Peaky Blinders reminds the world that there were gangs before the Krays made it look cool.
Broadly speaking, there are at least two kinds of Rough Lads. Those that do it for profit, and those that do it for fun or out of conviction.
The ones that do it for profit are straightforward souls. They might have been in the military; they may have battlefield experience. Were it not for that, they might have found some other trade. Others may have fallen into it by other means, or because they had no other options.
However, whether this is so or no, the profit-seeking Rough Lads have few convictions of their own and will do whatever seems most reasonable at the time. Not for them the political rallies, or fighting for a cause of some kind, or refusing to surrender. No, this type of Rough Lad will cheerfully back down if it means money in their pocket.
Some of them can be bought very cheaply. A round of drinks at the pub, or a bottle of the pure. This kind of Rough Lad probably isn’t all that much in a conflict, but you never know; there could be a tiger hiding under that unprepossessing exterior.
The ones that fight for fun or conviction can’t be bought. These are the ones in it for thrills, or because they believe in what they’re doing. They might be committed communists, committed fascists, or just plain ordinary one-shy-of-a-bushel, but whatever the case may be, they can’t be bought because, as far as they’re concerned, they’ve already been paid. In the only currency that matters. There will be a few who do it for love of the game, or because they took one too many shots to the head and now don’t know how to stop, never mind when.
There’s no talking to these people. Rationality went out the window a long time ago. The best thing about them is, they’re predictable. Given the chance to do X, whatever X is, they will always do X. They can’t help themselves.
A Rough Lad uses whatever tools are at their disposal. In Peaky Blinders, the rough lads use razor blades sewn into the peaks of their flat caps as impromptu slashing weapons. It's a basic form of concealed carry.
There's a nice moment in Lock Stock and Two Smoking Barrels when Rory Breaker pulls a similar oldy goldy out of his pocket:
Lock, Stock Pub Scene
Shout-out to Daniel John-Jules, a bloody good actor. Rough Lads have been pulling that trick since the days of yore.
The only thing a Rough Lad probably won't do in a hurry is pull a pistol. The firearm laws in the UK are remarkably strict even in this period, when it's still (broadly) legal to own a gun. Just having one in your possession is probably enough to get you arrested; actually using one will get you the rope. It will also get you the undivided attention of every single copper around. Many's the cautionary tale of a hoodlum with more guts than sense who managed exactly that.
The Blue Lamp intro
From a Keeper's perspective, assume any weapon, concealed or improvised, used by a Rough Lad is equivalent to a knife, for damage purposes. A trick like Rory Breaker's is at best a Molotov, which is +1 at Point-Blank.
All that said:
The Rough Lad
Shadowing 3, Athletics 5, Scuffling 8
Red James is a bright feller, went to the Grammar on a scholarship. But you can't teach this dog new tricks, and his love of the fight game eventually got him expelled for gambling. Undeterred, he went into the ring full time for a while before busting a knuckle and retiring early. He drifted around for a while as a trainer and impromptu medic, even spending a little while as a backstage hand at a theatre before finding his true calling: violence on demand.
Red James is a kind of Rough Lad fixer. He knows all the faces, he knows who's in chokey and who's looking for work. If you need reliable hands for a job, he can steer those hands your way. He still takes up the cudgel from time to time and misses his time in the ring, but he's philosophical. You can't change the past, he says. You can only learn from it.
Pools he definitely would have if he were a PC: the Knowledge, Medic, Streetwise.
He's called Red James because of his hair, not his political convictions. That said, he's willing and able to bluff his way through a conversation with a Radical. He knows enough of the cant to pass for a Communist or a Fascist, though he sides with neither.
As a reader, he has eclectic tastes but is beginning to be enthralled by this George Orwell character. Orwell speaks his language. If Red James hadn't made a mess of things, he thinks, he might have been an Orwell.
Still, you can't change the past, can you?
As Ally
Can supply 1D6 Rough Lads as backup, on demand. Can provide a temporary safe house for those on the run from the law, or something very like the law; this only lasts for a day or two, but a day or two may be the difference between life and death. Knows a little about a lot, and can provide 1 pool point in Knowledge, Medic or Streetwise. Thanks to his time in the theatre, if someone needs an actor or actress for a dinner date or something like, he can oblige. Not that kind of date - Red James is no pimp - but actors are always on the lookout for a free meal.
As Clue
Red James knows who hired those thugs who [insert crime here] and knows where to find those thugs, if the Hounds want to talk to them. Red James saw [insert character of ill repute] at the theatre the other night; would the Hounds like to know who [character] was with? In an extensive history of treating unusual injuries Red James has seen it all, and he can make an educated guess as to what caused this injury. Not quite the same thing as a dedicated pool of Forensics, but in a pinch it will do. Red James can also tell the difference between arson and accident, but don't ask him how he knows that.
In Play
Red hair turning to grey, a little prematurely, and he's sensitive about it. As Sordid, he may be on the edge of a narcotic habit to dull the pain of a lifetime's worth of regret and old injuries. Still as fit as a butcher's dog, and willing to prove it on demand. Buys drinks for the house when he's flush and is the life and soul of the party even when he isn't flush. If someone's playing the joanna (piano) he's right there next to them, singing his head off.
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