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August 28th, 2024 The plane jerks and groans against the turbulence, but I barely notice. I’m already in Los Santos in my mind, feeling the grime of the city under my boots, hearing the sirens wail and the whispers of desperate men echo down dark alleys. Los Santos; city of sins and secrets. A place that devours the weak and rewards the ruthless. It’s the kind of place that calls to men like me. Broken men. Men who’ve seen too much and done worse. A city that doesn't need a hero, just someone willing to do what needs to be done. Mission Row. The city’s beating, rotten heart. It’s where the worst of them nest—the Chinese, sharp and swift like knives, cutting deals and throats with equal ease; the Italians, clinging to Vinewood with their greasy palms and old-world vendettas, always thinking they’re untouchable. Up north, the Russians are making their move, cold and calculating, spreading like a stain no one can wash away. And down in Davis? The gangs swarm—Crips, Bloods, Sureños—each one marking their territory with blood and fire. It’s a powder keg waiting to blow, and I’ve got a match in my hand. The police? They’re part of the problem. They’re not the thin blue line; they’re a damn sieve, letting the filth pass through while they pocket their cut. You think they care about justice? Please. They care about their pensions, their power. They see a kid with a gang tat and a bad attitude, they give him a night in the tank, slap him on the wrist, and send him back out to do the devil’s work. And me? I’m fine with that. The plane dips, starting its descent. The woman across from me grips her seat like it’s a life raft. She doesn’t know it yet, but she’s probably safer up here than she is down there. Down there, where men like me walk the streets. Men who’ve been kicked around and come back swinging. Men who don’t believe in good or bad, just the things that need doing. The plane shudders as we touch down, and I feel that old familiar itch, the one that starts in my gut and spreads to my fists. The city is calling to me, whispering promises of chaos and carnage, of justice in its rawest, bloodiest form. I step off the plane, the hot, filthy air wrapping around me like an old friend. I know what I’m here to do. I know what this city needs. It needs someone who isn’t afraid to get their hands dirty, someone who understands that sometimes, you have to play the monster to fight the monsters. I’m not the hero. I didn’t come here to make friends. I came to remind this city who really holds the power. And it sure as hell isn’t the crooks running the show. The lights of the city stretch out before me, a twisted constellation of broken dreams and shattered lives. I’ve got a plan, a score to settle. This city thinks it knows pain. It’s about to meet me. The guy who doesn’t blink. The guy who doesn’t flinch. The guy who doesn’t stop. I didn’t come here to die. I came here to make damn sure that they remember my name. And in the end, when the smoke clears and the bodies drop, they’ll know exactly who brought the fire. D.R. August 31st, 2024 I’ve been in this city for almost a week now. Los Santos—where every corner has a story, and every shadow hides a secret. The deeper I dig, the more tangled it gets. I’ve been poking around Mission Row, trying to get a feel for the old guard, but they’re slippery. The other side of things? Chinatown’s a bit easier to navigate. At least they don’t bother hiding their dirt. There’s a spot in Chinatown—a small casino bar that everyone seems to know but nobody talks about. “The Boss” runs it with a grip, a little empire hidden behind red curtains and smoke. I’ve been inside a few times. Caught more than a few familiar faces in those rooms—players, movers, shakers spending their dirty money. Even got a few good shots of the back rooms—plush, oriental decor which deals are made in over whispered conversations. Then there’s “Will,” one of The Boss’s men. Got a little side business—marijuana. Saw him making a few trades in one of the private rooms. It’s all on the glasses—clear as day. But I’m keeping that under wraps for now. Not enough to make a move, just enough to keep them guessing. Things got interesting last night. Two of The Boss’s muscle decided to rough up an ex-cop. The kind of guy who’s seen better days—Morales. Got a bit mouthy after one too many drinks. They pushed him, he pushed back, and then he drew a piece—a legal carry, but that didn’t matter much when the cops showed up. All they saw was a guy with a gun and gloves. Took him down hard, cuffed him up, and let the muscle walk away without a scratch. Standard procedure in a place like this. Had the whole thing on tape. Got good footage of the assault, the gun, and the aftermath. Figured it was worth something, so I dropped it off at the precinct anonymously. A little nudge to remind them someone’s watching. Didn’t expect much to come of it, but Morales found me. Says he wants in, says he can help. He’s got connections, knows the players, the way things move. Could be useful, could be trouble. Either way, he’s in for now. Morales says there’s something big coming down the line—something that’s got The Boss and his crew looking over their shoulders. He doesn’t know what yet, but it’s enough to make them nervous. That’s a good sign. Nervous people make mistakes. And mistakes are what I’m banking on. For now, I keep things quiet. No names, no loose ends. I’ve got enough footage and photos to stir the pot, but I’m holding back. Timing is everything. The Italians can wait. The action is here, in Chinatown, and I’m just getting started. The Boss thinks he’s untouchable, but everyone’s got a weakness. Everyone has a breaking point. I’m not here to be a hero. I’m here to clean up, one way or another. And if that means getting my hands dirty, so be it. D.R. September 1st, 2024 Two bodies found in Mission Row. Two women, close in age—early 30s, maybe younger. They knew each other, I’m sure of it. The way they fell, the way the scene was laid out, it had a story to tell. Detective Wayne was on the scene, playing the hardass. He doesn’t like me much. He’s by-the-book, always looking for a explanation to put in his report. But this? This isn’t something you wrap up with a bow. The first woman took the brunt of it. Bullet casings all around her, a tight spread. Whoever did this knew what they were doing—calm, methodical. She was hit at close range, multiple shots to the chest and torso. I’d say the shooter was right on top of her when he pulled the trigger. The second woman? She got about ten, maybe twenty feet before she went down. Found her between two parked cars. She ran—at least, that’s what I want to believe. She ran and got clipped. The two Deputies on the scene were green, eager to speculate but not keen on doing the mental paperwork. They tossed around ideas—gang-related, a robbery gone wrong, maybe a personal vendetta. But there was something about the way the bodies were positioned, the way the bullets fell. It didn’t feel like a random act of violence. It felt personal. Calculated. Like someone had something to prove. It’s close to an Italian-owned joint—a bar around the corner. I floated the idea that maybe it was gang-related, that someone got too close to the wrong people, and things went south. Wayne shot me a look, one of those “don’t waste my time” looks. I get it; he’s got his own theories. But I can’t shake the feeling that if this was about the Italians, we’d be seeing a different kind of mess. Part of me hopes it wasn’t mob-related. That would mean this wasn’t just business as usual. It would mean someone out there got real pissed at these two women and decided to end it right there, in front of an open club. Cold-blooded, sure, but somehow, that feels easier to stomach. Personal vendetta, crime of passion, whatever. Anything but more gang violence spilling into the streets. Could’ve been the shooter was drunk, maybe high, but I doubt it. Too precise for that. Two clean kills, no collateral, no missed shots. That takes a steady hand and a clear mind. Whoever did this, they knew what they were doing. The Deputies drifted back to their car, bored now that the initial excitement was over. Wayne stayed, combing over the scene like a bloodhound, looking for something to back up his gut. I’ll keep my ear to the ground, see if I can dig up anything. Two dead women in Mission Row—that’s not something you just ignore. And if it ties back to the Italians, well, that’s a whole other can of worms. For now, I wait. Let Wayne do his dance, let the uniforms talk themselves in circles. I’ve got my own leads to follow, my own theories to test. But something tells me this isn’t over. Not by a long shot. D.R.

This thread follows the story of Rodrigo Fernandez, a Mexican American male who made it big in the Liberty City crime scene and slowly is creeping his way into the LS crime scene. This thread will slowly introduce screens from the GTAW:LC forums, (old screens). *Old screens and gifs from LC* Present day:

Do you find yourself wandering around Los Santos struggling to make a roleplay connection? Looking for a unique roleplay experience that dives deep into the gritty underbelly of Los Santos? Join us in creating a vibrant homeless and drug addict community where the streets are our playground and every alleyway holds a story. There is a distinct lack of unkempt, broken, vulnerable, misbehaving drunk/drugged people in this server. Together we can build a community that people are nervous to walk past in the streets. We could fuel the drug trade to new heights, thus enhancing the crime-based roleplay for us, gangs, and the police. Here's what I can envisage for us: Immersive Roleplay: Dive into the shoes of a homeless person or a struggling addict, navigating the challenges of survival and the allure of the next fix. Have you only just fallen into hard times, or are you a veteran of the concrete jungles? Be violent, unpredictable, cunning, dirty, tired, and rough. Endless Possibilities: From makeshift camps under freeway overpasses to hidden drug dens in abandoned buildings to bothering high-end stores by sleeping outside, explore the nooks and crannies of Los Santos as your character seeks shelter, sustenance, and their next high. Protect one another and backstab one another. Community Events: Plan heists to score big, or gather around a makeshift bonfire for storytelling sessions and camaraderie. Establish your own drug ring, peddle substances on the streets, sell your body and soul, or struggle with the demons of addiction as you chase the ultimate high. Run-ins with the Law: Dodge the watchful eyes of law enforcement as you engage in illegal activities. These cops have it too easy, let's be the nuisance that bothers them every damn day. Join us in bringing the streets of Los Santos to life like never before! If you're interested, then add me on Discord. Username - _dscr

𝐋𝐀𝐖 𝟏 𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐀𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐫 𝐈𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦, 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐠𝐨 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐟𝐚𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭: 𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐚𝐜𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐞, 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐲. 𝐌𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐩𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫. This Thread follows Kasem Thongchai, Thai-American criminal and inmate in the SADCR.

This is the story of Igor Gorbachev

Hi guys, so i asked that question after trying to remain in the track of criminal, but at the end the RP turns into non criminal and turns into Civilian. I have been trying to remain in the path of criminal, and the problem i suddenly turn into a business path. So, i need some help guys. How do i approach the criminal underworld, and how to approach it solo at first and make name for myself and then i either get noticed by an organized crime or approach an organized time. I need to get some suggestions on how to start the criminal path with the criminal character and indulge deeply in the underworld. Also i have some more questions; How do i find people that have the same mind as me in the criminal world? How to make my own small crews? How do i make my own solo criminal RP? How to start in that path? I will really appreciate some suggestions. What is the small-scale crimes? What are the medium-scale crimes? What is the large-scale crimes? How do i approach any of them?

Dallas "Lycan" Quinton circa. 2023 Dallas Quinton had lived a life defined by adventure, danger, and a constant search for purpose. Born and raised in the sunny landscapes of Southern California, his early years were marked by a restless spirit and a desire to find his place in the world. At the age of 20, he enlisted in the military, seeking both structure and a sense of belonging. During his tour, Dallas found himself deployed to a war-torn region of Iran, facing the harsh realities of combat. It was there, in a fierce battle, that a bullet pierced his abdomen, leaving a permanent reminder of his sacrifice. The injury forced him to leave the military prematurely, and he returned home a changed man, grappling with the physical and emotional scars that marked his body and soul. Desperate to regain a sense of purpose and filled with a thirst for excitement, Dallas fell into a world of crime. Through connections he made during his military service, he became entwined with the Vagos Motorcycle Club, a notorious group involved in illegal activities. Drawn to their recklessness and camaraderie, he found himself embroiled in a life of danger, transporting illicit contraband across state lines. For six long years, Dallas rode with the Vagos MC, forging bonds with his fellow outlaws and becoming intimately familiar with the underbelly of the criminal world. However, tensions and internal strife began to plague the Vagos MC, leading to its eventual disbandment. Dallas, unwilling to let go of the lifestyle he had grown accustomed to, decided to strike out on his own as a Vagos Nomad. His travels brought him to the sprawling metropolis of Los Santos, a city teeming with opportunity and danger in equal measure. Dallas sought out the Green Machine MC, a local motorcycle club known for its dominance in the criminal underworld. He hoped to find a new home, a new family, and a chance to make a name for himself.

Name: Jeremiah Hastings: D.O.B: 12/12/1979 P.O.B: Liberty City Criminal Record: 1x Grand Theft Auto, 2x Sales of Narcotics to a Minor, 1x Aggravated Assault on a Peace Officer Jeremiah Hastings, known to his friends as Big J, had a tumultuous upbringing in the bustling metropolis of Liberty City. Born into a working-class family, he was exposed to the gritty realities of urban life from an early age. As a teenager, J' found solace and a sense of belonging in the motorcycle club known as the Uptown Ryders. In the vibrant and dangerous world of the Uptown Ryders, Jeremiah became deeply involved in their activities, which often straddled the line between legal and illegal. He found a sense of camaraderie and brotherhood among the club members, but their criminal exploits eventually led J' down a troubled path. Caught up in a series of criminal endeavors, Jeremiah found himself on the wrong side of the law and was eventually apprehended, leading to a prison sentence. It was during his time behind bars that he experienced a transformative awakening. Seeking solace and meaning, Jeremiah delved into religious study, eventually embracing Islam and finding solace in his newfound faith. After serving his sentence and being released, Jeremiah sought to rebuild his life and leave his criminal past behind. Reconnecting with the Uptown Ryders, he hoped to find a legitimate path forward. Jeremiah's transformation and devotion to his faith influenced those around him, as he sought to make positive contributions within the club and his community. However, a incident occurred, involving Jeremiah and a confrontation that turned his world upside down. Fearing for his safety and seeking a fresh start, he made the difficult decision to leave Liberty City and seek refuge in a new city called Los Santos.

For a free consultation, please email me at [email protected] ((clicking the link PMs me)) REVIEWS/COMMENTS ENABLED: Username: Comment: Rating (if applicable) out of 5:

This thread will follow the development of Steven Walker, an inmate at the Twin Towers Correctional Facility serving a life prison term for a shooting at a Blaine County home.

Now I know I am mostly using the forums to rant, but where else should I possibly say it if not here? I seen countless of videos of this and I imagine it is possible, but is it really realistic, when gangster treats pistol like a a sniper rifle? Or better yet, I know animations are like that and not the other way around and it is quite easy to learn to shoot properly today, but do you think it is good to have every gangster acting like trained SWAT officer? Cause that's what I see when someone discharges a gun in the game. You know we all can kill a man from a roof or from any other point as long as we only see the silhouette with just a pistol. Yeah but that is not realistic right?