So for this game we CAN create a scenario where our "coin" regenerates, but we can't create more (i.e. putting it in the bank)?
The Sheriff in 1905
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OK...so I have arrived somewhere in southeast Texas, in the year of our Lord nineteen-hundred and five.
Seems that I've just been elected the sheriff. My deputy Hank (he's a tall fellow, blue eyes and blond hair, and has a trace of a Norwegian accent, so his given name is probably Henrick or something similar but anyhoo...) tells me he's awfully sorry to have to tell me this, but my uncle Howard has just died.
I don't have an Uncle Howard. I don't know whose Uncle Howard just died, and I completely, utterly don't care, because I just got here from 2021. A couple of minutes before, I was browsing The High Road...WAIT A MINUTE! I'M STUCK IN ANOTHER HYPOTHETICAL QUESTION!
"Hank," I ask after a few seconds "did Uncle Howard...did he leave me anything?"
"Funny you should ask that, boss," Hank says, "because an envelope and a canvas bag just kind of showed up on your office desk, a couple of minutes before you did. Dropped right out of the sky, they did, lightning and all!"
Yeah...sounds like the time-space warping thing I'm becoming familiar with by now!
So I go into my office and lock the door. Sure enough, there's an envelope on the desk with my forum name on it. I open it, extract a sheet of paper, and read.
JRMIDDLETON425:
Thanks for playing! By now, you know the deal.
It's 1905, and you're in a one-horse town in southeastern Texas. For this game, you're the sheriff, and your rich uncle died and left you some money. You can use it to buy all the guns and gear you need for your job. Your coin regenerates when your bag is empty, but you can't create more (i.e. you can't put it in the bank).
There's also a town map in your bag, with everything marked. Good luck, and post what you bought when you get back!
NIGHTLORD40K
I check the bag. It's heavy. It only takes a few seconds to realize why. This bag is FILLED with 1900-date, twenty-dollar Liberty Head gold pieces! HOLY CRAP!
I open my office door. "Hank?"
"Yeah, boss?"
"Hank, I need the Sears catalog."
"I wouldn't do that here, boss. They haven't moved the outhouse in a year or two. There's a nice flush toilet in the hotel, though. They got nice toilet paper and everything. The big cattle men insist on indoor plumbing, when they're in town from Dallas."
They probably order it out of the Sears catalog, too, I think to myself.
Come to that, it probably came from the Burroughs Paper Company just a couple of miles from home. 1905 is eleven years before the big fire, and the mill was still running.
"No, I don't mean that. I mean, I need to buy some guns."
"Oh! Go to the general store, boss! See my brother Johnny. Anything he doesn't have, he can order for you."
"Thanks, Hank. I appreciate it."
I make my way to the general store. Hank wasn't kidding. His brother has every gun I can think of that existed in 1905. I decide to buy a matched set of Winchester lever actions, an 1895 in .30-40 Krag and an 1894 in .30-30. I remind myself that .30-40 would have been called .30 Army at the time.
Then, since no sheriff worth his salt goes without a shotgun, I buy a Browning Auto-5. Just like you could have a Model T Ford in any color you wanted as long as it was black, I can only get a 12-gauge. FN didn't make these guns in 20-gauge until 1949, 44 years in the future from where I am now.
Now, I am a pistol man. I realize that Czeska Zbrojovka won't exist for another 31 years. In 1905, One-Horse-Town, Texas, that's going to leave me with Smith & Wesson, Colt, and, well...anything that came before 1905! I groan inwardly, AND THEN I SEE THEM! Side by side in a glass display case, a .45 Colt Bisley, and a Colt 1903, which I know is a .32 ACP. You better believe I buy them both!
I pay for my guns, and exit the store with my guns in flannel-lined canvas cases (dang if old Johnny didn't sit right down and MAKE them for me on the spot). It's hot, dry, and dusty, the middle of summer. Just about as I am wishing I had a Dr. Pepper and some ice, there's a flash and a bang, and you guessed it...I'm back in front of my computer.
Next to my elbow, still ice-cold and fizzing in a glass, is that Dr. Pepper I so badly wanted just a minute before. That was weird, I think. But what's even stranger, is that on my bed is a small canvas bag. I allow myself a moment of sheer disbelief before I open it. I'm not surprised at all...it's a nickel-plated Colt Pocket Hammerless.
I look at it for a moment...it's a nice little gun. Guess I'll call my FFL guy to do the 4473, and cough up eight bucks to the county to put it on my license.
(Yes, the last line was a straight up dig at New York State. No, I do NOT actually own a Pocket Hammerless...but if I could have coughed up the cash for one in 1905, I would have!)