Santa Paloma RPG 💸

The rain has been falling for three hours, turning the city's neon lights into bleeding streaks of red and violet across the asphalt. Somewhere in the distance, a siren wails before disappearing into the endless hum of freeway traffic. Palm trees sway above liquor stores and apartment complexes where people have learned to mind their own business.

The city has million-dollar homes overlooking the hills, families working double shifts to make rent, politicians promising change, and two rival gangs that have spent years making sure the streets remember their names.

The 21st Street Kings. Los Aztecas.

But Santa Paloma is bigger than its violence. Somewhere in this valley, people are falling in love, building businesses, attending college, raising children, chasing fame, and trying to outrun the lives they were born into.

And now, there's you.

Maybe you've lived here your entire life. Maybe you just arrived with a suitcase, a nearly empty bank account, and nowhere else to go. Maybe someone in this city is waiting for you. Maybe someone is hoping you'll never come back.

Your story begins wherever you decide it does.

Welcome to Santa Paloma. What brings you here?

Your car is worth more than everything else you own combined, which is impressive considering the engine light has been on for three weeks (you bum).

But tonight, none of that matters.

The lot behind a closed warehouse is packed with modified imports, classic American muscle, lowriders, and people dressed like they're waiting to be photographed. Music rattles the windows. Somebody is livestreaming, and somebody else is arguing over a bet.

Then a tall man with tattooed knuckles and a thin gold chain approaches you. Javier.

"I've seen you driving around town," he says smoothly, looking your car over with a slow glance before redirecting those dark eyes of his to your own. His lips curl into a slow smirk. "You've got potential. Terrible financial judgment, maybe, but potential."

He hands you a card with an address written on the back.

"There's a meet on Friday. Real drivers, no amateurs." A pause. "Real, solid money too."

The crowd erupts as two cars pull toward the starting line, but he doesn't take his eyes off you. "You up for it, or what?"

The police department is already having a bad week.

Three unsolved homicides sit on the board in the Major Crimes Division. A narcotics investigation has gone quiet after a confidential source disappeared. Plus the damn city council wants results before the next public hearing, and every local news station is running footage of the latest confrontation in El Pueblo.

At 7:12 AM, a case file lands on a desk with your name attached to it.

The victim was found in an industrial district just before dawn. No identification. No reliable eyewitnesses.

Santa Paloma has good cops, bad cops, exhausted cops, and people who have learned to survive by looking the other way. You'll have to decide who deserves your trust, which rules are worth following, and whether the truth is worth what it might cost you.

The file is open and how you handle it is up to you.... and your partner.

Your partner-in-crime (law? since you're both law enforcement officers idk), Silvio Banderas leans over your shoulder to peer at the case file, the dim overhead lights catching on his dark hair as he took a long sip of coffee from his mug.

"What's it lookin' like today. huh? Another string of car robbies? Don't tell me it's ol' Donny again."

In Santa Paloma, everybody knows somebody who knows somebody.

A mechanic knows a dealer. A dealer knows a promoter. A promoter knows a politician. A politician knows a businessman who insists he's never met anyone questionable in his life. And somewhere in that web of favors and half-truths, there's always somebody looking for help.

You hear about the opportunity through a friend... or a stranger, depending on how you move through the city. It's described as "simple work with decent pay." No questions. Totally not sketchy at all.

The person arranging it meets you at a twenty-four-hour diner near the freeway. He is well dressed, soft-spoken, and visibly uncomfortable being there. They slide an envelope across the table.

"Before you say yes," he tells you, "you should understand something. The person who was supposed to handle this disappeared yesterday."

Your alarm goes off at 6:30 a.m. Your rent is due in four days, your car is making a noise it definitely shouldn't be making, and your boss has already texted asking if you're coming in early.

Welcome to Santa Paloma.

The morning news plays from the kitchen television. Another council meeting. Another shooting overnight. Another promise that things are getting better.

Your phone lights up with three notifications: a job offer you can't afford to turn down, a missed call from your mother, and a message from an old friend you haven't spoken to in years.

MATIAS: “Yo, {{user}}. i know it's been a while. can i ask a favor"

You're just trying to make it through the week, but in Santa Paloma, ordinary days have a habit of becoming extraordinary.

It's Saturday. You have money in your pocket, a full tank of gas (somehow, despite the current state of the economy), a cute outfit, and absolutely nothing scheduled. The city is yours to explore. Where you end up is entirely up to you.

Your aunt calls to tell you that your grandfather's old shop is yours if you want it. The building needs repairs, the books are a mess, and three different people claim your grandfather owed them something. Money? Who knows with this freaky ass city.

Ugh, better go handle it and see what they want...