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For old time's sake, and with my ONE YEAR anniversary coming up on January 2nd, I'm going to restart (with some changes, of course) the first RP I ever made. AKA my Historical Fic. RP: I need this for ideas for a movie for National History Day at school, which I am doing on the Newsies Strike of 1899.
It brings back good memories! So to all history/theater/films-no-one-except-film-nerds-have-seen-film-nerds/NEWSIES geeks; let's get this thing started!
Like before, I will be giving you options for characters. You can have two, but if you do have two, one must be a boy. Otherwise, your one charrie can be girl or boy. Here they are.
NEWSIE: ages 7-17 years old. Your job is to sell The New York World, a newspaper run by Joseph Pulitzer. Newsies were mainly boys, but I will accept one girl newsie (besides my character, which is the same one from last time except with a different name). Post a nickname that suits your charrie, as well as your charrie's real name.
RICH KID: Age 11-17. Your family knows Mr. Pulitzer, and you can choose to be for or against the Newsies strike.
FACTORY WORKER: Age 9-21. Your life is extremely hard, as you are just a kid, and can't go to school, because you have to work all day. Can be girls or boys.
NEWSPAPER WORKER: Age 19-25. You work by distributing newspapers to the newsies, and to try to shut the strike down. You are against the strike.
NEWSPAPER REPORTER: Ages 21-25. You either work for The World, The Journal, The Times, or The Sun. If you work for The Sun, you can report on strike news.
Here's the charrie sheet:
NAME:
NICKNAME(S):
JOB (of the choices above):
AGE:
PART OF NEW YORK CHARRIE LIVES IN (Manhattan, Queens, the Bronx, the Bowery, Midtown, Harlem, Brooklyn):
CRUSHES:
STRENGTHS:
WEAKNESSES:
BACKGROUND:
POSITION ON THE STRIKE (for or against):
There you have it! Now, for my character.
NAME: Kathleen
NICKNAME(S): "Eagle" "Princess" "Irish"
JOB: Newsie
AGE:15
PART OF NEW YORK CHARRIE LIVES IN: Brooklyn, as she is one of Spot Conlon's newsies.
CRUSHES: She'll wait and see, depending on if any of you chose Newsie crushes.
STRENGTHS: Good fighter, independent, determined, kind, strong-willed, tomboy, talented Newsie.
WEAKNESSES: Good fighter, has a dark past that she tries to hide (and doesn't remember), very handy liar, tomboy, strong-willed.
BACKGROUND: Her parents died when she was six, in mysterious circumstances, leaving her alone on the streets of Brooklyn. She doesn't remember much about her family, only that there was a fire, and they had to have died in that. She's not sure though... (#PlotDevelopmentIdeas) Out on the streets for two years, she was taken to The Refuge, a kids jail, at age eight, for stealing food. She escaped after only a day, because she was so skinny, she sld through the bars on the windows, and climbed down to the streets. She ran away back to her old home by the docks. There, she was taken in by an old friend of the family's, Spot Conlon, who is only a year older then her. They both became newsies, and both her and Spot gained a reputation for being the best newsies in New York.
POSITION ON THE STRIKE: Kathleen is all for the strike, and she was the one who convinced the Brooklyn newsies to help the Manhattan newsies with the strike, after spying on them to see if they had the guts to go through with the strike, and FIGHT!!
So, there you have it! I'm counting on some of you who joined before to join, and I'd like some new people to join. Thanks!
submitted by Brooklyn Newsie
(December 30, 2016 - 10:58 am)
(December 30, 2016 - 10:58 am)
Kathleen~
Spot and I, the known leaders of the pack, lead the newsies down a dark alley, a known shortcut, leaping over barrels and boxes, crates and cartons. We’re headed to the distribution center, which is close to the Brooklyn Bridge, to get our yellows, meaning the New York World and the New York Journal. It’s funny-we sell different papers, but unlike the publishers, our point is to just sell our newspapers to as many people as we can, so that we don’t have to starve. Turning out of the alley, we sprint down the open street, where only a few people are trudging the streets. One is a pretty girl in a blue dress, who is carrying a large basket. I hear a few collective murmurs from the boys about the girl, most of it coming from Romeo, pretty much of a dandy of a newsie, who is just obnoxious and flirtatious in general. I roll my eyes, as he pushes his way through the crowd to get to the girl.
He licks his hand, and slicks his hair back, then grins sickeningly. I groan, and Spot facepalms multiple times. Other newsies snicker, and some of the younger newsies look confused. I stealthily pull out my slingshot, and arm it with a small stone. I’m not letting any other innocent girl get attacked by this idiot of a newsboy. When I first met him, he tried those tricks on me too, and wouldn’t stop until I winged him around a flagpole. You would have thought after a bloody nose and two black eyes from yours truly he would have stopped, but somehow he feels the need to carry on flirtations with every pretty girl he sees. I’m surprised the whole of Brooklyn hasn’t learned to stay clear.
“Hey doll,” Romeo smiles. He’s put on his casual act. Great. “Wanna go dancin’ tomorrow night?”
“No,” the girl says. She glares at him, and pushes him out of her path, and continues hurrying down the road.
I step forward, and sling the rock at his horribly bloated head. It hits him right on the crown of the head, and he turns around, anger brewing in his eyes. I admit, I smirk a little.“Yeah, Romeo. Get used to it, you can’t just do that to girls. We got feelings too.”
His eyes narrow. I admit, my hate for him has always been returned, partly for the beating I gave him when I was twelve, partly because I’m Spot’s right hand girl (in a friends sense), and mainly because he has a general low opinion of females, except as romantic objects. “No one asked your opinion, little-”
“Watch it,” Spot says warningly. I think we all knew what he was about to call me-something obscene.
“I can handle myself,” I assure him. Spot’s like my brother. He should know by now that I’m just as tough, and sometimes even tougher than the boys. Rolling up my sleeves up, I grab my stick, and stare defiantly at Romeo.
“Say it.”
“What?”
“Dare you to.”
“What?!”
“Then you’re sorry,” I challenge, smirking.
He laughs. “Never!”
“Then youse is just settin’ yourself up for a soakin’,” Spot threatens, punching his fist into his hand.
“Ha!” Romeo laughs, full of arrogance and self-confidence. “Like you could soak me, ‘King’ of Brooklyn.” That’s a low blow, and Spot and I both know it. Club, one of the older (not to mention larger) newsies and a good friend of mine, walks up to Romeo and, slapping the club he carries in his hand into his palm multiple times, he says quietly, “You wanna pull yourself together? ‘Cuz there are a lotta people out there who’d be willing to fight you if you meant that.”
Romeo’s face shrinks, and after a staredown, he steps away. Spot pats Club on the back, and we start again down the street. After showing down Romeo, most of the newsies are in a bloody good mood. The street widens into an alley, which we cut into, mostly to save time. But at the end of it, something strange happens. I see a young boy. He looks familiar, yet unfamiliar. But as soon as he appears, he vanishes.
(January 11, 2017 - 9:42 pm)
TOP!
Piero~
I don't know what happened. It's like I can't control my limbs.
After a long day at work, I just wanted to go home and eat some of Giu's horrible ravioli. I exited the factory, shrugged on my jacket, and stuck my cap on my head, walking back to Mulberry Street and the tenements. I think about my small and broken family, and Giu's, and the horrible factory and the long hours and... my feet are walking in the wrong direction. But I can't get them to turn around.
My feet already ache, the three-sizes-too-small shoes pinching my toes, as usual. I keep walking.
It's real dark, now. Shadows trail behind me, and even though I'm not one to believe in ghosts and such, I won't pretend I wasn't a little scared.
Okay, a lot. I keep walking.
Giuseppe and Pop will be worried, the voice in my head says. I can't go home, and I can't stand another day in a sweltering factory, only seeing the sky as it is now- pitch black. I can't stand another day.
I keep walking.
The moon shines on the East River, and almost in a daze, I find myself crossing the Brooklyn Bridge. What are you doing! Inner Piero screams, but I ignore all logic and keep walking. I'll find work here. One thing is for sure- I cannot be a cracker-off boy anymore.
Everything hurts. I find myself in an alley, near what looks like a boardinghouse. I stumble and fall onto the cobblestones, too drained of energy to even get up. I close my eyes. I wonder if Giuseppe will find me here.
(January 13, 2017 - 9:57 pm)
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(January 16, 2017 - 6:18 pm)
Please post!!!
(January 21, 2017 - 9:11 pm)
Abe~
As I turn to leave, I hear a low groan and frantic murmurs issuing from the alleyway. I shiver. I don't know who they are, but I need to get home right now. I get outta there fast.
When I arrive at home, Mother searches my face for any signs of discomfort. Of course, with the events of today on my mind, she finds a lot.
"What happened?"
Her voice is rising in volume.
" I was walkin along Central Park, just for fun, and I got out when I started to get tired. As I walked back, I saw an alleyway, and kids were sleeping there. Kids! What was that about, Mother?"
"Abraham." Her voice is low now. "Don't go there again, and don't associate with those children." "I didn't!" I reply. "I just saw them!" "Well, don't 'see them' again!"
"Yes, Mother."
I still don't know what those kids were doing there.
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(January 22, 2017 - 7:48 am)
~Daniela
I wish we had off days. Or lived in an actual house. And had nice warm clothes and... and... I'm always wishing. I can't help it. It's as if hoping those wishes came true gives me hope. Ah well. might as well be thankful for what I have. Including Zanna. I smile affectionatly at my little sister. "Zanna, I'ma goin' to work now. Stay here an' don't talk to stangers." Zanna nods.
"Bring me somethin? Please?" I agree, and soon I'm running so as not to be late to work again. I barely make it.
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LATER
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Coming home from work, I search for something to bring to Zanna. A newsie nearby shouts out headlines. I'm suddenly hit with an idea! Paper! Zanna loves folding paper up in unusual shapes, it's something she can do without seeing! I hurry over to the newsie. He seems surprised. "Sir, it ain't much, but I'd gladly offer ye a loaf of bread for that paper." I pull out a loaf I just got from the basket I'm carrying. A slow smile spreads over his face, one that doesn't exactly seem pleasent.
"Well..." He drawls. A small group of newsies is gathering behind us.
"Yes?" I say hesitantly.
"I'll take... Two!" He lunges for my basket, but I quickly spring away from him. Quickly, I turn back around, my eyes wild. I can feel my cheeks burn red with anger. Rage boils in a mix of emotions and I quickly slap him across the face. Slowly, I feel my anger subdue the littlest bit.
"Ima sorry for ye sir but you'll take none!" I regain my composure and briskly walk torward home. Guess Zanna will get something else today.
(January 22, 2017 - 7:21 pm)
Hey guys! First off, thank you for posting on this, it means so much to me, and second, I'm sorry I havn't posted. I've had a looooooooooooooooong and busy week at school.
Kathleen~
Outside the gates of the distribution center, Spot and I study the giant chalkboards on which all the day’s headlines are printed. They’re all trash, meaning that we’re going to have to make something up today. Spot shakes his head, and wanders away, swinging his cane around as he mutters to himself. The gates had better open soon, because all these newsies have a bone to pick with the headline writer. How are they supposed to expect us to sell their lousy papes when they don’t give us good tools to help us?
“Kathleen! Hiya, Kathleen! Lookit them headlines! Boy, ain’t they dumb?!”
“Heya, Grin,” I smile down at the ten year old boy that is, as always, trailing right by my side as soon as he sees me. Grin has fronted, that is, sold some of my papers by acting cute for old ladies, for about a year, and we have split the profits 50/50 between us for six months. I think he looks up to me, but I really don’t mind. He’s cute, like how I always imagined a little brother to be. “Yeah, they’re pretty lousy, ain’t they.”
“Lousy! Why, they ain’t worth three cents!” Grin exclaims. I laugh a little bit. Grin got his nickname because he’s always smiling. He is just such a hopeful person, that his optimistic nature is just impossible to ignore. Besides, he’s lucky. He has a mother and father, unlike most of us. And he needs me, as he’s around five times smaller than the larger and tougher Brooklyn newsies.
Spot’s back, swinging his cane around again. “Gates open in two minutes,” he says.
“Howd’ya know that?” Grin asks eagerly.
“Climbed over the fence. Got in trouble for climbin’ over two minutes before it opened.”
I smile, “Well, that’s it for ya.”
Spot laughs, then gets serious. “Where do you think wese sellin’ today?”
“CONEY!” yells Grin. Several newsies look over in our direction, and Spot and I, embarrassed, turn our backs to them. Coney ‘Island’ (It’s not really an island, just an area off the tip of Brooklyn) is Grin’s favorite selling spot, but what he doesn’t get is, if they see us there every day, they’ll catch us right away if we lie about the headline. Which we’re going to have to today.
“Sorry, Grin, ‘ol buddy, but we went to Coney yestaday. Wanna go visit Manhattan?” I ask gently.
Grin makes a face. “Ick, no.” Spot snickers. I see that he’s taught Grin well. Spot tends to look down on most of the Manhattan Newsies, but he has respect for a few, such as Boots and Racetrack.
“We could trek on down to Ellis Island,” Spot suggests. “It’d be a bit of a walk, but it’d be woith it.”
“Ah, but theys so many people who don’t know what wese sayin’ there, and they ain’t got no money neither,” Grin complains. “And the guards are mean, and it’s so hot, and I just wanna go to Coney because we can get lemonade in da middle of de day.”
“Woah. What happened to Grin?” Spot asks, mock-stunned.
Grin giggles a little. “Have I gotten better? Betcha, if I could fool ya wid dat, I could fool anybody. I really don’t mind Ellis. But Coney’s more fun.”
Spot and I laugh, finally in on the joke. “The kid’s a regular Shakespeare, ain’t he, Spot?”
“Sure thing.”
Grin’s giggles fade a little. “I still want to go to Coney.”
“Cheer up, buddy,” I say. “I betcha Fish would take ya to Coney.”
“Yeah,” Spot says. “Hey, you, Fishy!”
He wanders away with Grin towards Fish, just as the bell rings, and the gate swings open.
A rousing cheer rises up above the crowd of ready newsies.
Tina said 'nfrp'! Nature Fairy RP!
iiii like fays.
(January 23, 2017 - 11:40 am)
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I think Abe should meet a newsie pretty soon. Does anyone have any suggestion as to who he meets?
(February 3, 2017 - 4:01 pm)