid to be cruel. Glory to Redistan.
| You have total authority over the checkpoint, your men and nothing more.
|-
| [[File:boothstatue.png]]<h3>'''[[AAM|Inspector]]'''</h3>
| 1
| Giddy volunteers to the A.A.M., encouraged to keep their full attention through the retroactive punishment of their family. Some inspectors are in it for the Patriotism of keeping their country safe from those disgusting Separatists. Others just like to see the look on a child's face as they bar them from getting medical attention inside the bunker. Glory to Redistan.
| Your Advocatus is likely unhappy over their assignment to such a diminutive town. Corruption is widespread this far East for a reason. Use that to your advantage.
|-
| [[File:borderguard.png]]<h3>'''[[AAM|Watchdog]]'''</h3>
| 2
| A grunt of the so-called Gatewatch. Although you may often be made to keep in shape with drills or mop up the floors around the checkpoint, you have plenty of downtime too. If only you got a comfy chair to sit in as well...
| Abandoning your post is liable to get you discharged. Be sure to remind the line with the megaphones what restrictions are in place.
|-
| [[File:postmaster.png]]<h3>'''The Postmaster'''</h3>
| 1
| A local representative of the National Postal Service and head of the local Post Office, responsible for processing and distributing packages for transit through the checkpoint.
| You're not actually part of the A.A.M., the National Postal Service simply falls under their authority and you're in a special section of the Checkpoint. Expect no favours from them.
|-
| [[File:courier.png]]<h3>'''Courier'''</h3>
| 1
| You're the Postmaster's loyal assistant, doing whatever they need done and delivering packages whenever they show up. You've got a radio to keep in contact. Remember: nothing stops the mail.
| You're not him. If you get shot in the head, you'll probably just get mugged and left to die in an alleyway.
|-
|-
| colspan="4" style="color: #333; padding:2px; padding-left: 50px; background: #bbaaaa; border-left: 1px solid #ddd; border:3px sloid #ddd;text-align: center;" | [[File:pkudant.png]] '''The Peacekeepers''' - KEEP THE PEACE, DAMNIT!!!
|-
| [[File:headguard.png]]<h3>'''[[Peace Corps|The Sergeant]]'''</h3>
| 1
| A sergeant, with a small squad of disorganised but (usually) loyal troops at your disposal. Coordinate your Cadets and Peacekeepers well. Your equipment may be outdated, but it is plentiful. A weak sergeant makes for a weak squad.
| Your only goal is to KEEP THE PEACE. Your Peacekeepers shouldn't be starting fights in the slums. Don't be afraid to discipline them when they do something stupid.
|-
| [[File:dispatcher.png]]<h3>'''[[Peace Corps|Dispatcher]]'''</h3>
| 1
| You're the local Corps' dispatcher! You man the front desk in the Precinct, take 54-46 calls and direct Peacekeepers to where they need to go. You might not have any direct authority, but you're a respected member of the team regardless. Maybe.
| This is a roleplay heavy role and you'll typically spend a shift shooting the shit with the other Peacekeepers over the radio. If you don't like talking, find another role.
|-
| [[File:pkguard.png]]<h3>'''[[Peace Corps|Peacekeeper]]'''</h3>
| 4
| You might be schlubby, you might be unfit, but you're here and that's all that really counts. Your main jobs are going to be pest control and abusing what little power you have. You can always make up any charge you like, it's not like whoever you're accusing has a book of laws. Maybe if you suck up enough, the Head Peacekeeper will bother with outfitting you with some nicer gear or perhaps you'll even get that promotion you've been pining for. Make sure to follow his words to a T.
| Be glad you're not back West, fighting Separatists on the front lines.
|-
| [[File:robloxmanface.png]]<h3>'''[[Peace Corps|Cadet]]'''</h3>
| 1
| Merely a child, your tendency to bully others and throw your weight around made you a prime pick for the Peace Corps. You might not be on the front lines, but you're sure to make your country and parents proud.
| While you're more proficient with weapons than most children, you are still rather weak. You make for a strong scout, as well as a keen accompaniment to adult peacekeepers. They're sure to teach you well if you ask.
|-
| [[File:scab.png]]<h3>'''[[Peace Corps|Scab]]'''</h3>
| 2
| You've copped slum duty after fucking up bad and now you have to maintain order in what you're pretty sure is a literal cess pit. Make sure Mr. Redz is happy with the security of his factory, he's sure to hand you a little bonus if you do a good job.
| Power in numbers. Just having your partner nearby is likely to scare most opportunists off.
|-
|-
| colspan="4" style="color: #333; padding:2px; padding-left: 50px; background: #bbaaaa; border-left: 1px solid #ddd; border:3px sloid #ddd;text-align: center;" | [[File:scrungtitioner.png]] '''The Practitioners''' - Let's go practice medicine.
|-
| [[File:hprac.png]]<h3>'''Head Practitioner'''</h3>
| 1
| The head honcho. You have the longest beak, so you are in charge. You might not have ever actually seen a bird, but you know how to lead your flock to glory. Remember, if the power goes out, it's not just the Undertaker they're going to blame.
| Always assume your underlings are incompetent. Demonstrate to them the art of practicing medicine.
|-
|-
| [[File:prac.png]]<h3>'''Practitioner'''</h3>
| 3
| One of the Head Practitioner's flock. Your beak size may vary, but it'll never be bigger than the Head's. You're so dedicated to the art of practicing medicine that you voluntarily had your garments stitched into your skin. Best take a shower before heading out of the clinic.
| Absolutely no beakfighting allowed in the clinic. Try to remember your [[Guide to Medicine|schooling]].
|-
| [[File:apprentice.png]]<h3>'''Apprentice'''</h3>
| 2
| You're a young apprentice to the Birdmen, freshly sent from one of the western Academies. Yet to get a worthy beak of your own, it's up to you to prove yourself and truly take in the words of your superiors. You'll get that beak yet, sonny.
| Schooling is all well and good, but it doesn't compare to practical experience. Do not be afraid to ask your superiors for help.
|-
| [[File:chemist.png]]<h3>'''[[Chemist]]'''</h3>
| 1
| You're a contractor under the Birdmen, not as dedicated to medicine as they are. Too bad they stitched the clothing into your skin anyway. At least you'll be left alone most of the time.
| Chemists are most useful when they spend time making premixed chemical combinations or ship chemicals off to the C.C.M. for profit.
|-
| colspan="4" style="color: #333; padding:2px; padding-left: 50px; background: #bbaaaa; border-left: 1px solid #ddd; border:3px sloid #ddd;text-align: center;" | [[File:scrungissary.png]] '''The Customary and Commercenary Ministry''' - Turn a profit, damn the expense!
|-
| [[File:commissary.png]]<h3>'''Commissariat'''</h3>
| 1
| The economic heart of the bunker, supposedly. You know what things are worth. Never pay full value, you have to turn a profit as well.
| Your men are loyal, as long as you pay them well. As long as there's a profit to be made, ANYTHING is justifiable to the C.C.M..
|-
| [[File:cpusher.png]]<h3>'''Crate Pusher'''</h3>
| 3
| You push crates. You also break legs and kidnap people, if the Commissariat needs it done.
| Work hard. Set goals. Invest. C.C.M. mindset.
|-
| [[File:100warbonds.png]]<h3>'''Cargo Kid'''</h3>
| 2
| You're a young entrepreneur, starting that grind early. Your older colleagues are sure to have some tips for you.
| A great learning role with very little responsibility.
|-
|-
| colspan="4" style="color: #333; padding:2px; padding-left: 50px; background: #bbaaaa; border-left: 1px solid #ddd; border:3px sloid #ddd;text-align: center;" | [[File:redzgus.png]] '''The Factory''' - No union? No worries!
|-
| [[File:mrredz.png]]<h3>'''Mr. Redz'''</h3>
| 1
| You're the fattest fuck in all of the bunker. You won ownership of a factory here in a backroom game and it's turning you a tidy profit. Your Foreman will typically have the factory under control, so feel free to go commiserate with your fellow fatass gules. Always have food at hand. It's always time for a Cheeseburger.
| NO ONE FUCKS WITH MR. REDZ.
|-
| [[File:redzbodyguard.png]]<h3>'''Redz' Bodyguard'''</h3>
| 1
| You're Mr. Redz's Bodyguard. Your job is to guard Mr. Redz. With your body.
| Don't let anyone fuck with Mr. Redz.
|-
| [[File:foreman2.png]]<h3>'''Foreman'''</h3>
| 1
| You're Mr. Redz's trusted assistant. Do whatever he asks of you. This will typically be yelling at his workers to work harder.
| Mr. Redz has a lot of money and you work oh so hard for him. Perhaps a bonus is in order?
|-
| [[File:factory.png]]<h3>'''Factory Worker'''</h3>
| 6
| You're true working class, real brown collar shit. Whittle down the hours until the whistle blows so you can get off shift and blow your meagre paycheck at the Italian's place on cigarettes and pasto.
| Keep a steady pace. Work too fast, you never know what might happen.
|-
| [[File:kidfactory.png]]<h3>'''Child Worker'''</h3>
| 2
| Workers are getting harder to come by in Redistan as more and more people are sent to the front during the Civil War. Thank GREAT LEADER child labour is encouraged for proper childhood development.
| Don't be afraid to ask for help. No one expects anything of you, you're a child!
|-
|-
| colspan="4" style="color: #333; padding:2px; padding-left: 50px; background: #bbaaaa; border-left: 1px solid #ddd; border:3px sloid #ddd;text-align: center;" | [[File:scrungchef.png]] '''The Civillians''' - What, no food?
|-
| [[File:cook.png]]<h3>'''Cook'''</h3>
| 1
| Not quite experienced enough to be a proper chef, you at least know enough to run your own hash house. Cook whatever you like, just don't get too Italian with it, it doesn't mix well with the local palate. Don't give your child tap water.
| Food service has very thin margins. Mark up everything you can. The vending machines are far too expensive to be worth it.
|-
| [[File:asscook.png]]<h3>'''Assistant Cook'''</h3>
| 1
| You're the cook's apprentice. You're not going to do much cooking, but he should be able to teach you the art of crying in the walk-in between orders.
| Cooking is best for visual learners. Pay attention to what the cook does if you want to learn.
|-
| [[File:janitor.png]]<h3>'''Janitor'''</h3>
| 3
| Sweep it up, janny. The bunker is filthy and you control the mops. A clean bunker is an orderly one. You're also responsible for keeping the place powered. Shove whatever you can get your mitts on into the incinerator.
| You have good justification for getting into other people's workplaces. Try not to have sticky fingers.
|-
|-
| [[File:mullen2.png]]<h3>'''Mullen'''</h3>
| 1
| A private dick. This bunker is a festering pit of darkness and hyper realistic blood, angels weeping, dead inside, fucked up shit and thick skin. You get the idea. Try to offer your services, there's sure to be someone who has a case.
| When a bum sees a dick coming, he don't stick around.
|-
| [[File:barber.png]]<h3>'''Barber'''</h3>
| 1
| Hair always grows. People always need haircuts. That's your specialty.
| This is a wildcard role. Make sure to take length into account. Haircuts only go one way.
|-
| [[File:tailor.png]]<h3>'''Haberdasher'''</h3>
| 1
| You never could stand the atmosphere in the big city department stores. It might be a shithole, but there's enough money here to make a decent living making high-end clothing.
| You can adjust people's suits and uniforms to fit them, as well as make new pieces of clothing on your sewing machine. You can design copies of clothing brought to you by using sketch paper.
|-
| [[File:bottega.png]]<h3>'''Proprietor'''</h3>
| 1
| You bring some of that Spaghetto 'charm' to the bunker, running a Post-Italian Bottega, a general corner store selling a little bit of everything.
| You've got a price gun. It lets you scan them on your receipt machine to easily calculate prices. Don't be afraid to mark up, convenience is worth a lot.
|-
| [[File:radiohost.png]]<h3>'''Radio Host'''</h3>
| 1
| You run the local 'talk-show' radio station, blasting anything and everything over the airwaves: live call-in radio, radio plays and novellas, news from far off cities, live discussions and more! You name it - 104.6FM's got it.
| This is an extremely roleplay heavy role. The only limit is your imagination. Your round on the radio is logged and stored in a Discord channel for later viewing!
|-
| [[File:columnist.png]]<h3>'''Columnist'''</h3>
| 1
| You're a local print journalist, writing and distributing newspapers on the happenings around town or beyond. No one ever said the news had to be local, topical or even real.
| You don't have to confine yourself to local news if you don't want to, make something fun up happening in other parts of the nation! Newspapers are stored in a Discord channel for later reading!
|-
| [[File:paperboy.png]]<h3>'''Paperboy'''</h3>
| 1
| You're a typical paperboy, a little kid with a bag full of papers and a head full of self-serving delusions of a picturesque future in journalism. Help the Columnist do whatever it is they're needing you to do. You might be a kid, but you can't be picky about journalists these days.
| Some rounds you'll be hawking papers to passers-by, other rounds you might be investigating leads or even writing papers yourself! Listen to the Columnist, they're the REAL journalist.
|-
|-
| colspan="4" style="color: #333; padding:2px; padding-left: 50px; background: #bbaaaa; border-left: 1px solid #ddd; border:3px sloid #ddd;text-align: center;" | [[File:scrungiminal.png]] '''The Underbelly''' - Woah mama mia cunt
|-
| [[File:capo.png]]<h3>'''Caporegime'''</h3>
| 1
| The head of the local branch of Post-Italian troublemakers. You're here representing your Godfather back West in the Spaghetto. There's a multitude of ways to get things done down here, it's just a matter of picking which one.
| Pure violence is typically a poor choice for the mafia. Try to keep your exploits well thought out and executed. Do not play this role if you're bad at leading people.
|-
| [[File:consulente.png]]<h3>'''Consulente'''</h3>
| 1
| The boss's sleazy second-in-command, your job is to advise the Capo on all things Italian, disseminate orders amongst the men and head up negotiations. After all, you've got a genuine passport and a silver (plated) tongue.
| Try to make friends. Better to be stabbed in the back by someone you know than a stranger.
|-
| [[File:vinny.png]]<h3>'''Vinny'''</h3>
| 1
| The namesake of Vinny's Bar and Grill. A made-man without a crew, Vinny mans the bar (and grill) and acts as a sort of 'fixer' from time to time.
| You're usually the first person in the mafia anyone can talk to. First impressions matter.
|-
| [[File:soldato.png]]<h3>'''Soldato'''</h3>
| 2
| You're a loyal made man of the Scrungelli Family, equipped with your own squad of degenerate associates to lead. Follow the orders of your bosses, make up a few of your own along the way and get paid.
| Jumping straight to violence is a bad idea, you can't exploit dead people. '''This is a leadership role'''. Do NOT play this if you just want to goon/cook smeth all round.
|-
| [[File:soldato.png]]<h3>'''Wiseguy'''</h3>
| 2
| You're a loyal made man of the Scrungelli Family, with the unique benefit of being a Crypto-Italian, the kind of Post-Italian talented at hiding their ethnically challenged true nature. Taking on an assumed identity and a cover job you're not particularly qualified for, you're expected to manage the affairs of La Famiglia where they can't typically reach.
| The best way to make yourself useful is to keep pressure on associates on your side of the board. Other members of the mafia know your true Italian name. You must be loyle to your capo.
|-
| [[File:mafioso.png]]<h3>'''Mafioso'''</h3>
| 4
| You're an aspirant associate. Not yet made, but too ingratiated with the mafia to return to normal work, you're working your way up the ladder until you get made. They ''are'' gonna make you, right?
| Listen to your boss (a soldato) and their bosses. They're made, so they're better than you. You must be loyle to your capo.
|-
| [[File:bocconcino1.png]]<h3>'''Bocconcino'''</h3>
| 1
| The Mafia's very own orphan to boss around. Although you're not Italian, they've accepted you as one of their own.
| You're not Italian, yet. People are far less suspicious of you.
|-
| [[File:quack.png]]<h3>'''Quack'''</h3>
| 1
| Kicked out of the Practitioner's League for reasons that were NOT YOUR FAULT, you service the slums. There's a good living in being a mafia doctor.
| This is hardcore Practitioner. You will struggle for supplies. Practitioners who think they can come on your turf need to be taught a lesson.
|-
| [[File:pawnbroker.png]]<h3>'''Pawnbroker'''</h3>
| 1
| A dealer in things people won't need anymore and a specialist in putting people in literally crippling debt, you run a little pawnshop on the not-so-nice side of town. You've let a strange person operate a meat cannery out of your backroom. Make sure they give you the junk they find.
| You start with a LOT of money and a list of debtors. Couldn't hurt to loan some money out, surely the mafia will help you collect interest? Don't forget to take some collateral.
|-
| [[File:undertaker.png]]<h3>'''Undertaker'''</h3>
| 1
| Disgraced for your obsession with touching the dead and let go from a job you weren't really doing in the first place, you now find work operating a cannery out of the back of the pawn shop, having worked out a little deal with the kindly pawnbroker.
| Give anything you find to the pawnbroker. You only care about meat. Any meat'll do for your cans.
|-
| [[File:wildcard.png]]<h3>'''Wildcard'''</h3>
| >20
| A pool of special roles that you can't play by other means, ranging from Gulean tourists, lonesome Caveboy drifters and mercenaries to more in depth roles like barbers and haberdasherers. Most wildcard roles are not listed on this page.
| Follow your instincts and you will do well.
|-
|}
|}

Reborn Roles

2026-06-11T04:14:35Z

ToasterRobotor: /* Proud Redistanis */

[[File:reborn_hallway.jpg|600px|thumb|A Peacekeeper on Patrol, by Zion]]
==Redistan, my Beloved==
Interstation 12: Reborn is the roleplay focused IS12 codebase, with a noir black comedy atmosphere. Set in a Redistani bunker decades after the 'eternal' Redistani-Blusnian war ended, Reborn focuses more on player agency to develop the world and characterization rather than strictly sticking to 50000 word lore articles. That being said, thanks to the three years of development, it can make it a little daunting to jump in as a new player. '''[[Redistani Life|Click here for a comprehensive document detailing what you should already know as a proud Redistani.]]
'''

==Proud Redistanis==

{| style="width: 80%; ax-width: 120em; border-spacing: 2em; clear: both"
|
{| style="width:100%;margin:0; color: #ffffff; background: #bbb; border: 2px solid #634B4F; text-align: center;"
|-
| style="width: 10%; background: #312629; color: #ffffff; border: 5px solid #634B4F; border-top:0px. " | '''Role'''
| style="width: 5%; background: #312629; color: #ffffff; border: 5px solid #634B4F; border-top:0px. " | '''Slots'''
| style="width: 50%; background: #312629; color: #ffffff; border: 5px solid #634B4F; border-top:0px. " | '''Description'''
| style="width: 40%; background: #312629; color: #ffffff; border: 5px solid #634B4F; border-top:0px. " | '''Notes'''
|-
| colspan="4" style="color: #333; padding:2px; padding-left: 50px; background: #bbaaaa; border-left: 1px solid #bbb; border:3px solid #ddd;text-align: center;" | [[File:overseer_map.png]] '''Redclifeans''' - Roles exclusive to the Redscliff/Redscliffe/Redcliffe/Redcliff Disputed zone, a historically contentious minor Redbourne suburb along the eastern stretches of the Genocide-Redbourne Gardens train line.
|-
| [[File:overseer2.png]]<h3>'''The Overseer'''</h3>
| 1
| Once a shifty accountant with a reputation for embezzling, The Overseer is now the reclusive and enigmatic but ever present mayor of the historic city of Redscliff. It is rumoured that he is the fattest man to have ever existed.
| The Overseer is COMPLETELY IMMOBILE. He relies on his goons and his cameras to see and achieve things throughout the bunker. Double-crossing him is a bad idea, considering that he likely has bluemail on you.
|-
| [[File:underlooker.png]]<h3>'''The Underlooker'''</h3>
| 1
| You're the favourite possession of the Overseer. Supposedly.
| You love nothing more than to lick your lollipop. Anyone who tries to take it away from you has made an enemy for life.
|-
| [[File:goon.png]]<h3>'''The Henchmen'''</h3>
| 4
| You're one of the Overseer's loyal goons, tasked with acting as his hands throughout the city. Twisting arms, planting bugs, trailing people and beating those too stupid to listen to instructions will occupy most of your shifts.
| Travel in groups. Four arms is always stronger than two.
|-
| [[File:sycophant.png]]<h3>'''The Sycophant'''</h3>
| 1
| You're a true believer in the mayor's grand vision for the city of Redcliffe. You've been hired on as his personal assistant, cleaner, cook, secretary, bodyguard and yes-man. He is a wise and great man. You can't think of much you wouldn't do for him.
| You are The Overseer's personal assistant, listener and friend (maybe). You don't have any inherent authority over his henchmen.
|-
| [[File:fuckoffboys.png]]<h3>'''The Fuckoff Boys'''</h3>
| 3 + Leader
| Redcliff's local gang. At best, a nuisance. At worst, a threat.
| I don't like telling my boys to fuck off. They don't deserve that.
|-
|-
| colspan="4" style="color: #333; padding:2px; padding-left: 50px; background: #bbaaaa; border-left: 1px solid #bbb; border:3px solid #ddd;text-align: center;" | [[File:portzee.png]] '''Portzeeans''' - Roles exclusive to the Trade Municipality of Portzee, the dying port town nestled in the Greater Redbourne Coast. Portzee is currently undergoing the Portzee/Free Portzee schism and many roles are in different places than they would be in other maps.
|-
| [[File:commandant.png]]<h3>'''The Commandant'''</h3>
| 1
| Obsessed with old world militaria, the Commandant of Portzee demands nothing more than respect and for the masses to finance his lifestyle. It might not be a real title, but you'd do wise not to bring that up to him.
| As Commandant, your underlings will manage most tasks for you. Adjust the tax rate as you see fit, make pointless announcements and perform corrections where needed, otherwise your time is yours to <s>torture</s> enlighten your citizens.
|-
| [[File:consort.png]]<h3>'''Consort'''</h3>
| 1
| You're the Commandant's dear partner. Throw your gule-ness around, you've earned it.
| You have as much authority as the Commandant, given you're not going against them. The filthy poors might not like to listen to you, getting a Peacekeeper's truncheon to the face is a quick fix.
|-
| [[File:scion.png]]<h3>'''Scion'''</h3>
| 2
| You're one of the Commandant and Consort's pride and joy. You're a spoiled brat with far too much power, although you're a weak child with little ability to exercise it.
| Try to abuse your parents goodwill to get what you want. They have plenty to share.
|-
| [[File:lieutenant.png]]<h3>'''Lieutenant'''</h3>
| 2
| Every power hungry idiot needs their loyal clinger-ons, and who better than you two? Whether it was the power, money, or you just genuinely like the Commandant, you're both glad to be of service.
| You might not be that smart, but you're both very loyal. Be sure to always remind the Commandant how great they are and how wise their plans are.
|-
| [[File:servant2.png]]<h3>'''Servant'''</h3>
| 1
| Formerly a prisoner from THE CAPITAL, you found your freedom in indentured servitude for a kindly Gulean family in a town you've never heard of. Try to make something nice of it.
| The Commandant is very kind. Thank The Commandant for the privilege of freedom.
|-
| [[File:stabb.png]]<h3>'''Stabb Alley Gang'''</h3>
| 2 + Leader
| You inhabit the wretched Stabb Alley, named after C. Stabb, inventor of the dual-tipped knife. The Italians are too high brow for you and your buddies. You prefer the simple stickup to the shakedown.
| The leader is not a wildcard. The grunts are. Power in numbers, make sure you stick together. One ganger isn't a threat. Three is.
|-
| [[File:slicers.png]]<h3>'''South Wharf Slicers'''</h3>
| 2 + Leader
| Following an argument over the most effective use of Claude Stabb's infamous invention went sour, the Slicers came into existence. Those alley idiots don't know shit.
| Slicers for life. Eeungh!
|-
| colspan="4" style="color: #333; padding:2px; padding-left: 50px; background: #bbaaaa; border-left: 1px solid #ddd; border:3px sloid #ddd;text-align: center;" | [[File:avodant.png]] '''The Gatewatch''' - Good morning inspector. Refuse all Italians entry. Glory to Redistan.
|-
| [[File:advo.png]]<h3>'''[[AAM|Advocatus]]'''</H3>
| 1
| A Bureaucrat from back West, sent to this backwater to assure it doesn't become a den of separatists, occasionally reporting back to senior Advocatii in THE CAPITAL. The Redistani Civil War makes mistakes unacceptable. Do not be afraid to be cruel. Glory to Redistan.
| You have total authority over the checkpoint, your men and nothing more.
|-
| [[File:boothstatue.png]]<h3>'''[[AAM|Inspector]]'''</h3>
| 1
| Giddy volunteers to the A.A.M., encouraged to keep their full attention through the retroactive punishment of their family. Some inspectors are in it for the Patriotism of keeping their country safe from those disgusting Separatists. Others just like to see the look on a child's face as they bar them from getting medical attention inside the bunker. Glory to Redistan.
| Your Advocatus is likely unhappy over their assignment to such a diminutive town. Corruption is widespread this far East for a reason. Use that to your advantage.
|-
| [[File:borderguard.png]]<h3>'''[[AAM|Watchdog]]'''</h3>
| 2
| A grunt of the so-called Gatewatch. Although you may often be made to keep in shape with drills or mop up the floors around the checkpoint, you have plenty of downtime too. If only you got a comfy chair to sit in as well...
| Abandoning your post is liable to get you discharged. Be sure to remind the line with the megaphones what restrictions are in place.
|-
| [[File:postmaster.png]]<h3>'''The Postmaster'''</h3>
| 1
| A local representative of the National Postal Service and head of the local Post Office, responsible for processing and distributing packages for transit through the checkpoint.
| You're not actually part of the A.A.M., the National Postal Service simply falls under their authority and you're in a special section of the Checkpoint. Expect no favours from them.
|-
| [[File:courier.png]]<h3>'''Courier'''</h3>
| 1
| You're the Postmaster's loyal assistant, doing whatever they need done and delivering packages whenever they show up. You've got a radio to keep in contact. Remember: nothing stops the mail.
| You're not him. If you get shot in the head, you'll probably just get mugged and left to die in an alleyway.
|-
|-
| colspan="4" style="color: #333; padding:2px; padding-left: 50px; background: #bbaaaa; border-left: 1px solid #ddd; border:3px sloid #ddd;text-align: center;" | [[File:pkudant.png]] '''The Peacekeepers''' - KEEP THE PEACE, DAMNIT!!!
|-
| [[File:headguard.png]]<h3>'''[[Peace Corps|The Sergeant]]'''</h3>
| 1
| A sergeant, with a small squad of disorganised but (usually) loyal troops at your disposal. Coordinate your Cadets and Peacekeepers well. Your equipment may be outdated, but it is plentiful. A weak sergeant makes for a weak squad.
| Your only goal is to KEEP THE PEACE. Your Peacekeepers shouldn't be starting fights in the slums. Don't be afraid to discipline them when they do something stupid.
|-
| [[File:dispatcher.png]]<h3>'''[[Peace Corps|Dispatcher]]'''</h3>
| 1
| You're the local Corps' dispatcher! You man the front desk in the Precinct, take 54-46 calls and direct Peacekeepers to where they need to go. You might not have any direct authority, but you're a respected member of the team regardless. Maybe.
| This is a roleplay heavy role and you'll typically spend a shift shooting the shit with the other Peacekeepers over the radio. If you don't like talking, find another role.
|-
| [[File:pkguard.png]]<h3>'''[[Peace Corps|Peacekeeper]]'''</h3>
| 4
| You might be schlubby, you might be unfit, but you're here and that's all that really counts. Your main jobs are going to be pest control and abusing what little power you have. You can always make up any charge you like, it's not like whoever you're accusing has a book of laws. Maybe if you suck up enough, the Head Peacekeeper will bother with outfitting you with some nicer gear or perhaps you'll even get that promotion you've been pining for. Make sure to follow his words to a T.
| Be glad you're not back West, fighting Separatists on the front lines.
|-
| [[File:robloxmanface.png]]<h3>'''[[Peace Corps|Cadet]]'''</h3>
| 1
| Merely a child, your tendency to bully others and throw your weight around made you a prime pick for the Peace Corps. You might not be on the front lines, but you're sure to make your country and parents proud.
| While you're more proficient with weapons than most children, you are still rather weak. You make for a strong scout, as well as a keen accompaniment to adult peacekeepers. They're sure to teach you well if you ask.
|-
| [[File:scab.png]]<h3>'''[[Peace Corps|Scab]]'''</h3>
| 2
| You've copped slum duty after fucking up bad and now you have to maintain order in what you're pretty sure is a literal cess pit. Make sure Mr. Redz is happy with the security of his factory, he's sure to hand you a little bonus if you do a good job.
| Power in numbers. Just having your partner nearby is likely to scare most opportunists off.
|-
|-
| colspan="4" style="color: #333; padding:2px; padding-left: 50px; background: #bbaaaa; border-left: 1px solid #ddd; border:3px sloid #ddd;text-align: center;" | [[File:scrungtitioner.png]] '''The Practitioners''' - Let's go practice medicine.
|-
| [[File:hprac.png]]<h3>'''Head Practitioner'''</h3>
| 1
| The head honcho. You have the longest beak, so you are in charge. You might not have ever actually seen a bird, but you know how to lead your flock to glory. Remember, if the power goes out, it's not just the Undertaker they're going to blame.
| Always assume your underlings are incompetent. Demonstrate to them the art of practicing medicine.
|-
|-
| [[File:prac.png]]<h3>'''Practitioner'''</h3>
| 3
| One of the Head Practitioner's flock. Your beak size may vary, but it'll never be bigger than the Head's. You're so dedicated to the art of practicing medicine that you voluntarily had your garments stitched into your skin. Best take a shower before heading out of the clinic.
| Absolutely no beakfighting allowed in the clinic. Try to remember your [[Guide to Medicine|schooling]].
|-
| [[File:apprentice.png]]<h3>'''Apprentice'''</h3>
| 2
| You're a young apprentice to the Birdmen, freshly sent from one of the western Academies. Yet to get a worthy beak of your own, it's up to you to prove yourself and truly take in the words of your superiors. You'll get that beak yet, sonny.
| Schooling is all well and good, but it doesn't compare to practical experience. Do not be afraid to ask your superiors for help.
|-
| [[File:chemist.png]]<h3>'''[[Chemist]]'''</h3>
| 1
| You're a contractor under the Birdmen, not as dedicated to medicine as they are. Too bad they stitched the clothing into your skin anyway. At least you'll be left alone most of the time.
| Chemists are most useful when they spend time making premixed chemical combinations or ship chemicals off to the C.C.M. for profit.
|-
| colspan="4" style="color: #333; padding:2px; padding-left: 50px; background: #bbaaaa; border-left: 1px solid #ddd; border:3px sloid #ddd;text-align: center;" | [[File:scrungissary.png]] '''The Customary and Commercenary Ministry''' - Turn a profit, damn the expense!
|-
| [[File:commissary.png]]<h3>'''Commissariat'''</h3>
| 1
| The economic heart of the bunker, supposedly. You know what things are worth. Never pay full value, you have to turn a profit as well.
| Your men are loyal, as long as you pay them well. As long as there's a profit to be made, ANYTHING is justifiable to the C.C.M..
|-
| [[File:cpusher.png]]<h3>'''Crate Pusher'''</h3>
| 3
| You push crates. You also break legs and kidnap people, if the Commissariat needs it done.
| Work hard. Set goals. Invest. C.C.M. mindset.
|-
| [[File:100warbonds.png]]<h3>'''Cargo Kid'''</h3>
| 2
| You're a young entrepreneur, starting that grind early. Your older colleagues are sure to have some tips for you.
| A great learning role with very little responsibility.
|-
|-
| colspan="4" style="color: #333; padding:2px; padding-left: 50px; background: #bbaaaa; border-left: 1px solid #ddd; border:3px sloid #ddd;text-align: center;" | [[File:redzgus.png]] '''The Factory''' - No union? No worries!
|-
| [[File:mrredz.png]]<h3>'''Mr. Redz'''</h3>
| 1
| You're the fattest fuck in all of the bunker. You won ownership of a factory here in a backroom game and it's turning you a tidy profit. Your Foreman will typically have the factory under control, so feel free to go commiserate with your fellow fatass gules. Always have food at hand. It's always time for a Cheeseburger.
| NO ONE FUCKS WITH MR. REDZ.
|-
| [[File:redzbodyguard.png]]<h3>'''Redz' Bodyguard'''</h3>
| 1
| You're Mr. Redz's Bodyguard. Your job is to guard Mr. Redz. With your body.
| Don't let anyone fuck with Mr. Redz.
|-
| [[File:foreman2.png]]<h3>'''Foreman'''</h3>
| 1
| You're Mr. Redz's trusted assistant. Do whatever he asks of you. This will typically be yelling at his workers to work harder.
| Mr. Redz has a lot of money and you work oh so hard for him. Perhaps a bonus is in order?
|-
| [[File:factory.png]]<h3>'''Factory Worker'''</h3>
| 6
| You're true working class, real brown collar shit. Whittle down the hours until the whistle blows so you can get off shift and blow your meagre paycheck at the Italian's place on cigarettes and pasto.
| Keep a steady pace. Work too fast, you never know what might happen.
|-
| [[File:kidfactory.png]]<h3>'''Child Worker'''</h3>
| 2
| Workers are getting harder to come by in Redistan as more and more people are sent to the front during the Civil War. Thank GREAT LEADER child labour is encouraged for proper childhood development.
| Don't be afraid to ask for help. No one expects anything of you, you're a child!
|-
|-
| colspan="4" style="color: #333; padding:2px; padding-left: 50px; background: #bbaaaa; border-left: 1px solid #ddd; border:3px sloid #ddd;text-align: center;" | [[File:scrungchef.png]] '''The Civillians''' - What, no food?
|-
| [[File:cook.png]]<h3>'''Cook'''</h3>
| 1
| Not quite experienced enough to be a proper chef, you at least know enough to run your own hash house. Cook whatever you like, just don't get too Italian with it, it doesn't mix well with the local palate. Don't give your child tap water.
| Food service has very thin margins. Mark up everything you can. The vending machines are far too expensive to be worth it.
|-
| [[File:asscook.png]]<h3>'''Assistant Cook'''</h3>
| 1
| You're the cook's apprentice. You're not going to do much cooking, but he should be able to teach you the art of crying in the walk-in between orders.
| Cooking is best for visual learners. Pay attention to what the cook does if you want to learn.
|-
| [[File:janitor.png]]<h3>'''Janitor'''</h3>
| 3
| Sweep it up, janny. The bunker is filthy and you control the mops. A clean bunker is an orderly one. You're also responsible for keeping the place powered. Shove whatever you can get your mitts on into the incinerator.
| You have good justification for getting into other people's workplaces. Try not to have sticky fingers.
|-
|-
| [[File:mullen2.png]]<h3>'''Mullen'''</h3>
| 1
| A private dick. This bunker is a festering pit of darkness and hyper realistic blood, angels weeping, dead inside, fucked up shit and thick skin. You get the idea. Try to offer your services, there's sure to be someone who has a case.
| When a bum sees a dick coming, he don't stick around.
|-
| [[File:barber.png]]<h3>'''Barber'''</h3>
| 1
| Hair always grows. People always need haircuts. That's your specialty.
| This is a wildcard role. Make sure to take length into account. Haircuts only go one way.
|-
| [[File:tailor.png]]<h3>'''Haberdasher'''</h3>
| 1
| You never could stand the atmosphere in the big city department stores. It might be a shithole, but there's enough money here to make a decent living making high-end clothing.
| You can adjust people's suits and uniforms to fit them, as well as make new pieces of clothing on your sewing machine. You can design copies of clothing brought to you by using sketch paper.
|-
| [[File:bottega.png]]<h3>'''Proprietor'''</h3>
| 1
| You bring some of that Spaghetto 'charm' to the bunker, running a Post-Italian Bottega, a general corner store selling a little bit of everything.
| You've got a price gun. It lets you scan them on your receipt machine to easily calculate prices. Don't be afraid to mark up, convenience is worth a lot.
|-
| [[File:radiohost.png]]<h3>'''Radio Host'''</h3>
| 1
| You run the local 'talk-show' radio station, blasting anything and everything over the airwaves: live call-in radio, radio plays and novellas, news from far off cities, live discussions and more! You name it - 104.6FM's got it.
| This is an extremely roleplay heavy role. The only limit is your imagination. Your round on the radio is logged and stored in a Discord channel for later viewing!
|-
| [[File:columnist.png]]<h3>'''Columnist'''</h3>
| 1
| You're a local print journalist, writing and distributing newspapers on the happenings around town or beyond. No one ever said the news had to be local, topical or even real.
| You don't have to confine yourself to local news if you don't want to, make something fun up happening in other parts of the nation! Newspapers are stored in a Discord channel for later reading!
|-
| [[File:paperboy.png]]<h3>'''Paperboy'''</h3>
| 1
| You're a typical paperboy, a little kid with a bag full of papers and a head full of self-serving delusions of a picturesque future in journalism. Help the Columnist do whatever it is they're needing you to do. You might be a kid, but you can't be picky about journalists these days.
| Some rounds you'll be hawking papers to passers-by, other rounds you might be investigating leads or even writing papers yourself! Listen to the Columnist, they're the REAL journalist.
|-
|-
| colspan="4" style="color: #333; padding:2px; padding-left: 50px; background: #bbaaaa; border-left: 1px solid #ddd; border:3px sloid #ddd;text-align: center;" | [[File:scrungiminal.png]] '''The Underbelly''' - Woah mama mia cunt
|-
| [[File:capo.png]]<h3>'''Caporegime'''</h3>
| 1
| The head of the local branch of Post-Italian troublemakers. You're here representing your Godfather back West in the Spaghetto. There's a multitude of ways to get things done down here, it's just a matter of picking which one.
| Pure violence is typically a poor choice for the mafia. Try to keep your exploits well thought out and executed. Do not play this role if you're bad at leading people.
|-
| [[File:consulente.png]]<h3>'''Consulente'''</h3>
| 1
| The boss's sleazy second-in-command, your job is to advise the Capo on all things Italian, disseminate orders amongst the men and head up negotiations. After all, you've got a genuine passport and a silver (plated) tongue.
| Try to make friends. Better to be stabbed in the back by someone you know than a stranger.
|-
| [[File:vinny.png]]<h3>'''Vinny'''</h3>
| 1
| The namesake of Vinny's Bar and Grill. A made-man without a crew, Vinny mans the bar (and grill) and acts as a sort of 'fixer' from time to time.
| You're usually the first person in the mafia anyone can talk to. First impressions matter.
|-
| [[File:soldato.png]]<h3>'''Soldato'''</h3>
| 2
| You're a loyal made man of the Scrungelli Family, equipped with your own squad of degenerate associates to lead. Follow the orders of your bosses, make up a few of your own along the way and get paid.
| Jumping straight to violence is a bad idea, you can't exploit dead people. '''This is a leadership role'''. Do NOT play this if you just want to goon/cook smeth all round.
|-
| [[File:soldato.png]]<h3>'''Wiseguy'''</h3>
| 2
| You're a loyal made man of the Scrungelli Family, with the unique benefit of being a Crypto-Italian, the kind of Post-Italian talented at hiding their ethnically challenged true nature. Taking on an assumed identity and a cover job you're not particularly qualified for, you're expected to manage the affairs of La Famiglia where they can't typically reach.
| The best way to make yourself useful is to keep pressure on associates on your side of the board. Other members of the mafia know your true Italian name. You must be loyle to your capo.
|-
| [[File:mafioso.png]]<h3>'''Mafioso'''</h3>
| 4
| You're an aspirant associate. Not yet made, but too ingratiated with the mafia to return to normal work, you're working your way up the ladder until you get made. They ''are'' gonna make you, right?
| Listen to your boss (a soldato) and their bosses. They're made, so they're better than you. You must be loyle to your capo.
|-
| [[File:bocconcino1.png]]<h3>'''Bocconcino'''</h3>
| 1
| The Mafia's very own orphan to boss around. Although you're not Italian, they've accepted you as one of their own.
| You're not Italian, yet. People are far less suspicious of you.
|-
| [[File:quack.png]]<h3>'''Quack'''</h3>
| 1
| Kicked out of the Practitioner's League for reasons that were NOT YOUR FAULT, you service the slums. There's a good living in being a mafia doctor.
| This is hardcore Practitioner. You will struggle for supplies. Practitioners who think they can come on your turf need to be taught a lesson.
|-
| [[File:pawnbroker.png]]<h3>'''Pawnbroker'''</h3>
| 1
| A dealer in things people won't need anymore and a specialist in putting people in literally crippling debt, you run a little pawnshop on the not-so-nice side of town. You've let a strange person operate a meat cannery out of your backroom. Make sure they give you the junk they find.
| You start with a LOT of money and a list of debtors. Couldn't hurt to loan some money out, surely the mafia will help you collect interest? Don't forget to take some collateral.
|-
| [[File:undertaker.png]]<h3>'''Undertaker'''</h3>
| 1
| Disgraced for your obsession with touching the dead and let go from a job you weren't really doing in the first place, you now find work operating a cannery out of the back of the pawn shop, having worked out a little deal with the kindly pawnbroker.
| Give anything you find to the pawnbroker. You only care about meat. Any meat'll do for your cans.
|-
| [[File:wildcard.png]]<h3>'''Wildcard'''</h3>
| >20
| A pool of special roles that you can't play by other means, ranging from Gulean tourists, lonesome Caveboy drifters and mercenaries to more in depth roles like barbers and haberdasherers. Most wildcard roles are not listed on this page.
| Follow your instincts and you will do well.
|-
|}
|}

File:Slicer.png

2026-06-11T04:14:17Z

ToasterRobotor:

File:Lieutenant.png

2026-06-11T04:13:29Z

ToasterRobotor:

Reborn Roles

2026-06-11T04:13:06Z

ToasterRobotor: /* Proud Redistanis */

[[File:reborn_hallway.jpg|600px|thumb|A Peacekeeper on Patrol, by Zion]]
==Redistan, my Beloved==
Interstation 12: Reborn is the roleplay focused IS12 codebase, with a noir black comedy atmosphere. Set in a Redistani bunker decades after the 'eternal' Redistani-Blusnian war ended, Reborn focuses more on player agency to develop the world and characterization rather than strictly sticking to 50000 word lore articles. That being said, thanks to the three years of development, it can make it a little daunting to jump in as a new player. '''[[Redistani Life|Click here for a comprehensive document detailing what you should already know as a proud Redistani.]]
'''

==Proud Redistanis==

{| style="width: 80%; ax-width: 120em; border-spacing: 2em; clear: both"
|
{| style="width:100%;margin:0; color: #ffffff; background: #bbb; border: 2px solid #634B4F; text-align: center;"
|-
| style="width: 10%; background: #312629; color: #ffffff; border: 5px solid #634B4F; border-top:0px. " | '''Role'''
| style="width: 5%; background: #312629; color: #ffffff; border: 5px solid #634B4F; border-top:0px. " | '''Slots'''
| style="width: 50%; background: #312629; color: #ffffff; border: 5px solid #634B4F; border-top:0px. " | '''Description'''
| style="width: 40%; background: #312629; color: #ffffff; border: 5px solid #634B4F; border-top:0px. " | '''Notes'''
|-
| colspan="4" style="color: #333; padding:2px; padding-left: 50px; background: #bbaaaa; border-left: 1px solid #bbb; border:3px solid #ddd;text-align: center;" | [[File:overseer_map.png]] '''Redclifeans''' - Roles exclusive to the Redscliff/Redscliffe/Redcliffe/Redcliff Disputed zone, a historically contentious minor Redbourne suburb along the eastern stretches of the Genocide-Redbourne Gardens train line.
|-
| [[File:overseer2.png]]<h3>'''The Overseer'''</h3>
| 1
| Once a shifty accountant with a reputation for embezzling, The Overseer is now the reclusive and enigmatic but ever present mayor of the historic city of Redscliff. It is rumoured that he is the fattest man to have ever existed.
| The Overseer is COMPLETELY IMMOBILE. He relies on his goons and his cameras to see and achieve things throughout the bunker. Double-crossing him is a bad idea, considering that he likely has bluemail on you.
|-
| [[File:underlooker.png]]<h3>'''The Underlooker'''</h3>
| 1
| You're the favourite possession of the Overseer. Supposedly.
| You love nothing more than to lick your lollipop. Anyone who tries to take it away from you has made an enemy for life.
|-
| [[File:goon.png]]<h3>'''The Henchmen'''</h3>
| 4
| You're one of the Overseer's loyal goons, tasked with acting as his hands throughout the city. Twisting arms, planting bugs, trailing people and beating those too stupid to listen to instructions will occupy most of your shifts.
| Travel in groups. Four arms is always stronger than two.
|-
| [[File:sycophant.png]]<h3>'''The Sycophant'''</h3>
| 1
| You're a true believer in the mayor's grand vision for the city of Redcliffe. You've been hired on as his personal assistant, cleaner, cook, secretary, bodyguard and yes-man. He is a wise and great man. You can't think of much you wouldn't do for him.
| You are The Overseer's personal assistant, listener and friend (maybe). You don't have any inherent authority over his henchmen.
|-
| [[File:fuckoffboys.png]]<h3>'''The Fuckoff Boys'''</h3>
| 3 + Leader
| Redcliff's local gang. At best, a nuisance. At worst, a threat.
| I don't like telling my boys to fuck off. They don't deserve that.
|-
|-
| colspan="4" style="color: #333; padding:2px; padding-left: 50px; background: #bbaaaa; border-left: 1px solid #bbb; border:3px solid #ddd;text-align: center;" | [[File:portzee.png]] '''Portzeeans''' - Roles exclusive to the Trade Municipality of Portzee, the dying port town nestled in the Greater Redbourne Coast. Portzee is currently undergoing the Portzee/Free Portzee schism and many roles are in different places than they would be in other maps.
|-
| [[File:commandant.png]]<h3>'''The Commandant'''</h3>
| 1
| Obsessed with old world militaria, the Commandant of Portzee demands nothing more than respect and for the masses to finance his lifestyle. It might not be a real title, but you'd do wise not to bring that up to him.
| As Commandant, your underlings will manage most tasks for you. Adjust the tax rate as you see fit, make pointless announcements and perform corrections where needed, otherwise your time is yours to <s>torture</s> enlighten your citizens.
|-
| [[File:consort.png]]<h3>'''Consort'''</h3>
| 1
| You're the Commandant's dear partner. Throw your gule-ness around, you've earned it.
| You have as much authority as the Commandant, given you're not going against them. The filthy poors might not like to listen to you, getting a Peacekeeper's truncheon to the face is a quick fix.
|-
| [[File:scion.png]]<h3>'''Scion'''</h3>
| 2
| You're one of the Commandant and Consort's pride and joy. You're a spoiled brat with far too much power, although you're a weak child with little ability to exercise it.
| Try to abuse your parents goodwill to get what you want. They have plenty to share.
|-
| [[File:lieutenant.png]]<h3>'''Lieutenant'''</h3>
| 2
| Every power hungry idiot needs their loyal clinger-ons, and who better than you two? Whether it was the power, money, or you just genuinely like the Commandant, you're both glad to be of service.
| You might not be that smart, but you're both very loyal. Be sure to always remind the Commandant how great they are and how wise their plans are.
|-
| [[File:servant2.png]]<h3>'''Servant'''</h3>
| 1
| Formerly a prisoner from THE CAPITAL, you found your freedom in indentured servitude for a kindly Gulean family in a town you've never heard of. Try to make something nice of it.
| The Commandant is very kind. Thank The Commandant for the privilege of freedom.
|-
| [[File:stabb.png]]<h3>'''Stabb Alley Gang'''</h3>
| 2 + Leader
| You inhabit the wretched Stabb Alley, named after C. Stabb, inventor of the dual-tipped knife. The Italians are too high brow for you and your buddies. You prefer the simple stickup to the shakedown.
| The leader is not a wildcard. The grunts are. Power in numbers, make sure you stick together. One ganger isn't a threat. Three is.
|-
| [[File:slicer.png]]<h3>'''South Wharf Slicers'''</h3>
| 2 + Leader
| Following an argument over the most effective use of Claude Stabb's infamous invention went sour, the Slicers came into existence. Those alley idiots don't know shit.
| Slicers for life. Eeungh!
|-
| colspan="4" style="color: #333; padding:2px; padding-left: 50px; background: #bbaaaa; border-left: 1px solid #ddd; border:3px sloid #ddd;text-align: center;" | [[File:avodant.png]] '''The Gatewatch''' - Good morning inspector. Refuse all Italians entry. Glory to Redistan.
|-
| [[File:advo.png]]<h3>'''[[AAM|Advocatus]]'''</H3>
| 1
| A Bureaucrat from back West, sent to this backwater to assure it doesn't become a den of separatists, occasionally reporting back to senior Advocatii in THE CAPITAL. The Redistani Civil War makes mistakes unacceptable. Do not be afraid to be cruel. Glory to Redistan.
| You have total authority over the checkpoint, your men and nothing more.
|-
| [[File:boothstatue.png]]<h3>'''[[AAM|Inspector]]'''</h3>
| 1
| Giddy volunteers to the A.A.M., encouraged to keep their full attention through the retroactive punishment of their family. Some inspectors are in it for the Patriotism of keeping their country safe from those disgusting Separatists. Others just like to see the look on a child's face as they bar them from getting medical attention inside the bunker. Glory to Redistan.
| Your Advocatus is likely unhappy over their assignment to such a diminutive town. Corruption is widespread this far East for a reason. Use that to your advantage.
|-
| [[File:borderguard.png]]<h3>'''[[AAM|Watchdog]]'''</h3>
| 2
| A grunt of the so-called Gatewatch. Although you may often be made to keep in shape with drills or mop up the floors around the checkpoint, you have plenty of downtime too. If only you got a comfy chair to sit in as well...
| Abandoning your post is liable to get you discharged. Be sure to remind the line with the megaphones what restrictions are in place.
|-
| [[File:postmaster.png]]<h3>'''The Postmaster'''</h3>
| 1
| A local representative of the National Postal Service and head of the local Post Office, responsible for processing and distributing packages for transit through the checkpoint.
| You're not actually part of the A.A.M., the National Postal Service simply falls under their authority and you're in a special section of the Checkpoint. Expect no favours from them.
|-
| [[File:courier.png]]<h3>'''Courier'''</h3>
| 1
| You're the Postmaster's loyal assistant, doing whatever they need done and delivering packages whenever they show up. You've got a radio to keep in contact. Remember: nothing stops the mail.
| You're not him. If you get shot in the head, you'll probably just get mugged and left to die in an alleyway.
|-
|-
| colspan="4" style="color: #333; padding:2px; padding-left: 50px; background: #bbaaaa; border-left: 1px solid #ddd; border:3px sloid #ddd;text-align: center;" | [[File:pkudant.png]] '''The Peacekeepers''' - KEEP THE PEACE, DAMNIT!!!
|-
| [[File:headguard.png]]<h3>'''[[Peace Corps|The Sergeant]]'''</h3>
| 1
| A sergeant, with a small squad of disorganised but (usually) loyal troops at your disposal. Coordinate your Cadets and Peacekeepers well. Your equipment may be outdated, but it is plentiful. A weak sergeant makes for a weak squad.
| Your only goal is to KEEP THE PEACE. Your Peacekeepers shouldn't be starting fights in the slums. Don't be afraid to discipline them when they do something stupid.
|-
| [[File:dispatcher.png]]<h3>'''[[Peace Corps|Dispatcher]]'''</h3>
| 1
| You're the local Corps' dispatcher! You man the front desk in the Precinct, take 54-46 calls and direct Peacekeepers to where they need to go. You might not have any direct authority, but you're a respected member of the team regardless. Maybe.
| This is a roleplay heavy role and you'll typically spend a shift shooting the shit with the other Peacekeepers over the radio. If you don't like talking, find another role.
|-
| [[File:pkguard.png]]<h3>'''[[Peace Corps|Peacekeeper]]'''</h3>
| 4
| You might be schlubby, you might be unfit, but you're here and that's all that really counts. Your main jobs are going to be pest control and abusing what little power you have. You can always make up any charge you like, it's not like whoever you're accusing has a book of laws. Maybe if you suck up enough, the Head Peacekeeper will bother with outfitting you with some nicer gear or perhaps you'll even get that promotion you've been pining for. Make sure to follow his words to a T.
| Be glad you're not back West, fighting Separatists on the front lines.
|-
| [[File:robloxmanface.png]]<h3>'''[[Peace Corps|Cadet]]'''</h3>
| 1
| Merely a child, your tendency to bully others and throw your weight around made you a prime pick for the Peace Corps. You might not be on the front lines, but you're sure to make your country and parents proud.
| While you're more proficient with weapons than most children, you are still rather weak. You make for a strong scout, as well as a keen accompaniment to adult peacekeepers. They're sure to teach you well if you ask.
|-
| [[File:scab.png]]<h3>'''[[Peace Corps|Scab]]'''</h3>
| 2
| You've copped slum duty after fucking up bad and now you have to maintain order in what you're pretty sure is a literal cess pit. Make sure Mr. Redz is happy with the security of his factory, he's sure to hand you a little bonus if you do a good job.
| Power in numbers. Just having your partner nearby is likely to scare most opportunists off.
|-
|-
| colspan="4" style="color: #333; padding:2px; padding-left: 50px; background: #bbaaaa; border-left: 1px solid #ddd; border:3px sloid #ddd;text-align: center;" | [[File:scrungtitioner.png]] '''The Practitioners''' - Let's go practice medicine.
|-
| [[File:hprac.png]]<h3>'''Head Practitioner'''</h3>
| 1
| The head honcho. You have the longest beak, so you are in charge. You might not have ever actually seen a bird, but you know how to lead your flock to glory. Remember, if the power goes out, it's not just the Undertaker they're going to blame.
| Always assume your underlings are incompetent. Demonstrate to them the art of practicing medicine.
|-
|-
| [[File:prac.png]]<h3>'''Practitioner'''</h3>
| 3
| One of the Head Practitioner's flock. Your beak size may vary, but it'll never be bigger than the Head's. You're so dedicated to the art of practicing medicine that you voluntarily had your garments stitched into your skin. Best take a shower before heading out of the clinic.
| Absolutely no beakfighting allowed in the clinic. Try to remember your [[Guide to Medicine|schooling]].
|-
| [[File:apprentice.png]]<h3>'''Apprentice'''</h3>
| 2
| You're a young apprentice to the Birdmen, freshly sent from one of the western Academies. Yet to get a worthy beak of your own, it's up to you to prove yourself and truly take in the words of your superiors. You'll get that beak yet, sonny.
| Schooling is all well and good, but it doesn't compare to practical experience. Do not be afraid to ask your superiors for help.
|-
| [[File:chemist.png]]<h3>'''[[Chemist]]'''</h3>
| 1
| You're a contractor under the Birdmen, not as dedicated to medicine as they are. Too bad they stitched the clothing into your skin anyway. At least you'll be left alone most of the time.
| Chemists are most useful when they spend time making premixed chemical combinations or ship chemicals off to the C.C.M. for profit.
|-
| colspan="4" style="color: #333; padding:2px; padding-left: 50px; background: #bbaaaa; border-left: 1px solid #ddd; border:3px sloid #ddd;text-align: center;" | [[File:scrungissary.png]] '''The Customary and Commercenary Ministry''' - Turn a profit, damn the expense!
|-
| [[File:commissary.png]]<h3>'''Commissariat'''</h3>
| 1
| The economic heart of the bunker, supposedly. You know what things are worth. Never pay full value, you have to turn a profit as well.
| Your men are loyal, as long as you pay them well. As long as there's a profit to be made, ANYTHING is justifiable to the C.C.M..
|-
| [[File:cpusher.png]]<h3>'''Crate Pusher'''</h3>
| 3
| You push crates. You also break legs and kidnap people, if the Commissariat needs it done.
| Work hard. Set goals. Invest. C.C.M. mindset.
|-
| [[File:100warbonds.png]]<h3>'''Cargo Kid'''</h3>
| 2
| You're a young entrepreneur, starting that grind early. Your older colleagues are sure to have some tips for you.
| A great learning role with very little responsibility.
|-
|-
| colspan="4" style="color: #333; padding:2px; padding-left: 50px; background: #bbaaaa; border-left: 1px solid #ddd; border:3px sloid #ddd;text-align: center;" | [[File:redzgus.png]] '''The Factory''' - No union? No worries!
|-
| [[File:mrredz.png]]<h3>'''Mr. Redz'''</h3>
| 1
| You're the fattest fuck in all of the bunker. You won ownership of a factory here in a backroom game and it's turning you a tidy profit. Your Foreman will typically have the factory under control, so feel free to go commiserate with your fellow fatass gules. Always have food at hand. It's always time for a Cheeseburger.
| NO ONE FUCKS WITH MR. REDZ.
|-
| [[File:redzbodyguard.png]]<h3>'''Redz' Bodyguard'''</h3>
| 1
| You're Mr. Redz's Bodyguard. Your job is to guard Mr. Redz. With your body.
| Don't let anyone fuck with Mr. Redz.
|-
| [[File:foreman2.png]]<h3>'''Foreman'''</h3>
| 1
| You're Mr. Redz's trusted assistant. Do whatever he asks of you. This will typically be yelling at his workers to work harder.
| Mr. Redz has a lot of money and you work oh so hard for him. Perhaps a bonus is in order?
|-
| [[File:factory.png]]<h3>'''Factory Worker'''</h3>
| 6
| You're true working class, real brown collar shit. Whittle down the hours until the whistle blows so you can get off shift and blow your meagre paycheck at the Italian's place on cigarettes and pasto.
| Keep a steady pace. Work too fast, you never know what might happen.
|-
| [[File:kidfactory.png]]<h3>'''Child Worker'''</h3>
| 2
| Workers are getting harder to come by in Redistan as more and more people are sent to the front during the Civil War. Thank GREAT LEADER child labour is encouraged for proper childhood development.
| Don't be afraid to ask for help. No one expects anything of you, you're a child!
|-
|-
| colspan="4" style="color: #333; padding:2px; padding-left: 50px; background: #bbaaaa; border-left: 1px solid #ddd; border:3px sloid #ddd;text-align: center;" | [[File:scrungchef.png]] '''The Civillians''' - What, no food?
|-
| [[File:cook.png]]<h3>'''Cook'''</h3>
| 1
| Not quite experienced enough to be a proper chef, you at least know enough to run your own hash house. Cook whatever you like, just don't get too Italian with it, it doesn't mix well with the local palate. Don't give your child tap water.
| Food service has very thin margins. Mark up everything you can. The vending machines are far too expensive to be worth it.
|-
| [[File:asscook.png]]<h3>'''Assistant Cook'''</h3>
| 1
| You're the cook's apprentice. You're not going to do much cooking, but he should be able to teach you the art of crying in the walk-in between orders.
| Cooking is best for visual learners. Pay attention to what the cook does if you want to learn.
|-
| [[File:janitor.png]]<h3>'''Janitor'''</h3>
| 3
| Sweep it up, janny. The bunker is filthy and you control the mops. A clean bunker is an orderly one. You're also responsible for keeping the place powered. Shove whatever you can get your mitts on into the incinerator.
| You have good justification for getting into other people's workplaces. Try not to have sticky fingers.
|-
|-
| [[File:mullen2.png]]<h3>'''Mullen'''</h3>
| 1
| A private dick. This bunker is a festering pit of darkness and hyper realistic blood, angels weeping, dead inside, fucked up shit and thick skin. You get the idea. Try to offer your services, there's sure to be someone who has a case.
| When a bum sees a dick coming, he don't stick around.
|-
| [[File:barber.png]]<h3>'''Barber'''</h3>
| 1
| Hair always grows. People always need haircuts. That's your specialty.
| This is a wildcard role. Make sure to take length into account. Haircuts only go one way.
|-
| [[File:tailor.png]]<h3>'''Haberdasher'''</h3>
| 1
| You never could stand the atmosphere in the big city department stores. It might be a shithole, but there's enough money here to make a decent living making high-end clothing.
| You can adjust people's suits and uniforms to fit them, as well as make new pieces of clothing on your sewing machine. You can design copies of clothing brought to you by using sketch paper.
|-
| [[File:bottega.png]]<h3>'''Proprietor'''</h3>
| 1
| You bring some of that Spaghetto 'charm' to the bunker, running a Post-Italian Bottega, a general corner store selling a little bit of everything.
| You've got a price gun. It lets you scan them on your receipt machine to easily calculate prices. Don't be afraid to mark up, convenience is worth a lot.
|-
| [[File:radiohost.png]]<h3>'''Radio Host'''</h3>
| 1
| You run the local 'talk-show' radio station, blasting anything and everything over the airwaves: live call-in radio, radio plays and novellas, news from far off cities, live discussions and more! You name it - 104.6FM's got it.
| This is an extremely roleplay heavy role. The only limit is your imagination. Your round on the radio is logged and stored in a Discord channel for later viewing!
|-
| [[File:columnist.png]]<h3>'''Columnist'''</h3>
| 1
| You're a local print journalist, writing and distributing newspapers on the happenings around town or beyond. No one ever said the news had to be local, topical or even real.
| You don't have to confine yourself to local news if you don't want to, make something fun up happening in other parts of the nation! Newspapers are stored in a Discord channel for later reading!
|-
| [[File:paperboy.png]]<h3>'''Paperboy'''</h3>
| 1
| You're a typical paperboy, a little kid with a bag full of papers and a head full of self-serving delusions of a picturesque future in journalism. Help the Columnist do whatever it is they're needing you to do. You might be a kid, but you can't be picky about journalists these days.
| Some rounds you'll be hawking papers to passers-by, other rounds you might be investigating leads or even writing papers yourself! Listen to the Columnist, they're the REAL journalist.
|-
|-
| colspan="4" style="color: #333; padding:2px; padding-left: 50px; background: #bbaaaa; border-left: 1px solid #ddd; border:3px sloid #ddd;text-align: center;" | [[File:scrungiminal.png]] '''The Underbelly''' - Woah mama mia cunt
|-
| [[File:capo.png]]<h3>'''Caporegime'''</h3>
| 1
| The head of the local branch of Post-Italian troublemakers. You're here representing your Godfather back West in the Spaghetto. There's a multitude of ways to get things done down here, it's just a matter of picking which one.
| Pure violence is typically a poor choice for the mafia. Try to keep your exploits well thought out and executed. Do not play this role if you're bad at leading people.
|-
| [[File:consulente.png]]<h3>'''Consulente'''</h3>
| 1
| The boss's sleazy second-in-command, your job is to advise the Capo on all things Italian, disseminate orders amongst the men and head up negotiations. After all, you've got a genuine passport and a silver (plated) tongue.
| Try to make friends. Better to be stabbed in the back by someone you know than a stranger.
|-
| [[File:vinny.png]]<h3>'''Vinny'''</h3>
| 1
| The namesake of Vinny's Bar and Grill. A made-man without a crew, Vinny mans the bar (and grill) and acts as a sort of 'fixer' from time to time.
| You're usually the first person in the mafia anyone can talk to. First impressions matter.
|-
| [[File:soldato.png]]<h3>'''Soldato'''</h3>
| 2
| You're a loyal made man of the Scrungelli Family, equipped with your own squad of degenerate associates to lead. Follow the orders of your bosses, make up a few of your own along the way and get paid.
| Jumping straight to violence is a bad idea, you can't exploit dead people. '''This is a leadership role'''. Do NOT play this if you just want to goon/cook smeth all round.
|-
| [[File:soldato.png]]<h3>'''Wiseguy'''</h3>
| 2
| You're a loyal made man of the Scrungelli Family, with the unique benefit of being a Crypto-Italian, the kind of Post-Italian talented at hiding their ethnically challenged true nature. Taking on an assumed identity and a cover job you're not particularly qualified for, you're expected to manage the affairs of La Famiglia where they can't typically reach.
| The best way to make yourself useful is to keep pressure on associates on your side of the board. Other members of the mafia know your true Italian name. You must be loyle to your capo.
|-
| [[File:mafioso.png]]<h3>'''Mafioso'''</h3>
| 4
| You're an aspirant associate. Not yet made, but too ingratiated with the mafia to return to normal work, you're working your way up the ladder until you get made. They ''are'' gonna make you, right?
| Listen to your boss (a soldato) and their bosses. They're made, so they're better than you. You must be loyle to your capo.
|-
| [[File:bocconcino1.png]]<h3>'''Bocconcino'''</h3>
| 1
| The Mafia's very own orphan to boss around. Although you're not Italian, they've accepted you as one of their own.
| You're not Italian, yet. People are far less suspicious of you.
|-
| [[File:quack.png]]<h3>'''Quack'''</h3>
| 1
| Kicked out of the Practitioner's League for reasons that were NOT YOUR FAULT, you service the slums. There's a good living in being a mafia doctor.
| This is hardcore Practitioner. You will struggle for supplies. Practitioners who think they can come on your turf need to be taught a lesson.
|-
| [[File:pawnbroker.png]]<h3>'''Pawnbroker'''</h3>
| 1
| A dealer in things people won't need anymore and a specialist in putting people in literally crippling debt, you run a little pawnshop on the not-so-nice side of town. You've let a strange person operate a meat cannery out of your backroom. Make sure they give you the junk they find.
| You start with a LOT of money and a list of debtors. Couldn't hurt to loan some money out, surely the mafia will help you collect interest? Don't forget to take some collateral.
|-
| [[File:undertaker.png]]<h3>'''Undertaker'''</h3>
| 1
| Disgraced for your obsession with touching the dead and let go from a job you weren't really doing in the first place, you now find work operating a cannery out of the back of the pawn shop, having worked out a little deal with the kindly pawnbroker.
| Give anything you find to the pawnbroker. You only care about meat. Any meat'll do for your cans.
|-
| [[File:wildcard.png]]<h3>'''Wildcard'''</h3>
| >20
| A pool of special roles that you can't play by other means, ranging from Gulean tourists, lonesome Caveboy drifters and mercenaries to more in depth roles like barbers and haberdasherers. Most wildcard roles are not listed on this page.
| Follow your instincts and you will do well.
|-
|}
|}

File:100warbonds.png

2026-06-11T04:03:04Z

ToasterRobotor:

Reborn Roles

2026-06-11T04:02:46Z

ToasterRobotor: /* Proud Redistanis */

[[File:reborn_hallway.jpg|600px|thumb|A Peacekeeper on Patrol, by Zion]]
==Redistan, my Beloved==
Interstation 12: Reborn is the roleplay focused IS12 codebase, with a noir black comedy atmosphere. Set in a Redistani bunker decades after the 'eternal' Redistani-Blusnian war ended, Reborn focuses more on player agency to develop the world and characterization rather than strictly sticking to 50000 word lore articles. That being said, thanks to the three years of development, it can make it a little daunting to jump in as a new player. '''[[Redistani Life|Click here for a comprehensive document detailing what you should already know as a proud Redistani.]]
'''

==Proud Redistanis==

{| style="width: 80%; ax-width: 120em; border-spacing: 2em; clear: both"
|
{| style="width:100%;margin:0; color: #ffffff; background: #bbb; border: 2px solid #634B4F; text-align: center;"
|-
| style="width: 10%; background: #312629; color: #ffffff; border: 5px solid #634B4F; border-top:0px. " | '''Role'''
| style="width: 5%; background: #312629; color: #ffffff; border: 5px solid #634B4F; border-top:0px. " | '''Slots'''
| style="width: 50%; background: #312629; color: #ffffff; border: 5px solid #634B4F; border-top:0px. " | '''Description'''
| style="width: 40%; background: #312629; color: #ffffff; border: 5px solid #634B4F; border-top:0px. " | '''Notes'''
|-
| colspan="4" style="color: #333; padding:2px; padding-left: 50px; background: #bbaaaa; border-left: 1px solid #bbb; border:3px solid #ddd;text-align: center;" | [[File:overseer_map.png]] '''Redclifeans''' - Roles exclusive to the Redscliff/Redscliffe/Redcliffe/Redcliff Disputed zone, a historically contentious minor Redbourne suburb along the eastern stretches of the Genocide-Redbourne Gardens train line.
|-
| [[File:overseer2.png]]<h3>'''The Overseer'''</h3>
| 1
| Once a shifty accountant with a reputation for embezzling, The Overseer is now the reclusive and enigmatic but ever present mayor of the historic city of Redscliff. It is rumoured that he is the fattest man to have ever existed.
| The Overseer is COMPLETELY IMMOBILE. He relies on his goons and his cameras to see and achieve things throughout the bunker. Double-crossing him is a bad idea, considering that he likely has bluemail on you.
|-
| [[File:underlooker.png]]<h3>'''The Underlooker'''</h3>
| 1
| You're the favourite possession of the Overseer. Supposedly.
| You love nothing more than to lick your lollipop. Anyone who tries to take it away from you has made an enemy for life.
|-
| [[File:goon.png]]<h3>'''The Henchmen'''</h3>
| 4
| You're one of the Overseer's loyal goons, tasked with acting as his hands throughout the city. Twisting arms, planting bugs, trailing people and beating those too stupid to listen to instructions will occupy most of your shifts.
| Travel in groups. Four arms is always stronger than two.
|-
| [[File:sycophant.png]]<h3>'''The Sycophant'''</h3>
| 1
| You're a true believer in the mayor's grand vision for the city of Redcliffe. You've been hired on as his personal assistant, cleaner, cook, secretary, bodyguard and yes-man. He is a wise and great man. You can't think of much you wouldn't do for him.
| You are The Overseer's personal assistant, listener and friend (maybe). You don't have any inherent authority over his henchmen.
|-
| [[File:fuckoffboys.png]]<h3>'''The Fuckoff Boys'''</h3>
| 3 + Leader
| Redcliff's local gang. At best, a nuisance. At worst, a threat.
| I don't like telling my boys to fuck off. They don't deserve that.
|-
|-
| colspan="4" style="color: #333; padding:2px; padding-left: 50px; background: #bbaaaa; border-left: 1px solid #bbb; border:3px solid #ddd;text-align: center;" | [[File:portzee.png]] '''Portzeeans''' - Roles exclusive to the Trade Municipality of Portzee, the dying port town nestled in the Greater Redbourne Coast. Portzee is currently undergoing the Portzee/Free Portzee schism and many roles are in different places than they would be in other maps.
|-
| [[File:commandant.png]]<h3>'''The Commandant'''</h3>
| 1
| Obsessed with old world militaria, the Commandant of Portzee demands nothing more than respect and for the masses to finance his lifestyle. It might not be a real title, but you'd do wise not to bring that up to him.
| As Commandant, your underlings will manage most tasks for you. Adjust the tax rate as you see fit, make pointless announcements and perform corrections where needed, otherwise your time is yours to <s>torture</s> enlighten your citizens.
|-
| [[File:consort.png]]<h3>'''Consort'''</h3>
| 1
| You're the Commandant's dear partner. Throw your gule-ness around, you've earned it.
| You have as much authority as the Commandant, given you're not going against them. The filthy poors might not like to listen to you, getting a Peacekeeper's truncheon to the face is a quick fix.
|-
| [[File:scion.png]]<h3>'''Scion'''</h3>
| 2
| You're one of the Commandant and Consort's pride and joy. You're a spoiled brat with far too much power, although you're a weak child with little ability to exercise it.
| Try to abuse your parents goodwill to get what you want. They have plenty to share.
|-
| [[File:servant2.png]]<h3>'''Servant'''</h3>
| 1
| Formerly a prisoner from THE CAPITAL, you found your freedom in indentured servitude for a kindly Gulean family in a town you've never heard of. Try to make something nice of it.
| The Commandant is very kind. Thank The Commandant for the privilege of freedom.
|-
| [[File:stabb.png]]<h3>'''Stabb Alley Gang'''</h3>
| 3 + Leader
| You inhabit the wretched Stabb Alley, named after C. Stabb, inventor of the dual-tipped knife. The Italians are too high brow for you and your buddies. You prefer the simple stickup to the shakedown.
| The leader is not a wildcard. The grunts are. Power in numbers, make sure you stick together. One ganger isn't a threat. Three is.
|-
| colspan="4" style="color: #333; padding:2px; padding-left: 50px; background: #bbaaaa; border-left: 1px solid #ddd; border:3px sloid #ddd;text-align: center;" | [[File:avodant.png]] '''The Gatewatch''' - Good morning inspector. Refuse all Italians entry. Glory to Redistan.
|-
| [[File:advo.png]]<h3>'''[[AAM|Advocatus]]'''</H3>
| 1
| A Bureaucrat from back West, sent to this backwater to assure it doesn't become a den of separatists, occasionally reporting back to senior Advocatii in THE CAPITAL. The Redistani Civil War makes mistakes unacceptable. Do not be afraid to be cruel. Glory to Redistan.
| You have total authority over the checkpoint, your men and nothing more.
|-
| [[File:boothstatue.png]]<h3>'''[[AAM|Inspector]]'''</h3>
| 1
| Giddy volunteers to the A.A.M., encouraged to keep their full attention through the retroactive punishment of their family. Some inspectors are in it for the Patriotism of keeping their country safe from those disgusting Separatists. Others just like to see the look on a child's face as they bar them from getting medical attention inside the bunker. Glory to Redistan.
| Your Advocatus is likely unhappy over their assignment to such a diminutive town. Corruption is widespread this far East for a reason. Use that to your advantage.
|-
| [[File:borderguard.png]]<h3>'''[[AAM|Watchdog]]'''</h3>
| 2
| A grunt of the so-called Gatewatch. Although you may often be made to keep in shape with drills or mop up the floors around the checkpoint, you have plenty of downtime too. If only you got a comfy chair to sit in as well...
| Abandoning your post is liable to get you discharged. Be sure to remind the line with the megaphones what restrictions are in place.
|-
| [[File:postmaster.png]]<h3>'''The Postmaster'''</h3>
| 1
| A local representative of the National Postal Service and head of the local Post Office, responsible for processing and distributing packages for transit through the checkpoint.
| You're not actually part of the A.A.M., the National Postal Service simply falls under their authority and you're in a special section of the Checkpoint. Expect no favours from them.
|-
| [[File:courier.png]]<h3>'''Courier'''</h3>
| 1
| You're the Postmaster's loyal assistant, doing whatever they need done and delivering packages whenever they show up. You've got a radio to keep in contact. Remember: nothing stops the mail.
| You're not him. If you get shot in the head, you'll probably just get mugged and left to die in an alleyway.
|-
|-
| colspan="4" style="color: #333; padding:2px; padding-left: 50px; background: #bbaaaa; border-left: 1px solid #ddd; border:3px sloid #ddd;text-align: center;" | [[File:pkudant.png]] '''The Peacekeepers''' - KEEP THE PEACE, DAMNIT!!!
|-
| [[File:headguard.png]]<h3>'''[[Peace Corps|The Sergeant]]'''</h3>
| 1
| A sergeant, with a small squad of disorganised but (usually) loyal troops at your disposal. Coordinate your Cadets and Peacekeepers well. Your equipment may be outdated, but it is plentiful. A weak sergeant makes for a weak squad.
| Your only goal is to KEEP THE PEACE. Your Peacekeepers shouldn't be starting fights in the slums. Don't be afraid to discipline them when they do something stupid.
|-
| [[File:dispatcher.png]]<h3>'''[[Peace Corps|Dispatcher]]'''</h3>
| 1
| You're the local Corps' dispatcher! You man the front desk in the Precinct, take 54-46 calls and direct Peacekeepers to where they need to go. You might not have any direct authority, but you're a respected member of the team regardless. Maybe.
| This is a roleplay heavy role and you'll typically spend a shift shooting the shit with the other Peacekeepers over the radio. If you don't like talking, find another role.
|-
| [[File:pkguard.png]]<h3>'''[[Peace Corps|Peacekeeper]]'''</h3>
| 4
| You might be schlubby, you might be unfit, but you're here and that's all that really counts. Your main jobs are going to be pest control and abusing what little power you have. You can always make up any charge you like, it's not like whoever you're accusing has a book of laws. Maybe if you suck up enough, the Head Peacekeeper will bother with outfitting you with some nicer gear or perhaps you'll even get that promotion you've been pining for. Make sure to follow his words to a T.
| Be glad you're not back West, fighting Separatists on the front lines.
|-
| [[File:robloxmanface.png]]<h3>'''[[Peace Corps|Cadet]]'''</h3>
| 1
| Merely a child, your tendency to bully others and throw your weight around made you a prime pick for the Peace Corps. You might not be on the front lines, but you're sure to make your country and parents proud.
| While you're more proficient with weapons than most children, you are still rather weak. You make for a strong scout, as well as a keen accompaniment to adult peacekeepers. They're sure to teach you well if you ask.
|-
| [[File:scab.png]]<h3>'''[[Peace Corps|Scab]]'''</h3>
| 2
| You've copped slum duty after fucking up bad and now you have to maintain order in what you're pretty sure is a literal cess pit. Make sure Mr. Redz is happy with the security of his factory, he's sure to hand you a little bonus if you do a good job.
| Power in numbers. Just having your partner nearby is likely to scare most opportunists off.
|-
|-
| colspan="4" style="color: #333; padding:2px; padding-left: 50px; background: #bbaaaa; border-left: 1px solid #ddd; border:3px sloid #ddd;text-align: center;" | [[File:scrungtitioner.png]] '''The Practitioners''' - Let's go practice medicine.
|-
| [[File:hprac.png]]<h3>'''Head Practitioner'''</h3>
| 1
| The head honcho. You have the longest beak, so you are in charge. You might not have ever actually seen a bird, but you know how to lead your flock to glory. Remember, if the power goes out, it's not just the Undertaker they're going to blame.
| Always assume your underlings are incompetent. Demonstrate to them the art of practicing medicine.
|-
|-
| [[File:prac.png]]<h3>'''Practitioner'''</h3>
| 3
| One of the Head Practitioner's flock. Your beak size may vary, but it'll never be bigger than the Head's. You're so dedicated to the art of practicing medicine that you voluntarily had your garments stitched into your skin. Best take a shower before heading out of the clinic.
| Absolutely no beakfighting allowed in the clinic. Try to remember your [[Guide to Medicine|schooling]].
|-
| [[File:apprentice.png]]<h3>'''Apprentice'''</h3>
| 2
| You're a young apprentice to the Birdmen, freshly sent from one of the western Academies. Yet to get a worthy beak of your own, it's up to you to prove yourself and truly take in the words of your superiors. You'll get that beak yet, sonny.
| Schooling is all well and good, but it doesn't compare to practical experience. Do not be afraid to ask your superiors for help.
|-
| [[File:chemist.png]]<h3>'''[[Chemist]]'''</h3>
| 1
| You're a contractor under the Birdmen, not as dedicated to medicine as they are. Too bad they stitched the clothing into your skin anyway. At least you'll be left alone most of the time.
| Chemists are most useful when they spend time making premixed chemical combinations or ship chemicals off to the C.C.M. for profit.
|-
| colspan="4" style="color: #333; padding:2px; padding-left: 50px; background: #bbaaaa; border-left: 1px solid #ddd; border:3px sloid #ddd;text-align: center;" | [[File:scrungissary.png]] '''The Customary and Commercenary Ministry''' - Turn a profit, damn the expense!
|-
| [[File:commissary.png]]<h3>'''Commissariat'''</h3>
| 1
| The economic heart of the bunker, supposedly. You know what things are worth. Never pay full value, you have to turn a profit as well.
| Your men are loyal, as long as you pay them well. As long as there's a profit to be made, ANYTHING is justifiable to the C.C.M..
|-
| [[File:cpusher.png]]<h3>'''Crate Pusher'''</h3>
| 3
| You push crates. You also break legs and kidnap people, if the Commissariat needs it done.
| Work hard. Set goals. Invest. C.C.M. mindset.
|-
| [[File:100warbonds.png]]<h3>'''Cargo Kid'''</h3>
| 2
| You're a young entrepreneur, starting that grind early. Your older colleagues are sure to have some tips for you.
| A great learning role with very little responsibility.
|-
|-
| colspan="4" style="color: #333; padding:2px; padding-left: 50px; background: #bbaaaa; border-left: 1px solid #ddd; border:3px sloid #ddd;text-align: center;" | [[File:redzgus.png]] '''The Factory''' - No union? No worries!
|-
| [[File:mrredz.png]]<h3>'''Mr. Redz'''</h3>
| 1
| You're the fattest fuck in all of the bunker. You won ownership of a factory here in a backroom game and it's turning you a tidy profit. Your Foreman will typically have the factory under control, so feel free to go commiserate with your fellow fatass gules. Always have food at hand. It's always time for a Cheeseburger.
| NO ONE FUCKS WITH MR. REDZ.
|-
| [[File:redzbodyguard.png]]<h3>'''Redz' Bodyguard'''</h3>
| 1
| You're Mr. Redz's Bodyguard. Your job is to guard Mr. Redz. With your body.
| Don't let anyone fuck with Mr. Redz.
|-
| [[File:foreman2.png]]<h3>'''Foreman'''</h3>
| 1
| You're Mr. Redz's trusted assistant. Do whatever he asks of you. This will typically be yelling at his workers to work harder.
| Mr. Redz has a lot of money and you work oh so hard for him. Perhaps a bonus is in order?
|-
| [[File:factory.png]]<h3>'''Factory Worker'''</h3>
| 6
| You're true working class, real brown collar shit. Whittle down the hours until the whistle blows so you can get off shift and blow your meagre paycheck at the Italian's place on cigarettes and pasto.
| Keep a steady pace. Work too fast, you never know what might happen.
|-
| [[File:kidfactory.png]]<h3>'''Child Worker'''</h3>
| 2
| Workers are getting harder to come by in Redistan as more and more people are sent to the front during the Civil War. Thank GREAT LEADER child labour is encouraged for proper childhood development.
| Don't be afraid to ask for help. No one expects anything of you, you're a child!
|-
|-
| colspan="4" style="color: #333; padding:2px; padding-left: 50px; background: #bbaaaa; border-left: 1px solid #ddd; border:3px sloid #ddd;text-align: center;" | [[File:scrungchef.png]] '''The Civillians''' - What, no food?
|-
| [[File:cook.png]]<h3>'''Cook'''</h3>
| 1
| Not quite experienced enough to be a proper chef, you at least know enough to run your own hash house. Cook whatever you like, just don't get too Italian with it, it doesn't mix well with the local palate. Don't give your child tap water.
| Food service has very thin margins. Mark up everything you can. The vending machines are far too expensive to be worth it.
|-
| [[File:asscook.png]]<h3>'''Assistant Cook'''</h3>
| 1
| You're the cook's apprentice. You're not going to do much cooking, but he should be able to teach you the art of crying in the walk-in between orders.
| Cooking is best for visual learners. Pay attention to what the cook does if you want to learn.
|-
| [[File:janitor.png]]<h3>'''Janitor'''</h3>
| 3
| Sweep it up, janny. The bunker is filthy and you control the mops. A clean bunker is an orderly one. You're also responsible for keeping the place powered. Shove whatever you can get your mitts on into the incinerator.
| You have good justification for getting into other people's workplaces. Try not to have sticky fingers.
|-
|-
| [[File:mullen2.png]]<h3>'''Mullen'''</h3>
| 1
| A private dick. This bunker is a festering pit of darkness and hyper realistic blood, angels weeping, dead inside, fucked up shit and thick skin. You get the idea. Try to offer your services, there's sure to be someone who has a case.
| When a bum sees a dick coming, he don't stick around.
|-
| [[File:barber.png]]<h3>'''Barber'''</h3>
| 1
| Hair always grows. People always need haircuts. That's your specialty.
| This is a wildcard role. Make sure to take length into account. Haircuts only go one way.
|-
| [[File:tailor.png]]<h3>'''Haberdasher'''</h3>
| 1
| You never could stand the atmosphere in the big city department stores. It might be a shithole, but there's enough money here to make a decent living making high-end clothing.
| You can adjust people's suits and uniforms to fit them, as well as make new pieces of clothing on your sewing machine. You can design copies of clothing brought to you by using sketch paper.
|-
| [[File:bottega.png]]<h3>'''Proprietor'''</h3>
| 1
| You bring some of that Spaghetto 'charm' to the bunker, running a Post-Italian Bottega, a general corner store selling a little bit of everything.
| You've got a price gun. It lets you scan them on your receipt machine to easily calculate prices. Don't be afraid to mark up, convenience is worth a lot.
|-
| [[File:radiohost.png]]<h3>'''Radio Host'''</h3>
| 1
| You run the local 'talk-show' radio station, blasting anything and everything over the airwaves: live call-in radio, radio plays and novellas, news from far off cities, live discussions and more! You name it - 104.6FM's got it.
| This is an extremely roleplay heavy role. The only limit is your imagination. Your round on the radio is logged and stored in a Discord channel for later viewing!
|-
| [[File:columnist.png]]<h3>'''Columnist'''</h3>
| 1
| You're a local print journalist, writing and distributing newspapers on the happenings around town or beyond. No one ever said the news had to be local, topical or even real.
| You don't have to confine yourself to local news if you don't want to, make something fun up happening in other parts of the nation! Newspapers are stored in a Discord channel for later reading!
|-
| [[File:paperboy.png]]<h3>'''Paperboy'''</h3>
| 1
| You're a typical paperboy, a little kid with a bag full of papers and a head full of self-serving delusions of a picturesque future in journalism. Help the Columnist do whatever it is they're needing you to do. You might be a kid, but you can't be picky about journalists these days.
| Some rounds you'll be hawking papers to passers-by, other rounds you might be investigating leads or even writing papers yourself! Listen to the Columnist, they're the REAL journalist.
|-
|-
| colspan="4" style="color: #333; padding:2px; padding-left: 50px; background: #bbaaaa; border-left: 1px solid #ddd; border:3px sloid #ddd;text-align: center;" | [[File:scrungiminal.png]] '''The Underbelly''' - Woah mama mia cunt
|-
| [[File:capo.png]]<h3>'''Caporegime'''</h3>
| 1
| The head of the local branch of Post-Italian troublemakers. You're here representing your Godfather back West in the Spaghetto. There's a multitude of ways to get things done down here, it's just a matter of picking which one.
| Pure violence is typically a poor choice for the mafia. Try to keep your exploits well thought out and executed. Do not play this role if you're bad at leading people.
|-
| [[File:consulente.png]]<h3>'''Consulente'''</h3>
| 1
| The boss's sleazy second-in-command, your job is to advise the Capo on all things Italian, disseminate orders amongst the men and head up negotiations. After all, you've got a genuine passport and a silver (plated) tongue.
| Try to make friends. Better to be stabbed in the back by someone you know than a stranger.
|-
| [[File:vinny.png]]<h3>'''Vinny'''</h3>
| 1
| The namesake of Vinny's Bar and Grill. A made-man without a crew, Vinny mans the bar (and grill) and acts as a sort of 'fixer' from time to time.
| You're usually the first person in the mafia anyone can talk to. First impressions matter.
|-
| [[File:soldato.png]]<h3>'''Soldato'''</h3>
| 2
| You're a loyal made man of the Scrungelli Family, equipped with your own squad of degenerate associates to lead. Follow the orders of your bosses, make up a few of your own along the way and get paid.
| Jumping straight to violence is a bad idea, you can't exploit dead people. '''This is a leadership role'''. Do NOT play this if you just want to goon/cook smeth all round.
|-
| [[File:soldato.png]]<h3>'''Wiseguy'''</h3>
| 2
| You're a loyal made man of the Scrungelli Family, with the unique benefit of being a Crypto-Italian, the kind of Post-Italian talented at hiding their ethnically challenged true nature. Taking on an assumed identity and a cover job you're not particularly qualified for, you're expected to manage the affairs of La Famiglia where they can't typically reach.
| The best way to make yourself useful is to keep pressure on associates on your side of the board. Other members of the mafia know your true Italian name. You must be loyle to your capo.
|-
| [[File:mafioso.png]]<h3>'''Mafioso'''</h3>
| 4
| You're an aspirant associate. Not yet made, but too ingratiated with the mafia to return to normal work, you're working your way up the ladder until you get made. They ''are'' gonna make you, right?
| Listen to your boss (a soldato) and their bosses. They're made, so they're better than you. You must be loyle to your capo.
|-
| [[File:bocconcino1.png]]<h3>'''Bocconcino'''</h3>
| 1
| The Mafia's very own orphan to boss around. Although you're not Italian, they've accepted you as one of their own.
| You're not Italian, yet. People are far less suspicious of you.
|-
| [[File:quack.png]]<h3>'''Quack'''</h3>
| 1
| Kicked out of the Practitioner's League for reasons that were NOT YOUR FAULT, you service the slums. There's a good living in being a mafia doctor.
| This is hardcore Practitioner. You will struggle for supplies. Practitioners who think they can come on your turf need to be taught a lesson.
|-
| [[File:pawnbroker.png]]<h3>'''Pawnbroker'''</h3>
| 1
| A dealer in things people won't need anymore and a specialist in putting people in literally crippling debt, you run a little pawnshop on the not-so-nice side of town. You've let a strange person operate a meat cannery out of your backroom. Make sure they give you the junk they find.
| You start with a LOT of money and a list of debtors. Couldn't hurt to loan some money out, surely the mafia will help you collect interest? Don't forget to take some collateral.
|-
| [[File:undertaker.png]]<h3>'''Undertaker'''</h3>
| 1
| Disgraced for your obsession with touching the dead and let go from a job you weren't really doing in the first place, you now find work operating a cannery out of the back of the pawn shop, having worked out a little deal with the kindly pawnbroker.
| Give anything you find to the pawnbroker. You only care about meat. Any meat'll do for your cans.
|-
| [[File:wildcard.png]]<h3>'''Wildcard'''</h3>
| >20
| A pool of special roles that you can't play by other means, ranging from Gulean tourists, lonesome Caveboy drifters and mercenaries to more in depth roles like barbers and haberdasherers. Most wildcard roles are not listed on this page.
| Follow your instincts and you will do well.
|-
|}
|}

Reborn Roles

2026-06-11T03:59:33Z

ToasterRobotor:

[[File:reborn_hallway.jpg|600px|thumb|A Peacekeeper on Patrol, by Zion]]
==Redistan, my Beloved==
Interstation 12: Reborn is the roleplay focused IS12 codebase, with a noir black comedy atmosphere. Set in a Redistani bunker decades after the 'eternal' Redistani-Blusnian war ended, Reborn focuses more on player agency to develop the world and characterization rather than strictly sticking to 50000 word lore articles. That being said, thanks to the three years of development, it can make it a little daunting to jump in as a new player. '''[[Redistani Life|Click here for a comprehensive document detailing what you should already know as a proud Redistani.]]
'''

==Proud Redistanis==

{| style="width: 80%; ax-width: 120em; border-spacing: 2em; clear: both"
|
{| style="width:100%;margin:0; color: #ffffff; background: #bbb; border: 2px solid #634B4F; text-align: center;"
|-
| style="width: 10%; background: #312629; color: #ffffff; border: 5px solid #634B4F; border-top:0px. " | '''Role'''
| style="width: 5%; background: #312629; color: #ffffff; border: 5px solid #634B4F; border-top:0px. " | '''Slots'''
| style="width: 50%; background: #312629; color: #ffffff; border: 5px solid #634B4F; border-top:0px. " | '''Description'''
| style="width: 40%; background: #312629; color: #ffffff; border: 5px solid #634B4F; border-top:0px. " | '''Notes'''
|-
| colspan="4" style="color: #333; padding:2px; padding-left: 50px; background: #bbaaaa; border-left: 1px solid #bbb; border:3px solid #ddd;text-align: center;" | [[File:overseer_map.png]] '''Redclifeans''' - Roles exclusive to the Redscliff/Redscliffe/Redcliffe/Redcliff Disputed zone, a historically contentious minor Redbourne suburb along the eastern stretches of the Genocide-Redbourne Gardens train line.
|-
| [[File:overseer2.png]]<h3>'''The Overseer'''</h3>
| 1
| Once a shifty accountant with a reputation for embezzling, The Overseer is now the reclusive and enigmatic but ever present mayor of the historic city of Redscliff. It is rumoured that he is the fattest man to have ever existed.
| The Overseer is COMPLETELY IMMOBILE. He relies on his goons and his cameras to see and achieve things throughout the bunker. Double-crossing him is a bad idea, considering that he likely has bluemail on you.
|-
| [[File:underlooker.png]]<h3>'''The Underlooker'''</h3>
| 1
| You're the favourite possession of the Overseer. Supposedly.
| You love nothing more than to lick your lollipop. Anyone who tries to take it away from you has made an enemy for life.
|-
| [[File:goon.png]]<h3>'''The Henchmen'''</h3>
| 4
| You're one of the Overseer's loyal goons, tasked with acting as his hands throughout the city. Twisting arms, planting bugs, trailing people and beating those too stupid to listen to instructions will occupy most of your shifts.
| Travel in groups. Four arms is always stronger than two.
|-
| [[File:sycophant.png]]<h3>'''The Sycophant'''</h3>
| 1
| You're a true believer in the mayor's grand vision for the city of Redcliffe. You've been hired on as his personal assistant, cleaner, cook, secretary, bodyguard and yes-man. He is a wise and great man. You can't think of much you wouldn't do for him.
| You are The Overseer's personal assistant, listener and friend (maybe). You don't have any inherent authority over his henchmen.
|-
| [[File:fuckoffboys.png]]<h3>'''The Fuckoff Boys'''</h3>
| 3 + Leader
| Redcliff's local gang. At best, a nuisance. At worst, a threat.
| I don't like telling my boys to fuck off. They don't deserve that.
|-
|-
| colspan="4" style="color: #333; padding:2px; padding-left: 50px; background: #bbaaaa; border-left: 1px solid #bbb; border:3px solid #ddd;text-align: center;" | [[File:portzee.png]] '''Portzeeans''' - Roles exclusive to the Trade Municipality of Portzee, the dying port town nestled in the Greater Redbourne Coast. Portzee is currently undergoing the Portzee/Free Portzee schism and many roles are in different places than they would be in other maps.
|-
| [[File:commandant.png]]<h3>'''The Commandant'''</h3>
| 1
| Obsessed with old world militaria, the Commandant of Portzee demands nothing more than respect and for the masses to finance his lifestyle. It might not be a real title, but you'd do wise not to bring that up to him.
| As Commandant, your underlings will manage most tasks for you. Adjust the tax rate as you see fit, make pointless announcements and perform corrections where needed, otherwise your time is yours to <s>torture</s> enlighten your citizens.
|-
| [[File:consort.png]]<h3>'''Consort'''</h3>
| 1
| You're the Commandant's dear partner. Throw your gule-ness around, you've earned it.
| You have as much authority as the Commandant, given you're not going against them. The filthy poors might not like to listen to you, getting a Peacekeeper's truncheon to the face is a quick fix.
|-
| [[File:scion.png]]<h3>'''Scion'''</h3>
| 2
| You're one of the Commandant and Consort's pride and joy. You're a spoiled brat with far too much power, although you're a weak child with little ability to exercise it.
| Try to abuse your parents goodwill to get what you want. They have plenty to share.
|-
| [[File:servant2.png]]<h3>'''Servant'''</h3>
| 1
| Formerly a prisoner from THE CAPITAL, you found your freedom in indentured servitude for a kindly Gulean family in a town you've never heard of. Try to make something nice of it.
| The Commandant is very kind. Thank The Commandant for the privilege of freedom.
|-
| [[File:stabb.png]]<h3>'''Stabb Alley Gang'''</h3>
| 3 + Leader
| You inhabit the wretched Stabb Alley, named after C. Stabb, inventor of the dual-tipped knife. The Italians are too high brow for you and your buddies. You prefer the simple stickup to the shakedown.
| The leader is not a wildcard. The grunts are. Power in numbers, make sure you stick together. One ganger isn't a threat. Three is.
|-
| colspan="4" style="color: #333; padding:2px; padding-left: 50px; background: #bbaaaa; border-left: 1px solid #ddd; border:3px sloid #ddd;text-align: center;" | [[File:avodant.png]] '''The Gatewatch''' - Good morning inspector. Refuse all Italians entry. Glory to Redistan.
|-
| [[File:advo.png]]<h3>'''[[AAM|Advocatus]]'''</H3>
| 1
| A Bureaucrat from back West, sent to this backwater to assure it doesn't become a den of separatists, occasionally reporting back to senior Advocatii in THE CAPITAL. The Redistani Civil War makes mistakes unacceptable. Do not be afraid to be cruel. Glory to Redistan.
| You have total authority over the checkpoint, your men and nothing more.
|-
| [[File:boothstatue.png]]<h3>'''[[AAM|Inspector]]'''</h3>
| 1
| Giddy volunteers to the A.A.M., encouraged to keep their full attention through the retroactive punishment of their family. Some inspectors are in it for the Patriotism of keeping their country safe from those disgusting Separatists. Others just like to see the look on a child's face as they bar them from getting medical attention inside the bunker. Glory to Redistan.
| Your Advocatus is likely unhappy over their assignment to such a diminutive town. Corruption is widespread this far East for a reason. Use that to your advantage.
|-
| [[File:borderguard.png]]<h3>'''[[AAM|Watchdog]]'''</h3>
| 2
| A grunt of the so-called Gatewatch. Although you may often be made to keep in shape with drills or mop up the floors around the checkpoint, you have plenty of downtime too. If only you got a comfy chair to sit in as well...
| Abandoning your post is liable to get you discharged. Be sure to remind the line with the megaphones what restrictions are in place.
|-
| [[File:postmaster.png]]<h3>'''The Postmaster'''</h3>
| 1
| A local representative of the National Postal Service and head of the local Post Office, responsible for processing and distributing packages for transit through the checkpoint.
| You're not actually part of the A.A.M., the National Postal Service simply falls under their authority and you're in a special section of the Checkpoint. Expect no favours from them.
|-
| [[File:courier.png]]<h3>'''Courier'''</h3>
| 1
| You're the Postmaster's loyal assistant, doing whatever they need done and delivering packages whenever they show up. You've got a radio to keep in contact. Remember: nothing stops the mail.
| You're not him. If you get shot in the head, you'll probably just get mugged and left to die in an alleyway.
|-
|-
| colspan="4" style="color: #333; padding:2px; padding-left: 50px; background: #bbaaaa; border-left: 1px solid #ddd; border:3px sloid #ddd;text-align: center;" | [[File:pkudant.png]] '''The Peacekeepers''' - KEEP THE PEACE, DAMNIT!!!
|-
| [[File:headguard.png]]<h3>'''[[Peace Corps|The Sergeant]]'''</h3>
| 1
| A sergeant, with a small squad of disorganised but (usually) loyal troops at your disposal. Coordinate your Cadets and Peacekeepers well. Your equipment may be outdated, but it is plentiful. A weak sergeant makes for a weak squad.
| Your only goal is to KEEP THE PEACE. Your Peacekeepers shouldn't be starting fights in the slums. Don't be afraid to discipline them when they do something stupid.
|-
| [[File:dispatcher.png]]<h3>'''[[Peace Corps|Dispatcher]]'''</h3>
| 1
| You're the local Corps' dispatcher! You man the front desk in the Precinct, take 54-46 calls and direct Peacekeepers to where they need to go. You might not have any direct authority, but you're a respected member of the team regardless. Maybe.
| This is a roleplay heavy role and you'll typically spend a shift shooting the shit with the other Peacekeepers over the radio. If you don't like talking, find another role.
|-
| [[File:pkguard.png]]<h3>'''[[Peace Corps|Peacekeeper]]'''</h3>
| 4
| You might be schlubby, you might be unfit, but you're here and that's all that really counts. Your main jobs are going to be pest control and abusing what little power you have. You can always make up any charge you like, it's not like whoever you're accusing has a book of laws. Maybe if you suck up enough, the Head Peacekeeper will bother with outfitting you with some nicer gear or perhaps you'll even get that promotion you've been pining for. Make sure to follow his words to a T.
| Be glad you're not back West, fighting Separatists on the front lines.
|-
| [[File:robloxmanface.png]]<h3>'''[[Peace Corps|Cadet]]'''</h3>
| 1
| Merely a child, your tendency to bully others and throw your weight around made you a prime pick for the Peace Corps. You might not be on the front lines, but you're sure to make your country and parents proud.
| While you're more proficient with weapons than most children, you are still rather weak. You make for a strong scout, as well as a keen accompaniment to adult peacekeepers. They're sure to teach you well if you ask.
|-
| [[File:scab.png]]<h3>'''[[Peace Corps|Scab]]'''</h3>
| 2
| You've copped slum duty after fucking up bad and now you have to maintain order in what you're pretty sure is a literal cess pit. Make sure Mr. Redz is happy with the security of his factory, he's sure to hand you a little bonus if you do a good job.
| Power in numbers. Just having your partner nearby is likely to scare most opportunists off.
|-
|-
| colspan="4" style="color: #333; padding:2px; padding-left: 50px; background: #bbaaaa; border-left: 1px solid #ddd; border:3px sloid #ddd;text-align: center;" | [[File:scrungtitioner.png]] '''The Practitioners''' - Let's go practice medicine.
|-
| [[File:hprac.png]]<h3>'''Head Practitioner'''</h3>
| 1
| The head honcho. You have the longest beak, so you are in charge. You might not have ever actually seen a bird, but you know how to lead your flock to glory. Remember, if the power goes out, it's not just the Undertaker they're going to blame.
| Always assume your underlings are incompetent. Demonstrate to them the art of practicing medicine.
|-
|-
| [[File:prac.png]]<h3>'''Practitioner'''</h3>
| 3
| One of the Head Practitioner's flock. Your beak size may vary, but it'll never be bigger than the Head's. You're so dedicated to the art of practicing medicine that you voluntarily had your garments stitched into your skin. Best take a shower before heading out of the clinic.
| Absolutely no beakfighting allowed in the clinic. Try to remember your [[Guide to Medicine|schooling]].
|-
| [[File:apprentice.png]]<h3>'''Apprentice'''</h3>
| 2
| You're a young apprentice to the Birdmen, freshly sent from one of the western Academies. Yet to get a worthy beak of your own, it's up to you to prove yourself and truly take in the words of your superiors. You'll get that beak yet, sonny.
| Schooling is all well and good, but it doesn't compare to practical experience. Do not be afraid to ask your superiors for help.
|-
| [[File:chemist.png]]<h3>'''[[Chemist]]'''</h3>
| 1
| You're a contractor under the Birdmen, not as dedicated to medicine as they are. Too bad they stitched the clothing into your skin anyway. At least you'll be left alone most of the time.
| Chemists are most useful when they spend time making premixed chemical combinations or ship chemicals off to the C.C.M. for profit.
|-
| colspan="4" style="color: #333; padding:2px; padding-left: 50px; background: #bbaaaa; border-left: 1px solid #ddd; border:3px sloid #ddd;text-align: center;" | [[File:scrungissary.png]] '''The Customary and Commercenary Ministry''' - Turn a profit, damn the expense!
|-
| [[File:commissary.png]]<h3>'''Commissariat'''</h3>
| 1
| The economic heart of the bunker, supposedly. You know what things are worth. Never pay full value, you have to turn a profit as well.
| Your men are loyal, as long as you pay them well. As long as there's a profit to be made, ANYTHING is justifiable to the C.C.M..
|-
| [[File:cpusher.png]]<h3>'''Crate Pusher'''</h3>
| 3
| You push crates. You also break legs and kidnap people, if the Commissariat needs it done.
| Work hard. Set goals. Invest. C.C.M. mindset.
|-
| [[File:ckid.png]]<h3>'''Cargo Kid'''</h3>
| 2
| You're a young entrepreneur, starting that grind early. Your older colleagues are sure to have some tips for you.
| A great learning role with very little responsibility.
|-
|-
| colspan="4" style="color: #333; padding:2px; padding-left: 50px; background: #bbaaaa; border-left: 1px solid #ddd; border:3px sloid #ddd;text-align: center;" | [[File:redzgus.png]] '''The Factory''' - No union? No worries!
|-
| [[File:mrredz.png]]<h3>'''Mr. Redz'''</h3>
| 1
| You're the fattest fuck in all of the bunker. You won ownership of a factory here in a backroom game and it's turning you a tidy profit. Your Foreman will typically have the factory under control, so feel free to go commiserate with your fellow fatass gules. Always have food at hand. It's always time for a Cheeseburger.
| NO ONE FUCKS WITH MR. REDZ.
|-
| [[File:redzbodyguard.png]]<h3>'''Redz' Bodyguard'''</h3>
| 1
| You're Mr. Redz's Bodyguard. Your job is to guard Mr. Redz. With your body.
| Don't let anyone fuck with Mr. Redz.
|-
| [[File:foreman2.png]]<h3>'''Foreman'''</h3>
| 1
| You're Mr. Redz's trusted assistant. Do whatever he asks of you. This will typically be yelling at his workers to work harder.
| Mr. Redz has a lot of money and you work oh so hard for him. Perhaps a bonus is in order?
|-
| [[File:factory.png]]<h3>'''Factory Worker'''</h3>
| 6
| You're true working class, real brown collar shit. Whittle down the hours until the whistle blows so you can get off shift and blow your meagre paycheck at the Italian's place on cigarettes and pasto.
| Keep a steady pace. Work too fast, you never know what might happen.
|-
| [[File:kidfactory.png]]<h3>'''Child Worker'''</h3>
| 2
| Workers are getting harder to come by in Redistan as more and more people are sent to the front during the Civil War. Thank GREAT LEADER child labour is encouraged for proper childhood development.
| Don't be afraid to ask for help. No one expects anything of you, you're a child!
|-
|-
| colspan="4" style="color: #333; padding:2px; padding-left: 50px; background: #bbaaaa; border-left: 1px solid #ddd; border:3px sloid #ddd;text-align: center;" | [[File:scrungchef.png]] '''The Civillians''' - What, no food?
|-
| [[File:cook.png]]<h3>'''Cook'''</h3>
| 1
| Not quite experienced enough to be a proper chef, you at least know enough to run your own hash house. Cook whatever you like, just don't get too Italian with it, it doesn't mix well with the local palate. Don't give your child tap water.
| Food service has very thin margins. Mark up everything you can. The vending machines are far too expensive to be worth it.
|-
| [[File:asscook.png]]<h3>'''Assistant Cook'''</h3>
| 1
| You're the cook's apprentice. You're not going to do much cooking, but he should be able to teach you the art of crying in the walk-in between orders.
| Cooking is best for visual learners. Pay attention to what the cook does if you want to learn.
|-
| [[File:janitor.png]]<h3>'''Janitor'''</h3>
| 3
| Sweep it up, janny. The bunker is filthy and you control the mops. A clean bunker is an orderly one. You're also responsible for keeping the place powered. Shove whatever you can get your mitts on into the incinerator.
| You have good justification for getting into other people's workplaces. Try not to have sticky fingers.
|-
|-
| [[File:mullen2.png]]<h3>'''Mullen'''</h3>
| 1
| A private dick. This bunker is a festering pit of darkness and hyper realistic blood, angels weeping, dead inside, fucked up shit and thick skin. You get the idea. Try to offer your services, there's sure to be someone who has a case.
| When a bum sees a dick coming, he don't stick around.
|-
| [[File:barber.png]]<h3>'''Barber'''</h3>
| 1
| Hair always grows. People always need haircuts. That's your specialty.
| This is a wildcard role. Make sure to take length into account. Haircuts only go one way.
|-
| [[File:tailor.png]]<h3>'''Haberdasher'''</h3>
| 1
| You never could stand the atmosphere in the big city department stores. It might be a shithole, but there's enough money here to make a decent living making high-end clothing.
| You can adjust people's suits and uniforms to fit them, as well as make new pieces of clothing on your sewing machine. You can design copies of clothing brought to you by using sketch paper.
|-
| [[File:bottega.png]]<h3>'''Proprietor'''</h3>
| 1
| You bring some of that Spaghetto 'charm' to the bunker, running a Post-Italian Bottega, a general corner store selling a little bit of everything.
| You've got a price gun. It lets you scan them on your receipt machine to easily calculate prices. Don't be afraid to mark up, convenience is worth a lot.
|-
| [[File:radiohost.png]]<h3>'''Radio Host'''</h3>
| 1
| You run the local 'talk-show' radio station, blasting anything and everything over the airwaves: live call-in radio, radio plays and novellas, news from far off cities, live discussions and more! You name it - 104.6FM's got it.
| This is an extremely roleplay heavy role. The only limit is your imagination. Your round on the radio is logged and stored in a Discord channel for later viewing!
|-
| [[File:columnist.png]]<h3>'''Columnist'''</h3>
| 1
| You're a local print journalist, writing and distributing newspapers on the happenings around town or beyond. No one ever said the news had to be local, topical or even real.
| You don't have to confine yourself to local news if you don't want to, make something fun up happening in other parts of the nation! Newspapers are stored in a Discord channel for later reading!
|-
| [[File:paperboy.png]]<h3>'''Paperboy'''</h3>
| 1
| You're a typical paperboy, a little kid with a bag full of papers and a head full of self-serving delusions of a picturesque future in journalism. Help the Columnist do whatever it is they're needing you to do. You might be a kid, but you can't be picky about journalists these days.
| Some rounds you'll be hawking papers to passers-by, other rounds you might be investigating leads or even writing papers yourself! Listen to the Columnist, they're the REAL journalist.
|-
|-
| colspan="4" style="color: #333; padding:2px; padding-left: 50px; background: #bbaaaa; border-left: 1px solid #ddd; border:3px sloid #ddd;text-align: center;" | [[File:scrungiminal.png]] '''The Underbelly''' - Woah mama mia cunt
|-
| [[File:capo.png]]<h3>'''Caporegime'''</h3>
| 1
| The head of the local branch of Post-Italian troublemakers. You're here representing your Godfather back West in the Spaghetto. There's a multitude of ways to get things done down here, it's just a matter of picking which one.
| Pure violence is typically a poor choice for the mafia. Try to keep your exploits well thought out and executed. Do not play this role if you're bad at leading people.
|-
| [[File:consulente.png]]<h3>'''Consulente'''</h3>
| 1
| The boss's sleazy second-in-command, your job is to advise the Capo on all things Italian, disseminate orders amongst the men and head up negotiations. After all, you've got a genuine passport and a silver (plated) tongue.
| Try to make friends. Better to be stabbed in the back by someone you know than a stranger.
|-
| [[File:vinny.png]]<h3>'''Vinny'''</h3>
| 1
| The namesake of Vinny's Bar and Grill. A made-man without a crew, Vinny mans the bar (and grill) and acts as a sort of 'fixer' from time to time.
| You're usually the first person in the mafia anyone can talk to. First impressions matter.
|-
| [[File:soldato.png]]<h3>'''Soldato'''</h3>
| 2
| You're a loyal made man of the Scrungelli Family, equipped with your own squad of degenerate associates to lead. Follow the orders of your bosses, make up a few of your own along the way and get paid.
| Jumping straight to violence is a bad idea, you can't exploit dead people. '''This is a leadership role'''. Do NOT play this if you just want to goon/cook smeth all round.
|-
| [[File:soldato.png]]<h3>'''Wiseguy'''</h3>
| 2
| You're a loyal made man of the Scrungelli Family, with the unique benefit of being a Crypto-Italian, the kind of Post-Italian talented at hiding their ethnically challenged true nature. Taking on an assumed identity and a cover job you're not particularly qualified for, you're expected to manage the affairs of La Famiglia where they can't typically reach.
| The best way to make yourself useful is to keep pressure on associates on your side of the board. Other members of the mafia know your true Italian name. You must be loyle to your capo.
|-
| [[File:mafioso.png]]<h3>'''Mafioso'''</h3>
| 4
| You're an aspirant associate. Not yet made, but too ingratiated with the mafia to return to normal work, you're working your way up the ladder until you get made. They ''are'' gonna make you, right?
| Listen to your boss (a soldato) and their bosses. They're made, so they're better than you. You must be loyle to your capo.
|-
| [[File:bocconcino1.png]]<h3>'''Bocconcino'''</h3>
| 1
| The Mafia's very own orphan to boss around. Although you're not Italian, they've accepted you as one of their own.
| You're not Italian, yet. People are far less suspicious of you.
|-
| [[File:quack.png]]<h3>'''Quack'''</h3>
| 1
| Kicked out of the Practitioner's League for reasons that were NOT YOUR FAULT, you service the slums. There's a good living in being a mafia doctor.
| This is hardcore Practitioner. You will struggle for supplies. Practitioners who think they can come on your turf need to be taught a lesson.
|-
| [[File:pawnbroker.png]]<h3>'''Pawnbroker'''</h3>
| 1
| A dealer in things people won't need anymore and a specialist in putting people in literally crippling debt, you run a little pawnshop on the not-so-nice side of town. You've let a strange person operate a meat cannery out of your backroom. Make sure they give you the junk they find.
| You start with a LOT of money and a list of debtors. Couldn't hurt to loan some money out, surely the mafia will help you collect interest? Don't forget to take some collateral.
|-
| [[File:undertaker.png]]<h3>'''Undertaker'''</h3>
| 1
| Disgraced for your obsession with touching the dead and let go from a job you weren't really doing in the first place, you now find work operating a cannery out of the back of the pawn shop, having worked out a little deal with the kindly pawnbroker.
| Give anything you find to the pawnbroker. You only care about meat. Any meat'll do for your cans.
|-
| [[File:wildcard.png]]<h3>'''Wildcard'''</h3>
| >20
| A pool of special roles that you can't play by other means, ranging from Gulean tourists, lonesome Caveboy drifters and mercenaries to more in depth roles like barbers and haberdasherers. Most wildcard roles are not listed on this page.
| Follow your instincts and you will do well.
|-
|}
|}

Reborn Roles

2026-06-11T03:56:57Z

ToasterRobotor:

[[File:reborn_hallway.jpg|600px|thumb|A Peacekeeper on Patrol, by Zion]]
==Redistan, my Beloved==
Interstation 12: Reborn is the roleplay focused IS12 codebase, with a noir black comedy atmosphere. Set in a Redistani bunker decades after the 'eternal' Redistani-Blusnian war ended, Reborn focuses more on player agency to develop the world and characterization rather than strictly sticking to 50000 word lore articles. That being said, thanks to the three years of development, it can make it a little daunting to jump in as a new player. '''[[Redistani Life|Click here for a comprehensive document detailing what you should already know as a proud Redistani.]]
'''

==Proud Redistanis==

{| style="width: 80%; ax-width: 120em; border-spacing: 2em; clear: both"
|
{| style="width:100%;margin:0; color: #ffffff; background: #bbb; border: 2px solid #634B4F; text-align: center;"
|-
| style="width: 10%; background: #312629; color: #ffffff; border: 5px solid #634B4F; border-top:0px. " | '''Role'''
| style="width: 5%; background: #312629; color: #ffffff; border: 5px solid #634B4F; border-top:0px. " | '''Slots'''
| style="width: 50%; background: #312629; color: #ffffff; border: 5px solid #634B4F; border-top:0px. " | '''Description'''
| style="width: 40%; background: #312629; color: #ffffff; border: 5px solid #634B4F; border-top:0px. " | '''Notes'''
|-
| colspan="4" style="color: #333; padding:2px; padding-left: 50px; background: #bbaaaa; border-left: 1px solid #bbb; border:3px solid #ddd;text-align: center;" | [[File:overseer_map.png]] '''Redclifeans''' - Roles exclusive to the Redscliff/Redscliffe/Redcliffe/Redcliff Disputed zone, a historically contentious minor Redbourne suburb along the eastern stretches of the Genocide-Redbourne Gardens train line.
|-
| [[File:overseer2.png]]<h3>'''The Overseer'''</h3>
| 1
| Once a shifty accountant with a reputation for embezzling, The Overseer is now the reclusive and enigmatic but ever present mayor of the historic city of Redscliff. It is rumoured that he is the fattest man to have ever existed.
| The Overseer is COMPLETELY IMMOBILE. He relies on his goons and his cameras to see and achieve things throughout the bunker. Double-crossing him is a bad idea, considering that he likely has bluemail on you.
|-
| [[File:underlooker.png]]<h3>'''The Underlooker'''</h3>
| 1
| You're the favourite possession of the Overseer. Supposedly.
| You love nothing more than to lick your lollipop. Anyone who tries to take it away from you has made an enemy for life.
|-
| [[File:goon.png]]<h3>'''The Henchmen'''</h3>
| 4
| You're one of the Overseer's loyal goons, tasked with acting as his hands throughout the city. Twisting arms, planting bugs, trailing people and beating those too stupid to listen to instructions will occupy most of your shifts.
| Travel in groups. Four arms is always stronger than two.
|-
| [[File:sycophant.png]]<h3>'''The Sycophant'''</h3>
| 1
| You're a true believer in the mayor's grand vision for the city of Redcliffe. You've been hired on as his personal assistant, cleaner, cook, secretary, bodyguard and yes-man. He is a wise and great man. You can't think of much you wouldn't do for him.
| You are The Overseer's personal assistant, listener and friend (maybe). You don't have any inherent authority over his henchmen.
|-
| [[File:fuckoffboys.png]]<h3>'''The Fuckoff Boys'''</h3>
| 3 + Leader
| Redcliff's local gang. At best, a nuisance. At worst, a threat.
| I don't like telling my boys to fuck off. They don't deserve that.
|-
|-
| colspan="4" style="color: #333; padding:2px; padding-left: 50px; background: #bbaaaa; border-left: 1px solid #bbb; border:3px solid #ddd;text-align: center;" | [[File:portzee.png]] '''Portzeeans''' - Roles exclusive to the Trade Municipality of Portzee, the dying port town nestled in the Greater Redbourne Coast.
|-
| [[File:commandant.png]]<h3>'''The Commandant'''</h3>
| 1
| Obsessed with old world militaria, the Commandant of Portzee demands nothing more than respect and for the masses to finance his lifestyle. It might not be a real title, but you'd do wise not to bring that up to him.
| As Commandant, your underlings will manage most tasks for you. Adjust the tax rate as you see fit, make pointless announcements and perform corrections where needed, otherwise your time is yours to <s>torture</s> enlighten your citizens.
|-
| [[File:consort.png]]<h3>'''Consort'''</h3>
| 1
| You're the Commandant's dear partner. Throw your gule-ness around, you've earned it.
| You have as much authority as the Commandant, given you're not going against them. The filthy poors might not like to listen to you, getting a Peacekeeper's truncheon to the face is a quick fix.
|-
| [[File:scion.png]]<h3>'''Scion'''</h3>
| 2
| You're one of the Commandant and Consort's pride and joy. You're a spoiled brat with far too much power, although you're a weak child with little ability to exercise it.
| Try to abuse your parents goodwill to get what you want. They have plenty to share.
|-
| [[File:servant2.png]]<h3>'''Servant'''</h3>
| 1
| Formerly a prisoner from THE CAPITAL, you found your freedom in indentured servitude for a kindly Gulean family in a town you've never heard of. Try to make something nice of it.
| The Commandant is very kind. Thank The Commandant for the privilege of freedom.
|-
| [[File:stabb.png]]<h3>'''Stabb Alley Gang'''</h3>
| 3 + Leader
| You inhabit the wretched Stabb Alley, named after C. Stabb, inventor of the dual-tipped knife. The Italians are too high brow for you and your buddies. You prefer the simple stickup to the shakedown.
| The leader is not a wildcard. The grunts are. Power in numbers, make sure you stick together. One ganger isn't a threat. Three is.
|-
| colspan="4" style="color: #333; padding:2px; padding-left: 50px; background: #bbaaaa; border-left: 1px solid #ddd; border:3px sloid #ddd;text-align: center;" | [[File:avodant.png]] '''The Gatewatch''' - Good morning inspector. Refuse all Italians entry. Glory to Redistan.
|-
| [[File:advo.png]]<h3>'''[[AAM|Advocatus]]'''</H3>
| 1
| A Bureaucrat from back West, sent to this backwater to assure it doesn't become a den of separatists, occasionally reporting back to senior Advocatii in THE CAPITAL. The Redistani Civil War makes mistakes unacceptable. Do not be afraid to be cruel. Glory to Redistan.
| You have total authority over the checkpoint, your men and nothing more.
|-
| [[File:boothstatue.png]]<h3>'''[[AAM|Inspector]]'''</h3>
| 1
| Giddy volunteers to the A.A.M., encouraged to keep their full attention through the retroactive punishment of their family. Some inspectors are in it for the Patriotism of keeping their country safe from those disgusting Separatists. Others just like to see the look on a child's face as they bar them from getting medical attention inside the bunker. Glory to Redistan.
| Your Advocatus is likely unhappy over their assignment to such a diminutive town. Corruption is widespread this far East for a reason. Use that to your advantage.
|-
| [[File:borderguard.png]]<h3>'''[[AAM|Watchdog]]'''</h3>
| 2
| A grunt of the so-called Gatewatch. Although you may often be made to keep in shape with drills or mop up the floors around the checkpoint, you have plenty of downtime too. If only you got a comfy chair to sit in as well...
| Abandoning your post is liable to get you discharged. Be sure to remind the line with the megaphones what restrictions are in place.
|-
| [[File:postmaster.png]]<h3>'''The Postmaster'''</h3>
| 1
| A local representative of the National Postal Service and head of the local Post Office, responsible for processing and distributing packages for transit through the checkpoint.
| You're not actually part of the A.A.M., the National Postal Service simply falls under their authority and you're in a special section of the Checkpoint. Expect no favours from them.
|-
| [[File:courier.png]]<h3>'''Courier'''</h3>
| 1
| You're the Postmaster's loyal assistant, doing whatever they need done and delivering packages whenever they show up. You've got a radio to keep in contact. Remember: nothing stops the mail.
| You're not him. If you get shot in the head, you'll probably just get mugged and left to die in an alleyway.
|-
|-
| colspan="4" style="color: #333; padding:2px; padding-left: 50px; background: #bbaaaa; border-left: 1px solid #ddd; border:3px sloid #ddd;text-align: center;" | [[File:pkudant.png]] '''The Peacekeepers''' - KEEP THE PEACE, DAMNIT!!!
|-
| [[File:headguard.png]]<h3>'''[[Peace Corps|The Sergeant]]'''</h3>
| 1
| A sergeant, with a small squad of disorganised but (usually) loyal troops at your disposal. Coordinate your Cadets and Peacekeepers well. Your equipment may be outdated, but it is plentiful. A weak sergeant makes for a weak squad.
| Your only goal is to KEEP THE PEACE. Your Peacekeepers shouldn't be starting fights in the slums. Don't be afraid to discipline them when they do something stupid.
|-
| [[File:dispatcher.png]]<h3>'''[[Peace Corps|Dispatcher]]'''</h3>
| 1
| You're the local Corps' dispatcher! You man the front desk in the Precinct, take 54-46 calls and direct Peacekeepers to where they need to go. You might not have any direct authority, but you're a respected member of the team regardless. Maybe.
| This is a roleplay heavy role and you'll typically spend a shift shooting the shit with the other Peacekeepers over the radio. If you don't like talking, find another role.
|-
| [[File:pkguard.png]]<h3>'''[[Peace Corps|Peacekeeper]]'''</h3>
| 4
| You might be schlubby, you might be unfit, but you're here and that's all that really counts. Your main jobs are going to be pest control and abusing what little power you have. You can always make up any charge you like, it's not like whoever you're accusing has a book of laws. Maybe if you suck up enough, the Head Peacekeeper will bother with outfitting you with some nicer gear or perhaps you'll even get that promotion you've been pining for. Make sure to follow his words to a T.
| Be glad you're not back West, fighting Separatists on the front lines.
|-
| [[File:robloxmanface.png]]<h3>'''[[Peace Corps|Cadet]]'''</h3>
| 1
| Merely a child, your tendency to bully others and throw your weight around made you a prime pick for the Peace Corps. You might not be on the front lines, but you're sure to make your country and parents proud.
| While you're more proficient with weapons than most children, you are still rather weak. You make for a strong scout, as well as a keen accompaniment to adult peacekeepers. They're sure to teach you well if you ask.
|-
| [[File:scab.png]]<h3>'''[[Peace Corps|Scab]]'''</h3>
| 2
| You've copped slum duty after fucking up bad and now you have to maintain order in what you're pretty sure is a literal cess pit. Make sure Mr. Redz is happy with the security of his factory, he's sure to hand you a little bonus if you do a good job.
| Power in numbers. Just having your partner nearby is likely to scare most opportunists off.
|-
|-
| colspan="4" style="color: #333; padding:2px; padding-left: 50px; background: #bbaaaa; border-left: 1px solid #ddd; border:3px sloid #ddd;text-align: center;" | [[File:scrungtitioner.png]] '''The Practitioners''' - Let's go practice medicine.
|-
| [[File:hprac.png]]<h3>'''Head Practitioner'''</h3>
| 1
| The head honcho. You have the longest beak, so you are in charge. You might not have ever actually seen a bird, but you know how to lead your flock to glory. Remember, if the power goes out, it's not just the Undertaker they're going to blame.
| Always assume your underlings are incompetent. Demonstrate to them the art of practicing medicine.
|-
|-
| [[File:prac.png]]<h3>'''Practitioner'''</h3>
| 3
| One of the Head Practitioner's flock. Your beak size may vary, but it'll never be bigger than the Head's. You're so dedicated to the art of practicing medicine that you voluntarily had your garments stitched into your skin. Best take a shower before heading out of the clinic.
| Absolutely no beakfighting allowed in the clinic. Try to remember your [[Guide to Medicine|schooling]].
|-
| [[File:apprentice.png]]<h3>'''Apprentice'''</h3>
| 2
| You're a young apprentice to the Birdmen, freshly sent from one of the western Academies. Yet to get a worthy beak of your own, it's up to you to prove yourself and truly take in the words of your superiors. You'll get that beak yet, sonny.
| Schooling is all well and good, but it doesn't compare to practical experience. Do not be afraid to ask your superiors for help.
|-
| [[File:chemist.png]]<h3>'''[[Chemist]]'''</h3>
| 1
| You're a contractor under the Birdmen, not as dedicated to medicine as they are. Too bad they stitched the clothing into your skin anyway. At least you'll be left alone most of the time.
| Chemists are most useful when they spend time making premixed chemical combinations or ship chemicals off to the C.C.M. for profit.
|-
| colspan="4" style="color: #333; padding:2px; padding-left: 50px; background: #bbaaaa; border-left: 1px solid #ddd; border:3px sloid #ddd;text-align: center;" | [[File:scrungissary.png]] '''The Customary and Commercenary Ministry''' - Turn a profit, damn the expense!
|-
| [[File:commissary.png]]<h3>'''Commissariat'''</h3>
| 1
| The economic heart of the bunker, supposedly. You know what things are worth. Never pay full value, you have to turn a profit as well.
| Your men are loyal, as long as you pay them well. As long as there's a profit to be made, ANYTHING is justifiable to the C.C.M..
|-
| [[File:cpusher.png]]<h3>'''Crate Pusher'''</h3>
| 3
| You push crates. You also break legs and kidnap people, if the Commissariat needs it done.
| Work hard. Set goals. Invest. C.C.M. mindset.
|-
| [[File:ckid.png]]<h3>'''Cargo Kid'''</h3>
| 2
| You're a young entrepreneur, starting that grind early. Your older colleagues are sure to have some tips for you.
| A great learning role with very little responsibility.
|-
|-
| colspan="4" style="color: #333; padding:2px; padding-left: 50px; background: #bbaaaa; border-left: 1px solid #ddd; border:3px sloid #ddd;text-align: center;" | [[File:redzgus.png]] '''The Factory''' - No union? No worries!
|-
| [[File:mrredz.png]]<h3>'''Mr. Redz'''</h3>
| 1
| You're the fattest fuck in all of the bunker. You won ownership of a factory here in a backroom game and it's turning you a tidy profit. Your Foreman will typically have the factory under control, so feel free to go commiserate with your fellow fatass gules. Always have food at hand. It's always time for a Cheeseburger.
| NO ONE FUCKS WITH MR. REDZ.
|-
| [[File:redzbodyguard.png]]<h3>'''Redz' Bodyguard'''</h3>
| 1
| You're Mr. Redz's Bodyguard. Your job is to guard Mr. Redz. With your body.
| Don't let anyone fuck with Mr. Redz.
|-
| [[File:foreman2.png]]<h3>'''Foreman'''</h3>
| 1
| You're Mr. Redz's trusted assistant. Do whatever he asks of you. This will typically be yelling at his workers to work harder.
| Mr. Redz has a lot of money and you work oh so hard for him. Perhaps a bonus is in order?
|-
| [[File:factory.png]]<h3>'''Factory Worker'''</h3>
| 6
| You're true working class, real brown collar shit. Whittle down the hours until the whistle blows so you can get off shift and blow your meagre paycheck at the Italian's place on cigarettes and pasto.
| Keep a steady pace. Work too fast, you never know what might happen.
|-
| [[File:kidfactory.png]]<h3>'''Child Worker'''</h3>
| 2
| Workers are getting harder to come by in Redistan as more and more people are sent to the front during the Civil War. Thank GREAT LEADER child labour is encouraged for proper childhood development.
| Don't be afraid to ask for help. No one expects anything of you, you're a child!
|-
|-
| colspan="4" style="color: #333; padding:2px; padding-left: 50px; background: #bbaaaa; border-left: 1px solid #ddd; border:3px sloid #ddd;text-align: center;" | [[File:scrungchef.png]] '''The Civillians''' - What, no food?
|-
| [[File:cook.png]]<h3>'''Cook'''</h3>
| 1
| Not quite experienced enough to be a proper chef, you at least know enough to run your own hash house. Cook whatever you like, just don't get too Italian with it, it doesn't mix well with the local palate. Don't give your child tap water.
| Food service has very thin margins. Mark up everything you can. The vending machines are far too expensive to be worth it.
|-
| [[File:asscook.png]]<h3>'''Assistant Cook'''</h3>
| 1
| You're the cook's apprentice. You're not going to do much cooking, but he should be able to teach you the art of crying in the walk-in between orders.
| Cooking is best for visual learners. Pay attention to what the cook does if you want to learn.
|-
| [[File:janitor.png]]<h3>'''Janitor'''</h3>
| 3
| Sweep it up, janny. The bunker is filthy and you control the mops. A clean bunker is an orderly one. You're also responsible for keeping the place powered. Shove whatever you can get your mitts on into the incinerator.
| You have good justification for getting into other people's workplaces. Try not to have sticky fingers.
|-
|-
| [[File:mullen2.png]]<h3>'''Mullen'''</h3>
| 1
| A private dick. This bunker is a festering pit of darkness and hyper realistic blood, angels weeping, dead inside, fucked up shit and thick skin. You get the idea. Try to offer your services, there's sure to be someone who has a case.
| When a bum sees a dick coming, he don't stick around.
|-
| [[File:barber.png]]<h3>'''Barber'''</h3>
| 1
| Hair always grows. People always need haircuts. That's your specialty.
| This is a wildcard role. Make sure to take length into account. Haircuts only go one way.
|-
| [[File:tailor.png]]<h3>'''Haberdasher'''</h3>
| 1
| You never could stand the atmosphere in the big city department stores. It might be a shithole, but there's enough money here to make a decent living making high-end clothing.
| This is a wildcard role. You can adjust people's suits and uniforms to fit them, as well as make new pieces of clothing on your sewing machine.
|-
| [[File:bottega.png]]<h3>'''Proprietor'''</h3>
| 1
| You bring some of that Spaghetto 'charm' to the bunker, running a Post-Italian Bottega, a general corner store selling a little bit of everything.
| You've got a price gun. It lets you scan them on your receipt machine to easily calculate prices. Don't be afraid to mark up, convenience is worth a lot.
|-
| [[File:radiohost.png]]<h3>'''Radio Host'''</h3>
| 1
| You run the local 'talk-show' radio station, blasting anything and everything over the airwaves: live call-in radio, radio plays and novellas, news from far off cities, live discussions and more! You name it - 104.6FM's got it.
| This is an extremely roleplay heavy role. The only limit is your imagination. Your round on the radio is logged and stored in a Discord channel for later viewing!
|-
| [[File:columnist.png]]<h3>'''Columnist'''</h3>
| 1
| You're a local print journalist, writing and distributing newspapers on the happenings around town or beyond. No one ever said the news had to be local, topical or even real.
| You don't have to confine yourself to local news if you don't want to, make something fun up happening in other parts of the nation! Newspapers are stored in a Discord channel for later reading!
|-
| [[File:paperboy.png]]<h3>'''Paperboy'''</h3>
| 1
| You're a typical paperboy, a little kid with a bag full of papers and a head full of self-serving delusions of a picturesque future in journalism. Help the Columnist do whatever it is they're needing you to do. You might be a kid, but you can't be picky about journalists these days.
| Some rounds you'll be hawking papers to passers-by, other rounds you might be investigating leads or even writing papers yourself! Listen to the Columnist, they're the REAL journalist.
|-
|-
| colspan="4" style="color: #333; padding:2px; padding-left: 50px; background: #bbaaaa; border-left: 1px solid #ddd; border:3px sloid #ddd;text-align: center;" | [[File:scrungiminal.png]] '''The Underbelly''' - Woah mama mia cunt
|-
| [[File:capo.png]]<h3>'''Caporegime'''</h3>
| 1
| The head of the local branch of Post-Italian troublemakers. You're here representing your Godfather back West in the Spaghetto. There's a multitude of ways to get things done down here, it's just a matter of picking which one.
| Pure violence is typically a poor choice for the mafia. Try to keep your exploits well thought out and executed. Do not play this role if you're bad at leading people.
|-
| [[File:consulente.png]]<h3>'''Consulente'''</h3>
| 1
| The boss's sleazy second-in-command, your job is to advise the Capo on all things Italian, disseminate orders amongst the men and head up negotiations. After all, you've got a genuine passport and a silver (plated) tongue.
| Try to make friends. Better to be stabbed in the back by someone you know than a stranger.
|-
| [[File:vinny.png]]<h3>'''Vinny'''</h3>
| 1
| The namesake of Vinny's Bar and Grill. A made-man without a crew, Vinny mans the bar (and grill) and acts as a sort of 'fixer' from time to time.
| You're usually the first person in the mafia anyone can talk to. First impressions matter.
|-
| [[File:soldato.png]]<h3>'''Soldato'''</h3>
| 2
| You're a loyal made man of the Scrungelli Family, equipped with your own squad of degenerate associates to lead. Follow the orders of your bosses, make up a few of your own along the way and get paid.
| Jumping straight to violence is a bad idea, you can't exploit dead people. '''This is a leadership role'''. Do NOT play this if you just want to goon/cook smeth all round.
|-
| [[File:soldato.png]]<h3>'''Wiseguy'''</h3>
| 2
| You're a loyal made man of the Scrungelli Family, with the unique benefit of being a Crypto-Italian, the kind of Post-Italian talented at hiding their ethnically challenged true nature. Taking on an assumed identity and a cover job you're not particularly qualified for, you're expected to manage the affairs of La Famiglia where they can't typically reach.
| The best way to make yourself useful is to keep pressure on associates on your side of the board. Other members of the mafia know your true Italian name. You must be loyle to your capo.
|-
| [[File:mafioso.png]]<h3>'''Mafioso'''</h3>
| 4
| You're an aspirant associate. Not yet made, but too ingratiated with the mafia to return to normal work, you're working your way up the ladder until you get made. They ''are'' gonna make you, right?
| Listen to your boss (a soldato) and their bosses. They're made, so they're better than you. You must be loyle to your capo.
|-
| [[File:bocconcino1.png]]<h3>'''Bocconcino'''</h3>
| 1
| The Mafia's very own orphan to boss around. Although you're not Italian, they've accepted you as one of their own.
| You're not Italian, yet. People are far less suspicious of you.
|-
| [[File:quack.png]]<h3>'''Quack'''</h3>
| 1
| Kicked out of the Practitioner's League for reasons that were NOT YOUR FAULT, you service the slums. There's a good living in being a mafia doctor.
| This is hardcore Practitioner. You will struggle for supplies. Practitioners who think they can come on your turf need to be taught a lesson.
|-
| [[File:pawnbroker.png]]<h3>'''Pawnbroker'''</h3>
| 1
| A dealer in things people won't need anymore and a specialist in putting people in literally crippling debt, you run a little pawnshop on the not-so-nice side of town. You've let a strange person operate a meat cannery out of your backroom. Make sure they give you the junk they find.
| You start with a LOT of money and a list of debtors. Couldn't hurt to loan some money out, surely the mafia will help you collect interest? Don't forget to take some collateral.
|-
| [[File:undertaker.png]]<h3>'''Undertaker'''</h3>
| 1
| Disgraced for your obsession with touching the dead and let go from a job you weren't really doing in the first place, you now find work operating a cannery out of the back of the pawn shop, having worked out a little deal with the kindly pawnbroker.
| Give anything you find to the pawnbroker. You only care about meat. Any meat'll do for your cans.
|-
| [[File:wildcard.png]]<h3>'''Wildcard'''</h3>
| >20
| A pool of special roles that you can't play by other means, ranging from Gulean tourists, lonesome Caveboy drifters and mercenaries to more in depth roles like barbers and haberdasherers. Most wildcard roles are not listed on this page.
| Follow your instincts and you will do well.
|-
|}
|}

2024-12-21T09:03:03Z

ToasterRobotor: /* Glossary */

Reborn Notebook

2024-12-21T09:02:58Z

ToasterRobotor: /* Glossary */

Reborn Notebook

2024-12-21T09:02:34Z

ToasterRobotor: Created page with "The Notebook is a page containing the Reborn glossary, as well as a list of obscure mechanics. == Glossary == The glossary includes both important terms and people, of wh..."

Redistani Life

2024-12-21T08:38:47Z

ToasterRobotor: /* The Primer */

== Fresh Off The Boat ==
[[File:Redistani victory.png|200px|thumb|REAL HISTORY, by Zion]]
If you're a new player, Reborn's setting can be somewhat daunting to get into. With a focus on allowing players to expand the world of Redistan, getting into the game now can be overwhelming as there is simply so much to learn.
You should always ask someone in game to educate you on something if you don't know, especially the wealthy and gulean. They're well educated and often willing to share that knowledge. The tourists, especially.

However, you or others might feel it is somewhat 'immersion' breaking when you don't understand basic facts about the setting. As such, this page serves to introduce some of the commonly known truths of Redistan. This is not an exhaustive list, the only way to know everything is to go out and learn it yourself.

Of course, you can always just jump in and ignore this giant document. If you've got confidence, you'll make it out just fine. '''[[Reborn|Roles can be found here.]]'''

== The Primer ==

In the times before, in the year 063BBC, GREAT LEADER brought upon Redistan a glorious triumph. A society stuck entirely underground for all of recorded history, unable to face the shame of the blue sky above, finally triumphing over nature itself by blocking out the disgusting blue skies above with thick layers of ashen smoke. The very light in the air turned a glorious deep red under The Cloud's watchful gaze. The people of Redistan could finally marvel at the wonders of the surface without distress. This short period of the colonisation of New Redistan was quickly disturbed by the calls of war. Blusnia could not bare to see the very light itself turn red. All out war was waged over the surface. Conscripts were raised. The Redcoat and Bluecoat armies marched on one another, signalling the beginning of the Great War for the Surface, a 16 year period of devastating trench warfare that ended in a crushing defeat for Blusnia, with a 54% battle loss rate (46% win rate), in the fine year 047BBC.
Attrition had taken its toll and Blusnia retreated back to its core territories, leaving the colonists of New Redistan to recuperate their losses from the war.
[[File:makelovenotwar_redsting05.png|390px|thumb|right|Redistani spirit, by Redsting]]

The Interwar period was long and fraught with conflict. Without full mobilisation, border conflicts were constant and unending. Neither side dared do more than probe the other, testing their weakness. Although the constant ash cloud enveloping New Redistan actively shredded the engines of any Blusnian bombers stupid enough to get close, the Blusnian shelling campaigns proved an unending source of stress for the colonists. Despite their constant adversity, the wonders of surface life were simply too many to give up. Real flour, real milk, real sunlight! It all seared their underground-accustomed eyes and skin in the most unimaginably perfect way possible. 44 years passed without major conflict. The death tolls climbed, the colonists lost much, but neither side would mobilise. The patch of uninhabitable land that was the New Redistani/Blusnian border, once a small gash of scar tissue in the land, barely wider than a billboard, had now grown to over 500 metres across. Forgotten soldiers, lost helmets, discarded landmines and failed bombs littered the lands between. The fields served as a museum, showcasing the slow but steady improvements both nations had made to their arsenals over the past four decades. Each side was no longer reliant on ancient surplus, but had instead constructed designs of their own. One contemporary soldier was now equivalent in firepower to ten Great War soldiers.

In 003BBC, Redistan, having now come close to depleting the forests of New Redistan, was sure to face a crisis. Without unending material to burn, The Cloud would surely break up! The horror of the blue sky above would reveal itself once more! With science being too slow to answer, there was only one choice. The disgusting emerald jungles of the filthy wine drinking, snail and cheese eating Greenslanders. The giant Greenslandian trees would be brought back and incinerated. The Redistanis had exploited the wood of the roots for so long. Now they could finally take the trunks. Whatever they couldn't take back, they would raze.

Greensland was rife with vibrant Green foliage, rich Blue skies and clear, deep azure water. It was something out of a horror book. From the Redcoats army, a sizeable division of patriots willing to endure the torture of the blue sky were sent to reclaim the jungle for Redistan. With captured Blusnian tilt-rotors, now finally usable when not in an airspace of pure ash, the loyal 5th & 4th Volunteer Redistani Patriot Divisions made their way onward to a self-assured victory, flanked by napalm dropping Redistani tilt-rotors, flying low enough to trim the hedges. Typically neutral to both, sharing a border with the New Redistanis had made the Greenslanders paranoid. Decades of preparation and training for an invasion by an overwhelming force, as well as begrudging proxy support from the Blusnian government in the form of trainers and munitions, made the Greensland war go from a patriotic stomp to a devastating crawl through thousands of miles of infested jungle, both bug and frog.

The Blusnians knew an opportunity when they saw one. With the most dedicated and loyal of Redistan's troops otherwise occupied, Mr. President O. Obluma realised the border forces could be ground down and the filthy Redistani colonists behind them could finally be put down. Pushing against the frigid North-Eastern New Redistani/Blusnian border, the full mobilisation of the Bluecoats signaled the start of the Cold Hot War. Committed to the defensive, the Redcoats forced hard to move from their posts for very long. Both sides spent the war exchanging the same pieces of land over and over until the border towns and bases they fought so desperately over were little more than fields of snowed in rubble, covered in tattered Red and Blue rags and paint. Three years into the conflict,--the war in Greensland still ongoing, however looking unfortunate for the Greenslanders--, the Redistanis discovered what,--were religion not illegal--, could only be described as a miracle. Redspace, the very fabric of reality itself, or so scientists at the time claimed. Such a finding could put an end to the war just by its own merits. But the Blusnians were a backwards people and it was a well known fact that they would refuse to listen to reason. The Warp Corps were established. The very next day, roughly fifty thousand brave new Volunteers were reported MIA. Their sacrifice, however, was not in vain. Many of the Warp Corps squads had managed to make it to Blue York, the revolting Blusnian Capitol. One such squad had even made it into the Blusnian National House of Government, once a 'grand' house of opera.

President Obluma was famously made to sign a Declaration of Total Surrender, '''WITH A RED PEN'''. He had saved his own life, as well as much of his cabinet's, at the cost of his people's sovereignty. Redistani troops marched for Blusnia as the period of occupation was set to begin. The fighting continued as dissident Blusnian platoons refused life under the Redistani boot and disregarded their leader's orders to surrender. In Greensland, the war continually looked worse and worse for the Greenslanders, as the Blusnian support quickly left and the munitions shipments dried up. Spirits were high in Redistan and New Redistan alike, as the Great Enemy had finally been conquered.

A week and a half later, as the occupying forces got more and more out of control, looting from, destroying the homes of and murdering the Blusnians they had so long considered below them, a debate still fiercely raged throughout the halls of the Crimson Court, the seat of GREAT LEADER in THE CAPITAL. What was to be done with Blusnia? With former President Obluma in captivity, yet alive and a war that was thought to be impossible to win won, the nation's dreams had been achieved. It was a question that didn't need to be answered. No one is quite sure why it hadn't happened sooner, but that very day nuclear warhead equipped missiles erupted from their hiding places in the ground, destined for the now sprawling colonial cities of New Redistan. It is said the first Blusnian missile didn't even detonate, it simply crushed an orphanage. Retaliation was swift, but ultimately pointless. The occupying troops were told to find cover as Redistani warheads came hurtling towards them, but many refused, taking as many Blusnians with them as they could. Those whom could, retreated back underground, to the old country. For most, it was too late. For many, they didn't see the point of returning when they had spent their entire life above ground.

Although New Redistan was lost, the Blusnian menace could once and for all be considered extinct. This was christened the '''Great Triumph''', a momentous occasion signalling the end of Eternal War with Blusnia.

----

This brings us 43 years later, to the time of Reborn. GREAT LEADER lives, ruling Redistan righteously from THE CAPITAL in the western reaches of Redistan. Redistan still stands, but it finds itself in a state of turmoil. Without an external threat such as the Blusnians, a small minority of people find themselves questioning the harshness of GREAT LEADER's rule. These people are collectively known as Separatists. Most simply want to separate themselves from GREAT LEADER, form a Redistan of their own. Others, in the extreme minority, reject their Red identity entirely, pronouncing themselves to be the successors of the Blusnian state. Infighting is common amongst Separatists as they all have differing ideas on what they want to achieve. While small uprisings were common over the past four decades, it is only now that it has become problematic. A large scale uprising was attempted in Eastern Redistan two years ago and although it was extremely bloody for all sides involved, it ultimately failed. Last year, one of the Great Five Cities, Redlin, was reduced to rubble after months of fighting. Although it was thought the destruction in Redlin would have an adverse affect on many Redistani people, pre-existing conceptions about the city made most write it off as 'inevitable'. Regardless, the Separatist threat in Redistan is very much still alive and not to be underestimated.

== The Date ==

Redistani time is measured differently to Earth time. On Earth, time is measured by the position of the sun. Of course, being underground for centuries, the Redistanis have no sun to measure their time by. Blusnians measured their time in a different way which will not be described here.

Time in Redistan runs on a 2 hour 'shift' system. Citizens are expected to be awake for an hour and a half and be productive during this time. They have a half hour to sleep before the next shift begins. It is believed by sleeping in patterns like this that maximum human productivity can be achieved.
There are 10 shifts, in one day. This makes a day 20 hours long. A day is arbitrary to most citizens, it is simply a method of keeping track of time.
Similarly, there are 10 days (sometimes erroneously referred to as shifts) in a week. A week is 200 hours long.

In a year, there are 46 weeks. This number is of great patriotic meaning to the Redistani people. There are 9200 hours in a Redistani year.

This means there are 460 Redistani Days in a year. This is equivalent to 383 Real Life days. A real year is 8770 hours long.

This means that every 20 Redistani years is actually one real life year ahead.

A 20 year old Red is actually 21 in Earth years.

A 40 year old Red is actually 42 in Earth years.

A 60 year old Red is actually 63 in Earth years.

And so on.

'''THE FORMAT:'''

Date format is also unique from ours.

Redistani dates are formatted as following:

YYY/WW/DD(SS)

SS stands for shift. The shift parenthesis part of the date can typically be omitted, as it is not typically relevant.

Alternative formats include

DD(SS)/WW/YYY

and the ever awful

WW(SS)/YYY/DD

Year will usually be accompanied by a signifier of the period.

Currently, there are two. '''PGT''' and '''BBC'''.

PGT is standard time. The current year is 043PGT. Some may just write it as 043 or informally '43.

BBC stands for Before Blusnian Capitulation. It is counted backwards. The year 010BBC is ten years before the fall of Blusnia. It is not correct to write such a date as -010PGT, but some like to do it regardless.

It has been 87 Redistani years since the end of the '''[[Roles|Great War]]'''.

Recently introduced is a naming scheme for every 200 hour week to help Redistanis remember what week they're currently in and what it signifies.<br><br>
<small>
## Red
## Glory
## Imperial Red
## Cordovan
## Blood Red
## Patriot's
## GIGARED
## Hyperred
## THE CAPITAL red
## Light Red
## Dark Red
## Middle Red
## Cardinal Red
## Redlin
## New THE CAPITAL
## Red Brick
## Brick Red
## Megared
## Flag Red
## Redistani Red
## Sentry's Rest
## Red Two
## Rest
## GREAT LEADER
## GREAT LEADER Red
## Redwood
## Not Blue
## Carmine
## Poppy Red
## Red Three
## Soldier
## Salmon
## Fire Engine Red
## Madder
## Superred
## Red Four
## Remembrance
## Scarlet
## Tomato
## Light Red
## Cinnabar
## Garnet
## Red Five
## Victory
## Triumph
## Redistani
</small>

== The Truths ==
''Some factoids/terms to help you settle in.''

- '''GREAT LEADER''': Just as it is THE CAPITAL, not The Capitol or The Capital, his name is GREAT LEADER. It is not a title. It is a name.

- '''Don't Be A Blue''': Don't. They're all dead. You'll be too, if you try to imitate them.

- '''Cars don't exist''': Cars do not exist in Redistani society. The concept has been observed, as the Blusnians enjoyed them, but Redistani transport relies on rail, ocean and foot. If you're not getting around by train/tram/boat, you're walking.

- '''Real world religions do not exist''': Religions we are familiar with do not exist. The concept of religion outside of putting Red or The State on a pedestal does not exist in the Redistani citizen's mind. Worshipping a God does not happen because there are no historical religions. There are secular Saints, great figures that are cherished due to their contributions to The State, but they are not deified. Trench Jesus was a man of great achievement. Suggesting he was anything more than a great man is disrespecting him, his abilities and his achievements.

- '''Bureaucracy is a lifeline''': Without your paperwork, you do not exist. Hold it tightly.

- '''The Redcoat Army''': Also known as The Redcoats. The former standing army of Redistan during the Great Wars. Disbanded after the Great Triumph, after which all of Redistan's enemies were no longer.

- '''The Peace Corps''': The internal volunteer army of Redistan. Currently the largest branch of the military, serving as both a martial police force and loyalist infantry force against the Separatists. Members of the Peace Corps are known as Peacekeepers.

- '''The Separatists''': A term that loosely groups hundreds of individual schools of thought. Some believe the government isn't cruel enough. Others want independence to form a Red state of their own. Some are just plain insane. They all have one thing in common, though. They all eat babies.

- '''The Italians''': The Post-Italians are not foreigners. They are simply Redistan's only ethnic minority. Although many may consider them lesser, an Italian is still a million times better than a Blusnian, because an Italian is a Redistani all the same.

- '''The Gules''': People with redder shades than you (carmine, vermilion) are paying a subscription fee to a governmental department to be deemed so. They have more money than you, so they are better. Those people are known as gules (or gulean), a patriotic term for a proud depiction of the colour red. The term 'noble' or 'nobility' has fallen out of vogue in Redistan due to a recently uncovered connection to Blusnian patterns of thought.

== The World ==
There are many regions in Redistan. As the Region you were born in is now selectable, it is a gameplay mechanic too. It can be worth coming up with a plausible backstory for your character, as you may be questioned on your home locale should you ever venture through the gate. The 'Great Five' cities were once THE CAPITAL, St. Redersburg, Redlin, Redbury and Redbourne. ''This is not an exhaustive list of the regions in Redistan, only the ones that appear in the character creator.''

'''THE CAPITAL''' - A sprawling, stacked mess of a city. Endless, heaped slums hug the coasts and ports of the city with some of them, such as the Spaghetto, becoming what is essentially a self contained city. Gargantuan elevators transport cargo and people to the upper levels, housing the hundreds of Ministries and other organisations keeping the necrotic bureaucratic heart of Redistan pumping. Society here is quite stratified, as the various stratas of Gules restrict the upper levels entirely to themselves. The majority of Redistan's Gules live here, enjoying a life of joyful ignorance and endless entertainment. A particularly popular pass time here is show business. Gules love their matinees. ''It would take an entire week to reach THE CAPITAL by boat from where Reborn takes place.''

'''Warmongrad''' - The quietest big city in Redistan, Warmongrad is seen as a giant retirement home more than anything else. This city is located close to THE CAPITAL and as such, has no slums. It evicts all its poor people to the Spaghetto. Most people from here are the children of gules, grew up servicing them or were taken in as apprentices by bored retirees.

'''Greater Western Redistan''' - The region between THE CAPITAL and Redlin. It's a commoner's land, full of smaller port cities. The main exports here are white collar and mining work.

'''Redlin''' - Formerly the industrial heart of Redistan, located smack dab in the middle of the P. Sea. Always seen as a den of villainy and general crime. The Battle of Redlin, the bloodiest battle to occur on core Redistani soil, happened here over the course of 14 weeks in 039PGT, leaving the city in a mostly unusable state. Rather than rebuild it, it was decided that the city would be easily converted into the world's largest prison, perfect for incarcerating all the surrendering forces who miraculously survived the Battle of Redlin. All hail Lord Warden Chadwick Warmonger XIV, first of his name and heir to the Warmonger Rifle Company fortune.

'''Great Central Agricultural Sector''' - A sprawling brick of stacked hydroponic farms. The majority of Great Central City hosts little more than apartment complexes for hydroponic technicians.

'''Sir Redford Fungal Plains''' - Formerly a great fungal forest. Redistan's appetite for warm bungalow interiors exhausted the forests. Now the wood is harvested from the roots of gargantuan trees peaking through the cave roof. The least populated region in the nation.

'''Redbury''' - Known as the Party Capital of the planet and formally split into East and West Redbury for administrative purposes, this city enjoys a strangely warm microclimate and is host to the majority of Redistan's casinos. The hometown of famed gambler Mr. Redz, although mysteriously, he hasn't been seen there in months. Also home to the Colovian Canal, pathway to the North Redistani Sea and the fetid, sparsely populated Northern Tropics.

'''The Redbury Salt Flats''' - Geographically part of the Great Leone Desert. Bureaucratically separate. Dubbed The Boneyard by some, as debts are always settled out on the salt flats.

'''Great Leone Desert''' - An artifical sun of unknown design keeps the Great Leone in eternal sunset. Caveboys were just fantasy, until people began mimicking them. A turbulent region. Birth AND death place of the Higgins Brothers gang.

'''Greater Redbourne Area''' - Once of immense military and strategic value, many of the installations now lay dormant. Many real estate developers see these abandoned bunkers as perfect real estate, for whatever reason. The game is set in this region.

'''Redbourne''' - Known as the Great Red Jewel of the East, Redbourne is a shithole. Tensions are high here as people believe 'the next Battle of Redlin' is about to take place. Peacekeepers patrol the streets in higher numbers than ever and terrorism is on the rise as firebombs become a way of life. Although it is the closest city, it is still a two hour trip by boat from the Bunker, so don't expect any quick visits. With the second largest port and population in the nation, the Redbourne city motto is 'We're Here Too'.

'''New Redistan''' - The surface colonies of Redistan. Destroyed in the Great Triumph. Your character must be 40 or older to come from here. The sky was red. It was beautiful.

Redistani Life

2024-12-21T08:38:38Z

ToasterRobotor: /* The Date */

== Fresh Off The Boat ==
[[File:Redistani victory.png|200px|thumb|REAL HISTORY, by Zion]]
If you're a new player, Reborn's setting can be somewhat daunting to get into. With a focus on allowing players to expand the world of Redistan, getting into the game now can be overwhelming as there is simply so much to learn.
You should always ask someone in game to educate you on something if you don't know, especially the wealthy and gulean. They're well educated and often willing to share that knowledge. The tourists, especially.

However, you or others might feel it is somewhat 'immersion' breaking when you don't understand basic facts about the setting. As such, this page serves to introduce some of the commonly known truths of Redistan. This is not an exhaustive list, the only way to know everything is to go out and learn it yourself.

Of course, you can always just jump in and ignore this giant document. If you've got confidence, you'll make it out just fine. '''[[Reborn|Roles can be found here.]]'''

== The Primer ==

In the times before, in the year 063BBC, GREAT LEADER brought upon Redistan a glorious triumph. A society stuck entirely underground for all of recorded history, unable to face the shame of the blue sky above, finally triumphing over nature itself by blocking out the disgusting blue skies above with thick layers of ashen smoke. The very light in the air turned a glorious deep red under The Cloud's watchful gaze. The people of Redistan could finally marvel at the wonders of the surface without distress. This short period of the colonisation of New Redistan was quickly disturbed by the calls of war. Blusnia could not bare to see the very light itself turn red. All out war was waged over the surface. Conscripts were raised. The Redcoat and Bluecoat armies marched on one another, signalling the beginning of the Great War for the Surface, a 16 year period of devastating trench warfare that ended in a crushing defeat for Blusnia, with a 54% battle loss rate (46% win rate), in the fine year 047BBC.
Attrition had taken its toll and Blusnia retreated back to its core territories, leaving the colonists of New Redistan to recuperate their losses from the war.
[[File:makelovenotwar_redsting05.png|390px|thumb|right|Redistani spirit, by Redsting]]

The Interwar period was long and fraught with conflict. Without full mobilisation, border conflicts were constant and unending. Neither side dared do more than probe the other, testing their weakness. Although the constant ash cloud enveloping New Redistan actively shredded the engines of any Blusnian bombers stupid enough to get close, the Blusnian shelling campaigns proved an unending source of stress for the colonists. Despite their constant adversity, the wonders of surface life were simply too many to give up. Real flour, real milk, real sunlight! It all seared their underground-accustomed eyes and skin in the most unimaginably perfect way possible. 44 years passed without major conflict. The death tolls climbed, the colonists lost much, but neither side would mobilise. The patch of uninhabitable land that was the New Redistani/Blusnian border, once a small gash of scar tissue in the land, barely wider than a billboard, had now grown to over 500 metres across. Forgotten soldiers, lost helmets, discarded landmines and failed bombs littered the lands between. The fields served as a museum, showcasing the slow but steady improvements both nations had made to their arsenals over the past four decades. Each side was no longer reliant on ancient surplus, but had instead constructed designs of their own. One contemporary soldier was now equivalent in firepower to ten Great War soldiers.

In 003BBC, Redistan, having now come close to depleting the forests of New Redistan, was sure to face a crisis. Without unending material to burn, The Cloud would surely break up! The horror of the blue sky above would reveal itself once more! With science being too slow to answer, there was only one choice. The disgusting emerald jungles of the filthy wine drinking, snail and cheese eating Greenslanders. The giant Greenslandian trees would be brought back and incinerated. The Redistanis had exploited the wood of the roots for so long. Now they could finally take the trunks. Whatever they couldn't take back, they would raze.

Greensland was rife with vibrant Green foliage, rich Blue skies and clear, deep azure water. It was something out of a horror book. From the Redcoats army, a sizeable division of patriots willing to endure the torture of the blue sky were sent to reclaim the jungle for Redistan. With captured Blusnian tilt-rotors, now finally usable when not in an airspace of pure ash, the loyal 5th & 4th Volunteer Redistani Patriot Divisions made their way onward to a self-assured victory, flanked by napalm dropping Redistani tilt-rotors, flying low enough to trim the hedges. Typically neutral to both, sharing a border with the New Redistanis had made the Greenslanders paranoid. Decades of preparation and training for an invasion by an overwhelming force, as well as begrudging proxy support from the Blusnian government in the form of trainers and munitions, made the Greensland war go from a patriotic stomp to a devastating crawl through thousands of miles of infested jungle, both bug and frog.

The Blusnians knew an opportunity when they saw one. With the most dedicated and loyal of Redistan's troops otherwise occupied, Mr. President O. Obluma realised the border forces could be ground down and the filthy Redistani colonists behind them could finally be put down. Pushing against the frigid North-Eastern New Redistani/Blusnian border, the full mobilisation of the Bluecoats signaled the start of the Cold Hot War. Committed to the defensive, the Redcoats forced hard to move from their posts for very long. Both sides spent the war exchanging the same pieces of land over and over until the border towns and bases they fought so desperately over were little more than fields of snowed in rubble, covered in tattered Red and Blue rags and paint. Three years into the conflict,--the war in Greensland still ongoing, however looking unfortunate for the Greenslanders--, the Redistanis discovered what,--were religion not illegal--, could only be described as a miracle. Redspace, the very fabric of reality itself, or so scientists at the time claimed. Such a finding could put an end to the war just by its own merits. But the Blusnians were a backwards people and it was a well known fact that they would refuse to listen to reason. The Warp Corps were established. The very next day, roughly fifty thousand brave new Volunteers were reported MIA. Their sacrifice, however, was not in vain. Many of the Warp Corps squads had managed to make it to Blue York, the revolting Blusnian Capitol. One such squad had even made it into the Blusnian National House of Government, once a 'grand' house of opera.

President Obluma was famously made to sign a Declaration of Total Surrender, '''WITH A RED PEN'''. He had saved his own life, as well as much of his cabinet's, at the cost of his people's sovereignty. Redistani troops marched for Blusnia as the period of occupation was set to begin. The fighting continued as dissident Blusnian platoons refused life under the Redistani boot and disregarded their leader's orders to surrender. In Greensland, the war continually looked worse and worse for the Greenslanders, as the Blusnian support quickly left and the munitions shipments dried up. Spirits were high in Redistan and New Redistan alike, as the Great Enemy had finally been conquered.

A week and a half later, as the occupying forces got more and more out of control, looting from, destroying the homes of and murdering the Blusnians they had so long considered below them, a debate still fiercely raged throughout the halls of the Crimson Court, the seat of GREAT LEADER in THE CAPITAL. What was to be done with Blusnia? With former President Obluma in captivity, yet alive and a war that was thought to be impossible to win won, the nation's dreams had been achieved. It was a question that didn't need to be answered. No one is quite sure why it hadn't happened sooner, but that very day nuclear warhead equipped missiles erupted from their hiding places in the ground, destined for the now sprawling colonial cities of New Redistan. It is said the first Blusnian missile didn't even detonate, it simply crushed an orphanage. Retaliation was swift, but ultimately pointless. The occupying troops were told to find cover as Redistani warheads came hurtling towards them, but many refused, taking as many Blusnians with them as they could. Those whom could, retreated back underground, to the old country. For most, it was too late. For many, they didn't see the point of returning when they had spent their entire life above ground.

Although New Redistan was lost, the Blusnian menace could once and for all be considered extinct. This was christened the '''Great Triumph''', a momentous occasion signalling the end of Eternal War with Blusnia.

----

This brings us 41 years later, to the time of Reborn. GREAT LEADER lives, ruling Redistan righteously from THE CAPITAL in the western reaches of Redistan. Redistan still stands, but it finds itself in a state of turmoil. Without an external threat such as the Blusnians, a small minority of people find themselves questioning the harshness of GREAT LEADER's rule. These people are collectively known as Separatists. Most simply want to separate themselves from GREAT LEADER, form a Redistan of their own. Others, in the extreme minority, reject their Red identity entirely, pronouncing themselves to be the successors of the Blusnian state. Infighting is common amongst Separatists as they all have differing ideas on what they want to achieve. While small uprisings were common over the past four decades, it is only now that it has become problematic. A large scale uprising was attempted in Eastern Redistan two years ago and although it was extremely bloody for all sides involved, it ultimately failed. Last year, one of the Great Five Cities, Redlin, was reduced to rubble after months of fighting. Although it was thought the destruction in Redlin would have an adverse affect on many Redistani people, pre-existing conceptions about the city made most write it off as 'inevitable'. Regardless, the Separatist threat in Redistan is very much still alive and not to be underestimated.

== The Date ==

Redistani time is measured differently to Earth time. On Earth, time is measured by the position of the sun. Of course, being underground for centuries, the Redistanis have no sun to measure their time by. Blusnians measured their time in a different way which will not be described here.

Time in Redistan runs on a 2 hour 'shift' system. Citizens are expected to be awake for an hour and a half and be productive during this time. They have a half hour to sleep before the next shift begins. It is believed by sleeping in patterns like this that maximum human productivity can be achieved.
There are 10 shifts, in one day. This makes a day 20 hours long. A day is arbitrary to most citizens, it is simply a method of keeping track of time.
Similarly, there are 10 days (sometimes erroneously referred to as shifts) in a week. A week is 200 hours long.

In a year, there are 46 weeks. This number is of great patriotic meaning to the Redistani people. There are 9200 hours in a Redistani year.

This means there are 460 Redistani Days in a year. This is equivalent to 383 Real Life days. A real year is 8770 hours long.

This means that every 20 Redistani years is actually one real life year ahead.

A 20 year old Red is actually 21 in Earth years.

A 40 year old Red is actually 42 in Earth years.

A 60 year old Red is actually 63 in Earth years.

And so on.

'''THE FORMAT:'''

Date format is also unique from ours.

Redistani dates are formatted as following:

YYY/WW/DD(SS)

SS stands for shift. The shift parenthesis part of the date can typically be omitted, as it is not typically relevant.

Alternative formats include

DD(SS)/WW/YYY

and the ever awful

WW(SS)/YYY/DD

Year will usually be accompanied by a signifier of the period.

Currently, there are two. '''PGT''' and '''BBC'''.

PGT is standard time. The current year is 043PGT. Some may just write it as 043 or informally '43.

BBC stands for Before Blusnian Capitulation. It is counted backwards. The year 010BBC is ten years before the fall of Blusnia. It is not correct to write such a date as -010PGT, but some like to do it regardless.

It has been 87 Redistani years since the end of the '''[[Roles|Great War]]'''.

Recently introduced is a naming scheme for every 200 hour week to help Redistanis remember what week they're currently in and what it signifies.<br><br>
<small>
## Red
## Glory
## Imperial Red
## Cordovan
## Blood Red
## Patriot's
## GIGARED
## Hyperred
## THE CAPITAL red
## Light Red
## Dark Red
## Middle Red
## Cardinal Red
## Redlin
## New THE CAPITAL
## Red Brick
## Brick Red
## Megared
## Flag Red
## Redistani Red
## Sentry's Rest
## Red Two
## Rest
## GREAT LEADER
## GREAT LEADER Red
## Redwood
## Not Blue
## Carmine
## Poppy Red
## Red Three
## Soldier
## Salmon
## Fire Engine Red
## Madder
## Superred
## Red Four
## Remembrance
## Scarlet
## Tomato
## Light Red
## Cinnabar
## Garnet
## Red Five
## Victory
## Triumph
## Redistani
</small>

== The Truths ==
''Some factoids/terms to help you settle in.''

- '''GREAT LEADER''': Just as it is THE CAPITAL, not The Capitol or The Capital, his name is GREAT LEADER. It is not a title. It is a name.

- '''Don't Be A Blue''': Don't. They're all dead. You'll be too, if you try to imitate them.

- '''Cars don't exist''': Cars do not exist in Redistani society. The concept has been observed, as the Blusnians enjoyed them, but Redistani transport relies on rail, ocean and foot. If you're not getting around by train/tram/boat, you're walking.

- '''Real world religions do not exist''': Religions we are familiar with do not exist. The concept of religion outside of putting Red or The State on a pedestal does not exist in the Redistani citizen's mind. Worshipping a God does not happen because there are no historical religions. There are secular Saints, great figures that are cherished due to their contributions to The State, but they are not deified. Trench Jesus was a man of great achievement. Suggesting he was anything more than a great man is disrespecting him, his abilities and his achievements.

- '''Bureaucracy is a lifeline''': Without your paperwork, you do not exist. Hold it tightly.

- '''The Redcoat Army''': Also known as The Redcoats. The former standing army of Redistan during the Great Wars. Disbanded after the Great Triumph, after which all of Redistan's enemies were no longer.

- '''The Peace Corps''': The internal volunteer army of Redistan. Currently the largest branch of the military, serving as both a martial police force and loyalist infantry force against the Separatists. Members of the Peace Corps are known as Peacekeepers.

- '''The Separatists''': A term that loosely groups hundreds of individual schools of thought. Some believe the government isn't cruel enough. Others want independence to form a Red state of their own. Some are just plain insane. They all have one thing in common, though. They all eat babies.

- '''The Italians''': The Post-Italians are not foreigners. They are simply Redistan's only ethnic minority. Although many may consider them lesser, an Italian is still a million times better than a Blusnian, because an Italian is a Redistani all the same.

- '''The Gules''': People with redder shades than you (carmine, vermilion) are paying a subscription fee to a governmental department to be deemed so. They have more money than you, so they are better. Those people are known as gules (or gulean), a patriotic term for a proud depiction of the colour red. The term 'noble' or 'nobility' has fallen out of vogue in Redistan due to a recently uncovered connection to Blusnian patterns of thought.

== The World ==
There are many regions in Redistan. As the Region you were born in is now selectable, it is a gameplay mechanic too. It can be worth coming up with a plausible backstory for your character, as you may be questioned on your home locale should you ever venture through the gate. The 'Great Five' cities were once THE CAPITAL, St. Redersburg, Redlin, Redbury and Redbourne. ''This is not an exhaustive list of the regions in Redistan, only the ones that appear in the character creator.''

'''THE CAPITAL''' - A sprawling, stacked mess of a city. Endless, heaped slums hug the coasts and ports of the city with some of them, such as the Spaghetto, becoming what is essentially a self contained city. Gargantuan elevators transport cargo and people to the upper levels, housing the hundreds of Ministries and other organisations keeping the necrotic bureaucratic heart of Redistan pumping. Society here is quite stratified, as the various stratas of Gules restrict the upper levels entirely to themselves. The majority of Redistan's Gules live here, enjoying a life of joyful ignorance and endless entertainment. A particularly popular pass time here is show business. Gules love their matinees. ''It would take an entire week to reach THE CAPITAL by boat from where Reborn takes place.''

'''Warmongrad''' - The quietest big city in Redistan, Warmongrad is seen as a giant retirement home more than anything else. This city is located close to THE CAPITAL and as such, has no slums. It evicts all its poor people to the Spaghetto. Most people from here are the children of gules, grew up servicing them or were taken in as apprentices by bored retirees.

'''Greater Western Redistan''' - The region between THE CAPITAL and Redlin. It's a commoner's land, full of smaller port cities. The main exports here are white collar and mining work.

'''Redlin''' - Formerly the industrial heart of Redistan, located smack dab in the middle of the P. Sea. Always seen as a den of villainy and general crime. The Battle of Redlin, the bloodiest battle to occur on core Redistani soil, happened here over the course of 14 weeks in 039PGT, leaving the city in a mostly unusable state. Rather than rebuild it, it was decided that the city would be easily converted into the world's largest prison, perfect for incarcerating all the surrendering forces who miraculously survived the Battle of Redlin. All hail Lord Warden Chadwick Warmonger XIV, first of his name and heir to the Warmonger Rifle Company fortune.

'''Great Central Agricultural Sector''' - A sprawling brick of stacked hydroponic farms. The majority of Great Central City hosts little more than apartment complexes for hydroponic technicians.

'''Sir Redford Fungal Plains''' - Formerly a great fungal forest. Redistan's appetite for warm bungalow interiors exhausted the forests. Now the wood is harvested from the roots of gargantuan trees peaking through the cave roof. The least populated region in the nation.

'''Redbury''' - Known as the Party Capital of the planet and formally split into East and West Redbury for administrative purposes, this city enjoys a strangely warm microclimate and is host to the majority of Redistan's casinos. The hometown of famed gambler Mr. Redz, although mysteriously, he hasn't been seen there in months. Also home to the Colovian Canal, pathway to the North Redistani Sea and the fetid, sparsely populated Northern Tropics.

'''The Redbury Salt Flats''' - Geographically part of the Great Leone Desert. Bureaucratically separate. Dubbed The Boneyard by some, as debts are always settled out on the salt flats.

'''Great Leone Desert''' - An artifical sun of unknown design keeps the Great Leone in eternal sunset. Caveboys were just fantasy, until people began mimicking them. A turbulent region. Birth AND death place of the Higgins Brothers gang.

'''Greater Redbourne Area''' - Once of immense military and strategic value, many of the installations now lay dormant. Many real estate developers see these abandoned bunkers as perfect real estate, for whatever reason. The game is set in this region.

'''Redbourne''' - Known as the Great Red Jewel of the East, Redbourne is a shithole. Tensions are high here as people believe 'the next Battle of Redlin' is about to take place. Peacekeepers patrol the streets in higher numbers than ever and terrorism is on the rise as firebombs become a way of life. Although it is the closest city, it is still a two hour trip by boat from the Bunker, so don't expect any quick visits. With the second largest port and population in the nation, the Redbourne city motto is 'We're Here Too'.

'''New Redistan''' - The surface colonies of Redistan. Destroyed in the Great Triumph. Your character must be 40 or older to come from here. The sky was red. It was beautiful.

Reborn

2024-12-21T08:12:18Z

ToasterRobotor: setting this up for later

new player info here

Main Page

2024-12-21T08:11:27Z

ToasterRobotor: /* Reborn */

<center>[[File:Warfare.jpg]]</center>
=<center>About</center>=
IS12 is a heavily modified SS13 server originally based on [https://baystation12.net/ Baystation] but is now so far removed from BS12 that pretty much nothing on their wiki is relevant to the codebase anymore. As such this wiki was made specifically for housing information relevant to IS12. If you're brand new to SS13 in general you'd like to know how to play the base game, we suggest you [https://tgstation13.org/wiki/Starter_guide go] [https://baystation.xyz/index.php?title=Guide_for_New_Players read] [https://www.paradisestation.org/wiki/index.php/Guide_for_beginners some] [http://www.ss13.eu/wiki/index.php/New_Players other] [https://wiki.ss13.co/Getting_Started guides]. <b>Though this wiki does serve as a basic repository of information, the changelogs, updates on the game, and general community are housed on the discord, which can be found [https://discord.gg/FVRctMD here].</b>

==Reborn==
IS12 Reborn is a red-tinted neo-noir black comedy roleplaying game, inspired by the 1985 film [https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Brazil_(1985_film)| Brazil]. Set in a small Redistani town long after the events in Warfare (a total red victory), Reborn focuses on a darkly comedic premise played straight. You're in a nation that worships the colour red and nothing else, act like it!

Rounds typically consist of interfactional conflict/conspiracies, [[AAM|bureaucracy]], classism and Italians. Glory to GREAT LEADER!

*[[Reborn Roles|Roles]]
*[[Redistani Life|Foundational Lore]]

==IS12 Warfare==
IS12 Warfare varies between a vague a cold war-esque, and vague WW1 team deathmatch game with visual influences from Gone With The Blastwave. You are either on the red, or blue team, and your objective is to either deplete all the other sides reinforcements or take over their trenches and activate the point of no return. It plays a bit like how rush plays from the battlefield series. While it takes some visual influence from Gone With The Blastwave it is not related to it in any way. This is not a fan game. It does not take place in the same universe as the comic. It is not affiliated with the comic in any way.

*[[Roles|Warfare Roles]]
*[[Guide to Medicine]]
*[[Getting Started]]
*[[Guides]]

Reborn Roles

2024-12-21T08:11:09Z

ToasterRobotor: Moving the roles page here

[[File:reborn_hallway.jpg|600px|thumb|A Peacekeeper on Patrol, by Zion]]
==Redistan, my Beloved==
Interstation 12: Reborn is the roleplay focused IS12 codebase, with a noir black comedy atmosphere. Set in a Redistani bunker decades after the 'eternal' Redistani-Blusnian war ended, Reborn focuses more on player agency to develop the world and characterization rather than strictly sticking to 50000 word lore articles. That being said, thanks to the three years of development, it can make it a little daunting to jump in as a new player. '''[[Redistani Life|Click here for a comprehensive document detailing what you should already know as a proud Redistani.]]
'''

==Proud Redistanis==

{| style="width: 80%; ax-width: 120em; border-spacing: 2em; clear: both"
|
{| style="width:100%;margin:0; color: #ffffff; background: #bbb; border: 2px solid #634B4F; text-align: center;"
|-
| style="width: 10%; background: #312629; color: #ffffff; border: 5px solid #634B4F; border-top:0px. " | '''Role'''
| style="width: 5%; background: #312629; color: #ffffff; border: 5px solid #634B4F; border-top:0px. " | '''Slots'''
| style="width: 50%; background: #312629; color: #ffffff; border: 5px solid #634B4F; border-top:0px. " | '''Description'''
| style="width: 40%; background: #312629; color: #ffffff; border: 5px solid #634B4F; border-top:0px. " | '''Notes'''
|-
| colspan="4" style="color: #333; padding:2px; padding-left: 50px; background: #bbaaaa; border-left: 1px solid #bbb; border:3px solid #ddd;text-align: center;" | [[File:overseer_map.png]] '''Redclifeans''' - Roles exclusive to the Redscliff/Redscliffe/Redcliffe/Redcliff Disputed zone, a historically contentious minor Redbourne suburb along the eastern stretches of the Genocide-Redbourne Gardens train line.
|-
| [[File:overseer2.png]]<h3>'''The Overseer'''</h3>
| 1
| Once a shifty accountant with a reputation for embezzling, The Overseer is now the reclusive and enigmatic but ever present mayor of the historic city of Redscliff. It is rumoured that he is the fattest man to have ever existed.
| The Overseer is COMPLETELY IMMOBILE. He relies on his goons and his cameras to see and achieve things throughout the bunker. Double-crossing him is a bad idea, considering that he likely has bluemail on you.
|-
| [[File:underlooker.png]]<h3>'''The Underlooker'''</h3>
| 1
| You're the favourite possession of the Overseer. Supposedly.
| You love nothing more than to lick your lollipop. Anyone who tries to take it away from you has made an enemy for life.
|-
| [[File:goon.png]]<h3>'''The Henchmen'''</h3>
| 4
| You're one of the Overseer's loyal goons, tasked with acting as his hands throughout the city. Twisting arms, planting bugs, trailing people and beating those too stupid to listen to instructions will occupy most of your shifts.
| Travel in groups. Four arms is always stronger than two.
|-
| [[File:sycophant.png]]<h3>'''The Sycophant'''</h3>
| 1
| You're a true believer in the mayor's grand vision for the city of Redcliffe. You've been hired on as his personal assistant, cleaner, cook, secretary, bodyguard and yes-man. He is a wise and great man. You can't think of much you wouldn't do for him.
| You are The Overseer's personal assistant, listener and friend (maybe). You don't have any inherent authority over his henchmen.
|-
| [[File:fuckoffboys.png]]<h3>'''The Fuckoff Boys'''</h3>
| 3 + Leader
| Redcliff's local gang. At best, a nuisance. At worst, a threat.
| I don't like telling my boys to fuck off. They don't deserve that.
|-
|-
| colspan="4" style="color: #333; padding:2px; padding-left: 50px; background: #bbaaaa; border-left: 1px solid #bbb; border:3px solid #ddd;text-align: center;" | [[File:portzee.png]] '''Portzeeans''' - Roles exclusive to the Trade Municipality of Portzee, the dying port town nestled in the Greater Redbourne Coast.
|-
| [[File:commandant.png]]<h3>'''The Commandant'''</h3>
| 1
| Obsessed with old world militaria, the Commandant of Portzee demands nothing more than respect and for the masses to finance his lifestyle. It might not be a real title, but you'd do wise not to bring that up to him.
| As Commandant, your underlings will manage most tasks for you. Adjust the tax rate as you see fit, make pointless announcements and perform corrections where needed, otherwise your time is yours to <s>torture</s> enlighten your citizens.
|-
| [[File:consort.png]]<h3>'''Consort'''</h3>
| 1
| You're the Commandant's dear partner. Throw your gule-ness around, you've earned it.
| You have as much authority as the Commandant, given you're not going against them. The filthy poors might not like to listen to you, getting a Peacekeeper's truncheon to the face is a quick fix.
|-
| [[File:scion.png]]<h3>'''Scion'''</h3>
| 2
| You're one of the Commandant and Consort's pride and joy. You're a spoiled brat with far too much power, although you're a weak child with little ability to exercise it.
| Try to abuse your parents goodwill to get what you want. They have plenty to share.
|-
| [[File:servant2.png]]<h3>'''Servant'''</h3>
| 1
| Formerly a prisoner from THE CAPITAL, you found your freedom in indentured servitude for a kindly Gulean family in a town you've never heard of. Try to make something nice of it.
| The Commandant is very kind. Thank The Commandant for the privilege of freedom.
|-
| [[File:stabb.png]]<h3>'''Stabb Alley Gang'''</h3>
| 3 + Leader
| You inhabit the wretched Stabb Alley, named after C. Stabb, inventor of the dual-tipped knife. The Italians are too high brow for you and your buddies. You prefer the simple stickup to the shakedown.
| The leader is not a wildcard. The grunts are. Power in numbers, make sure you stick together. One ganger isn't a threat. Three is.
|-
| colspan="4" style="color: #333; padding:2px; padding-left: 50px; background: #bbaaaa; border-left: 1px solid #ddd; border:3px sloid #ddd;text-align: center;" | [[File:avodant.png]] '''The Gatewatch''' - Good morning inspector. Refuse all Italians entry. Glory to Redistan.
|-
| [[File:advo.png]]<h3>'''[[AAM|Advocatus]]'''</H3>
| 1
| A Bureaucrat from back West, sent to this backwater to assure it doesn't become a den of separatists, occasionally reporting back to senior Advocatii in THE CAPITAL. The Redistani Civil War makes mistakes unacceptable. Do not be afraid to be cruel. Glory to Redistan.
| You have total authority over the checkpoint, your men and nothing more.
|-
| [[File:boothstatue.png]]<h3>'''[[AAM|Inspector]]'''</h3>
| 1
| Giddy volunteers to the A.A.M., encouraged to keep their full attention through the retroactive punishment of their family. Some inspectors are in it for the Patriotism of keeping their country safe from those disgusting Separatists. Others just like to see the look on a child's face as they bar them from getting medical attention inside the bunker. Glory to Redistan.
| Your Advocatus is likely unhappy over their assignment to such a diminutive town. Corruption is widespread this far East for a reason. Use that to your advantage.
|-
| [[File:borderguard.png]]<h3>'''[[AAM|Watchdog]]'''</h3>
| 2
| A grunt of the so-called Gatewatch. Although you may often be made to keep in shape with drills or mop up the floors around the checkpoint, you have plenty of downtime too. If only you got a comfy chair to sit in as well...
| Abandoning your post is liable to get you discharged. Be sure to remind the line with the megaphones what restrictions are in place.
|-
| [[File:postmaster.png]]<h3>'''The Postmaster'''</h3>
| 1
| A local representative of the National Postal Service and head of the local Post Office, responsible for processing and distributing packages for transit through the checkpoint.
| You're not actually part of the A.A.M., the National Postal Service simply falls under their authority and you're in a special section of the Checkpoint. Expect no favours from them.
|-
| [[File:courier.png]]<h3>'''Courier'''</h3>
| 1
| You're the Postmaster's loyal assistant, doing whatever they need done and delivering packages whenever they show up. You've got a radio to keep in contact. Remember: nothing stops the mail.
| You're not him. If you get shot in the head, you'll probably just get mugged and left to die in an alleyway.
|-
|-
| colspan="4" style="color: #333; padding:2px; padding-left: 50px; background: #bbaaaa; border-left: 1px solid #ddd; border:3px sloid #ddd;text-align: center;" | [[File:pkudant.png]] '''The Peacekeepers''' - KEEP THE PEACE, DAMNIT!!!
|-
| [[File:headguard.png]]<h3>'''[[Peace Corps|The Sergeant]]'''</h3>
| 1
| A sergeant, with a small squad of disorganised but (usually) loyal troops at your disposal. Coordinate your Cadets and Peacekeepers well. Your equipment may be outdated, but it is plentiful. A weak sergeant makes for a weak squad.
| Your only goal is to KEEP THE PEACE. Your Peacekeepers shouldn't be starting fights in the slums. Don't be afraid to discipline them when they do something stupid.
|-
| [[File:dispatcher.png]]<h3>'''[[Peace Corps|Dispatcher]]'''</h3>
| 1
| You're the local Corps' dispatcher! You man the front desk in the Precinct, take 54-46 calls and direct Peacekeepers to where they need to go. You might not have any direct authority, but you're a respected member of the team regardless. Maybe.
| This is a roleplay heavy role and you'll typically spend a shift shooting the shit with the other Peacekeepers over the radio. If you don't like talking, find another role.
|-
| [[File:pkguard.png]]<h3>'''[[Peace Corps|Peacekeeper]]'''</h3>
| 4
| You might be schlubby, you might be unfit, but you're here and that's all that really counts. Your main jobs are going to be pest control and abusing what little power you have. You can always make up any charge you like, it's not like whoever you're accusing has a book of laws. Maybe if you suck up enough, the Head Peacekeeper will bother with outfitting you with some nicer gear or perhaps you'll even get that promotion you've been pining for. Make sure to follow his words to a T.
| Be glad you're not back West, fighting Separatists on the front lines.
|-
| [[File:robloxmanface.png]]<h3>'''[[Peace Corps|Cadet]]'''</h3>
| 1
| Merely a child, your tendency to bully others and throw your weight around made you a prime pick for the Peace Corps. You might not be on the front lines, but you're sure to make your country and parents proud.
| While you're more proficient with weapons than most children, you are still rather weak. You make for a strong scout, as well as a keen accompaniment to adult peacekeepers. They're sure to teach you well if you ask.
|-
| [[File:scab.png]]<h3>'''[[Peace Corps|Scab]]'''</h3>
| 2
| You've copped slum duty after fucking up bad and now you have to maintain order in what you're pretty sure is a literal cess pit. Make sure Mr. Redz is happy with the security of his factory, he's sure to hand you a little bonus if you do a good job.
| Power in numbers. Just having your partner nearby is likely to scare most opportunists off.
|-
|-
| colspan="4" style="color: #333; padding:2px; padding-left: 50px; background: #bbaaaa; border-left: 1px solid #ddd; border:3px sloid #ddd;text-align: center;" | [[File:scrungtitioner.png]] '''The Practitioners''' - Let's go practice medicine.
|-
| [[File:hprac.png]]<h3>'''Head Practitioner'''</h3>
| 1
| The head honcho. You have the longest beak, so you are in charge. You might not have ever actually seen a bird, but you know how to lead your flock to glory. Remember, if the power goes out, it's not just the Undertaker they're going to blame.
| Always assume your underlings are incompetent. Demonstrate to them the art of practicing medicine.
|-
|-
| [[File:prac.png]]<h3>'''Practitioner'''</h3>
| 3
| One of the Head Practitioner's flock. Your beak size may vary, but it'll never be bigger than the Head's. You're so dedicated to the art of practicing medicine that you voluntarily had your garments stitched into your skin. Best take a shower before heading out of the clinic.
| Absolutely no beakfighting allowed in the clinic. Try to remember your [[Guide to Medicine|schooling]].
|-
| [[File:apprentice.png]]<h3>'''Apprentice'''</h3>
| 2
| You're a young apprentice to the Birdmen, freshly sent from one of the western Academies. Yet to get a worthy beak of your own, it's up to you to prove yourself and truly take in the words of your superiors. You'll get that beak yet, sonny.
| Schooling is all well and good, but it doesn't compare to practical experience. Do not be afraid to ask your superiors for help.
|-
| [[File:chemist.png]]<h3>'''[[Chemist]]'''</h3>
| 1
| You're a contractor under the Birdmen, not as dedicated to medicine as they are. Too bad they stitched the clothing into your skin anyway. At least you'll be left alone most of the time.
| Chemists are most useful when they spend time making premixed chemical combinations or ship chemicals off to the C.C.M. for profit.
|-
| colspan="4" style="color: #333; padding:2px; padding-left: 50px; background: #bbaaaa; border-left: 1px solid #ddd; border:3px sloid #ddd;text-align: center;" | [[File:scrungissary.png]] '''The Customary and Commercenary Ministry''' - Turn a profit, damn the expense!
|-
| [[File:commissary.png]]<h3>'''Commissariat'''</h3>
| 1
| The economic heart of the bunker, supposedly. You know what things are worth. Never pay full value, you have to turn a profit as well.
| Your men are loyal, as long as you pay them well. As long as there's a profit to be made, ANYTHING is justifiable to the C.C.M..
|-
| [[File:cpusher.png]]<h3>'''Crate Pusher'''</h3>
| 3
| You push crates. You also break legs and kidnap people, if the Commissariat needs it done.
| Work hard. Set goals. Invest. C.C.M. mindset.
|-
| [[File:ckid.png]]<h3>'''Cargo Kid'''</h3>
| 2
| You're a young entrepreneur, starting that grind early. Your older colleagues are sure to have some tips for you.
| A great learning role with very little responsibility.
|-
|-
| colspan="4" style="color: #333; padding:2px; padding-left: 50px; background: #bbaaaa; border-left: 1px solid #ddd; border:3px sloid #ddd;text-align: center;" | [[File:redzgus.png]] '''The Factory''' - No union? No worries!
|-
| [[File:mrredz.png]]<h3>'''Mr. Redz'''</h3>
| 1
| You're the fattest fuck in all of the bunker. You won ownership of a factory here in a backroom game and it's turning you a tidy profit. Your Foreman will typically have the factory under control, so feel free to go commiserate with your fellow fatass gules. Always have food at hand. It's always time for a Cheeseburger.
| NO ONE FUCKS WITH MR. REDZ.
|-
| [[File:redzbodyguard.png]]<h3>'''Redz' Bodyguard'''</h3>
| 1
| You're Mr. Redz's Bodyguard. Your job is to guard Mr. Redz. With your body.
| Don't let anyone fuck with Mr. Redz.
|-
| [[File:foreman2.png]]<h3>'''Foreman'''</h3>
| 1
| You're Mr. Redz's trusted assistant. Do whatever he asks of you. This will typically be yelling at his workers to work harder.
| Mr. Redz has a lot of money and you work oh so hard for him. Perhaps a bonus is in order?
|-
| [[File:factory.png]]<h3>'''Factory Worker'''</h3>
| 6
| You're true working class, real brown collar shit. Whittle down the hours until the whistle blows so you can get off shift and blow your meagre paycheck at the Italian's place on cigarettes and pasto.
| Keep a steady pace. Work too fast, you never know what might happen.
|-
| [[File:kidfactory.png]]<h3>'''Child Worker'''</h3>
| 2
| Workers are getting harder to come by in Redistan as more and more people are sent to the front during the Civil War. Thank GREAT LEADER child labour is encouraged for proper childhood development.
| Don't be afraid to ask for help. No one expects anything of you, you're a child!
|-
|-
| colspan="4" style="color: #333; padding:2px; padding-left: 50px; background: #bbaaaa; border-left: 1px solid #ddd; border:3px sloid #ddd;text-align: center;" | [[File:scrungchef.png]] '''The Civillians''' - What, no food?
|-
| [[File:cook.png]]<h3>'''Cook'''</h3>
| 1
| Not quite experienced enough to be a proper chef, you at least know enough to run your own hash house. Cook whatever you like, just don't get too Italian with it, it doesn't mix well with the local palate. Don't give your child tap water.
| Food service has very thin margins. Mark up everything you can. The vending machines are far too expensive to be worth it.
|-
| [[File:asscook.png]]<h3>'''Assistant Cook'''</h3>
| 1
| You're the cook's apprentice. You're not going to do much cooking, but he should be able to teach you the art of crying in the walk-in between orders.
| Cooking is best for visual learners. Pay attention to what the cook does if you want to learn.
|-
| [[File:janitor.png]]<h3>'''Janitor'''</h3>
| 3
| Sweep it up, janny. The bunker is filthy and you control the mops. A clean bunker is an orderly one. You're also responsible for keeping the place powered. Shove whatever you can get your mitts on into the incinerator.
| You have good justification for getting into other people's workplaces. Try not to have sticky fingers.
|-
|-
| [[File:mullen2.png]]<h3>'''Mullen'''</h3>
| 1
| A private dick. This bunker is a festering pit of darkness and hyper realistic blood, angels weeping, dead inside, fucked up shit and thick skin. You get the idea. Try to offer your services, there's sure to be someone who has a case.
| When a bum sees a dick coming, he don't stick around.
|-
| [[File:barber.png]]<h3>'''Barber'''</h3>
| 1
| Hair always grows. People always need haircuts. That's your specialty.
| This is a wildcard role. Make sure to take length into account. Haircuts only go one way.
|-
| [[File:tailor.png]]<h3>'''Haberdasher'''</h3>
| 1
| You never could stand the atmosphere in the big city department stores. It might be a shithole, but there's enough money here to make a decent living making high-end clothing.
| This is a wildcard role. You can adjust people's suits and uniforms to fit them, as well as make new pieces of clothing on your sewing machine.
|-
| [[File:bottega.png]]<h3>'''Proprietor'''</h3>
| 1
| You bring some of that Spaghetto 'charm' to the bunker, running a Post-Italian Bottega, a general corner store selling a little bit of everything.
| You've got a price gun. It lets you scan them on your receipt machine to easily calculate prices. Don't be afraid to mark up, convenience is worth a lot.
|-
| [[File:radiohost.png]]<h3>'''Radio Host'''</h3>
| 1
| You run the local 'talk-show' radio station, blasting anything and everything over the airwaves: live call-in radio, radio plays and novellas, news from far off cities, live discussions and more! You name it - 104.6FM's got it.
| This is an extremely roleplay heavy role. The only limit is your imagination. Your round on the radio is logged and stored in a Discord channel for later viewing!
|-
| [[File:columnist.png]]<h3>'''Columnist'''</h3>
| 1
| You're a local print journalist, writing and distributing newspapers on the happenings around town or beyond. No one ever said the news had to be local, topical or even real.
| You don't have to confine yourself to local news if you don't want to, make something fun up happening in other parts of the nation! Newspapers are stored in a Discord channel for later reading!
|-
| [[File:paperboy.png]]<h3>'''Paperboy'''</h3>
| 1
| You're a typical paperboy, a little kid with a bag full of papers and a head full of self-serving delusions of a picturesque future in journalism. Help the Columnist do whatever it is they're needing you to do. You might be a kid, but you can't be picky about journalists these days.
| Some rounds you'll be hawking papers to passers-by, other rounds you might be investigating leads or even writing papers yourself! Listen to the Columnist, they're the REAL journalist.
|-
|-
| colspan="4" style="color: #333; padding:2px; padding-left: 50px; background: #bbaaaa; border-left: 1px solid #ddd; border:3px sloid #ddd;text-align: center;" | [[File:scrungiminal.png]] '''The Underbelly''' - Woah mama mia cunt
|-
| [[File:capo.png]]<h3>'''Caporegime'''</h3>
| 1
| The head of the local branch of Post-Italian troublemakers. You're here representing your Godfather back West in the Spaghetto. There's a multitude of ways to get things done down here, it's just a matter of picking which one.
| Pure violence is typically a poor choice for the mafia. Try to keep your exploits well thought out and executed. Do not play this role if you're bad at leading people.
|-
| [[File:consulente.png]]<h3>'''Consulente'''</h3>
| 1
| The boss's sleazy second-in-command, your job is to advise the Capo on all things Italian, disseminate orders amongst the men and head up negotiations. After all, you've got a genuine passport and a silver (plated) tongue.
| Try to make friends. Better to be stabbed in the back by someone you know than a stranger.
|-
| [[File:vinny.png]]<h3>'''Vinny'''</h3>
| 1
| The namesake of Vinny's Bar and Grill. A made-man without a crew, Vinny mans the bar (and grill) and acts as a sort of 'fixer' from time to time.
| You're usually the first person in the mafia anyone can talk to. First impressions matter.
|-
| [[File:soldato.png]]<h3>'''Soldato'''</h3>
| 2
| You're a loyal made man of the Scrungelli Family, equipped with your own squad of degenerate associates to lead. Follow the orders of your bosses, make up a few of your own along the way and get paid.
| Jumping straight to violence is a bad idea, you can't exploit dead people. '''This is a leadership role'''. Do NOT play this if you just want to goon/cook smeth all round.
|-
| [[File:mafioso.png]]<h3>'''Mafioso'''</h3>
| 4
| You're an aspirant associate. Not yet made, but too ingratiated with the mafia to return to normal work, you're working your way up the ladder until you get made. They ''are'' gonna make you, right?
| Listen to your boss (a soldato) and their bosses. They're made, so they're better than you.
|-
| [[File:bocconcino1.png]]<h3>'''Bocconcino'''</h3>
| 1
| The Mafia's very own orphan to boss around. Although you're not Italian, they've accepted you as one of their own.
| You're not Italian, yet. People are far less suspicious of you.
|-
| [[File:quack.png]]<h3>'''Quack'''</h3>
| 1
| Kicked out of the Practitioner's League for reasons that were NOT YOUR FAULT, you service the slums. There's a good living in being a mafia doctor.
| This is hardcore Practitioner. You will struggle for supplies. Practitioners who think they can come on your turf need to be taught a lesson.
|-
| [[File:pawnbroker.png]]<h3>'''Pawnbroker'''</h3>
| 1
| A dealer in things people won't need anymore and a specialist in putting people in literally crippling debt, you run a little pawnshop on the not-so-nice side of town. You've let a strange person operate a meat cannery out of your backroom. Make sure they give you the junk they find.
| You start with a LOT of money and a list of debtors. Couldn't hurt to loan some money out, surely the mafia will help you collect interest? Don't forget to take some collateral.
|-
| [[File:undertaker.png]]<h3>'''Undertaker'''</h3>
| 1
| Disgraced for your obsession with touching the dead and let go from a job you weren't really doing in the first place, you now find work operating a cannery out of the back of the pawn shop, having worked out a little deal with the kindly pawnbroker.
| Give anything you find to the pawnbroker. You only care about meat. Any meat'll do for your cans.
|-
| [[File:scrungus.png]]<h3>'''Wildcard'''</h3>
| >20
| A pool of special roles that you can't play by other means, ranging from Gulean tourists, lonesome Caveboy drifters and mercenaries to more in depth roles like barbers and haberdasherers. Most wildcard roles are not listed on this page.
| Follow your instincts and you will do well.
|-
|}
|}

Reborn

2024-12-16T05:22:08Z

ToasterRobotor:

File:Radiohost.png

2024-12-16T05:22:00Z

ToasterRobotor:

File:Servant2.png

2024-12-16T05:21:41Z

ToasterRobotor: