A letter, waiting by the fire. A tournament — for bounty hunters, bandits, and any true gunslinger left from the old world held on an island most maps have already forgotten to draw.

The frontier is dying. Slowly. Pathetically. Railroads cut through the forests. Telegraph wires hum on a stary silent night. The world you know is being forgotten, town by town, and nobody can do anything about it.

The age of myths and legends have passed. What's left behind are just starving, feral echoes of a simpler time.

You might be the last exception.

One horse. One road. One last ride to the edge of the world.

In other words

Cowboy RPG