Horseburg is a foul city, grey like the dust you breathe in the Boss’ racetrack. One breath is enough to fill your lungs with corruption, greed, and filthy lies.
Before nightfall, all kinds of ne’er-do-wells crowd the bleachers, cursing at the horses they spent all their savings on–but when the sun vanishes behind the city hall, you can see the rotten heart of this town. A grim fog rises to hide the elusive, shady types scheming to decide the winning horse for tomorrow.
O’Brian, the Irishman, passes bribes on Pier 7, and down at old Daniels’ pub they never stop whispering. Once, I had the luck of being invited to the bridge table of inspector Recherche. It’s always best to mind your own business, grasp information here and there and use it to bet heavily tomorrow. See, in this city, luck won’t be enough to make you filthy rich. There’s people out there who’d sell their own mothers for a reliable tip.
Some say you just need to know “the right people”, but then “the right people” will want favors in return; many of these geniuses are down at the docks, wearing fashionable cement shoes.
Myself, I’m for natural remedies: I’ll just stick to a worn out nag named Bosson nobody would bet a dime on, and make my money by grabbing a mexican jalapeno and sticking it up the right place at the right time.
This gorgeous playset is all about horse races, bets and backstabbing in the early 20th Century. It is the result of a collaboration between Cranio Creations and Janus Design, the good people behind the Italian translations of Fiasco.