Introductions

Hi

Thought it could be awesome to know peoples names or at least have an idea of who IRL is playing ingame?

I am going to play

Doctor T.S Sinclair, a private practitioner in Clockbottom.

Hi, I'm going to play Janet Carlisle White - representative of the bank, which lends out money and hence also manages slaves. I play more or less my RL age (41) and am amongst the wealthy inhabitants of Clockbottom.

M. Lavoie

Irish American trapper!

Come an go as I please. I'm practically the Clockbottom wizard, but with a gun and without magic.

P. Sommer

Blacksmith and overall handyman. Metalworks and dental services provided at your pleasure. Also one of the towns Oldtimers.

To most townsfolk, I come across as a harsh and slightly grumpy person, yet fair. I do my duties, often without complaining. Rather quiet, but when drunk change to the opposite, wanting to have fun and chat with everyone.

And any lad with motives (what so ever) better keep their eyes (and hands) off my Daisy though, or my iron fist will be doin some breaking instead of fixin'...!

B.Kotelnikov

Engineer mainly working for some of the researchers with their apparatuses. Originally from Russia, but have been travelling Europe and the Americas for many years now. I have imagined him my own age, 40.

I love working with gadgets and improving technical inventions. Studying the work of other engineers is always a great joy. I am working on some projects of my own, but as mentioned, my main work is for the scientists.

I spend a lot of time in the bar, since I enjoy drinking, socializing and sometimes singing. I am a very friendly man, but careful with whom I get to know well. But, sharing a glass of good spirits is always welcome. How else to judge a man's worth than to share a bottle of strong liquor with the man!

Good evening Doctor Sinclair.
T. Plomgren, your assistant for the endeavours to come.
A gentleman with his swedish ancestry and a professional as a doctor. Always willing to help treat the ill and wounded with both his mental and practical knowledge.

Victor Carson

Scientist, researching areas such as metamagnetism, electrofrequencies and much more. Often seen with various technical contraptions, trying to measure something important. Sometimes interested in research subjects willing to assist in his studies for a small fee. Married to Charlotte Carson.

Good evenin' to y'all fine folk! Sheriff Wulffman here.
I like to think of myself as a pragmatic kinda fella, if you know what I mean.
With Hughes, my Deputy, we make sure order reigns in Clockbottom.

Good morning to you all.

Psychologist Dr P.W. Johnson here. Might any of you be a patient of mine?

I can now reintroduce myself!

Doctor (Miss.) Teresa Sinclair.

Been the doctor of Clockbottom for the last 4 years, and I might be a Doctor but nothing in this life is for free.
No money - No treatment! Unless you are from CMTC... Then its another story.

So - If you have been ill, injured or deadly sick (Or still is) and have consulted me and want to be on file - PM Me and Ill make it happen

I'm U P Pemberton, and I work as bank secretary. Since most people have debts or savings at the bank most of you would have had interactions with me and/or my boss Mrs White (who has already introduced herself). I'm mostly calm and undramatic and I take my job VERY seriously. As bank official I'm very strict and orderly. Outside of work I'm mostly friendly, but kind of private about my personal life (unless we're friends for real).

Arrived to Clockbottom 17 months ago.

Fiona Erikson, Timekeeper.

American with a swedish father. Mormon.

"I have been working for Clockbottom for 3 years, and I pretty much like it here. I am one of the nice people that motivate the workers do do their best, and if they are lazy, sometimes i have to show them why they have to do as I say. Sometimes i get blood on my clothes. I don´t like that. It looks messy and less professional."

Reverend Trudy Young, protestantic preacher

Arrived in Clockbottom three years ago, to replace the late Rev. Smith ("What happened to him by the way? Should I truly inquire about such dark matters?"). I know sin inside out, and am not easily tempted. Here to bring light to a dark place, and to guide you all unto the true path of God. Unlike those other paths the other "holy persons" preach. Work is the true path to heaven, and it will keep your mind away from sin. Thus, work your slaves hard that they may know salvation in the end! And yourself, naturally. Other than that, I'm a quite positive person who might be a little too prone to shy away from darker, heavier topics.

Winifred (Winnie) Oldman, gas catcher
I came to Clockbottom in search of gold but ended up with a dangerous job that gets me deeper in debt for every week. I just want to get out of town - who wouldn't. I'm a mormon and sister to the preacher W Oldman. Before the war I was doing quite well buying and selling slaves, but then my trade was made illegal in that state. If you are a slave, you might have seen me before. Usually I am calm and polite but I don't like it when people ( time keepers for instance, or my brother) try to boss me around.

Brigadier General F. F. Shepley perhaps known to some as formerly airship captain of The Eagle, known from the opening of Japan back in -53. Sometimes called "The Bombardier" during that time.

Been slugging it out with the rebels since the war started.

1st Lieutenant A.J. Alexander of the 51st Georgia Volunteer Rifles.

Been stationed in Clockbottom with my troop since late July 1863 (last year).
Keeping the settlement safe from Cherokee, outlaws, redlegs and whatever hostility that threatens.

(In English after wall of swedish text)


Det går inte så bra för syskonen Storm. Inte särskilt bra alls faktiskt. Egentligen finns det ingen logik i det. Det är orimligt när man tänker på det, låter konstigt när man säger det högt. Ju mer dom jobbar desto större skulder samlar dom på sig. Ja ni hör ju. Men vi börjar från början.
Östen hade en minst sagt smutsig start i livet. När vattnet gick för mamma Storm var hon långt ute på ett av de stora potatisåkrarna och rotade i jorden. “När jag bad om bevattning till plantorna var det inte riktigt det här jag menade, utan regn, men man ska va tacksam för det lilla antar jag” mumlade hon medan hon satte sig ner i leran och drog upp klänningen. Hon tänkte att “nästa gång jag talar med Gud ska jag vara mer specifik.” Under tiden Östen krystades fram bland lera, gamla potatisar, smärtskrik och blast satt den 5-åriga Elsa i en bod och rörde med en stor sked i en hink med socker och ljummet vatten. “Rör om tills allt socker löst upp sig” förklarade pappa Storm sluddrigt men pedagogiskt medan han hällde på mer varmt vatten med hjälp av en vattenkanna. “Jag fyr, nej, chyr, nej syresätter vattnet här nu ser du, så börjar jäsningen snabbare.” Pappa Storm levde efter filosofin “det finns ingen anledning till att vänta med att ge sin unge sann och riktig kunskap”. Det var alltså den typen av kunskap som handlade om potatis och mäsk. Skola var överflödig naturligtvis. Han såg fram emot om några år då hon var självgående i produktionen och han kunde luta sig tillbaka och till fullo gå in i yrkesrollen som produktprovare. När de tillsammans förberett inte mindre än 12 hinkar mäsk, och pappa Storm precis lagt sig för att ta sin dagliga eftermiddagslur klampade en väldigt medtagen varelse in i boden, blod och lera droppades överallt. Varelsen sa “titta E, vilken konstig potatis jag hittade på åkern” och la den lilla pojken försiktigt i Esters armar. “Han ska heta Östen.”
Det var alltså så det började för de två syskonen. Snabbt sammanfattat kan man väl säga att både vardagen och helgdagen för de unga tu handlade om just det. Potatis, lera, och sprit. Det kommer, som ni alla vet, en tid i de allra flestas liv då man liksom känner sig klar med just potatis, lera och sprit. När man tycker att det känns lite gjort. För Elsa hände det 3 dagar innan hennes 20-årsdag. Hon ville ut och se..ja något annat, hon ville upptäcka..en annan del av Sverige. Eller helt ärligt ville hon egentligen redan då upptäcka världen, men när hon insåg att världen låg lite för långt bort nöjde hon sig med att resa till Västerbotten.
I Västerbotten var folk annorlunda, de pratade med en dialekt som gjorde att de lät dumsnälla allihop, och de hade större nävar än hemma. Det var svårt att få jobb. De riktigt stora nävarna skrattade åt henne och hennes klena armar och De lite mindre nävarna fnös och sa att hon var tvungen att ta på sig en klänning om hon skulle sätta sin fot där igen. Elsa som aldrig riktigt förstått vare sig konceptet klänning eller klena armar hamnade tillslut hos en slaktare skurandes golv. Slaktaren som hette Sören, var en alldeles särskilt märklig karl. Han pratade nämligen helt oavbrutet. Ibland var det nästan som att han kunde prata 20 minuter i sträck utan att andas en enda gång. Han pratade långsamt, och allra helst berättade han fruktansvärda historier om skogsfrun, bergsråt, huldran och om vittror. Elsa förstod snabbt att den “sanna och riktiga kunskapen” hennes far lärt henne var mer än bristfällig, och lyssnade så öronen blev trötta. När ett halvår hade passerat började längtan efter den stundtals besvärliga lillebrodern Östen bli för kraftig att hantera, och Elsa åkte hem till Karlstad igen.
Där hemma var allt nästan som vanligt. Östen hade lärt sig jonglera med potatis, pappa Storm sov i boden och mamma Storm stod med händerna i jorden. Elsa tyckte det var skönt att återse sin familj, men det dröjde inte länge innan lusten att se världen infann sig igen. Elsa hade bestämt sig, hon ville längre bort än Västerbotten nu. Hon ville till Amerika.
Östen, som var outsägligt uttråkad och mycket osugen på att skiljas från sin storasyster ännu en gång hade också bestämt sig. “När du åker, då följer jag med.” Det krävdes lite övertalning, både gentemot modern och gentemot Elsa, men tillslut gav de båda med sig och Östen började packa. När nyheten att båda syskonen Storm mer permanent skulle lämna boet nådde pappa Storm brast han ut i ilsken gråt och gick raka vägen ut och högg ner 2 träd. När han kom tillbaka in var syskonen redan borta.
“MOT AMERIKA” gastade de unga syskonen Storm när de klev på båten. Resan var lång men gick bra. Elsa återberättade SlaktarSörens historier för Östen och sen sov dom. Hon berättade, de sov, hon berättade, de sov och innan de visste ordet av var de framme. The land of dreams! The land of plenty! The land of...Kanada? Östen och Elsa förbannade återigen faderns val av utbildning för dem, tog sina väskor och klev av i fel land.
De hade jobbat i hamnen i ungefär 2 år när reklamaffischerna för Cloch började dyka upp överallt. “Gräva guld, det är verkligen något annat än att gräva potatis, sopa slaktrester och bygga gasledningar i hamnen det!” ..stod det inte på affishen naturligtvis men det var så syskonen Storm tänkte. De hade under sin tid i i Hudson bay samlat på sig två katter och en hund som husdjur. Det är ju alltid mysigt med djur resonerade dom. Dessutom betyder dom tur. Det hade SlaktarSören sagt. Problemet hade bara varit att hunden en natt bitit ihjäl den ena katten, och bitit av bakbenen på den andra.”Hur ska vi göra med djuren när vi åker?” Undrade alltså Östen på förekommen anledning. Dom diskuterade lite fram och tillbaka och enades sedan om det enda rimliga, att ta med dom snälla djuren och lämna det dumma. Elsa tömde den döda katten på inälvor den ändå inte behövde längre, stoppade den halvdöda katten i en säck, band fast hunden vid ett bord och sedan var dom klara för nästa stora äventyr.
Det fanns inget guld i Clockbottom. Eller, det kanske det gjorde, men de båda syskonen Storm fick hursomhelst istället i uppgift att hitta och samla gas. Det finns många olika typer av gas men det som är gemensamt för dem allihop är att det kan vara en bra idé att inte andas in den. Den första tiden i Clockbottom hade syskonen bara råd att hyra spårnings och uppsamlingsutrustning, gasmaskerna fick vänta till sen. Det fick som följd att en hel del gas trots allt andades in, men då ingen av dem omedelbart dog av det drog dom båda slutsatsen att det inte behövde vara så farligt ändå. Det är fånigt att påstå att de små förändringarna i syskonens beteende med hundra procents säkerhet berodde på gasen, men lika dumt känns det att inte vara öppen för det alternativet.
Samlingen av döda/halvdöda djur utökades. Djuren gav dem, enligt utsago tur och var helt säkert deras bästa vänner. Syskonen hade aldrig varit särkskilt noga med gränser för liv och död, dom gillade inte att sätta etiketter och diskriminera på det sättet.
Det är en klurig sak när man tänker på det. Om vi tex ska prata om potatis en stund, och det tycker jag vi ska, det var längesedan sist nu. Dör potatisen när man skiljer den från plantan? Vissa skulle säga självklart ja, men dom glömmer då att en potatis som är “död” fortfarande kan ätas, jongleras med och inte att förglömma sättas i jorden och ge liv till nya potatisar. Är potatisen verkligen död då? Spelar det någon roll? Blir kattens päls mindre len för att just den katten kanske inte lever just då? Detta är frågor som syskonen skulle diskuterat kring om de inte var just så väldigt ointresserade av att prata om såna här ämnen som de var. En katt är en katt. Det var helt enkelt inte mer med det.
Sen var det ju några andra saker också. Minnet var inte som det brukade, det var lätt att blanda ihop grejer, och då och då blev Östen väldigt yr.
Behovet av, och längtan efter pengar tedde sig nästan sjuklig. Det var allt syskonen tänkte på. Östen ville betala sina skulder och tjäna ihop tillräckligt för att köpa sig ett eget hus och stadga sig i stan. Elsa ville helst bli riktigt, riktigt rik. Ha pengar. Som var hennes. Ha dem och smeka dem ibland, som djuren. Det var viktigt. Hon hade kanske inte helt klart för sig just varför det var så viktigt, men viktigt var det. Det viktigaste som fanns. På vilket sätt man blev rik spelade faktiskt ingen som helst roll.
Men det gick inte så bra för syskonen Storm. Inte särskilt bra alls faktiskt. På senaste tid hade känslan av att något var på väg att rasa blivit starkare. Sheriffen hade tappat greppet, både om stan och sitt eget mående. Människor bråkade med varandra. Vissa dog. Östen hade så svårt för bråk. Han tyckte inte om när människor skrek till varandra. Och ingen av syskonen Storm gillade när saker rasade.


It is not working that well for the siblings Storm. Not very good at all actually. Actually, there is no logic in it. It is absurd when you think about it, sounds weird when you say it out loud. The more they work, the greater the debts get. Yes you heard it. But let's start from the beginning.

Östen had the least dirty start in life. When the water broke for Storm's mother, she was far out on one of the large potato fields and rooted in the earth. "When I asked for irrigation to the plants, this was not quite what I meant, but rain, but you should be grateful for the little things I guess" she mumbled as she sat down in the mud and pulled up the dress. She thought that "next time I talk to God I'll be more specific." While Östen was pushed out among the clay, old potatoes, painful screams and blast put the 5-year-old Elsa in a shed, and touched with a large spoon in a bucket of sugar and lukewarm water. "Stir until all sugar is dissolved," explained Dad Storm slurred but educational as he poured more hot water using a watering can. "I oscyni... no, ospyni... no... oxygenate the water here now, you see, and so begins the fermentation faster." Daddy Storm lived by the philosophy "there is no reason to wait to give the kids true and real knowledge." It was the kind of knowledge which was about potatoes and mash. School was redundant of course. He looked forward to in a few years when she was propelled into production, and he was able to sit back and fully enter the professional role as a product tester. When together they had prepared no less than 12 buckets of mash, and dad Storm just decided to take his daily afternoon nap, a highly incorporated person stomped into the booth, blood and mud dripped everywhere. The creature said "watch E, I found strange potato in the field" and put the little boy gently in the arms of Elsas. "His name is Östen."
That was how it began for the two siblings. Quickly summarizing, one can say that both weekday and weekends was about just that. Potatoes, clay, and spirits. There comes, as you all know, a time in most people's lives when you've got enough of potatoes, clay and spirits. When you're simply done with it. For Elsa it happened 3 days before her 20th birthday. She wanted to get out and see... well anything else, she wanted to explore... another part of Sweden. Or, quite honestly she all really wanted to discover the world, but when she realized that the world was a little too far away, she was content to travel to Västerbotten instead.
In Västerbotten, people were different, they spoke with an accent that made them sound stupid nice, all of them, and they had bigger hands than at home. It was hard to get a job. The really big fists laughed at her and her slender arms and the smaller fists snorted and said she had to put on a dress if she would set foot there again. Elsa who never really understood the concept "dress" or "flimsy arms" ended up in a butchery cleaning floors. The butcher named Sören, was a particularly remarkable man. He talked completely uninterrupted. Sometimes it was almost like he could talk for 20 minutes at a time without breathing once. He spoke slowly, and most preferably, he told horrific stories of wood-nymph, "bergsråt", Huldra and "vittror". Elsa quickly understood that the "true and real knowledge," her father taught her was more than flawed, and listened untill her ears became tired. When six months had passed the longing for her little brother Östen became to heavy to handle, and Elsa went home to Karlstad again.
At home, everything was almost normal. Östen had learned to juggle with potatoes, dad Storm slept in the shed and mother Storm was standing with her hands in the clay. Elsa thought it was nice to see her family, but it was not long before the urge to see the world turned up again. Elsa decided she wanted further away than Västerbotten now. She wanted to America.
Östen, who was unspeakably bored and did not want to be separated from his older sister again, had also decided. "When you go, I go with you." It took some persuasion, both towards the mother and towards Elsa, but finally they surrendered and Östen began to pack. When the news that both siblings Storm more permanent would leave the nest reached daddy Storm he burst into angry tears and went straight out and cut down two trees. When he came back, the siblings were already gone.
"To America" shouted the young siblings Storm when they stepped on to the boat. The trip was long but went well. Elsa told Butcher Sörens stories to Östen, and then they slept. She told more, they slept, she told more, they slept, and before they knew it, they were there. The land of dreams! The land of plenty! The Land of ... Canada? Östen and Elsa cursed their father's choice of education for them, took their bags and got off in the wrong country.

They had been working at the port for about 2 years when advertising posters for Cloch began to appear everywhere. "Digging gold is really something different from digging potatoes, sweep floors and build pipelines in the harbor!" ... did it not say on the poster of course, but it was what the siblings read. They had during there time in Hudson Bay amassed two cats and a dog as pets. It's always cozy with animals they reasoned. They also mean luck, according to Butcher Sören. The problem had only been that he dog one night bit one cat to death, and also bit the legs off the other. "What shall we do with the animals when we go?" Östen wondered. They discussed the matter and then agreed on the only reasonable, take the nice animals with them, and leave the dumb dog. Elsa emptied the dead cats entrails which it did not need anymore, put the half-dead cat in a bag, tied the dog at a table and then they were ready for the next big adventure.

There was no gold in Clockbottom. Or, maybe there were, but the two siblings Storm ended upp collecting gas instead. There are many different types of gas, and common to them all is that it might be a good idea not to inhale it. The siblings only afforded to rent tracking and collection equipment, gas masks had to wait till later. The result was that a lot of gas after all was breathed in, but when none of them immediately died from the drug, they both concluded it couldn't be that bad anyway. It's silly to claim that the small changes in the siblings' behavior was 100% due to the gas, but as stupid not to be open for that alternative.
The collection of dead / half dead animals expanded. The animals gave them, as they said, luck, and was certainly their best friends. The siblings had never been fond of the limits of life and death, they did not like to label and discriminate in that way.
It's a tricky thing when you think about it. Example: If we talk about potatoes for a while, and I think we should, it was a long time since last time now. Does potatoes die when removed from the plant? Some would say yes of course, but they forget that a potato that is "dead" can still be eaten, juggled with, not to mention put into the earth and give life to new potatoes. Are potatoes really dead then? Does it matter? Will the cat's fur be less cozy just because that particular cat may not live at that time? These where the questions the siblings would have discussed if they hadn't been so uninterested in talking about these kinds of topics. A cat is a cat. There was simply nothing more to it.
Then it was some other stuff too. The memory was not as it used to, it was easy to mix stuff up, and they occasionally became very dizzy.
Their need and desire for money also seemed almost morbid. It was all the siblings were thinking about. Östen wanted to pay their debts and earn enough to buy a house and settle down in town. Elsa would rather be really, really rich. Have money. Have them and taste them sometimes, like animals. It was important. She had not entirely clearness as to just why it was so important, but it was important. The main thing that existed. HOW they got rich actually played no role whatsoever.
But it did not go so well for the siblings Storm. Not very good at all actually. In recent times the feeling that something was about to crumble become stronger. The sheriff had lost control, both of the town and his own mood. People brawled each other. Some died. Östen didn't like fights. He did not like when people yelled at each other. And none of the siblings Storm liked when things collapsed.