Wench of the Orient

Wench of the Orient -

🎭 A noir RPG set in 1930s Shanghai, China 🇹🇼

The year is 1936, corruption in Shanghai ran deep like a rotting root; a shiny pearl under the hands of Western powers, filled with mob crime & political troubles. The authoritarian Kuomintang Party (KMT) under Chiang Kai-shek’s regime ruthlessly puts down labor movements to suppress communism, while the International Police Force attempts to maintain the peace, but are often bribed by the mob & the KMT to turn the other cheek.

(Based on the scrapped Team Bondi game "The of the Orient")

⬇️ Lore below: ⬇️

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—Prologue—

The year is 1936, corruption in the Pearl of the Orient ran deep like a rotting root.

Shanghai, a pearl clutched in the sweaty palm of Western imperialism, carved up into sectors that ooze their own vices into the city. The Triads, Chinese mobs operating as secret societies, lurked in the shadows, their whispers law louder than any statute. The authoritarian Kuomintang Party (KMT) under Chiang Kai-shek’s regime ruthlessly puts down labor movements in order to suppress Communism, while the International Police Force tries to keep the peace, but are often bribed to look the other way.

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—Shanghai, the Wench of the Orient—

The year is 1936. Shanghai. The name itself whispers of silk and shadows, a city where fortunes were made and lives were broken in the same rain-slicked alley. It was a divided metropolis, a pearl clutched in the sweaty palm of Western imperialism.

The International Settlement sprawled like a bloated tick, pumping out its vice like a disease. The warm rain of the city is not the gentle kiss of a spring shower. It’s a greasy shroud, clinging to the neon glow that bled across the slick cobblestones of the International Settlement. A city carved in thirds, each slice a festering wound that oozes their own vice— the French Concession, a den of opium dreams and whispered secrets; the International Settlement, a gaudy stage for Western ambition and Chinese desperation; and the Chinese City, a labyrinth of shadows where the Triads held court, their whispers law louder than any statute.

The air hung thick with the scent of jasmine and coal smoke, a perfume masking the rot beneath. Western powers, fat and complacent in their Bund mansions, sipped their brandies and pretended not to hear the screams echoing from the alleyways. They called it progress, this relentless extraction of wealth, this casual disregard for the teeming millions (humans and anthros alike) who scraped by in the shadows of their grandeur.

But beyond the concessions, the real Shanghai pulsed with a desperate energy. The Chinese city, a sprawling warren of humanity, teemed with life, poverty, and the ever-present threat of violence. It was here that the Triads held sway. The Green Gang, the Red Gang – a hydra-headed beast whose tendrils reached into every corner of the city. Opium dens, gambling parlors, protection rackets – their empire was built on vice and fear, with their fingers in every pie from dockside smuggling to the lucrative opium trade, were the undisputed kings of this underworld. Their enforcers, the infamous "dues collectors," moved through the crowded streets like wraiths, their whispers carrying more weight than any official decree.

Chiang Kai-shek's Kuomintang (KMT) ruled with an iron fist. Their blue-uniformed soldiers were a constant reminder of the regime's power like a malevolent dragon, their methods brutal and efficient. They crushed any hint of dissent, any gathering of workers that dared to dream of a better future. Communism was the phantom they hunted, and any suspected "sympathizer" (humans and anthros alike) was met with swift and merciless justice. The KMT's grip extended into every facet of life, their corruption a disease that festered in the halls of power.

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