carl_story

You enter as Carl O' Keefe, an Irishman comming by boat during the Gold Rush. You reminisce about your [[life | Life]].

The days of The Orphangage wash over your mind. You recall a moment where a woman and her son stopped and leer at you as you were walking through the rain to get back. For some reason, it is etched into your [[mind | Mind]].

You recall Hodgy, an exemplary mainfestation for a punative bottom feeder. He vultures on a boy for his apple. He comes over to you for anything you have. [[You spit on your apple and give it to him. You feel like a badass today. | Spit]] [[You keep the apple. You choose to attach an apple with your dignity. | Keep]] [[You give the apple. You figured that you don't know what things this bastard has on him. | Give]]

He takes your gesture quite well surprisingly. He accepts your tribute, but he backs off. He thinks to himself, "Nothing a little water can't wash [[off | Church]]."

He takes your apple and smirks at you. He groups you with the wimpy boy in his [[mind | Church]].

He acknowledges your gesture and flashes his pocket knife in his trench coat. "I ain't playing no games." [[ You give him the apple. This stupid apple is not worth it. | Give]] [[ You hold on to it. You figure he is bluffing. Really? In an orphanage? | Hold Apple]]

He backs off due to your astuteness and oddly respects you. He slowly backs away, figuring that there is more prey that is more worth his [[time. | Church]]

This reminds you of church for some reason. You see flashes of people going there. The Potato Famine has driven Ireland into a rabbit hole of poverty. You stand from the outskirts and watch the people go in and come out...You wake from your [[daydream. | Daydream]]

You arrive in San Francisco with a company of other Irishmen of varying personalities and characteristics. One common factor remains the same: Everyone is here to strike it rich. A scrawny man walks up to you. [[You look at him. It seems that he wants attention. | Acknowledge]]

He introduces himself. He says his name is Peter. He says, "I noticed you were daydreaming on the docks. Already hungry huh? How about we team up? This kind of thing is too big to take on by yourself." [[Do not accept. You are suspicious of this guy. I mean, who is this guy? You check your shoulders and acknowledge everyone else and their intentions. | Unaccept]] [[Accept. You suppose that this guy could do less harm than good. I mean, look at him. If anything were to happen, tripping him would break him easily. | Accept]]

You decline as politely as you could. He scrounges up his face and says, "alright, suit yourself." He turns around and looks for others that will accept teamwork unlike you... [[You step off the boat with your sack and walk into San Francisco. | San Fran alone, Peter w/someone]]

You nod your head and shake his hand in excitement. As you get off the boat, he talks about a place he overheard someone say. He believes it was called the [[Yuba River. | Yuba with Peter]]

You walk into bustling San Francisco with Peter and get yourself aquainted with the scenery, but Peter seems to be so head over heels about this river for some reason. You: [[Continue to nod and let him ramble on. He'll tire himself out eventually. | Nod ]] [[Tell him to shut up for a second. You want to breathe the air for just a moment without his yapping, so you prefer to pick the bud early. | Shut]]

You walk into bustling San Francisco. You get yourself aquainted with the scenery. You determine your next course of action is to [[go eat something. The food on the boat made you suicidal. | Food]]

You eat some food at a musky restaurant. As a man takes your order, he looks at you from top to bottom for some reason and knows that you are not from around here. You overhear a pair of Chinese men at another table. You can't make out the most they are saying, but you consistantly hear the word "Yuba" in their sentences. You etch the word in your [[mind. | Remember Yuba. ]]

He finishes his setence, "...So we're going there as soon as possible!" He starts walking in front of you at a hurried pace, looking for anything or anyone that will tell him more. He comes accross what seems to be a posting for nearby mines. He ignores all of them except one, the directions to the Yuba River. You are surprised by the resourcefullness of Peter and how well this is going for [[you.| Yuba we come]]

He abruptly stops and becomes conscious of his speech... and your demeanor. You take the lead and scrounge around for any information you could find about [[Yuba | You find Yuba.]]

You foot it with Peter until you reach Sacramento. You both decide to stay for the night at a hotel managed by an astute woman. You ask the woman what is popular to do here. She points to the local saloon. [[Go to the local saloon. | Sightseeing]] [[Stay in and rest. The gold is callling you to get there immediately. | Stay in ]]

You continue contemplating this "Yuba," but eventually snap out of it. You decide your best course of action would be to: [[Go to the tool store for miners and get ready for this Yuba. | Tool store]] [[Go in the general direction of the miners. Perhaps Yuba is in that direction. | Observe miners]]

You come accross a posting about nearby mines that are be scavanged by miners. You ignore all of the mines except one, the Yuba River. You show Peter and think to yourself, "well, that was [[easy. | EasySacramento ]]

Knapp, Louise and Smith Clappe. The Shirley Letters From California Mines in 1851–52. Pioneer magazine. Sacramento Transcript. June 24, 1850: 2. Print. Madley, Benjamin. An American Genocide: the United States and the California Indian Catastrophe, 1846-1873. Yale University Press, 2017. Starr, Kevin. California: a History. Modern Library, 2015. Early Gold Mining Methods, www.sierrafoothillmagazine.com/goldmethods.html. Bozich, Frank A. III, "The unwanted immigrant" (2016). Senior Honors Projects, 2010-current. Carrigan, William D., and Clive Webb. Forgotten Dead: Mob Violence Against Mexicans in the United States, 1848-1928. Oxford University Press, 2013. Nicholls, Richard. "Life in the Diggings (Book Review)." The American Scholar 69.1 (2000): 142-48. Web.

Before entering the tool store, you open your bag and inspect what you have already. A canteen. Some Money. Some clothes. A Pan. A gun. You enter the store and ask if he has heard of the Yuba river. The clerk elaborately gives you directions for 10 minutes, as if he has done this a hundred times, until it is etched in your mind exactly where it is. You ask him why he is being so kind, and he says, "It's good for business." You [[Start going there. Gold is calling you. You don't play games. | Start going]]

You observe the general direction of the miners. You see that, for some reason, you see groups occasionally pile up in one big area near what seems to be bulletin board. You decide to walk to it and discover that it is a board for nearby mines in the area. Your eyes meet a posting for the Yuba river, and you now know exactly where it is. You think to yourself, "hmm, that was [[easy." | Start going]]

You foot it to Sacremento and decide to stay for the night at a hotel managed by an astute woman. You ask the woman what is popular to do here. She points to the local saloon... You choose to: [[Go to the saloon. | Sightseeing 2]] [[Rest. You need the energy to get there. | Rest2 ]]

You walk around with Peter. Peter decides to go inside the nearby Saloon. You come across a group of ruffed up Irish miners that came from the East Coast. You and Peter walk up to them and ask if you could have a drink. He nods his head. You make small talk, and you learn that his name is Conan. You include the Yuba River somewhere in your sentence and are somehow persuaded by his charisma to join his posse that is outposted there. But one thing sticks in your mind. He tells you, "If you ain't a native, act like [[one." | Irish Group]]

You and Peter wake up well rested. You guys foot it to Yuba at a constant pace before many of your campatriots that came with you on the ship. Someone stops and leers at you at the foot of the river with scornful eyes. He points and whispers to his friends about, "these Irishmen." Something tells you that he is an Oregonian. You continue walking into the [[mines. | Into the Mines]]

You go to the saloon and, to your surprise, find Peter with what seems to be his Irish posse. You make eye contact with him. He blurts out, "Well look who it is." You state a comeback that underminds his [[masculinity. | shotsfired]]

You rest and wake up well rested. You foot it to Yuba, and at the foot of the river, you find yourself maliciously greeted by the words of an American man, "these irishmen." Something tells you that he is an [[Oregonian | oregonian3]]

As you make your way deeper into Yuba, you come across the many different cliques of nationalities: you see the Mexicans, Americans, Indians, Chinese, French, and the Irish. You and Peter head towards the section of smaller groups that are panning for gold along the river, many of which are composed of Americans. They smirk at you as you briefly make eye contact. You and Peter settle alongside the river and pan for gold for hours and find nothing except disappointment. There has to be a better [[way. | Nothing]]

As you hear yelling, gunshots, and horses outside, you try to get some sleep in the hotel as Peter snores, not surprisingly, heavily. You have gotten used to it. You and Peter wake up and meet the Irish group just outside Sacramento. As a group, you reach the Yuba river, its mines, and come into contact with the many people that have already made themselves comfortable. They also leer at you and your group... You get that feeling that you have gotten oh so [[before. | Intothemines1]]

You and Peter foot it to Sacremento and decide to stay for the night at a hotel managed by an astute woman. You ask the woman what is popular to do here. She points to the local saloon. You want to go to: [[the saloon. It has to be good. | Saloon2]] [[Rest. | The gold can't just pick itself. | Rest2]]

As you make your way to the Irish outpost in Yuba, you see groups of different nationalities along the way: you see Mexicans, Americans, Indians, Chinese, French, and Irish. Your group heads towards an outpost of Irish already mining. You see them using what seems to be a long orchastrated sluice box along with smaller teams using small rocking boxes along the side. Conan tells you and Peter to work with the smaller boxes first to get your feet [[wet. | intromining]]

As you and Peter work the waters of the river, you hear some dispute in the distance between an Indian and a American. You can't see it as it is somewhere else entirely, but you hear more and more Americans riling up against the lone Indian and his words. At the climax of their despute, you hear gunshots. The voices of dispute fade away. You make eye contact with Peter acknowledging what just occured and continue [[working. | working]]

You and Peter continue to work with Conan's group and ride out the gold rush with them. You barely get by with what measley gold you obtain, and the gold you do obtain is spent for good times with your Irish clique in a French woman's gambling hall, a Mexican woman's dancing hall, and the saloon. You reflect on your life back in Ireland every now and again. Your time spent here is only cherished by you as your existance fades into nothingness.

You and Peter think about what to do in a nearby cabin. You both decide that the next best thing to do is to have better instruments then this measly crap pan. The next day you: [[build your own rocker box. | buildrockerbox]] [[buy a rocker box from some other group. | buyrockerbox]]

You build a rocker box as Peter scrounges up something to eat. It takes you several hours to make such an abomination that even remotely resembles what you imagined, but you did it. After you spent all this time, you are pleasantly surprised to come back and eat what Peter has cooked up, which is surprisingly quite [[good. | cooksinSacramento]]

You buy a rocker box from a Meixcan couple that seemed to be doing quite well with it. You and Peter work it and are pleasantly surprised by its inapitude to find [[anything. | getnothing ]]

You and Peter continue to work the box for a period of three months, gaining practically nothing anyone would be proud of. At closer inspection, it seems that the rocker box that you have is different; perhaps this box that the Mexicans used is a special box that only they understand. Or maybe you and Peter don't really know what you are doing? Who knows. This frustration is a recurring theme and takes a toll on you. You decide to hit up the alcohol. You get drunk and go for a night out. You decide to go to the source of your frustration: the river itself. As you get there and blurt out your frustrations, you feel an Indian blade sliver into the back of your spine. The last words you hear are crudely said in English, "Payback." You are pushed into the river and are never seen again.

You and Peter take a few more attempts to churn up any gold in Yuba. Though you and Peter undoubtedly churn up very little, you continue to be amazed by Peter's cooking skills. You persuade Peter into opening a small food stand for incoming miners as you come to realize that this mining venture is futile. You save up as much gold as you can scrounge up from the box and river and open a stand just outside the encampment. It is an astounding success, allowing the both of you to open a restaurant in Sacremento next to a French woman's gambling hall, Mexican woman's dance hall, and a saloon. As you manage the floor and waiters of the restaurant while Peter leads the cooks, you reflect on your life back in Ireland every now and again and recall the potato famine. You and Peter argree that life it is pretty comfortable now.

You choose to go to the saloon, but Peter says, "you go without me. i'll stay and rest up for the day." You go to the saloon and have a couple of drinks alone. You see cliques of all nationalities drinking it up, yet you sit... alone, at the corner of the bar. You come back to the hotel and rest. You and Peter wake up and head off to [[Yuba. | arrival]]

You choose to rest up, but Peter says, "I'll head to the saloon for a bit." He goes to the saloon to have a couple of drinks. While on the bed, you lay on the bed and look up at the ceiling, eventually dazing off. Peter comes back, and the both of you foot it to [[Yuba. | arrival]]

You and Peter arrive at Yuba. Someone stops and leers at you at the foot of the river with scornful eyes. He points and says out loud to his friends about, "these Irishmen. They are trashing up the place just like the Chinese." Something tells you that he is an Oregonian. You: [[Shoot him. You are getting tired of this. | shoot]] [[Thank him. You feel very expressive today. | Slick]]

You shoot the malicious American in the chest with three bullets from your trusted 1849 Single Action Army. You dawn over him as he lays there. You look down at your work. You think to yourself, "what a fool." You are then met with a gang flury of bullets in all directions from the fallen American's posse. You fall to the ground. As you fall on your back, you mutter a few words with meloncholy, "worth it."

You sling back a malicious remark about his face that cannot be topped off; it was simply too good. He attempts to charge at you until one of his buddies holds him back. You smirk and walk away as Peter follows you to a panning [[site. | slickpanning]]

As you make your way deeper into Yuba, you come across the many different cliques of nationalities: you see the Mexicans, Chileans, Americans, Indians, Chinese, French, and the Irish. You and Peter start Panning for gold once you have reached the side of the river. You continue to pan at that exact same spot for half a month but to no [[avail. | newplan]]

You and Peter walk back to your cabin, and you notice that the Chinese have been working in what seemed to be an exhausted mine field, yet they still obtained more gold than you. You [[become pissed. You open your feelings to Peter openly while observing them. | PissedtoChina]]

You target your frustration against the Chinese due to there success. For some reason, other people start to gather up behind you, targeting their frustration to the Chinese as well. They start becoming violent towards the group of Chiense by throwing things. You start running out of the mad mob and: [[Steal someone's unattended rocking box. A good distraction always comes in handy. | stealbox]]

You tell Peter to help you steal it. As he helps you carry it (unwillingly), you hear two shots buzzing through the air followed by what sounded like Mexicans yelling in your direction. One bullet goes through the back of Peter's chest. He gasps and falls to the ground. You immediately drop the box and take off [[running. | runner]]

You make it back to the cabin. After Peter's death, you see the underlying tension and unstructed chaos that exists when mining for gold in these parts of California. You determine that your best course of action is to take advantage of it. You become a solo bandit. You next course of action is to: [[shoot an American miner's horse. | Americanhorse]] [[Steal people's gold. | goldsteal]]

You shoot an American miner's horse while he is away doing his business in the shadows of a distant tree. He comes back in awe and sadness. He vows for revenge against those, "bastard diggers." You get the feeling that he is also [[Oregonian. | oregoneanstory]]

You scout a nearby cabin in Yuba for a three days. You know that there is a single man that that routinely leaves at six in the morning. As he is far off in the distance, you break in and ransack the place for the gold he is hiding. You hear the door creak behind you. You turn around and find a woman pointing a gun at you. You think yourself, "Damn. Wife." She shoots you in the face with you becoming literally unrecognizable.

You watch as he and his gang ravage an encampment of Miwok Indians. As they ransack who they believed to be the perpetrators due to your slickness, you sneak in and steal what they have left behind in their cabins. You think to yourself, you are pretty good at [[this. | famband]]

And so you become the famed bandit. Carl O' Keefe of the Gold Rush. No more wasting your time scavanging for gold like those rats down at the mines. Over time, you bring up a small gang that understands your way of thinking and live the high road... until you got caught. People will remember the name Carl O' Keefe. Before your lynching begins, you reminisce about your life back in Ireland as it will be the last thing you do.

As you make your way deeper into Yuba, you come across the many different cliques of nationalities: you see the Mexicans, Americans, Indians, Chinese, French, and the Irish. You find the side of a river that is being drawn by solo miners. You attend to a spot open for you. You take out your pan and start panning for that oh so sweet gold... and find [[nothing. | nothinglel]]

You continue panning gold for two weeks and come up with virtually nothing. Frustration builds in as you look around at the other cliques using sophisticated contraptions to mine for gold. You take up drinking in your cabin alone to solve your problems... permanently. You die from alcohol poisoning and failure. The rats habitat your cabin as they feed on your corpse.

Your comment is so grammtically and syntactically sound that his position as leader of the posse is challenged. You somehow become the new leader of the group because of your smooth talk, and you round up your gang to head to Yuba, leaving lame Peter [[behind. | newleader]]

As a group, you reach the Yuba river, its mines, and come into contact with the many people that have already made themselves comfortable. They also leer at you and your group... You get that feeling that you have gotten oh so [[before. | Intothemines3]]

Your group heads towards an outpost of Irish already mining. You see them using what seems to be a long orchastrated sluice box along with smaller teams using small rocking boxes along the side. After mining in this fashion for three months, you come up with a better idea. You determine that orchastrating unity with all of the Irish in Yuba will help you achieve your goals. You deem that you can use the Irish's scrutiny given by Americans and failure in comparison to the Chinese, Mexicans, and Indians to your advantage. With your oddly sociopathic charisma, you sway your now enormous Irish posse into driving all other cliques out by any means necessary. You lead the killings of American horses and slaves, the rape of Chinese women, the murder of Indians, and the destruction of Mexican property, all without lifting a finger. You sit back as a kingpin and slowly sip your alcohol, reminiscing about your life back in Ireland.