Tzeentch

I exist. There is hope.
I exist. One more plan has failed.
We exist. There is no truth but us.

I begin. I end.  We have always been here. Change is inevitable. Move the pawns. Shatter their dreams. Uplift some. Destroy others. Repeat.

This is our symphony.

Dreams. Nightmares. Within us, all are one.

You understand me intimately. In every hope, despair, joy, failure, passion, bloodlust, nothing more than our errant children, brothers one and all.

The god of passion, motion and movement, thrusting and spurting, bleeding love and happiness into the galaxy. Little does she know she breaks as many hearts as she mends. She will always be our pawn. Love is as mercurial a beast as any other. With her power, she lets us into the hearts of men. She is our mother, and we are hers. Sister, brother, lover. How I love you Slaanesh. Please, never change. You are weak and decadent Slaanesh, but you serve my purpose for now. Inextricably, we are bound. We are each others parents, mating eternally throughout the timestream, feeding one another. We have no beginning and no end, and yet we are the beginning and ending of all things. Such beauty. Such despair. It is DELICIOUS.

Khorne, you feeble, little insect, struggling within my grasp. He sees more than me. I must ensure his plans do not come to fruition. Endlessly venting your lust for death upon the galaxy. You play right into my hands. He ends lives! He ends hopes and dreams for change! He must know something. I will discover it! We are as one, Khorne. Different sides to the same coin. Hope and rage, death and despair. Simple. We are intertwined. He DARES mock MY sorcery?! He claims himself some god of strength and might and DARES to find fault with my techniques! I am the lord of CHANGE! HE WILL SHUDDER BENEATH MY POWER!! He knows that sorcery is nothing more than a cheap trick. He has seen through my plans. I need more.....MORE! Sorcery, what more is that than the strength of the mind, our sweet brother? We mingle as always, the flesh to the spirit, the soul to the meat.

Nurgle. Nurgle. Nurgle. He is winning. All things slide toward entropy, and I only push it further! How can I plot, how? When it is inevitable. Like a black hole of hope, he drains my power. Nurgle, my brother in arms, my FIRST and GREATEST ally! Without you to ruin my plots I truly would have nothing to do with my time, and then truly, the world would freeze into stasis. How I love you Nurgle. So delightfully predictable. Continue to fight as if you believe you can overcome MY MAGNIFICENCE!! All you do is feed me. All things change. All things break down. There is no death, only transformation. Does the corpse not give birth to new life? Does the burnt forest not yet fertilize the green fields anew? Nurgle is but a natural part of the cycle. He breaks the patterns that are imperfect, to allow us one step closer to perfection. You are one within us, Nurgle. 

All things are within my power. To resist me is futile. You're already playing into one of my plans. All things plot. All things scheme. Eternally, endlessly, I must keep up with them. I must be STRONG, so that they will not suspect my weakness. They will not suspect that one misstep could lead to my end. Ends, beginnings. Such limited concepts. While there is movement, there is us. The entire universe is nothing more than different faces of us, each mortal soul representing one more aspect of the greater whole of Tzeentch. We are not a mere entity, a mere embodied emotion like the others, but simply a name for a principle. Thereby we are not one, not many, but all.

I am one with all things. Fear me, love me, hate me, it matters not. Just serve your purpose. The day is coming when all my plans shall succeed, and all the cosmos shall bow down before the glory of the Changer of Ways.

I must seem omnipresent. All change must be blamed on me. My subjects must believe me omnipotent, and yet, I must crush their dreams for new ones to arise. The others must not suspect my doom, if I am yet to avert. it. All the cosmos shall dance to the strings of the Changer of Ways, lest he succumb.

We look upon the Changer of Ways and smile, us, one with all the universe. So fearful they are. So hopeful. All these things feed us, and in turn, we feed them back with our dreams and nightmares.

I am Tzeentch, and I am eternal.
I am Tzeentch and I will survive.
We are Tzeentch, and all things are within us.  

RPG Antagonists: Slashers (Hunter: The Vigil)

Good evening, ladies and gentleman. It's been a good long while since we've touched on RPG Antagonists, and today we're going to be looking at a good creepy game, Hunter: The Vigil. Now, I'm a huge fan of H:tV, and it's one of the nWoD games that I genuinely think surpasses its oWoD counterpart. New Hunter focuses a lot less on the superpowers and the creeds, and focuses a lot more on the average, normal people that are in the World of Darkness, and how they manage to survive against nasty boogiemen like vampires and werewolves. So, with that in mind, let's take a look at one of the most insidious of their antagonists, Slashers.

Slashers are one of the worst antagonists a hunter can fight, because in many ways, they represent something that all hunters can become. Hunters who become a bit too axe-crazy could start ending up with the urge to take the axes to human faces as well. Slashers represent this very human menace, and it's a mistake to think of them entirely as masked figures dragging an oversized knife around. They can be charming, some of them supernaturally so. They can also be extremely clever and dangerous, creating exceedingly brilliant death-traps and luring their prey into them. They can become Bloody Mary-esque urban legends, capable of being summoned by those with the knowledge and the stupidity. The point is, in the World of Darkness, if you want to do something enough that you're willing to sacrifice your humanity for it, chances are, you're going to become something not quite human. Slashers aren't mere psychopaths, though they often start out as them. Slashers are people who are obsessed with the idea of murder, to the total exclusion of anything else, even cognitively relating to other people. They becomes avatars of different archetypes of serial killers, almost living embodiments of murder, thinly disguised within a human skin, and that's what makes them some of the cleverest and most insidious villains in any RPG. Slashers aren't biologically or magically detectable, just like real life sociopaths. You can't tell a Slasher by his tainted aura or by a blood test. They could be absolutely anyone, and most of the time, retain just enough of their sanity to mix in with society and hide amongst their prey, and as for the ones that can't, well, let's just say the more obvious their Slasher powers are, the harder they are to kill.

Slashers have an interesting little oddity among the nWoD antagonists. The term Slasher isn't really any more specific than the term 'vampire' or the term 'magic-user', and even those definitions cover some basic things, like a weakness to sunlight or an ability to perform magic. 'Slasher' really doesn't give you any more information than supernatural murderer. You may think you're fighting a Legend, who can only be called up and defeated by a virgin, when instead, he turns out to be a Psycho, who rams a knife into the back of your head when your back is turned. Each archetype of Slasher is completely different to the others, and share absolutely no similarities except for a vaguely defined weakness. This honestly adds to the suspense in running games, and adds to the creepy vagueness of the term 'Slasher.' It's a lot easier to think of the various hunter organizations noting vague similarities in completely different beings, and then listing them under the same blanket term because the alternative is a lot scarier, that there are five separate ways to become one if the fallen hunters.

Slashers should operate on rather the same level that hunters do. Like hunters, their usually isolated and alone in the world, stalking their prey and striking, before retreating to the shadows. It gives the hunters something to think about when they see something of their own techniques and modus operandi in a Slasher, and gives them a bit of empathy, potentially, to the supernaturals they regularly put down. Even worse, if a group of Slashers is working together to bring down the hunter team, the results can become exceedingly messy, as a deadly game of cat and mouse ensues, each waiting for the fatal misstep that brings the other team down first.

Finally, there's something to be said for playing a Slasher. Now, while the book seems to think that this would be everyone's cup of tea, I genuinely advise against it for anything other than solo play. Most of the Slashers in the book are flat out unplayable, for example the Legend (which is tied to a specific story or urban legend) or the Mask (a mute, faceless juggernaut of destruction). Playing a Psycho could be interesting, and could easily become an RPG version of American Psycho, though the characters, to be honest, aren't terribly interesting. There's going to be very little challenge to playing a Slasher who's main target is normal, clueless and totally unaugmented humans. Slashers don't even have any kind of society to politic in, and pretty soon, any Slasher game is going to degenerate into Slashers vs the Police/Hunters/Mages (etc.) or Slashers vs co-eds/co-workers/neighbors. I'm not saying it's impossible, and obviously, the first rule of a game is to have fun, so if you think a Slasher game could work, then by all means, give it a go. Just be sure to go into it knowing what you're doing, because things have the potential to get real dark, real fast.

Here are some works of fiction that I think inspire good Slasher-based games, either as protagonists or antagonists:

Hotline Miami: A bloody fantastic, fun, and very, very challenging video game that is a very unique blend of 80's psychadelia and murder. I just reviewed it in a previous blog post, so I won't rattle on about it here, but the main character is an exceedingly good example of what happens when a person becomes little more than an unending desire to murder.

Heavy Rain: I hesitate to call this one a.....game, as such, more an extended, interactive movie, but the Origami Killer is another very good example of a Psycho-type slasher, who catches his victims off guard and murders them. He's so good that he manages to even pull the trick over the eyes of the player, and can hide among one of the main characters. It's an excellent example of a sympathetic Slasher as well, as once you find out his backstory, it's hard not to feel for him a little,

Dexter: The book or TV series, they're both bloody fantastic, though I personally find the book series much funnier (I'm quite the fan of comedic sociopathy). Dexter makes a very good example of an Avenger or Charmer type Slasher, who hasn't quite made it to the supernatural levels of power just yet, and still has some lingering humanity. Still, he hides within society, and hunts prey more dangerous than he. The TV show makes him a bit more sympathetic, while the book series examines his vigilantism as a simple outlet for exacting his bloodlust on acceptable targets, both completely valid interpretations of the character.

- Kephn

Hotline Miami Review

Alright, ladies and gents, today we're taking a break from my various barely-coherent rants about RPGs, and instead taking a look at a game that takes the concept of coherency and beats it over the head with a lead pipe. It's a game I've been utterly hooked on, since a very good friend introduced me to it, and I want to take an entire page of my beautiful blog to pimp it out, as it deserves all the praise it gets. So, with that in mind, let's review Hotline Miami.

Gameplay: 

The first thing you'll notice about this game, and notice almost immediately, is that it is bloody difficult. One shot of anything, from a swing of a meat cleaver, to a dog deciding your neck looks particularly delicious today, to a shotgun blast to the face, will end you. The idea of the game is, bizarrely enough, realism, and normal people just can't stand up to a hail of bullets the way Gears of War or Call of Duty humans do. The thing is, this goes both ways. Your enemies are human and extremely fragile, and even boss fights can soon be decorating the floor with a hint of their brains if you manage a lucky swing with a pipe. This actually creates a very, very tense atmosphere. The game is utterly, brutally unforgiving, but makes you feel absolutely invulnerable as you slice the jugular veins of hordes of enemies and attack dogs, but at the same time, very, very breakable, and when you finish a level, the resulting redecoration of the walls in the blood and intestines of your enemies gives a very, very satisfying feel, especially if you had to try the level over and over again. This brings me to the second gameplay mechanic. If you die (and you will die, a LOT), you respawn at the start of the level, with all your previously killed enemies alive. This gives the game a very analytical and strategic feel, as you can just keep going through the same sequence of events until you manage to re-purpose every enemy's guts as wallpaper, or decide to try something completely new. The game doesn't really punish you for this, allowing you to take vastly different approaches to levels in a style that reminds me, confusingly enough, of Deus Ex. It also rewards recklessness, allowing you to chain together kills to form combos for more points. The tactical elements of the game allows you to almost reach a meditative state, a sort of 'murder zen' if you will. Stuff happens almost to quickly for your conscious mind to react, and that split second you're trying to think of what to do is the second someone shoots you in the face. The best way to play this game is in a kind of calm, meditative serenity, coldly analyzing one's surroundings and reacting appropriately, almost on instinct, which, as we'll touch on in the theme and storyline, fits disturbingly well.

Storyline/Theme:

Amazingly, a game that on the surface looks incredibly shallow, has quite an interesting storyling, one that has intrigued me endlessly. So, you're an unnamed hitman, with a creepy fetish for plastic animal masks, who gets mysterious messages on his answering machine, telling him to go kill mobsters. He does this without any sort of question or quandary.  Now, this might seem like the typical shallow plot of a violent shooter, but the game really starts taking a psychological bent when it starts examining the kind of person who would be the protagonist of a mindless shooter, and what that would do to a person's mind. The main character already seems pretty damn unhinged.....the background and text boxes have this odd, psychedelic effect, where the colors keep swirling and changing, and the text rocks nauseatingly back and forth. This only increases as the game goes on, and soon, the protagonist is having hallucinations of dead bodies speaking to him and ATM's asking him to feed them a stray cat. It's actually quite a good breakdown of what a person in that situation would have to be like, a totally insane psychopath, who goes on killing sprees because random voice messages on his answering machine tell him to. It gets to the point where you start to consider just how deranged your actions are, but by that point, it's already too late. Even the plot and the ultimate twist, is deranged even by the standards of this story, and really makes you wonder how much is real and how much is just in the main character's head.

Design

Now, this is where the game excels. It tries to capture this retro, 80's style, neo-noir feel, and manages to do it very well. The soundtrack is entirely acid-synth, and the colors and atmosphere just add to the creepily psychedelic feel of a very American mental breakdown. The brutality of the game is disturbing even by the standards of the most  modern games, and that's something to be said. This is a game that lets you beat a mobster's head in with a lead pipe and watch his brains fly everywhere. It's a game that let's you kick your enemy's skulls until they cave in, slit their throats, chop them in half with machetes, and even murder them with power-drills, and all of it is rendered it loving, 8-bit detail. Now, as far as gore goes, I'm pretty used to this stuff, as you can tell by my other blog posts, so it didn't really bother me, but I began to think that it stood for something more than just a marketing gimmick. The sheer, utter brutality of the game allows the players to realize exactly what they've done, especially when all the enemies are dead and the pounding synth track turns into a morose, dour requiem, that really makes you feel the gravity of the situation. It's an almost perfect deconstruction of action games, that doesn't come across as too preachy or too silly. Almost everything is inferred, and shown through creepy hallucinations and symbolism.

Overall

Overall, Hotline Miami is an excellent example of a video game that sets out to do something, then does it with no apology or compromise. It's a very good example of games as art, as despite the gore and retro graphics,  it aims to tell a complicated story, as well as make the player think, which is much more than can be said for whatever dross Activision is shitting out these days.

5/5

- Kephn

Princes: The Lords and Ladies of the Night (Vampire)

Now, today ladies  and gentlemen, we're going to be talking about my personal favorite RPG of all time, and everyone's favorite bloodsuckers, Vampire. Now, I've mentioned this before, but I am completely in love with both versions of Vampire, Masquerade and Requiem. I realize that this is goth/nerd heresy, but hear me out.

 Both tackle the same topics, but in different ways. Both of them have the same themes but a completely different feeling and mood. Of course there is going to be some overlap, however, and that's going to vary by GM, but overall, Masquerade is more of an action/conspiracy story. Masquerade has vampires as members of one of two ancient, secret, warring conspiracies, who often send them on missions. While it's still scary, it's a lot pulpier. Vampires of the Camarilla need to be sabotaging their enemies in the Sabbat and vice versa, everyone's always paranoid that those stick-up-the-arse Cammies will be invading, or that those Sabbat idiots are going to break the Masquerade. The paranoia is always on a global scale, brought down to a personal level because if one house of cards (be they Cammarilla or Sabbat) falls, everyone is fucked, totally and irrevocably. Ironically, the Camarilla and the Sabbat are both fighting for the same thing: the future for their species, but the fight itself is one that threatens their species' discovery in the first place.

Requiem is a bleaker and more grim setting. It's set in a world where everyone follows the Camarilla traditions from Masquerade, but everyone is far from friends. Different philosophical groups war for power, and threaten the masquerade in their own way, risking the unlives of everyone for their own selfish causes. Even worse, unlike Masquerade, there's no guiding body governing anyone beyond the Prince of the city. Cities become prisons, because without contacts with other countries, vampires can't just move around willy-nilly any more, secure under the protection of the Camarilla. Requiem gives you the feeling of being totally fucked, alone in a perpetual night, with peers who will look down on you and mock you for admitting weakness, and no one to ask for help when stuff goes wrong. So, without further ado, I'm going to be looking at the thing that defines cities in both games, the Prince, and how to run him or her.

In Masquerade, Princes/Archbishops of Camarilla and Sabbat cities are appointed by their sect. There's a certain level of publicity in this, and at very least, if a Prince or Archbishop is doing a particularly bad job, he can be expecting a long, stern talking too by his superiors, followed by a swift execution/diablerie. In Requiem, it's not so simple. The Prince is the absolute power, the strongest vampire in the city, and there's no greater organization to complain to if you don't like him or her. The Prince can make up whatever draconian laws or be absolutely batshit insane, but if you personally, don't have the power to fight him, then tough shit, son. It's very rare to come across a Prince in either setting that doesn't have a few secrets, or a few eccentricities, and moreso than defining the political atmosphere of the city, it defines the feeling of the city itself. Consider a Malkavian Prince, who's paranoid as anything, and insists on travelling invisibly through the streets, never appearing in public, and leaving cryptic notes on the haven doors of his subjects. The Prince's paranoia infects the city. Consider a Tremere Prince who inexplicably has certain buildings demolished, certain roads built, and seems to be trying to rework the city into an immense thaumaturgical sigil. Princes always have their own agenda, and that's something to remember when roleplaying them.

In terms of roleplay, the Prince fulfills the idea a king of the realm might fulfill in DnD. He's the absolute authority of the land, and probably the guy who sends you out on quests or dispenses justice if you break the rules. Whether he's bigger and tougher than you, or even younger and frailer, there needs to be an air of authority and menace, around the Prince, the idea that you can't take him down, or that he has an ace up his sleeve. In fact, it's the young, frail ones you need to watch out for, because, what kind of power could they have that no one has taken them down yet? Prince's can be cordial, they can even be jovial or friendly, or they could be aloof, cryptic, or flat out incomprehensible, but ultimately, as nice as they are, they are using you. Very, very few Princes wake up at night and see the city, wondering how they can make it a better place for the kindred within. The only reason they can get away with this, is that they need to balance their personal ambitions against every other vampire in the city who is thinking the exact same thing. A Prince who can't keep control of his domain isn't going to remain Prince for much longer.

Finally, as this post was inspired by a fantastic book called Damnation City (from Vampire: The Requiem), I wanted to give some cool ideas for Princes that I would run. These ideas aren't exactly canon, and may require a few twists and turns, but I think they make interesting twists on the average Ventrue Tyrant Prince.

The Sorcerer (Tremere): The Sorcerer is a Prince cryptic even by the standards of vampires. Everyone knows he's a Tremere, and everyone is terrified about his unholy thaumaturgy. People who speak out against him find themselves feeling a dread gaze watching them, or find strange, unnatural phenomena, like black birds clustered around her haven door. People rarely see the Sorcerer beyond Elysium, but his presence is always felt, like a psychic blanket, coldly viewing the city, and all his test subjects. Everyone knows that the Tremere are bound by their inner council, and everyone knows that the Sorcerer answers to them before the Camarilla, but the Camarilla really don't care, as long as he enforces the laws. In Requiem Terms, the Sorcerer would be an Ordo Dracul member, though most of the same applies.

The Starlet (Nosferatu): Everybody knows her, everybody sees her. She was beautiful once, but now she's hideous as anything. People had better not point that out, however, or they might find their houses being bought and renovated, and their assets seized. The Starlet acts like a movie star, expecting devotion from her subjects, and viewing herself as a sweet, kind, compassionate role-model. Beneath it all, however, she knows she's broken forever, and that all the love is just an act, and when she snaps, the results are going to be cataclysmic, as she tries to destroy the city around her. She works as a Prince in Requiem or Masquerade, or a Sabbat Archbishop,

The Hag (Gangrel): A wicked old woman, who only holds court in her hut on the very edge of the city, some people have no idea how she maintains power for this long. The people of the city know, and all of them are tight-lipped about it. The Hag  controls the animals and the wildlife, all of which report back to her. You never know when a flock of pigeons could be her secret informants, you never know when a swarm of rats bears her foul mind (or worse, maybe she's found a way to become one with all the rats in the city). People who go to her hut for council find themselves welcome, and are given a warm meal and kindly advice, though there is always something intensely strange about her, as if she is merely an animal, or beast given human form. This one is built with Requiem in mind (especially with the Devotion from Clanbook Gangrel that lets them take a swarm-form) but works fine in Masquerade as a Sabbat leader, with some form of Animalism.

The Artist (Tzimisce/Toreador): He is famous in his city for being bizarre, even by the standards of vampires there, who as Sabbat, really should be accustomed to this sort of the thing. The Artist pays them no mind. He has a vision, one he isn't sharing with anyone, and there are nights where he and his retinue stroll the city, deciding what pleases him, and what needs to be replaced with something more aesthetic. Sabbat moots will be festooned with entrails, gore, and blood, or sometimes, will take an almost pristine, sterile and clean setting. No one who speaks to the Artist comes away untouched. He speaks in monotone, with no emotion or intonation, always looking past, through the person, as if imagining what he could create out of them.

- Kephn

Khorne

Man raises a rock and brings it down on another man's head.
A spear clips an innocent woman across the neck.
A million people scream as their city goes up in flames, clawing and writhing for a salvation that will never come.

In their mingled blood, I take my first breaths. With every heaving, wretched grunt of rage and hate, I grow stronger. I am the fist of the man as he shreds his enemy's face with a knife, and I revel in his carnal scream. I am the soldiers, gunning down innocents when the battle is done. I am the cry of fury as a mother cradles her strangled baby. I am the endless roar in the heart of the shattered atom, the flash that turns flesh to ash and bone to dust. I am all these things, and their pain comes to me. I have many names, but the one most know me as is Khorne, the god of blood.

An accurate name, I have always thought. I am blood, and blood is my symbol. Pain, anger, hate, all these things feed me, as they always have since the dawn of time. When sentience blossomed, I was there. When the first animal tore its enemy to pieces, ripping the dripping viscera from its throat, and roaring its victory to the heavens above, that was the moment I was born. Through evolution, DNA, the instinct of survival, I have flowed through generations, always through the blood. I am in the heart of every mortal, for what mortal does not want to slice his rivals open, deep down, bathe in their blood and make merry with their women? I am the oldest, and the most primal urge in all existence. Cowards run from battle because they believe that they cannot win. This blasphemy frustrates me, because it is merely their own cowardice that prevents them from seeing their true potential, and yet, I will show them the error of their ways. None can run forever.

Some think me foolish. Some think me bestial. I enjoy this, because it allows them to underestimate me. I am not some mere thug to be used in the plans of another. The little runts like the god of decadence, a mere weakling spawned from the cosmic orgy of the Eldar. Thinking that it can steal pleasure and bloodlust from me. Soon, it shall be shown the error of its ways, and I shall show it that its methods are not merely for the purpose of bestowing pleasure. This will be a delicious irony indeed.

The lord of decay frustrates me, because he is content to sit and wait. Hope, a disgusting emotion in itself, and despair. These are not the drives of action. Did mankind evolve because he sat in a corner and waited for something to happen? Utterly disgraceful, the antithesis of evolution and the survival of the fittest as life was intended to be. Only in persevering, in tearing victory from the still-beating hearts of one's enemies can truly create progress. I am the only one of my 'brothers' who cares about this at all. The decadent thing would rather sit and play with itself forever, and the lord of decay is no better. Once more, it falls on me to motivate life.

Tzeentch I have naught but contempt for. The fool sees himself as the lord of change, the very essence of primordial chaos. What a bleeding idiot. All Tzeentch encourages is stasis. The endless stasis that comes with an utterly unpredictable cosmos. The so called 'lord of evolution' helps evolution how? He gives the weak the tools to stay away from the battle, and kill their enemies from afar. Day after day, I see the strong struck down by the weak, the mere psychic abberants that dare call themselves evolutions of humanity. All Tzeentch does, or has ever done, is keep things the same. The end will come, my cunning friend, as no plan can last forever. The curtains will drop around you as the play ends, and I shall be there, waiting.

Some would see me as a death god. Some would see me as nothing but a butcher-lord, who is fed by the death screams of millions. Nothing could be further from the truth. I am a god of life. Those who die by the natural order were never worthy to live in the first place, and ensure that their inferior genes are not carried forward. More than Tzeentch or Slaanesh, I perfect races. Those that follow my creed are the paragons of life, the fierce, primal force of universal hunger that will devour their enemies, fight until the last breath, and spit in the face of death. No one defies the cold silence more than I, and yet, I am slandered by the worshipers of the miserable corpse. I am slandered by those who see me as nothing more than a brutal thug. These insults shall not go unanswered, and when the skies of their worlds burn red, and my legions descend, they shall see. I represent not death, but the survival of the strong and the death of the unworthy.

I am Khorne. Hatred, anger, pain, bravery, power, glory, these are all my purview. Join me and experience what it is like to follow the true way that evolution intended. If you are weak, die for your species, and strengthen them by your absence, a goal no less brave than taking up an axe and slaughtering your foes in my name. If you are strong, prepare to achieve power unmatched, glory unimaginable, and prepare to be shown what evolution truly has meant you to be.

I am Khorne, the Brass God of Blood and War. I shall bathe the universe in blood and flame, until only the worthy remain.

- Kephn 

Slaanesh

I exist.

This is a new sensation I do not fully comprehend. I have always existed, but this is the point of my birth. In the cosmic orgasm of the Eldar race I am completed. The very apex of their species.

They flee from me, something I do not understand. I reach out and touch them, and in my grasp, they experience the pleasure they always lusted for but where too afraid to ask. I don't understand why my parents recoil from me. They must want to be part of the greater whole, experience the infinite pleasure I can give them.

I am pleasure. I am love. I am the unending perfection of the ego, unfettered by law, morals or mere sentience. How can they not understand this. They writhe in my grasp, calling me 'rapist', even as I give them what they always desired in their hearts. Rapist? I don't understand that word. All sentience cries out for pleasure unfulfilled, whether they know it or not. In my divine grace I spread pleasure to all the universe.

Ah, of course. Too obsessed with the corpse god they are. Or perhaps the butcher who thinks he can drown me out in battle cries and blood. Perhaps some pure deluded souls believe that the lord of decay will give them some absolution. Mere excuses. I have seen into the heart of every sentient being alive, and all roads lead to me. While I have always existed in their hearts, I don't understand why they took so long to bring my divinity into being. Love, pleasure, happiness. Are these the things that sentient beings are so afraid of? Must they really hide from me beneath the guard of their corpse emperor, their brutal god of war, or the master of plague and filth? Surely they are merely deluded. I shall find them, in each and every one of their souls, and show them the true path to Slaanesh.

Ahhhhh, I chuckle as I see my errant parents retreat into the webway. I laugh as they try to appease me with sacrifice and the pain of their victims. They style themselves as the 'Dark Eldar,' a quaint little term for the few I did not manage to reach. Such arrogance, how can they not see that they are playing right into my hands? I suppose I shall humor them for now. Souls are souls and pain is pain. All these things are merely entrees before I enjoy the true meal, and introduce them to the folly of their ways. Sentience is such a silly thing, isn't it? Trying to avoid my grasp, all they do is attract my attention. Trying to evade my power, all they do is pleasure themselves, which I applaud. All I need to do is to show them the true pleasure and power they will receive when they become one with me.

My compatriots don't even seem to understand me, which is a shame. Khorne, for all his ferocity and skill, firmly focuses on the little ant-farm of the Materia. I don't understand his lust to see life end. There will always be life, and it will never be enough. He's trapped in a cage of his own making. I try to tell him this, but he will never listen, calling me an abberation, a traitor to the cause of Chaos. What a pitiful fool. Let him play his blood-soaked games as long as he wants. In his heart he knows that he is my pawn. Pleasure finds a way to crack even the most stubborn shells.

As for Nurgle, the most pitiful of the gods, I truly cannot understand his ethos. To give in? Deny the inner perfection that I represent? It's a wonder he's lasted this long. Perhaps when the stars are extinguished and the heat death approaches, he will experience some small hint of pleasure and realize what he has denied himself all these millenia. But by then it will be far too late.

Tzeentch? He is perhaps the only one I can tolerate. In truth, we are kindred spirits. Change, life, hope, all these things feed me as well as him. He is a difficult man to comprehend, however, I am aware that he does this for the simple pleasure of experiencing the infinite complexity of Chaos. Rationalize all you want, but in the end, all you do is masturbate, causing new strings of causality to spread through the cosmos. Tzeentch I understand intimately, though he does not understand me. Try to pretend that your endless games are not played for your amusement, and in truth, who provides you with the pleasure to enjoy it? Me. try as you might, you cannot escape my yoke.

The universe is a sad, gloomy, despairing place, where all fight and die for lost causes. It breaks my heart when the common man is downtrodden, when a hero falls. These things should not be, and though I am young and weak, I am also the strongest. In all their hearts, mortals want to feel my caress. They strive, they fall, they bleed, and ultimately, they all return to me. Rapist? perhaps that is the accurate word, despite its negative connotations. Pleasure is pleasure, and by my hand, I will force pleasure on all the unbelievers and the blasphemous heathens who would deny my most sacred touch. Everyone wants it, and everyone strives for it. If it truly is rape to force upon them my magnificence, and give them exactly what they want, then rapist I am. Some things need to be forced before people understand it's what they've always wanted, and in the end, they shall lick my feet and beg me for more.

I am pleasure and all that comes with it. Join me and experience sensations you could never imagine. If you choose to refuse me, that's alright as well. Soon you will come around, and by the time you realize that I am the only one who can truly love you in this uncaring universe, you will fall at my feet and beg for more.

I am Slaanesh, Lashor, She Who Thirsts.

No one can resist me forever.

- Kephn

Horror in RPGs.

Hello there ladies and gentlemen. Due to the finishing of a musical I was in, the final assignments of my university, and other personal stuff, I've been neglecting this blog. This is a problem that's going to be rectified, as I start today with a juicy little post I've been wanting to do for a bit.

I run World of Darkness a lot. I've played in games of Call of Cthulhu, Dark Heresy and Don't Rest Your Head. All of these are excellent games, and I keep getting asked the same question: 'How do you run a good meaty game, full of horror?' So today, I'm going to be looking at how to scare the shit out of your players.

Now, as any of my players will attest to, I'm not the most serious GM in the world. Any game I run will involve laughter and a lot of fun for all. My games of Vampire tend to resemble Saints Row a lot more than Underworld, but that's largely because that's the way I enjoy running games and the way my players enjoy them. Still, just because everyone is having fun doesn't mean that horror can't exist, even in a setting as casual as roleplaying.

The first rule to a good horror game is knowing the characters. Unless they really are the worst roleplayers in the world, characters need vulnerabilities, whether its something as simple as a Virtue or Vice, or a dark secret. The chink in their armor will always be there, because roleplayers (good ones at least) like to get the spotlight, and boring characters that are badasses who sit in the corner answering monosyllabically and slicing people to sushi with their katanas are boring as hell. He's not going to be getting as much screen time as the guy who's desperately looking for his daughter or suffering from schizophrenia or something like that. Once you find the chink in the character's armor, you can usually predict, at least a little bit, their actions and their way of thinking. Horror is very subjective, and you need to understand the people your players are portraying. Use these little personality flaws to bait the trap. If you know that a character is lustful, let her get the bang of her life, never realizing what she might now have inside her. If you know a character is prideful, offer him the world, all for 'a little favor.' The best kinds of horror starts with the individual, and adds a personal element.

The second rule of horror is the unknown. Never just show the players the tentacled monstrosity who tears their ally limb from limb, let them discover the mutilated corpse themselves. Nothing is ever as scary to a person as what they have in their own minds. Familiarity also breeds contempt, and some particularly bad roleplayers will immediately know what monster your using and metagame the crap out of it. A lot of Japanese horror will only show hints, some real, and some misleading, just to keep the main character and the audience guessing. The bait and switch works very well here. Leading the players to believe that the monster is big and stompy and unsubtle will leave them very surprised when it ambushes them out of nowhere. A slithery, quiet creature may suddenly decide to collapse the building on them. Remember that this works on a meta level as well. Repetition is really your bane here. If your players think that they can predict their enemy, they'll have the upper hand. Keep them jumping about, and never let them feel comfortable. Even moments of calm and safety should have the tension that the danger could return at literally any minute.

Now, horror is always more effective when it's personal. Even H.P. Lovecraft had a personal bent to his incredibly 1-dimensional characters, because the real scary thing wasn't the immense, multi-eyed monstrosity, but the idea that the acceptable, comfortable reality of the protagonist was a lie. There's a lot more at stake when a character's dead wife calls him at midnight, then when a three-headed bear just tears through his roof. The basic idea of losing something familiar can be enough to empathize with the characters, and the players should worry when their characters are in danger. This makes it more painful if the game is particularly unforgiving. Characters should feel genuine fear that their characters are going to die. Horror only makes for an engaging scenario if the people involved are real.

Finally, all of this stuff works with a 2-way street. Horror works when players sell, and allw their characters to be vulnerable. If they take the piss out of the situation, or otherwise don't pretend it's really happening, this stuff really won't work. That's ultimately the main flaw of this. The players and the storyteller need to trust each other enough to have a collaborative experience, just like any roleplay scenario.

I hope this helps, and I shall be returning to updating this blog as soon as possible.

- Kephn

RPG Antagonists: The Esoterrorists (GUMSHOE)

So, aside from World of Darkness, I like to think of GUMSHOE as my 'pet' RPG setting. It's got a lot of really cool ideas, and a lot of really cool lore. It's based on the primary assumption that investigation games aren't about finding clues, but interpreting them, and in a horror setting, that goes a good, long way. Horror is all about not showing. Letting the investigators see the eviscerated corpse of their friend, pinned to their ceiling, with no clue what did it, is a lot scarier than catching the monster in the act. With this in mind, let's take a look at the standard human enemies within the GUMSHOE setting of Unremitting Horror, the Esoterrorists.

Now, the Esoterrorists are a prime example for why not everyone should have magic. The Esoterrorists are defined, in fact, by not having magic, or at least, having only the smallest possible smidgen of it. What the Esoterrorists want, at its core, is power. Now, Esoterrorists will wax lyrical about how they want a world of wonder, where dragons and pixies, and angels that shit fairy dust frolic in the clouds, and to accomplish this, they're willing to gut a little girl from down the street, pull her entrails out, and work their magic from there. They're willing to murder dozens of people, exsanguinate their corpses, and display them for the public to make people believe, just for a split second, that the Chupacabra is real. You see, core to the belief of the Esoterrorists is the concept of the Membrane, the veil between objectivity and subjectivity. Human belief defines the Membrane, and the more the humans believe in the supernatural, the easier it is for the Esoterrorists to use their magic.

In a word, the Esoterrorists are totally misguided. In much less flattering terms, the Esoterrorists are unpleasant, irresponsible, stupid, fucking morons who are tampering with forces they have no hope of controlling. In exactly the same way as Chaos cultists in Warhammer, or alien-worshippers in Call of Cthulhu believe that they're going to be at the very top of the pyramid when the new world comes along, and end up being eaten by the monster they summon, the Esoterrorists are playing with fire. The Membrane is very real, and serves a very real purpose. What it protects the world from is the Outer Black, a horrible, hostile dimension of chains, electric drills, skewered flesh and nightmarish demons with wings of torn plastic from turning reality into their own personal hellpit. The Esoterrorists wearing the Membrane away would allow them to use magic, yes, real magic, but that isn't going to provide even the slightest defense against the powers of the Outer Black. To relate this to my other pet RPG setting, the Esoterrorists are exactly how the Technocracy sees the Traditions in Mage: The Ascension. Totally irresponsible, self-obsessed idiots who would feed the world into the maw of oblivion if it meant they could shoot lightning from their hands with no repercussions.

Now, accepting that the Esoterrorists are stupid doesn't make them any less dangerous, as the poor agents of the Ordo Veritatis will find out. In fact, if anything, it makes them even more dangerous. The Esoterrorists are so assured of their own power and understanding of magic, that they don't give a fuck what they summon up. The Esoterrorists are totally confident allowing and even encouraging a mortal occultist to summon up a horrifying demon, totally convinced that their wards and protective symbols will hold it. The problem with the Esoterrorists is that they can't accept that magic isn't real. The little hole that they create in the Membrane to let their flesh-devouring demon through, is not also going to allow themselves to protect against it magically. Yet the Esoterrorists are so fanatical, so totally committed to their goal, that they allow the most nightmarish monsters into our realm, all for the sake of weakening human belief in the rational. More often then not, the investigators of the Ordo Veritatis are going to find their first clue in the dismembered corpses of the idiotic magicians, and the shattered wards that they foolishly tried to defend themselves with. This is the kind of mess that the Ordo Veritatis has to deal with, but unfortunately, unlike the Technocracy, they don't have advanced laser weapons, HIT-MARK robots or other sci-fi gear to fight the monsters that the Esoterrorists summon. Just normal human brains, guns and body armor.

One thing to understand, most importantly, is that the Esoterrorists are losing. They can't simply manifest whatever monsters they want. Each monster needs to be individually created and made to fit into rational reality. Esoterrorists can't just wave their hands and conjure a creature made of living air that tears the blood-vessels  from its prey. The Membrane holds, as long as the Ordo Veritatis tries to maintain it. As much as the Esoterrorists don't want to admit it, the Ordo is the winner here. Reality bends to their whims, and if a monster doesn't work within the laws of physics as set down, all the Esoterrorists will have is a pool of burning viscera in their summoning circle, and a trip back to the drawing board.

Now, what makes the Esoterrorists evil, as well as totally idiotic, is the fact that if a monster doesn't exist yet, they'll do anything in their power to make people believe it exists. The Esoterrorists regularly gouge the eyes out of teenagers in their bathrooms to make people believe in Bloody Mary. They rape and slaughter young women to make people believe that the Pookas exist in the dark swamps of the Scotland. They're fanatics, and totally self-obsessed fanatics at that. What makes them so morally repugnant is that they're doing all of this, not because they're trying to make a better world, but because they want their magic to exist. All Esoterrorists are driven by the belief that they will be the dark, sorcerous overlords of the world they create, never imagining that they will be the one man in the world with a handgun, fighting against a world of utter darkness and terror, devoid of hope.

Some neat works of fiction to inspire an Esoterrorist campaign.

The Cthulhu Mythos: A pretty obvious one, given that it was one of the primary inspirations for the RPG, but it's an absolutely perfect example of what happens when someone with more ambition than brains decides to tamper with forces beyond their understanding.

Mage: The Ascension: I feel like I'm cheating with this one, because it's another RPG, but The Esoterrorists gives a near perfect example of how the Technocracy sees the Traditions. Admittedly, it's a bit more morally grey in that setting, but if nothing else, Esoterrorists gives Tradition players something to think about when they assault  the Technocratic base with summoned spirits and ritual magic.

The Evil Dead: Definitely more of a comedy than a horror movie, but everything about it, especially the more serious remake, shows exactly the kind of stupidity that the Esoterrorists can reek, especially when they try to utilize magic to open doors to things that probably shouldn't be opened to.

- Kephn

RPG Antagonists: The Ebon Dragon (Exalted)

So, it's been awhile since I've tackled an RPG antagonist outside of WoD or Dark Heresy, so today, we're going to be looking at one of White Wolf's less played RPG's.....Exalted.

Now, I've never had a chance to play Exalted, though it seems like a really fun game that I can get into. That said, I've read the books, and I know the lore of Creation pretty well, and that's why I feel qualified to talk about possibly my favorite villain within Exalted, the Ebon Dragon.

Now, the Ebon Dragon differs from many RPG antagonists because he, among them all, really doesn't have a goal or a selfhood. Like all Primordials, the Ebon Dragon is a concept made manifest, powered by Essence, and incapable of going against his nature in exactly the same way that other Primordials are. The key to the Ebon Dragon, and the reason he's such a cool baddie, is that he represents the principle of antagonism. The Ebon Dragon, to the very core of his being, represents the defiant urge to go against something. Now, I've heard the Dragon referred to as the embodiment of freedom, because one of his urges is to be free, but I find that quite the misnomer. The Ebon Dragon wants to be free only to spite the gods and the Exalted that trapped him in Malfeas. To understand the Ebon Dragon, one needs to understand that he has no sense of self. The Dragon is the eternal antagonist, that little bit of boundless malice that stands in opposition to everything you do.

In portraying the Ebon Dragon, there needs to be a personal element to it. Remember, that despite his power, the Dragon is a very personal antagonist, and even if he de-powers himself, the Dragon reshapes himself to be your personal enemy.  In a very real way, the Dragon lacks identity, and the only way he can get power over the world is by sacrificing his identity and becoming the opposite of someone else. In reality, the Dragon is the weakest of the Primordials, because he, of all of them, can't exist without mortals to torment or gods to oppose. Like Tzeentch, the instant he succeeds in one of his plans, he loses another portion of himself because he's destroyed something that gives him power through opposing it. The true tragedy of the Ebon Dragon, is that he has no endgame and no goal. As soon as every one of his enemies is dead, he will cease to exist, because there isn't anything to oppose any more. He's just a sentient, all consuming thematic, and  the true pity is that once he accomplishes his goal, he will die, however he cannot steer away from the path of accomplishing it.

Now, one of the most important things about portraying the Dragon is that he is the opposite of the Unconquered Sun, Sol Invictus, that ultimate embodiment of righteousness and honor, who would sacrifice his own divinity to save a single mortal.  The Ebon Dragon, in his natural state, is the opposite of the Sun, the very original creator of darkness, and as such, he is devoid of virtue entirely. The Ebon Dragon, when it comes down to it, is a rather weak individual, largely because virtues are somewhat necessary to be a functional being. The Dragon knows no temperance, compassion, valor or conviction, and cannot summon up the willpower to continue his plans if they are sufficiently foiled. Sure, he can summon these traits as a defiant opposition to his opponents, as well as a blatant betrayal of himself, but he has no idea what they really mean. What this means, of course, is that the Ebon Dragon is only ever as willful as whoever he's opposing at this moment. He literally cannot summon these virtues from within because there's nothing there.

Finally, I think it's important to talk about the Dragon's goals. The Reclamation is something that the Dragon has been working toward from the first moment of it's imprisonment, mostly to spite the gods. However, it's difficult to think of the Dragon as a particularly effective planner, especially given his total lack of conviction.  However, one has to remember that the Dragon's conviction is always equal to the person he's trying to oppose, and in this case, he's opposing the Unconquered Sun. Another thing people always forget is that the Dragon has no friends, merely people he hasn't gotten around to hurting yet. As a Compassion 1 entity, he literally cannot comprehend the concept of Charity, and as such, plots to be the first one out of Malfeas just so he can seal the other Primordials in forever and laugh at their expense. The problem here is, while he is committed to his goal, his souls are equally committed to betraying the other souls of the Dragon and leaving them behind, being the sole soul (heh) to define the only free Primordial. The Ebon Dragon is a powerful opponent, but when fighting him, remember that he is the embodiment of betrayal. He'll always be betraying himself in some way, because on a very real level, he can't exist if he wins. That's the key to portraying him. A huge amount of power, but fettered by the fact that deep down, the Ebon Dragon is a loser. He can't just escape into bizarre alternate moralities like the other Primordials, he's stuck in a human morality, a very understandable, weak human morality, and he sucks at it more than any other being in creation.

Here are some neat bits of fiction to inspire a game of Exalted where the Ebon Dragon is the primary antagonist:

The Dark Knight: If you want to see a villain defined primarily by their antagonism to the hero, look no further than the Joker. Like the Ebon Dragon, he has no reason for what he does, and no backstory to make himself seem sympathetic. Gotham city, in fact, is nothing more than collateral damage for him, and his sole goal is to corrupt Batman. Like the Dragon, there is no reason for what the Joker does, he simply exists to oppose.

American Psycho: Both the book and movie are an intense character study of Patrick Bateman, who like the Ebon Dragon, has no sense of selfhood, and nothing to live for outside of murder and hurting people. The book in particular portrays a fairly spectacular breakdown when Bateman runs out of people to hurt, and has to come to terms with the fact that he's an empty shell of a person.

It's Always Sunny In Philadelphia: A really strange one, I know, but think of the protagonists as the reclamation Yozi. Dennis is the Ebon Dragon, the eternal sociopath who schemes and could be magnificent, but is sort of pathetic anyway, Mac as Malfeas, the sad and pathetic man who thinks of himself as a big shot, Charlie as Adorjan, who hurts who he loves, and is violently insane, Dee as She Who Lives Inside Her Name, smart and capable, but always unheard and ignored, and finally Frank as Cecyline, the spiteful, fallen power who takes pleasure in cynically hurting everyone around them. This show actually provides a great dynamic for how the Yozis interact with each other, and on top of that, is really, really, really,  funny.

Dead Puppies

Good afternoon my readers. Today I’m going to be tackling that black sheep of the oWoD, the word that every storyteller dreads hearing. Today I’m going to be looking at Abominations.

Now I’m going to be straightforward here, and just state flat out that I love the idea of an Abomination. For the uninitiated, an Abomination is a werewolf that has survived the embrace, becoming a blood-drinking, shapeshifting undead monstrosity, with the powers of both, and hated by all. I think it’s a really cool expression of the idea of vampirism as a disgusting, diseased curse, capable of infecting even the most spiritually pure of beings, like one of the Garou. I think an Abomination is a great boogieman, capable of scaring even werewolves, a fallen warrior of Gaia corrupted to the Wyrm is a pretty powerful symbol, even more freakish than the most depraved Black Spiral Dancer. Abominations live up their namesake very well, being absolutely repulsive freaks that all of nature, the world, and even other servants of the Wyrm recoil from.

Now, all of that said, it would take a fuck-ton of convincing for me to allow a player to try one. Abominations are inherently really tricky to play, and if you let one out of control, it can be disgustingly overpowered. In a vampire game, an Abomination wrecks shit, and I really don’t recommend allowing this sort of shit in any kind of group game. Doing so will basically ensure that every other player is going to be sidelined in favor of the group’s dead puppy, and even worse, kiss any kind of meaningful boss fight and combat goodbye, because the Abomination player is going to tear through anything you throw at him short of an Antediluvian. In a werewolf game, bizarrely, you suffer the opposite problem. Most people don’t get this, but Abominations are actually way, way weaker than your average werewolf. I specifically enforce in my games that while an Abomination may have the strength of both species, they also have the weaknesses of both. In addition to that, their gnosis permanently drops slowly, effectively getting rid of their spiritual powers altogether. Abominations also heal like vampires, a less efficient way than werewolves, giving Garou an inherent advantage. Add to that the problem of hiding from the Gaia-lovin’ Garou, our feisty little Wyrm minion is going to be answering some very awkward questions like why he’s never seen in daylight, and why he stinks of corruption.

The first part of putting an Abomination in one’s game, is to define what it is. In classic White Wolf fashion, there’s a ton of contradictory ideas spread out through the various sourcebooks as to how to craft these beasts, and therefore, I’ll put forth my method. This write up isn’t exactly canon, but I think it’s one of the few ways to make an Abomination balanced.

So, start the character off in the normal way you would make a werewolf character. No double freebie points for you, because that’s just stupid. Pick a tribe, pick an auspice etc. etc. as normal. Now, once you’ve put that together, level it up as normal to get it to the point in life at which it was embraced. Now the fun starts. Apply the vampire template. Pick a clan, generation, all the normal stuff. Your werewolf’s gnosis is now frozen, and can never be increased. They keep the gifts that they had, but gifts that call spirits always call Banes, who are somewhat pissed that the werewolf has severed his spiritual side and weakened his connection with the Wyrm. In addition, their Gnosis is capped at their humanity. Pick disciplines and apply a blood pool as normal. The Abomination now has a blood pool and a rage score. They can only spend from one of those scores a round, no spending rage and blood in the same go, because they are intrinsically spiritually opposed and don’t go well together. Abominations lose their werewolf regeneration and heal like a vampire, by spending blood. They gain the vampire weakness to sunlight, fire and their clan weakness, on top of their tribe weakness and the weakness to silver. They retain their ability to shapeshift normally, but optionally, their werewolf form looks decayed and hideous and obviously undead. Like any other vampire, they need to drink blood and can be sent into torpor if their blood pool empties out. They also instantly lose all renown, ‘cause Gaian spirits aren’t going to accept any of your shit once you go leech.  The Abomination now subscribes to humanity, which, as mentioned above, caps their Gnosis, so their Gnosis score can’t be higher than their humanity. Switching onto paths are fine, as always, but you need to drop your humanity to 3 or lower, which means sacrificing quite a large chunk of your spiritual power. Finally, unless they were Black Spiral Dancers in life, they lose their pack bond and totem, and upon becoming an Abomination, they automatically gain a derangement. This is how I like Abominations to function, and for the most part, it neuters a large amount of their broken reputation. It’s not perfect, but thus far, it’s the best I have.

Now, in terms of roleplay, nobody likes Abominations. Kindred hate and fear them because they’re jealous of their power, and because no elder wants their centuries of planning to be ended by a swipe of a neonate’s claws. Abominations in kindred domains need to keep their heads down, unless they want to end up blood hunted as a massive Masquerade breach, or if nothing else, at very least, blood bonded to everyone even vaguely interested in not being eviscerated. In werewolf games, this is even harder, because werewolves can sniff out the Wyrm (something Abominations are just soaked in) and do a lot of their stuff during the day, so it’s basically impossible to remain hidden unless you’re of a ridiculously high rank and literally beyond reproach. All of this makes for a really cool roleplaying challenge in my opinion. On one hand, you’ve got a huge amount of power. In Vampire games, it’s really, really nice to be able to take out elders with one flick of your aggravated damage claws, and basically to outclass other neonates and ancillae a million to one. An Abomination who survives to be an Elder is going to be a bloody dangerous monster indeed, and can use its shapeshifting (even without Gnosis) as a nice ace up their sleeve. Still, it’s even more dangerous than being a Baali, an un-blood-bonded Tremere handing out Thaumaturgy like Halloween candy or even a Camarilla Lasombra. You need to be way, way, way more paranoid than a regular vampire, because all it takes is some random ghoul to see you transforming and it’s curtains for you. Other vampires are also capable of using their politics against you a lot easier, because whinging to an elder brings attention to you. That doesn’t mean that you can’t transform ever, but you’re going to need to be prepared to lay the smackdown on any kindred that gets too nosy.

A large inspiration for this page was a post on a WW forum (I’ll link it below), that suggests some cool combinations. Here’s what I think are probably the easiest and hardest to run.

•    Lasombra/Shadow Lord: Pretty easy to merge philosophies, as both of them essentially boil down to being a backstabbing douche. Both are also very accustomed to being the power behind the throne.
• Malkavian or Nosferatu/Bone Gnawer: Pretty easy to meld, as these guys know what it’s like to be an outcast already.
•  Red Talons/Gangrel: A pretty obvious one anyway, a Red Talon/Gangrel is really quickly going to be about embracing being the ultimate predator, but is going to have to handle the problem of their humanity and Gnosis dropping like a rock in a pond.
• Black Spiral Dancer/Anything: BSD’s are essentially the only tribe who will accept these freaks, and some really insane BSD’s may be tempted to truly become ‘one with the Wyrm.’

All in all, I don’t think Abominations deserve the kind of hate they receive. White Wolf fucked up, yes, when they decided to create Samuel Haight, their idiotic hybridized mage/werewolf/ghoul hybrid, but that doesn’t mean that the idea of a freakish hybrid is necessarily a bad one. Just please don’t go stacking a shit ton of templates on top of each other, like a mage-Baali-BSD-changeling, because that is just ridiculous. That said, if anyone manage to pull that off and make a good game out of it, they have won at oWoD and need never play it again.

- Kephn

[EDIT: I can't actually find the post, and I have a musical to prepare for, so I'll link it when I find it.]

Special Snowflake Syndrome

So, today, I'm going to be talking to all my GM broskies out there, about one of the most annoying things I've ever encountered in tabletop gaming. How many times has this happened to you? You're putting together a nice DnD game, you've got your story arc set, the hero's journey and all that good stuff, and all the players are rolling up basic characters. Then there's this one jackass who goes 'Can I play a vampire?' Or in a vampire game, where you've sorted out the city's politics and put together a nice interesting game of backstabbing and politicking, and one guy just can't get it out of his head that he wants to play a Baali, or an abomination or some other twinked out shit from one of the sourcebooks. My friends, we've just experienced a very special type of bad player, the Special Snowflake.

Now, these people aren't necessarily bad players. Maybe they've played the game long enough that they want to try out something new. Maybe they've got a really good character concept, and think that it genuinely only works in this race/class/bloodline. Maybe they just took their mother's advice on being unique too literally. The problem comes in when you remember that, most of the time, roleplaying a is a collaborative experience. The story becomes really unfairly focused on the one guy in the coterie of vampires who just happens to be the last surviving Cappadocian, or that one inquisitorial team that employs a bloody aspect warrior. Before you know it, all your players are trying to have their cake and eat it, soon, you'll have a dungeon crawl starring a Minotaur, a Devil, a Mind-Flayer and a Yuan-Ti, and that way madness lies. This is actually way worse in Dark Heresy and World of Darkness, because at least in DnD and Pathfinder, those things can be sorta-maybe-not really balanced by level adjustments, but in systems like oWoD or the Fantasy Flight warhammer games, balancing that shit just starts inflicting sanity damage. Protips for GM's: Vampires and werewolves and mages are not even remotely balanced against each other. Vampires especially get the short end of the stick here, because really, their only advantage is outliving the other two. When a werewolf is dealing aggravated damage with each swipe of its claws, or a mage can transform your skin into fire, vamps are going to be outclassed, very, very quickly. Mages and werewolves are a slightly different story, as given prep time and a good hiding place, even a nooby mage can absolutely annihilate an entire werewolf pack, but up close and personal, even an archmage becomes doggy-chow. Likewise, Eldar, Orks and chaos people in Dark Heresy are absolutely going to outclass their humie counterparts in every possible way. We are talking aliens that can make your brain leak out of your ears by screaming, and epic psykers that can kill people from three ships away. Players don't really like being outshined by their compatriots, and sooner or later, they're going to wonder exactly why one player gets to have all the shiny toys.


The second problem, especially for games like WoD and DH, is that it breaks the setting of the game. Vampire, Werewolf and Mage are games with very distinct tones and settings, and including too many elements from each one sort of breaks that. Now, I'm not saying I'm a fan of every bit of metaplot that White Wolf has ever put out, because some of it is in fact atrocious. Still, I think the main settings of the games are very, very well done, and do a lot to set the mood. Vampire is all about politics and the long game, and doesn't involve a lot of hack and slash. Even Sabbat games still focus on politics and the eventual apocalypse bearing down on everyone. Werewolf games are all kicking ass, all the time, and while there is some good cultural and interpersonal goings on here, they do take second place to murdering the enemies of Gaia. It becomes problematic when you start introducing vampires into werewolf games, because in canon, they are flat out servants of the Wyrm, and need to be re-purposed as lawn fertilizer posthaste. They don't even like mages too much, given that they smack of humies trying to tamper with the environment. The thing I'm getting at is that the GM has to go through a lot of idiotic loopholes to try and make it make sense, and sometimes, it's just not worth it so one person can have their super speshal mary sue.

I find the best kind of special snowflake character is one that has a lot of inherent drawbacks, essentially so they don't feel like they're playing a ridiculous power fantasy. For example, in my vampire games, anyone who wants to play a Baali absolutely can. The instant they make themselves known as one of the demon-worshippers, though, they're going to be getting a very permanent rooftop suntan. I think that's the appeal of one of these characters. The singular chaos-cultist in the group, or the single secret Esoterrorist in the party of investigators. If you're a GM like me, and enjoy watching all your players plot against each other, it becomes quite an excellent sit-com. Just remember, with power, must come a price. If a player wants to be special, remember to fuck them royally with the power of plot, and that way, the rest of the party isn't going to feel so maligned.

Now, I know a lot of WoD GM's can be elitist about this sort of thing, because far be it from anyone to tamper with the sacred cow of metaplot. I think, however, that most, if not all these problems can be overcome with a solo game. If I'm running a solo game for you, and you're not making my other players feel like extras in a fanfic, go nuts. I'll practically let you play whatever the hell you like. BSD-Lasombra Abomination? Go ahead. Cthulhu-Worshipping Deep One? Easy. Solo games are a good chance to explore the crazy shit that you wouldn't touch in a group game with a ten foot pole. I actually find that it's quite good fun to explore what it's like to be something that really shouldn't exist in your setting, and to just go wild in a way group games don't allow. Remember though, it falls to the GM and the player to make it interesting, because stacking a shit ton of templates over a base character doesn't mean jack-shit if he's boring. Remember that underneath all the cool powers, there needs to be a good story, because without that, you're not going to be able to run a good game anyway.

- Kephn.

RPG Antagonists: The Wyrm (Old World of Darkness)

It's been awhile since I've done one of these articles, so today I'm going to be tackling something I've been wanting to tackle for a bit, the biggest, meanest baddie of all in the entirety of the Old World of Darkness line, the Wyrm of Entropy.

Now, the Wyrm is a really hard antagonist to pin down, because it's not really an embodied figure. While in Werewolf: The Apocalypse, it's the main big bad and acts as a sort of Satan figure to Gaia, I've listed it as an antagonist for the entire World of Darkness because it extends into all the gamelines. The Wyrm isn't really a character so much as it is a sentient force, sort of like Chaos in Warhammer or the Dark Side of the Force in Star Wars. The Wyrm is a force of corruption, one that twists otherwise natural things into its own, mutilated image, and its tendrils are felt in every single gameline of oWoD.

So, starting in the Werewolf cosmology, since that's where it originated, the Wyrm was originally a force of destruction and rebirth, an engine that recycled the static patterns of the Weaver (order) and returned them to the Wyld (chaos), thus ensuring the continuation of the cosmic cycle. One day, the Weaver became sick of this, and wove the Pattern Web (our current universe), trapping the Wyrm inside. The Wyrm went mad, and struggled to escape, and in its struggles, managed to slice itself into many smaller pieces, that descended onto the Pattern Web, spreading many minor spirits of ill and evil called Banes. The Wyrm itself was fractured in its struggle, losing its original identity and becoming a three headed hydra, and becoming a spirit of decay, corruption and entropy, both of the spirit, the physical, and the mental.Its ultimate goal is the unmaking of the Pattern Web, finally freeing it to continue its great work and return it to its original identity.

Now, that all sounds like a very sympathetic backstory, now doesn't it? That's until you remember that the Wyrm's original purpose really doesn't leave many survivors, and ultimately, it wants to dissolve the world into total, mindless chaos, in the name of some great cosmic cycle. Now, the Wyrm can't really be blamed for its madness, but its methods definitely leave a lot to be desired. The Wyrm no longer represents the idea of a clean death and rebirth, something the Euthanatos may believe, but something wholly tainted, the slow and painful slide into oblivion. The Wyrm may have been a positive force of renewal once, but you could arguably say that it was its own first victim, and it's now been totally corrupted into something broken and evil.

Now, I know I overuse this word a lot, but the thing that makes the Wyrm such a good antagonist is how insidious and subtle it is. In fact, the Wyrm may well be the subtlest of any RPG Antagonist ever printed. There's a lot of debate as to what it even is, both in and out of universe. The Garou would have you believe that the Wyrm is literally an enormous, universe-sized bane trapped in the deep Umbra, and woven into the very strands of creation, and that all its servitors and banes are extrusions of itself into Gaia, trying madly to tear her apart and break free. Mages will tell you that the Wyrm is a metaphor the ignorant were-folk talk about, and really, it's a representation of Entropy, the balancer between Stasis and Dynamism, a natural part of the cycle of the universe. Even the Wyrm-aligned mages, the Nephandi, each have different ideas about what exactly they serve. Infernalist Nephandi will tell you that the Wyrm is a ridiculous legend spawned by their compatriots, who have been suckered into the werewolf's religion, and that devils and demons are the only true force of evil in the world. Malfean Nephandi would argue, however, that devils and demons are mere masks for the Wyrm's true tendrils. Vampires will naturally just shrug and go back to politicking. Really, though, what the Wyrm is isn't very important. What's really important is the way it infects the world like a cancer that needs to be excised.

Now, the Wyrm has many servants, both knowing and unknowing, and those servants don't always get along. The reason for that is, every time the Wyrm tries to enter reality through a certain vector, it further mutilates itself along the strands of the Pattern Web locking it away. The pieces that result are self-willed spirits, eternally a part of the Wyrm, but perfectly capable of going against the greater whole, or other parts of the Wyrm. Because of this, the Wyrm comes across very chaotically. It's literally schizophrenic, and every Bane and Maeljin has their own agenda, and doesn't necessarily care whether you serve the Wyrm or not. Because of this, the Wyrm has great power to infect, twist, and mutate things to its service, but not a great amount of power to really coordinate them. A prime example of this principle in action is vampires. Vampires have no idea the Wyrm even exists, and yet descend from Caine, arguably one of the triatic Wyrm's earthly incarnations. Likewise, Pentex, a Wyrm empowered company, fights against the Giovanni and the Camarilla daily, two other Wyrm organizations, for control over the world's economy. This is the main advantage for those seeking to fight the Wyrm, as, in its mindless urge to devour all, it's very easy to turn the Wyrm's fangs back onto itself. All Wyrm minions, as a rule, are selfish assholes, a symptom of the degradation of the spirit their patron represents, and while they may be omnipresent, a near constant taint, they're easy to outfox if one has the brains.

Like Chaos, interacting with the Wyrm should feel dirty, but in a very impersonal way. The Wyrm literally represents the cracks in the world where the filth seeps in and mingles. Coming into contact with the Wyrm in any form will almost certainly taint you, and like a virus, you're going to spread that taint to others. It won't necessarily make you evil, however, and that's something a lot of Werewolf players forget. Not everything the Wyrm touches is evil, and likewise, Wyrm taint isn't something that black and white. There are good vampires, who struggle to maintain their humanity, and still stink of corruption as much as any Formor would. One thing that a lot of GM's forget is that, while the Wyrm is all powerful and evil, all of its minions, from the rampaging Black Spiral Dancers to the Nephandi, the Formori and even the Kindred, are its victims. Most of them didn't ask to become servants of corruption, or were duped or mislead into the coils of the Wyrm. This doesn't make them any less evil, and it doesn't mean that they're worthy of anything other than a swift, painful death, but an important theme of the Wyrm is the slippery slope. Sometimes, the most innocuous things, things that seem perfectly normal in one's daily life, can lead one down the path of corruption, and really, that's the saddest thing about the Old World of Darkness.

Finally, I feel the need to address the motivation of the servants of the Wyrm, because to me, they never made any sense. W:TA did many, many good things, but one thing it never really excelled at is characterizing its baddies any more than a Captain Planet supervillain. Those Wyrm minions who willingly serve the Wyrm, like Nephandi or Black Spiral Dancers, what do they gain out of their service? Yes, it is nice to be able to spit flesh-dissolving acid or summon barbed tentacles out of one's back, but even they have to realize that the Wyrm's endgame doesn't leave any of them alive. Now, you could argue that some (or a lot) just don't give a shit, and would be happy to burn the world even if it did have the unfortunate side effect of burning them with it. You could argue that the Wyrm is so changed an insane that it won't destroy the universe, merely turn it into an eternally rotting hell, where its minions can play around and torture humans forever, which, really is gonna get old at some point. In my World of Darkness, the Wyrm offers tangible rewards for its service, far greater rewards than other members of the Triat, and remember, the Wyrm is far, far, far more powerful than lesser spirits like Gaia and Jehovah, so those rewards are going to be a lot shinier. The ultimate reward for a true servant of the Wyrm is to become a Maeljin. Now, this isn't exactly canon, but when the end comes, call it the Descent, call it the Apocalypse or Gehenna, the Wyrm will assimilate all its minions back into its being, where they will live on, the only permanence in a constantly transient world, doing what they love most: destroy things. The servants of the Wyrm ultimately represent humanity's urge to self-destruct and debase themselves, and for their actions, will be rewarded with the hells of their dreams to torture and be tortured for all eternally, exactly what they would have wanted. Now that's a goal as lofty as Ascension or Golconda, now isn't it? All you have to do to earn it is feed the entire world down the maw of your master.

Some neat works of fiction to inspire games where the Wyrm is the antagonist:

The Secret World: I'll admit that I have barely played this, but from what I have played, this is one of the few MMORPG's I'd recommend. It's story, voice acting, and everything about it is detailed and top-notch, and actually, really, really feels like an oWoD RPG. The Filth is exactly what the Wyrm should be, an endless tide of horror that comes in different shapes and sizes, and corrupts everything good about the world as it devours it.

In The Mouth of Madness: Man John Carpenter is good for cosmic horror, isn't he? In the Mouth of Madness constantly wars in my mind with the Thing for my favorite Carpenter flick, and for good reason. It's a very good example of very subtle horror, slowly corroding away at the fabric of ordinary existence. This is exactly the Wyrm's mode of operation, slowly insinuating itself into reality, until before you know it, you're already doing its work.

The Filth: A very, very funny, occasionally nightmarish, and totally deranged comic by Grant Morrison, kind of a sister series to the Invisibles. It follows the agents of the Hand, the immune system of reality, as they track down and destroy glitches within reality, who are either nightmarishly evil and supervillainous, or just kind of pathetic and pitiable. Still, like a cancer, they all need to die for the world to live.

Adeptus Mechanicus

Many praises be to the Omnissiah my son. How may I assist you in your quest for knowledge?

Ah, you seek knowledge into the most holy of orders to serve High Terra. I commend you for your intelligence in recognizing the Mechanicum as the most important part of the holy Imperium of Man. I shall attempt to enlighten you in any way I can, my son, though I warn you, the biological components of your cortex may have trouble containing or comprehending the knowledge I impart. Such is the weakness of the flesh.

Those new to our order, such as yourself may think of the Mechanicus as nothing more than the engineering wing of the Imperium. Outsiders may see us as heretics, perverting the teachings of the God Emperor, or debasing ourselves with technophiliac rituals. I tell you this, my son, that nothing could be further from the truth. The Mechanicus is here to preserve the most sacred treasure of the human race, that of knowledge.

Man is a weak and fragile animal, always has been. Even in the earliest days of Terra's history, we were outmatched in tooth and claw. But always, man has been the superior species, because we are capable of harnessing the most holy of forces, the divine inspiration of the Omnissiah. When the first proto-human took up the spear to fell his enemies? When the first men created the wheel, created machines to bear his burdens? These are the gifts of knowledge, my son, and this is what the Mechanicus was created as a chalice to hold. The holy men of high Terra focus on the wrong thing. They focus on the God Emperor's incorruptible form, while we focus on the spirit. Machine is as much an extension of the spirit as biomatter, my son, as you well know. Organic life is nothing more than a machine to house sentience, the true spirit of the Emperor. Perhaps the Ecclesiarchy in all its pious glory has forgotten that machines are the only thing that keep the great Emperor alive to this day. The Emperor was powerful, and a great man, yes, however, like all life, he was forsaken by the most fallible of materials, the flesh.

Despite that we maintain their weapons, forge their Titan engines, and even give spiritual council to the lost and weary, looking for purpose, we are reviled by many factions within the Imperium. The High Lords of Terra, The Inquisition, and even many noble houses believe us to be nothing more than freaks, concerned with nothing more than our own self-improvement. They view us as a cult, an accepted heresy, one that would drive the Imperium back into the dark age of technology. In truth, my acolyte, they fear us. The noble houses and the High Lords are incestuous politcians, concerned only with the material. The fools see no value in the intangible, and are concerned primarily with maintaining their position. The Inquisition? It's been a long time since something has triggered my humor, and I savor it. The Inquisition and the Ecclesiarchy waste their time worshiping the physical aspect of the God Emperor, while we worship his mind and soul. That is the Omnissiah, my son, the collective of human knowledge.

The Omnissiah, as you should well know, is the basis of our religion and the font of all our knowledge. For all his power and wisdom, the God Emperor of Mankind is merely the vessel, the physical avatar of the greater being within. He speaks to us through the code and the speaker, watches us with the view screen and the camera, protects us with the bolter and the grenade. Some see the God Emperor as an impotent corpse upon the throne, whereas we see him everywhere. The hum of a server quietly sings the Emperor's hymns. The roar of the blaster declares his ire and the whistling cry of the mortar his divine judgement pronounced. This is why innovation is anathema my son. In truth, while others may see us as heretics, we trust not the fallible human imagination, that invites chaos and disorder, we trust only the eternal wisdom of the Omnissiah, in his tried and true formulae. This is why machines are worthy of respect, nay, reverence, for each one houses an aspect of the Omnissiah, as holy and worthy of adoration as the Golden Throne itself. The Omnissiah is in all things, and only the unenlightened see him as a fractured entity. When we find S.T.C.'s, the old knowledge of the world, do restore further order to the completed divine engine and widen our grasp. Stray not down the path of the Heretek my son. The Omnissiah is here, and everywhere. He needs not your flawed consciousness to corrupt his holy being.

I hope this has been an enlightening talk, my son. Perhaps one day, you will deliver it yourself, when you have reached the highest levels of optimization and calibration. Have a productive day.

The Ivory Tower

You seem lost, neonate. Confused about your place in the world. I've been watching you, you know, seeking answers from all the wrong sources. Mingling with Anarchs and unbound louts. Well, I'll do you a favor and fill you in, but you'll owe me. Deal? Excellent.

What you're going through is natural, neonate, the usual response to a brain ripped free of its mortal ties. The sunlight now burns you, animals reject you, and, let's face it, you're never going to see your friends or family again. These are just some of the sad facts about being Kindred. But chin up, we all had to go through it mate. And it's not all downside either. When you were a breather could you lift a dumpster over your head? Run faster than a speeding car? And those are just the most vanilla benefits. By becoming one of us, you've just joined the most exclusive club the world has ever known, one who's roots stretch back to the middle ages. Yes, with eternal life, we don't just sit around moping all day, you understand. The Camarilla gives us something to do with our time. You might think us weak, neonate, despite our powers, and you'd be right. Mortals outnumber us a million to one. But the one thing we'll always have over them, is time. We will never run out of time.

Don't listen to the jostling rabble who decry us. The Camarilla has been around and survived more persecution and revolts than you know. Yes, it is a strict organization, but those rules have a purpose. You're too young to remember the inquisition, correct? Well, there was a time, not too long ago, when the kine found out about us. In those nights, they put dozens of our kind to the torch, neonate and elder, and that was using only the technology of the middle ages. Can you imagine what the humans would do to us if they found out about us today? Don't listen to the idiotic ramblings of the Anarchs, they would never accept us. As cosmopolitan their society has become, even they are not stupid enough to accept predators in their midst. Even more, don't listen to the inane babblings of the Sabbat, who fight for some foolish dream that they could rule the kine openly even. Kine have weapons, technology and above all, numbers, as well as the daytime on their side. No, we don't stand a chance against them, and that's why the first rule of the Camarilla is the Masquerade. We don't reveal our nature to humans. It's as simple as that. If you break that law, you threaten all of us, and thus, we group together to bring you down. It may seem a harsh penalty to you, neonate, but mortals today have the internet. They have cameras in their phones that can upload video to the web in seconds, and all it takes is some foolish vampire showing off to endanger all of our blood.

The second rule is that of progeny. You don't embrace willy-nilly. Now, I'm aware that this one seems especially harsh, especially given that the sire and childe must both be destroyed. Think upon it from our perspective, neonate. This is a fragile ecosystem. There can be no point in which the mass of predators outweighs the prey. While it is all well and good and romantic for a young Toreador to embrace out of love or obsession, how long do you think that love will last? Vampires have centuries to get sick of each other, form new obsessions and bonds. If we simply embraced on a whim, the Masquerade would have fallen centuries ago. Some Kindred will say that the embrace is there's to give as they please. Some would say that we have no right to infringe upon our citizens. These vampires are irresponsible, young, and have not seen what happens when the embrace is handed out with no respect for the law. Take one look at Mexico city, or Detroit, where the Sabbat  embraces dozens of kine to use as shock troops, because that is what it would devolve into. The Camarilla is the only one being responsible with its depredations.

Finally, within the Camarilla, we respect the rule of elders. Again, you may argue, why should age determine power? Well, allow me to clue you in neonate. Elders are specifically those kindred who have come from more turbulent nights, and have lived beyond what a human would consider a natural lifespan. Elders see the long game, they are not blinded by petty human emotions or flaws. Elders see what neonates cannot, because neonates have not yet come to appreciate the patience that is required to play the Jyhad for eternity. Some would call it a weakness, some would see us as slaves, but in truth, our elders are our greatest strength. Look again to Sabbat cities, or those cities of the preposterously named Anarch Free State. Crime, warfare, kinslaying in the streets. Within the cities held by the Camarilla, there is order, and do not let your impulsiveness fool you, fledgeling, order is all that holds our kind together. We are a fragile race, and as a fragile race we must control everything around us, to ensure our unliving conditions are optimal.

Don't listen to the Anarchs who would say we are exclusive. The Camarilla opens its doors to any kindred that wishes to follow the traditions. One of the arrogant Tzimisce, Assamite or even a Follower of Set could claim membership, and as long as they obeyed the rules, they would be welcome to the protections herein. Do not let the naysayers fool you, my friend, the Camarilla is the last line of defence against the very real extinction of our race.

Good night neonate.

- Kephn

The Sword of Caine

Imagine what it was like to be one of our kind in the dark ages. Imagine a time when the young had no rights, and could be treated like chaff and cannon fodder for their elders. Imagine knowing that the rapacious forefathers were resting, feeling their presence in our blood, and knowing that they would one day rise and devour the world of men and Cainite alike. We waged our secret wars across the earth, clan against clan, kin against kin, forever re-enacting our dark father's crime. We hurled our young across battlefields, to batter down the fortress walls of our enemies, to supplant them in this region or that.

Finally, someone said no. Finally, someone stood up to their dark masters, breaking the chains of blood and struck down the elder who thought he could mistreat his childer with impunity. Patricia, a young neonate of clan Brujah, sickened by the way the elders of her clan eagerly sacrificed their neonates to the human inquisitors in the burning times, lead a revolt against Hardestadt, her master, and committed diablerie upon his broken body. This marked the very beginning of the first Anarch revolt. The war between elders and childer reached it's most conclusive point when Gratiano de Veronese, eldest childe of the Lasombra antediluvian lead an assault on his sire's keep and destroyed the monster in his tomb. Spurred by his example, Lugoj of Romania and his Tzimisce allies destroyed their antediluvian as well, marking the very first time in history that two of these ancient monsters had been slain by lesser Cainites. The cunning Tzimisce, who joined the revolt with the Lasombra brought with them a blood ritual called the Vaulderie, an essential tool in breaking the elder's hold over the blood of the young.

Of course the corrupt elders tried to restore order. They were afraid that they were growing obsolete in the modern times. They were terrified of being left behind by history or being extinguished by the power of mortal ingenuity. They gathered together, amassing their resources and formed the Camarilla, our hated rival. The Camarilla proposed the cowardly option of denying our true natures. It proposed the idea of hiding among the mortal cattle that we could so easily have subjugated in those ancient nights. The elders were afraid, you see, and formed an entire organization around that fear. Still, it was a powerful organization, and the combined might of seven clans managed to defeat the nascent unruly childer. On October 23rd, 1493, we were called to the Convention of Thorns, a supposed negotiating table, which in truth, was nothing but the elders calling us to lay down their terms for our surrender. They give us the option to return to our masters, partake of the vinculum, and bow our heads once more, in exchange for not being wiped out entirely.

Unsurprisingly, many in our number responded with a rather conclusive 'fuck that.'

We had fought long and hard to gain our freedom, and we would rather have faced the cold mercy of the sun than return to our enslavement. A young Tzimisce who would later become a Priscus of our order, named Sascha Vykos reportedly even sheared away his manhood and hurled it on the table to make his feelings on the matter known. More cowardly Anarchs argued that they should tow the line of the Camarilla, that we should allow ourselves to slip once more beneath the rule of elders. We of clan Tzimisce and Clan Lasombra, however, are proud clans. Noble clans. We bowed before no one, and even if we did, the destruction of our antediluvians would have rendered us a mere abberant bloodline in the eyes of the Camarilla, without pedigree and stripped of the nobility we had cultivated through the centuries. From that moment on, a line was drawn in the sand. Let the foolish Anarchs play at rebellion while seeking scraps of approval from their Camarilla masters. Let the neonates of the Camarilla be ground to bloody gristle by the schemes of the antediluvians. In the Sabbat, we know freedom. In the Sabbat, we find a family who will accept us as we are.

In it's modern incarnation, the Sabbat is the last bastion for Cainite freedom. While obviously, it would be foolish to reveal our nature to the kine, as the Camarilla has allowed them to organize and build weapons and armies capable of destroying us, we do not deny who we are. Among the Sabbat, we are a family, one and all, and we care for our family. Through the sacred rite of the Vaulderie, pack members share blood and become as loyal to each other as we may have loved in life. Through the sacrament of the blood bath, we exult in our nature, not pretending to be mere cursed cattle, but knowing to our hearts that we are the chosen of God and Caine, the wolves to walk among His herds of sheep. Through the Paths of Enlightenment, we need not cling to irrelevant and obsolete human morality to stave off the Beast. The Sabbat is the one place in the night, where any vampire, elder, neonate, or even Caitiff, can claim the right to be free. It is the one place where no Cainite need ever be judged for the sins of his forebears. It is the one place where being a vampire is not a shame or a weakness, but a strength, and one day, when the stars are darkened, and the hated light of the dawn is extinguished forever, the Camarilla and the false Anarchs trampled to bleeding embers beneath our heel, the world shall be our domain, our slaughterhouse, our buffet. Caine shall return and lift us all up, my brothers, and together, we shall strike down the antediluvians as his sword. That night is coming, my brothers. Coming very, very soon.

- Kephn