The Black Angels MC is a no bullshit MC. We don't take drugs. We don't kill without reason or money. We deal in drug distribution, contract killing or if you wanna have somebody rough up or tormented we can do that for a price as well. The BAMC was formed in 1977 in Bakersfield California by a man named Eric Tenwood. After previously being a part of some low level MC's he decided to make his own. After getting the okay from the other MC's he quickly made BAMC. BA didn't do drugs or dabble in prostution. They were as clean cut as a 1% MC could get. With ties to the Mafia and other street gangs BA had an advantage over most other MC groups in California. They made more money than most and had more respect from most. After 10 years of staying somewhat dominant in the underworld Eric decided to do business with The Hells Angels. Hell Angels had been rivals for 5 years at that point so Eric wanted to settle the beef. BA was gonna get a shipment of M16's for them. But when they got to the meet The Hells Angels killed Eric and his Sergant At Arms. In light of this the VP was now acting President of The Black Angels. His name was Tommy Shultz, he made Hells Angels enemy number one which resulted in a lot of blood shed between the two MC's. Equally losing upwards of 300 members due to shootings and drug spikes it seemed everything had calmed down. In 1989 Tommy decided to move the clubs chapter to the Island so it could prosper freely. There he left Gene Smith as acting President for The Black Angels. To this day Gene Smith is still acting Prez of BAMC. Rule 1: You will NOT do drugs Rule 2: If you sell drugs and make a profit 40% goes to the club. Rule 3: You hit your girl or any other girl you will get hit back. Rule 4: Show respect to all members no matter there rank. But if they're probies you can rough em up a little. Rule 5: Any snitching that is found out you will be killed. We will not ask why you did it who you said it to. You will die. Rule 6: You will wear your patch when you are riding with us, when at meetings or just hanging around other MC's. Rule 7: I do not care how much you hate Mafias or street gangs. You do not attack them unless they threaten or attack you first. Rule 8: Carry a weapon on you at all times. Rule 9: You have a problem you do not call the police you will call your brothers. Rule 10: If you hurt another member on purpose you will be hurt back and quickly separated from your patch. You kill a member you will be killed an some other guy will be wearing your patch. These 10 rules are known as the 10 Commandments. These rules are your life. Live by them and die by them. Here are the ranks International President: Gene Smith. Local President: Open Vice President: Open Sergant At Arms: Open Enforcer: Open Treasurer: Open Probies: Open If you want to join just post a reply in this topic or PM me a response.

Good to see you back Frank.

Will do. I’ll write up one when I get some spare time.

Appreciate the time you took to make this post for us.

Immigration should have a screening process. With the recent tragedies surrounding illegal immigrants from all countries entering America, France and England I think that it would be justified. Not only for your safety but for the safety and security of our country. Clearly each State has their own terms but as I see it The Island is within in its own jurisdiction. So I will work to find what’s best for both parties.

Hello people of Identity. My name is Gene Smith and I'm running for Governor of The Island. I know that the game currently isn't out and nothing is set in stone but I wanted to set out my campaign. I've taken my time to carefully think about different answers for popular questions. What will you do about Property Taxes? What will you do about Gun Control? What will you do about regulating taxes? What are your thoughts about Health Care? What you can do for the working man, and what will you do about the crime? ------------ Property Taxes are Taxes you pay to keep your business running or your home from being taken away. Property taxes are unnecessary and unneeded. Property Taxes need to be removed completely and focusing on taxing other things. You should not have to pay for something you helped build just to live in fear of it being taken away. ----- Gun Control is something that everybody talks about when somebody gets shot. Well the hard truth is, guns don't kill people. People kill people. A person has to load the gun, aim the gun and pull the trigger. We don't need control on guns. We need control on the people who have the guns. If you have a criminal record and you have been known to kill you will have to run a background check before you're able to get your guns. ------ Regulating Taxes on working people will not only bring more jobs but also putting more people in those jobs. A person who makes 8$ an hour gets taxed 5%,10% and even 15% and sometimes even up to but not limited to 35%. You take a middle class man who works 10 hours a day and makes 10 dollars an hour. He gets taxed 15% for his week of pay. He takes home 425$ or somewhere around there. That money could be going towards his house payments. His food. His utilities or even buying clothes for his children. Regulating taxes is the number one thing we need to work on. I want to lower the tax rate to at least 3% to give the lower/middle class man or woman that extra incentive to work harder for those promotions. A happy worker is a hard worker. ------- Health Care is the most important thing. Canada-while their government isn't the best- they do have free health care. Free health care is the most important thing that we need to work on. While Canadians have to pay higher taxes for free health care we will not. Regulating taxes is what needs to happens. --------- The working man is the best type of man. A man who isn't afraid of trying to support his family and trying to make his household happy. The working man is the backbone of our community. I've seen plenty working men and woman that have started their own companies based on the fact to grow more and create more jobs. They make more money for our homes and government. I want to work on. Not taxing the working person not because they're special but because they deserve what they worked for. Why take that away? And crime is something that I will talk about later if necessary. Thank you for your time.

Ah, the same old Shimo

It seems the political landscape has changed drastically in my absence. Not too many of us around anymore. I guess it’s time to come back.

Haven’t seen you in a while

What an interesting man

The pop of a bottle of liquor being opened. The soft somber piano playing in the background, the relaxed voices of the restaurant patrons enjoying their meal. Where else but The Chairman? Gene pours his drink into a glass, no ice. His face shadowed in his office with the smallest cloud of smoke from his cigar. “The Red Spade liquor. In my own opinion the best on the Island.” The voice is a familiar one. But surly it wasn’t Gene’s. As he takes his sip and leans forward you can catch a glimpse of a scorched chin as he lowers his mask. Golden with a shine to it. “But I suppose that’s too vein of me. Yes.. I know that.” Gene turns his attention to his muted television. Shocked at what’s come of his great city. After all, a city is only as great as the people that inhabit it. He slowly gets up and walks to the other side of the desk. He gently placed his hands on the man whom was sitting across from him. “It used to be Mafias and Motorcycle Clubs. Waging war through the street. Hell there was a Neo-Nazi Group that made a dent for a while. My point is.. I’ve been here a long time, practically since it was formed and still in a rather, fragile state. I built up a reputation of being trustworthy and loyal. A man you can depend on. Gene tightens his grip on the man’s shoulders. A soft gasp of air shot out of the man’s mouth. “Loyalty only gets you so far. To survive, thrive and outlast your competition you have to be cut throat. Fearless. And most importantly, you must do what’s best for business. You my friend are not best for business. Having sexual relations with the leader of notorious gang members girlfriend is NOT best for business. So please tell me, why?” The man looks forward, after the accident nobody has looked Gene in the eyes. As Gene loosens his grip the man takes a gulp, beads of sweat trickling down beside his ear. “Sir, I didn’t think that you had anything to do with them. They’re just a low level street gang. We just thought that.. Well what would you need with them?” Gene crouches down the view is from behind him. As he slowly takes his mask off you can see the visible disgust on the young man’s face. “Don’t be afraid.. No shhh.. LOOK AT ME! I own everybody, everybody has a price and everybody serves their purpose. A community thrives on the skills of individuals, not on groups. So when you fuck up one small fraction of a machine you ruin the whole thing. He’s unreplacable, you aren’t.” Gene takes the man’s neck and wrings it out. A soft chuckle before a loud snap. The men who work for Gene look on in horror as a once figure head for change has diluted to a crime boss. “Take him and dump him in the swamp.” “What about the others?” “Tap their houses, make sure we get a soft much information on them as possible. They still serve a purpose. And Lou.” “Yes sir?” “I need to talk to you.” As Lou makes his way over he is visibly terrified of Gene. From the point of view of Lou, Gene’s face isn’t horribly disfigured. Puss and scarred facial features are all that remain of a truly great man. Gene grabs his shoulders. “I’m counting on you to do the right thing. Don’t disappoint me.” Gene slowly puts his mask back on and sits back down. Taking another sip of his liquor in his empty room. “Red Spade liquor, best on the island in my opinion...”

The Wanderer kicks White Masks knees out and put him in a chokehold. ”What’s the point of trying to be recognized today if you’ll be forgotten tomorrow? People don’t care about you, they care about the things you do. When someone gets a degree to a prestigious college they aren’t recognized with honor. It’s only when they start committing horrible crimes that they start becoming relevant.” The Wanderer tightens his hold. ”People want anarchy. But they want other people to provide it. That’s all you are. Somebody who dies first so the next fool will take your place.” And with that, he releases the hold and vanished. All that was left was his imprint in the snow and light foot prints. He was gone.

“I’m trained in psychological warfare. To deteriorate the well being of a persons mind simply by exploiting their weaknesses. As for you. You have a strange case of being egotistical. I’m sure that you do what you do for pleasure, but there’s no denying that what you do is for the spotlight. The attention when they say your name. You think everybody is a fan, well what happens when people start to not care. What happens then White Mask? The best way to keep attention, is to have little to no communication. That’s my job, I’ve mentally scarred men with simple noises and and silence.” The Wanderer walks closer to White Mask. His white face paint blending into the snowfall with nothing but his black eye paint standing out. ”Have you ever heard a man beg for the sound of nails on a chalkboard simply because he was kept in a dark room with no noise except his breath? Begging for death? White Mask, silence is the best weapon you can have.” The Wanderer then stares White Mask down waiting for a response.

The Wanderer pushes White Mask up against a tree. Lifting him up from the ground. ”Stop fucking around. For once in your miserable life don’t let your ego talk for you. You and I aren’t different. We want nearly the same things.” Wanderer steps back and lets White Mask down. “I feel like you and I could change things on this Island. We could shape it for ourselves. With your..” Looking White Mask up and down. ”Untapped insanity and my training I’m sure you and I could make a good team. That is if you’re not too busy kidnapping unknowns and streaming it to the internet for shits and giggles.”

The Wanderer was sitting in a tree awaiting the arrival of The White Mask. Reminiscing about times before he disappeared. After reading about himself in the paper The Wanderer was rather displeased, the less people know about him the better. It’s easier to do his job when nobody is waiting for him. As The White Mask approaches the park The Wanderer drops down from the tree standing still. ”You’re a difficult man to reach. And trust me, I had to learn a entirely new language for my work so that’s saying something.” As the cold air blows a light snowfall shrouds the two men in the open park.

As the Island goes to sleep after the rain fall from earlier in the day, the man walks down the long road to the Asylum. Heavy security for something as simple as a mental institution? The man knew something had happened and it was just his luck. As he sneaks past the orderly’s he enters the building through a grate on the side of the building. He snuck into the main office of the warden at the facility. Hopefully he was still there. As he opened the door slowly he noticed nobody was in the room. The man looked around silently and placed his gun on the table. Then for the next several hours he stood in the corner awaiting the arrival of the warden. After what seemed like three hours the sun was finally rising to the sound of workers leaving for the end of their shift. The man was still awaiting the warden to enter his office when suddenly the door opened. Unfortunately it wasn’t just the warden. He brought along one of the doctors with him. “Why the hell is there a gun on my table?” The warden picked it up as the man grabbed the doctor and knocked her out. The warden, stunned and shocked, backed away from the man. Trying to hide the gun while acting afraid. ”Another one? Jesus how many of you people are there?” The man stands quietly as the warden aims the gun at him. The man looks surprised and afraid while kneeling to the ground. ”Please! I’m sorry!” ”Oh yeah? Now you’re sorry. Now that I’m gonna have the upper hand.” ”Please I was just trying to find someone. Don’t kill me!” ”Who?” ”White Mask. I was told to try and find him and kill him.” ”Who would pay to have that man killed? It’s not worth the risk.” ”Gene Smith. He wanted him dead for never returning a call or something.” ”Well he escaped. Gone with a couple bodies lying dead. Nobody knows where he went.” ”Damn! I should’ve never taken this job!” ”That’s an understatement.” The warden pulls the trigger only to hear the click of an empty gun. The man looks up at the warden. ”I thought you were supposed to help crazies, not kill them.” The man pulls his hair back. ”I’m supposed to treat them!” The warden throws the gun at the man and reaches for his knife. The man grabs his arm and snaps it backwards before covering his mouth. He leans to his ear. ”Put me on the list of another problem. Call me Wanderer.” Wanderer throws the warden into the wall before jumping out of the window. It was time to be reacquainted with an old friend.

Brazil. South America to many. But to the people who live there, it’s home. A home with drugs, disease and criminals spreading like a wildfire. But that’s everywhere right? Upon the 30th floor of a office building were two people, one a married man. The other a hooker that he paid to give him herpes, except he didn’t know that. The blinds were slightly closed, the light barely shining through. The loud moans of the hooker could be heard throughout the entire floor. But nobody was there so it didn’t matter. “Você é uma vagabunda naughty não é você?“ And a faint voice from the darkness. ”Não, mas você certamente é. Uma esposa, filho e uma casa de três quartos.“ The man walks out from the light. His face was white with black paint acrossed his eyes that looks like it was scratched out. “Unfortunate for you.. Isn’t it?” He grabs the man by the back on the head and drags him towards the window. The mans pants still at his ankles and struggling to get away. “Hope you can fly.” The man is flung out the window as the mysterious man watches. The hooker ran to the elevator pressing the down button rapidly. Suddenly the elevator cables snap sending the elevator freefalling, killing the women instantly. TWO DAYS LATER The mysterious man walks into his hideout where a small boy is sitting in his makeshift kitchen. ”Go home.” He says softly and quietly. “O que? Eu não falo inglês.“ ”Sorry, um. Ir para casa. Sua mãe deve estar preocupada.” He pours himself some whiskey imported from America. “Não, ela tem o amigo do seu amigo.“ The man takes a sip of his drink and sets it down. The problem with the boys mother has been growing worse and worse. She sleeps with men for money to support her child. He gets up and walks over to his wall. “Give this to nobody. Fuck. Dê isso a ninguém Rosendo. OK?“ “OK.” The man opens his wall exposing money. Worth at least 2,000$. He gives it to Rosendo and explains to him what he needs to do. The child asks the man where he will go. He points to the bottle and says. “Home...”

The Black Angels MC is a club that deals in prostitution, drugs, important/exporting goods, contract killings and almost anything else you can think of. Black Angels have a major tolerance for street gangs and Mafia Organizations. A little bit about ourselves. We were founded in the 1970's by a man named Eric Tenwood. And for 40 years The Black Angels MC have spread from California to Alabama, Ohio, Michigan, New York, Boston and Florida. With clubs stationed around the country the Black Angels MC are only a walk away. If anybody from Europe or Australia wants to join just ask. A chapter there will be opened for you to run. Ireland and Scotland are also welcome. You must be 15 years or older to join mainly because of the vulgar nature of this Club. I don't want any kids who can't handle it in my shit. If you wanna join just respond to this thread. I'm always here. Gene Smith International President BAMC

The Red Spade is a Whiskey Distillery based and formed on The Island. The Red Spade has been around since 1866 with the soul intent of bringing rich quality Whiskey to everybody on the Island. While The Chairman is specifically a smoking lounge with the option of any liquor you want, The Red Spade is a private owned BrewHouse that specializes in making the finest Bourban and Whiskey around. We will be hosting tastings of new Whiskey along with free samples to give out to take home. You'll know it's Red Spade when you spot our signature logo. The Red Spade logo is more than just a brand, it's a family history tradition. In 1856 my great great grandfather one the money used to start up the first brew house with a flush. Spades on the river. As he didn't think black was a good color he changed it to red and kept the Spade, thinking it as a good luck charm for years to come. We are open to supply staff up bars and different social events. We will be selling publicly and try and keep each bottle at a fair price for everybody to enjoy. At a low price of 8 dollars per bottle you can enjoy Red Spade Bourban or Whiskey. Our bottles will be clear glass with our signature logo imprinted onto the bottle and the cap. We want the bottle to come stylish so you can keep it as a beautiful piece of art. Please have this complimentary bottle of Red Spade Bourban as a token of our gratitude. Thank you all.

(I’m here guys) TV Starts Playing an Add for The Chairman Hotel. ”The Chairman Hotel offers the finest experience in the area. With our luxury suites and 24 on hand Maid Service you’re never going to have to lift a finger.” The TV exploded as Gene gets tossed through it. As he stands up he cracks his back. ”Fuck you.” Gene says as he swings his arm at the man. Missing he punches straight through a wall. “Ahhh!” ”Are you sure you want to dance with the devil?” His Irish Accent was thick and apparent. Gene held his arm. “Only if I lead.” He charges at the man before a flashback of a conversation he had months ago. ”White Mask, who is he exactly?” ”Nobody knows. Do you want us to find out?” ”No.. Do you know what optimism is Jake?” ”Yes sir.” ”Well from my point of view he’s a beacon of hope in our world. He’s showing the Mafia, Biker Clubs, Gang’s and Wanna Be Badasses that we can fight against the law. That we get.. what we want. When nobody believes in the law then the government will fall. And when the government falls we profit off the anarchy that follows.” ”What if that’s not what’s happening?” “Hmm?” Gene points a pistol at Jake and shoots him in the head. “Don’t assume the best. Because this is the best it’s gonna get.” Once the flashback ends Gene stands over the dead body of the Irish man. Sweat dripping down his forehead. He picks up the Irish Mans phone and makes a call. As it rings you hear a faint hello. ”It’s me again... We have to talk.”

Hello, I've recently stumbled upon a Garry's Mod site called Santos RP. While yes- it's placed in Garrys Mod- it looks nothing like Garry's Mod. At least not DarkRP. Santos RP is probably the most well thought out Garry's Mod RP I've seen. You can do a lot of stuff in that. Just thought I'd share it because I know people really wanna play Identity. So here's a whacky substitute.

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“Please! Whatever you want I can do it for you! I’m your guy remember?” Gene nods his head. He takes a puff of his cigarette before kneeling down. Blowing smoke in his face. “You’re so right. You’re my number one guy... Sorry, you WERE my number one guy. Until the skimming of my money.” The mans eyes get wider. He looks at Gene. ”No! I never did that!” ”Really? I guess my eyes don’t work? My 5,000$ cameras are broken? Heh, maybe it was a ghost that took your place.” ”It wasn’t me!” ”My grandfather told me a story of his grandfather. That he was a mean man. A psychotic murderer who raped women for fun. They called him The Whistler. Because whenever you were about to die he’d start whistling a tune, echoing through the air. His saying was ‘A man can be a murderer and remain completely sane. But being alone, in isolation, will drive him insane.’ What I’m trying to say to you Michael... You’re out.” Gene grabs Michael’s head and kisses his forehead. He then burns the cigarette through his eye and slits his throat. As he watches the man die he stands up and walks over to his goons. ”Take the body to the scrapyard. Pay Jimmy to let us use the crusher. We’re gonna make this look like a mob hit.” ”We’re framing the Luprano’s Boss?” ”Hmm?... Oh.. No, we aren’t framing anybody. It’s simply covering your tracks. Frank is a friend.” Gene sits in his Cadillac and reaches into his pocket. He grabs a pill bottle and downs two pills. He lets out a sigh. ”I need to see Dr. Allen.” ”At the Asylum? That place creeps me out.” ”Wait until you get a load of him.”

Hold the phone. When did you leave @Calico?

Gene chuckles while looking at White Mask. ”Funny, and you’ve got a mouth on you. Last person I met that ran his trap got fucked up. Yeah it’s smokey in here, it’s a smoking lounge.” Before putting out his cigarette he motions his second hand man to bring something over. It looks like a tray of food. But as Gene opens the platter it’s the bleeding head of the goon White Mask beat up. ”I don’t like being fucked with. Nor do you I suppose. You can call yourself whatever you like but a man who murders and kidnaps isn’t exactly a hero.” Gene looks directly at White Mask, his eyes piercing straight through the soul. ”You’re a criminal, like me. Even though you don’t like to say it. You blend into society without your mask. But with it, with it you’re considered a freak. A murderer... They think less of you because of who you are, what you do, what you say. But when you have money. When you have power. You don’t gain respect. Respect is for amateurs, no I gain fear through my allies.” Gene slides over 200,000$ and smiles. ”Think of this as an investment for a partnership. I wanna see what you can do. With a bit of money you can become more that a King. You’ll be a god.” Gene leans back in his seat, his face barely out of the light. All you see is his devilish smile. ”Have fun...”