So ladies and gentlemen, I know I talk a lot about GMing and my experiences in doing so, however I've never actually given examples of it, so without further ado on my blog, I'm going to be putting up recordings for games that I've run, including the premise and the players (or at least the ones I can remember). This first one is a game I ran about 3 months ago, a one shot for a con called Go Play. I ran it using the New World of Darkness system, and it was a straight up sequel to the movie Ghostbusters. A bit of a warning, the audio quality isn't incredible, but you should be able to make it out. These files work mostly on iTunes.
Ghostbusters - Spook Central
Featuring:
Martin Brown (That's me) - as the GM
Jack Pressley - as the Rich Kid, the heir to the stay puft marshmallow empire.
Samantha Travis - as the True Believer, ghost sympathizer extraordinaire.
Ben Johnson - as the Thrill Seeker, the promoted fanboy of the Ghostbusters that gets a chance to live his dreams.
Brendan Garett - as the Skeptic, a determined scientist who wants to take down the Ghostbusters from within.
The Scenario
It's 2014, 13
years since the last ghostly activity on record. The Ghostbusters'
proton packs and their vehicle, Ecto-1, has been consigned to dusty
warehouses; weapons from a war long won.
Egon Spengler, now age
70, is still runing the Spengler Paranormal Investigation Society,
which after years of work and lobbying, has brought the paranormal to
public knowledge. As far as he’s concerned, his Ghostbusting days are
long behind him.
Without warning, however, PKE readings spike
and ghostly activity is reported around the city. It feels like the city
is headed for a disaster of biblical proportions. You know Old
Testament, real wrath-of-God type stuff: fire and brimstone coming down
from the sky, rivers and seas boiling, forty years of darkness,
earthquakes, volcanoes, the dead rising from the grave, human sacrifice,
dogs and cats living together! Mass hysteria!
The people are
clamouring for the Ghostbusters to reform and save them. But will your
team of rookies be prepared to step into their shoes and save the city?
Who ya gonna call?
The Audio File
Enjoy!
- Kephn
Sunday, 20 July 2014
Sunday, 13 July 2014
Infernalism for Dummies: The Baali Survival Guide
Greetings neonate.
If you've survived this long, then clearly someone thinks you're worth something, so welcome. The First Tribe accepts only the greatest of initiates. Far too many wind up selling away their souls to demons for minor trinkets, being devoured by the barbaric Sabbat, or executed by the Ivory Tower.You have proven yourself worthy to know the secrets, and claim the legacy of our great clan, but first, you must know our history, and know of what we want. It goes without saying that you are never to show this document to anyone else, mortal or immortal. Guard it with your unlife. The secrets of the First Tribe are not for the uninitiated, and if we find out you have betrayed us, Final Death will be the kindest of mercies compared to what we do to you. You have been warned.
The Baali. That name has haunted the kindred for centuries, and with good reason. Many think of us as an urban legend. Many think us extinct, or powerless, or a mere fairy tell of the elders to keep their childer in line. We are real, and wherever the kindred have claimed power, we have been there, slowly corrupting from within. We are kindred, you see, but it is our destiny to rule. The Ventrue, the Lasombra, the hated Salubri, the Tremere....these weaklings would style themselves as 'high clans.' Praising themselves for their connection to their humanity or their beasts. Baali know what it truly means to hold power. The Baali know what it really means to have a secret that no one must know. The Baali know what it truly means to be a beast. You see, from our inception, we have been in contact with powers beyond the mortal ken, powers that the unenlightened may refer to as demons. True, these powers are unpleasant, perhaps even malicious, but they are controllable. The Baali, more than any other clan in the history of Cainites, understand the power of the underworld, and know exactly how to manipulate it.
A little history lesson. We were founded eons ago, when the Tribe of First Men had first made contact with the outer dark. They found beings, known as the Children, buried beneath the crust of the earth, and realized that they could draw power from their true names. Unfortunately, this practiced caused the Children to begin awakening, something that would spell doom for all mankind, and so we placated them. The Children loved carnage, they loved war and death, and so we fed them carnage. We created sacrifices and rituals so brutal and bloody that they lulled the Children to sleep like a babe in a cradle, and thus we learned how to work our magic safely.
It couldn't go on forever. An antediluvian, one of the dreaded third generation, some say Saulot, some say Set, came upon our tribe and tore them apart. He was offended by our practices, you see, not truly understanding them, and deigned to show us what true evil was. Only three survived the massacre, and they were hurled to the bottom of the well, and the vampire dripped his blood into it, that they might know true damnation. Three methuselahs rose from that well. Nergal, Moloch and Ashur.
To this day, the Baali are divided. The methuselahs preach a different system, each, with Nergal supporting an ethos of absolute destruction, and Ashur bringing forth an insane sermon of blanketting the world in ghouled flies. They are dreamers and madmen, and if you are reading this, you are of Moloch's brood. Moloch is the only true Baali, and followers of the other two are nothing more than distractions, weaklings to draw the ire of the Camarilla and the Sabbat. Molochian Baali know how to blend in. Molochian Baali know that demons are not to be worshipped or praised, but to be broken and bent to the will of the vampire. It is the Baali of Moloch that will one day lead the Cainites into a new era, where mortals shall be as our food, and the sky shall burn with clouds of brimstone, forever obscuring the hated sun. That day is coming, very, very soon. Read on acolyte.
Enough apocrypha. Time for some practical advice. If you wish to provide a useful service to the clan, you need to learn how to blend in. Baali must never walk openly, even the fools of Nergal and Ashur know that much. The kindred must believe us an urban legend, or an extinct line, and fortunately, much of our work has been done for us. The Camarilla refuse to believe in the history of our race, and openly refute the Caine myth. Our hated rivals and fiercest opponents, the Salubri, have been wiped out by Clan Tremere, due in no small part to our machinations in leading the warlocks to Saulot. The Setites and Assamites, the only other two clans that suspect us and have fought us in the past, refused to join the Camarilla and are hated and hunted as well. Our old friends, the Brujah, have long benefited from our service, and we believe they can be subverted again. The Camarilla is all about want. They desire power, they lust for humanity, and they hunger for blood. All these are ours to give, but remember, the Camarilla is very good at outplaying its opponents when it comes to making deals. Tread very carefully, acolyte. A single misstep around them could easily mean your final death.
The Sabbat are both easier and harder to infiltrate. Unlike the Camarilla, they see no need to cling to the lie that is humanity. Unlike the Camarilla, they indulge their basic nature, and this attitude makes it very easy for one of our kind to get away with our......predilictions. The Sabbat, however, are built on unity, and loyalty. The Sabbat, will not give you the privacy you need to study your demonology. Worse, they will bond you to their sect, in a disgusting perversion known as the Vaulderie, and their elders watch for Infernalists within their ranks. They do not understand that we do not bow to demons, however, it is a forgivable attitude, given our less-subtle compatriots. To be a true Baali is to make the demons bow to you.
The easiest way to insinuate yourself within the so-called kindred is to pretend to be another clan, preferably one that tolerates eccentricities and is beneath the notice of most kindred. Your disciplines, Obfuscate, Presence and Daimoinion will help you in this matter. Brujah, Toreador and Malkavian are the easiest to infiltrate, as we share one discipline with each, and all of them are stereotyped among their peers for being flighty, aloof, idiotic and easily distracted. Despite your lordly stature, do not attempt to infiltrate the Ventrue or the Tremere. Both of these clans have a level of unity that will make it difficult to answer awkward questions about one's lineage, and despite their denial, both of these clans are no stranger to diablerizing imposters in their midst. Equally so, though we share disciplines with them, you would be foolish to pretend to be a Caitiff or the rare Setite antitribu, as those are almost as distrusted as us, in both the Camarilla and the Sabbat.
To serve your clan well, one must keep up with one's rituals. Demons need to be bound, and made to serve, and this is equally your greatest strength and weakness. Daimoinion is a powerful discipline, especially when one is unprepared for its effects, however, it requires an upkeep that can be difficult. Sacrifices are fairly easy to obtain, especially in Sabbat domains, but remember that no one must catch you in the act. It is easy to endure the stigma of being an inhumane kindred than to be an infernalist. If someone suspects you, arrange for them to die via politics or accident. Never simply send a demon after them, because it will look suspicious. Be 'loyal' to your sect. Never betray them. Do not rock the boat, and if you are talented at hiding, try to slip beneath the radar of your elders. If you cannot, then be upstanding. Be beyond reproach, and be the strong left hand of the Prince. People will think twice before questioning your loyalty. As much as they deny it, the Sabbat works in essentially the same way, and the Inquisition are unlikely to seek out the Archbishop's favored packmate. Remember that the Vaulderie will induce the blood-bond to make this easier, but don't worry, it won't make you stray from your mission. Remember, what we do is for the good of all the childer of Caine, and when they see our great works, they will thank us.
When choosing childer, remember the teachings of your elders and be sure to pass them down. Psychopaths and other broken kine are useless as true childer, and good only for distractions. Seek out the holy man, the esoteric scientist and the magician. Seek out the thinker and the philosopher. Those who are passionate, and dedicated to a cause. It is those childer that will divine the mysteries of the universe, and those childer that will usher in a new age of blood, and bind the dukes of hell into our service. We Baali are not mere slaves to the infernal, and only those who are brave and strong can look into the abyss without being corrupted or losing our immortal souls. Only those who are strong enough to look into the face of the devil, spit in his eye, and bring him to his knees are worthy. But the other clans must not know this. They must think us stooges, fools who sell our immortal essence for the ability to command small glamors and charms of hell, and ultimately shall be damned for our hubris. This belief serves us more than anything, and if there is any reason that the Cainites will be unprepared for us, is that they truly believe we are weaklings.
If only they knew the truth. But fear not, little acolyte, they will. Soon.
- Kephn
If you've survived this long, then clearly someone thinks you're worth something, so welcome. The First Tribe accepts only the greatest of initiates. Far too many wind up selling away their souls to demons for minor trinkets, being devoured by the barbaric Sabbat, or executed by the Ivory Tower.You have proven yourself worthy to know the secrets, and claim the legacy of our great clan, but first, you must know our history, and know of what we want. It goes without saying that you are never to show this document to anyone else, mortal or immortal. Guard it with your unlife. The secrets of the First Tribe are not for the uninitiated, and if we find out you have betrayed us, Final Death will be the kindest of mercies compared to what we do to you. You have been warned.
The Baali. That name has haunted the kindred for centuries, and with good reason. Many think of us as an urban legend. Many think us extinct, or powerless, or a mere fairy tell of the elders to keep their childer in line. We are real, and wherever the kindred have claimed power, we have been there, slowly corrupting from within. We are kindred, you see, but it is our destiny to rule. The Ventrue, the Lasombra, the hated Salubri, the Tremere....these weaklings would style themselves as 'high clans.' Praising themselves for their connection to their humanity or their beasts. Baali know what it truly means to hold power. The Baali know what it really means to have a secret that no one must know. The Baali know what it truly means to be a beast. You see, from our inception, we have been in contact with powers beyond the mortal ken, powers that the unenlightened may refer to as demons. True, these powers are unpleasant, perhaps even malicious, but they are controllable. The Baali, more than any other clan in the history of Cainites, understand the power of the underworld, and know exactly how to manipulate it.
A little history lesson. We were founded eons ago, when the Tribe of First Men had first made contact with the outer dark. They found beings, known as the Children, buried beneath the crust of the earth, and realized that they could draw power from their true names. Unfortunately, this practiced caused the Children to begin awakening, something that would spell doom for all mankind, and so we placated them. The Children loved carnage, they loved war and death, and so we fed them carnage. We created sacrifices and rituals so brutal and bloody that they lulled the Children to sleep like a babe in a cradle, and thus we learned how to work our magic safely.
It couldn't go on forever. An antediluvian, one of the dreaded third generation, some say Saulot, some say Set, came upon our tribe and tore them apart. He was offended by our practices, you see, not truly understanding them, and deigned to show us what true evil was. Only three survived the massacre, and they were hurled to the bottom of the well, and the vampire dripped his blood into it, that they might know true damnation. Three methuselahs rose from that well. Nergal, Moloch and Ashur.
To this day, the Baali are divided. The methuselahs preach a different system, each, with Nergal supporting an ethos of absolute destruction, and Ashur bringing forth an insane sermon of blanketting the world in ghouled flies. They are dreamers and madmen, and if you are reading this, you are of Moloch's brood. Moloch is the only true Baali, and followers of the other two are nothing more than distractions, weaklings to draw the ire of the Camarilla and the Sabbat. Molochian Baali know how to blend in. Molochian Baali know that demons are not to be worshipped or praised, but to be broken and bent to the will of the vampire. It is the Baali of Moloch that will one day lead the Cainites into a new era, where mortals shall be as our food, and the sky shall burn with clouds of brimstone, forever obscuring the hated sun. That day is coming, very, very soon. Read on acolyte.
Enough apocrypha. Time for some practical advice. If you wish to provide a useful service to the clan, you need to learn how to blend in. Baali must never walk openly, even the fools of Nergal and Ashur know that much. The kindred must believe us an urban legend, or an extinct line, and fortunately, much of our work has been done for us. The Camarilla refuse to believe in the history of our race, and openly refute the Caine myth. Our hated rivals and fiercest opponents, the Salubri, have been wiped out by Clan Tremere, due in no small part to our machinations in leading the warlocks to Saulot. The Setites and Assamites, the only other two clans that suspect us and have fought us in the past, refused to join the Camarilla and are hated and hunted as well. Our old friends, the Brujah, have long benefited from our service, and we believe they can be subverted again. The Camarilla is all about want. They desire power, they lust for humanity, and they hunger for blood. All these are ours to give, but remember, the Camarilla is very good at outplaying its opponents when it comes to making deals. Tread very carefully, acolyte. A single misstep around them could easily mean your final death.
The Sabbat are both easier and harder to infiltrate. Unlike the Camarilla, they see no need to cling to the lie that is humanity. Unlike the Camarilla, they indulge their basic nature, and this attitude makes it very easy for one of our kind to get away with our......predilictions. The Sabbat, however, are built on unity, and loyalty. The Sabbat, will not give you the privacy you need to study your demonology. Worse, they will bond you to their sect, in a disgusting perversion known as the Vaulderie, and their elders watch for Infernalists within their ranks. They do not understand that we do not bow to demons, however, it is a forgivable attitude, given our less-subtle compatriots. To be a true Baali is to make the demons bow to you.
The easiest way to insinuate yourself within the so-called kindred is to pretend to be another clan, preferably one that tolerates eccentricities and is beneath the notice of most kindred. Your disciplines, Obfuscate, Presence and Daimoinion will help you in this matter. Brujah, Toreador and Malkavian are the easiest to infiltrate, as we share one discipline with each, and all of them are stereotyped among their peers for being flighty, aloof, idiotic and easily distracted. Despite your lordly stature, do not attempt to infiltrate the Ventrue or the Tremere. Both of these clans have a level of unity that will make it difficult to answer awkward questions about one's lineage, and despite their denial, both of these clans are no stranger to diablerizing imposters in their midst. Equally so, though we share disciplines with them, you would be foolish to pretend to be a Caitiff or the rare Setite antitribu, as those are almost as distrusted as us, in both the Camarilla and the Sabbat.
To serve your clan well, one must keep up with one's rituals. Demons need to be bound, and made to serve, and this is equally your greatest strength and weakness. Daimoinion is a powerful discipline, especially when one is unprepared for its effects, however, it requires an upkeep that can be difficult. Sacrifices are fairly easy to obtain, especially in Sabbat domains, but remember that no one must catch you in the act. It is easy to endure the stigma of being an inhumane kindred than to be an infernalist. If someone suspects you, arrange for them to die via politics or accident. Never simply send a demon after them, because it will look suspicious. Be 'loyal' to your sect. Never betray them. Do not rock the boat, and if you are talented at hiding, try to slip beneath the radar of your elders. If you cannot, then be upstanding. Be beyond reproach, and be the strong left hand of the Prince. People will think twice before questioning your loyalty. As much as they deny it, the Sabbat works in essentially the same way, and the Inquisition are unlikely to seek out the Archbishop's favored packmate. Remember that the Vaulderie will induce the blood-bond to make this easier, but don't worry, it won't make you stray from your mission. Remember, what we do is for the good of all the childer of Caine, and when they see our great works, they will thank us.
When choosing childer, remember the teachings of your elders and be sure to pass them down. Psychopaths and other broken kine are useless as true childer, and good only for distractions. Seek out the holy man, the esoteric scientist and the magician. Seek out the thinker and the philosopher. Those who are passionate, and dedicated to a cause. It is those childer that will divine the mysteries of the universe, and those childer that will usher in a new age of blood, and bind the dukes of hell into our service. We Baali are not mere slaves to the infernal, and only those who are brave and strong can look into the abyss without being corrupted or losing our immortal souls. Only those who are strong enough to look into the face of the devil, spit in his eye, and bring him to his knees are worthy. But the other clans must not know this. They must think us stooges, fools who sell our immortal essence for the ability to command small glamors and charms of hell, and ultimately shall be damned for our hubris. This belief serves us more than anything, and if there is any reason that the Cainites will be unprepared for us, is that they truly believe we are weaklings.
If only they knew the truth. But fear not, little acolyte, they will. Soon.
- Kephn
Thursday, 5 June 2014
Postal 2 Review
"Here I am, just minding my own business, exercising my second amendment rights, and you people decide to freak out on me." - The Postal Dude
So, throughout the past couple of weeks, my time has been occupied by a most unusual game, a game that's garnered a fair amount of controversy in the community, and yet is one of the most entertaining things I've ever played. That game, is the infamous Postal 2, made by Running With Scissors.
Now don't get me wrong, this isn't a good game. It's barely even a functional one, and yet, it's entertaining like watching a massive highway pileup of clown cars, complete with burning clowns. Postal 2 is a mess, yes, but despite what its detractors might say, it's really the sort of mess that every gamer needs to experience once, sort of like the movie The Room. So, without further ado, I'm going to dig into Postal 2, a game that doesn't just cross the line, but burns its house down and pisses on the remains of its children.
Storyline
"[after finding that it's the apocalypse in the newspaper] Hmm... Normally, I'd expect a fancy cinematic to explain a such crucial story element. The font is nice, though" - The Postal Dude
Postal 2 barely has a storyline, and despite that, what little it has is quite funny. The story concerns The Postal Dude (I'm serious, that's his actual name. His dad is called Mr. P. Dude Senior), who is tasked to perform a series of errands for his nagging, unseen, trailer-trash wife. After his killing spree in Postal, the Dude has moved to Paradise Arizona, quite possibly the shittiest small town in America, that seems to be populated entirely by highly armed and incredibly unreasonable assholes. Nearly every citizen in Paradise is armed to the teeth, and for good reason, because a startling amount of people seem to start enormous gunfights over the smallest possible slights.. The Dude needs to navigate the immense deathtrap that is Paradise, and complete his daily chores, which are simple things, like returning a library book or buying milk, and these become more complicated than you'd think, when each task accidentally attracts the attention of even greater amounts of armed psychos.
What really carries this paper-thin plot is the personality of the Dude, who I genuinely grew to love as one of my favorite video game characters. Combining a dry, sardonic wit and a sense of vulgar humor that would rival Duke Nukem, the Dude is an endless fountain of cruel, black comedy, that lightens my tiny obsidian heart. The Dude, despite his obvious sociopathy, seems to be the sanest guy in Paradise, and will clearly remark on the insanity that unfolds around him. All he's trying to do is go about his daily business, and he responds accordingly when craziness unfolds around him.
Gameplay
"I know what you're thinking, but the funny thing is, I don't even like video games." -The Postal Dude
Now, this is where the bread and butter of the game is at. Postal 2 is all about allowing your inner spree killer to go wild, in a way that few sandbox games other than Prototype encourage you to do. The emphasis of the game (with the exception of its expansion pack, Apocalypse Weekend), is complete freedom, and a player can faff around Paradise, lighting as many things on fire and ending as many innocent human lives as you feel like. The world feels organic and alive, and even features gunfights opening in the street without your involvement, with NPC's moving and going on with their lives. The combat is fairly fluid and intuitive, and plays out a lot like an old first person shooter, such as Doom or Half Life, before they lost their way and became all about 'realism'.
This isn't perfect however. The town of Paradise is very big, and the game annoyingly features nothing like a minimap, so expect to be returning to the map screen quite often. It's also split into dozens of separate zones, each of which take a while to load, and even on modern machines, it often crashes. The real nail in the game's coffin is the physics, which are downright atrocious. This is a game that features enough bugs that I genuinely had to use a cheat code in order to progress, because my library book got inexplicably fused with a table. Grenades and Napalm are often downright useless, and trying to aim with them in an intense firefight will much more than likely end up with your limbs raining from the sky. A lot of objectives in the game don't have a clear way to be interacted with, and that really can cause some frustration for first-time players without much patience.
Finally, there is a surprising amount of first person platforming, and I really don't think I can bitch about this anachronistic feature enough. A lot of puzzles, especially the platforming will instantly kill you if you fail, and while the game provides the ability to save as many times as you like, the puzzles are not merciful and at times downright unfair.
Atmosphere
"The gene pool is stagnating, and I am the minister of chlorine." -The Postal Dude
This is where the game excels, and in my opinion, makes the game enjoyable, despite its flaws. RWS were obviously not very happy with the allegations that Postal was a 'murder simulator', and so clearly went out of its way to make the atmosphere of Postal 2 as hilariously misanthropic and over the top as possible. The humor reminds me of an R-rated Invader Zim. Billboards advertise in block letters 'HEY KIDS! YOUR PARENTS ARE GOING TO DIE! BE SURE THEY'RE INSURED!' The milkman is very obviously a terrorist in a terrible disguise, and each errand requires you to wait in an absurdly long line populated by people who are basically custom made to annoy you. The great thing is, and I cannot stress this enough, is that the game really is only as violent as you are. It is completely possible to actually perform a pacifist run of this game, not harming a single person, and still complete it, which I thought was really clever. The game is a wonderful parody of violent video games in general, but still offers the players a choice. The world actually features a lot of things that are surprisingly interactive, showing that the development team really spent time making sure that the game would feel organic and fun.
The level of self referential humor does, at times, feel a little bit too childishly vindictive. The Postal Dude works for RWS, the company that makes the game (even if he gets fired on the first day), and some of the tasks involve getting a petition signed to force politicians to play violent video games, and being attacked by 'parents for decency.' Now, blowing the heads off whiny conservatives is funny the first time, but the joke is stretched a bit thin. Still, it doesn't become grating and even at the end of Apocalypse Weekend, where the main goal is to blow up their competition with a nuke, there's still enough general craziness and madcap fun to be had.
Offensiveness
"I suppose it would have been more politically correct to kill the women and minorities first." - The Postal Dude
Surprisingly, for a video game designed to be as offensive as possible, by today's standards, it really isn't. All the vulgar content comes off as so absurd and over the top that no one could possibly take it seriously unless they had a serious mental disorder. This is a game that weaponizes gonorrhea urine. It's a game that lets you use a neighborhood cat as a silencer for an assault rifle. It's very much Saints Row before Saints Row came out, and I applaud the balls of the developers for it. A lot of stereotypes come off as straightforwardly offensive, with Arabic terrorists being a prominent enemy, as well as the army, the police, and rednecks, but all of them are stereotyped and parodied to such a ludicrous degree that I genuinely feel that it comes off more as an equal-opportunity insult than hate toward a specific group.
I'm a big believer in freedom of speech and mature content, and I firmly believe that everything can be laughed at, no matter how dark. Political correctness bugs the shit out of me, and it's hard to find a game that (literally) pisses in its face more than this. No one is portrayed as being singled out, and the Postal Dude is just as pathetic and stupid as everyone else in Paradise, and is certainly not a role model to be aspired to. Overall, it comes across as a giant clusterfuck of heavily armed idiots fighting, and to me, that is pretty hilarious.
Conclusion
The game is flawed, yes. If it had less of a humorous angle and was just a generic shooter, I would never have even picked it up, let alone taken the time to review it, but Postal 2 is a much cleverer game than it would seem on the surface. There's even one part that does quite a fun and affectionate parody of Silent Hill (featuring demonic Gary Colemans), and overall, the gameplay and atmosphere combine for a cathartic, pulse-pounding, and genuinely fun ride. It's a throwback to the days of shooters that didn't take themselves seriously, and I applaud that sort of attitude. Realistic war games have their place yes, but I don't like how they've become the mainstay of the FPS genre. Games like Modern Warfare and Battlefield come off to me as more offensive than this, as they're essentially playing the discrimination game completely straight, without a hint of irony. I miss shooters like Painkiller and Doom, that remember that for all the realism in the world, games are meant to be fun, and that's a sentiment that Postal 2 puts front and center.
Rankings
Gameplay: 3/5
Stability: 2/5
Fun Factor: 5/5
"I regret nothing." - The Postal Dude
- Kephn
So, throughout the past couple of weeks, my time has been occupied by a most unusual game, a game that's garnered a fair amount of controversy in the community, and yet is one of the most entertaining things I've ever played. That game, is the infamous Postal 2, made by Running With Scissors.
Now don't get me wrong, this isn't a good game. It's barely even a functional one, and yet, it's entertaining like watching a massive highway pileup of clown cars, complete with burning clowns. Postal 2 is a mess, yes, but despite what its detractors might say, it's really the sort of mess that every gamer needs to experience once, sort of like the movie The Room. So, without further ado, I'm going to dig into Postal 2, a game that doesn't just cross the line, but burns its house down and pisses on the remains of its children.
Storyline
"[after finding that it's the apocalypse in the newspaper] Hmm... Normally, I'd expect a fancy cinematic to explain a such crucial story element. The font is nice, though" - The Postal Dude
Postal 2 barely has a storyline, and despite that, what little it has is quite funny. The story concerns The Postal Dude (I'm serious, that's his actual name. His dad is called Mr. P. Dude Senior), who is tasked to perform a series of errands for his nagging, unseen, trailer-trash wife. After his killing spree in Postal, the Dude has moved to Paradise Arizona, quite possibly the shittiest small town in America, that seems to be populated entirely by highly armed and incredibly unreasonable assholes. Nearly every citizen in Paradise is armed to the teeth, and for good reason, because a startling amount of people seem to start enormous gunfights over the smallest possible slights.. The Dude needs to navigate the immense deathtrap that is Paradise, and complete his daily chores, which are simple things, like returning a library book or buying milk, and these become more complicated than you'd think, when each task accidentally attracts the attention of even greater amounts of armed psychos.
What really carries this paper-thin plot is the personality of the Dude, who I genuinely grew to love as one of my favorite video game characters. Combining a dry, sardonic wit and a sense of vulgar humor that would rival Duke Nukem, the Dude is an endless fountain of cruel, black comedy, that lightens my tiny obsidian heart. The Dude, despite his obvious sociopathy, seems to be the sanest guy in Paradise, and will clearly remark on the insanity that unfolds around him. All he's trying to do is go about his daily business, and he responds accordingly when craziness unfolds around him.
Gameplay
"I know what you're thinking, but the funny thing is, I don't even like video games." -The Postal Dude
Now, this is where the bread and butter of the game is at. Postal 2 is all about allowing your inner spree killer to go wild, in a way that few sandbox games other than Prototype encourage you to do. The emphasis of the game (with the exception of its expansion pack, Apocalypse Weekend), is complete freedom, and a player can faff around Paradise, lighting as many things on fire and ending as many innocent human lives as you feel like. The world feels organic and alive, and even features gunfights opening in the street without your involvement, with NPC's moving and going on with their lives. The combat is fairly fluid and intuitive, and plays out a lot like an old first person shooter, such as Doom or Half Life, before they lost their way and became all about 'realism'.
This isn't perfect however. The town of Paradise is very big, and the game annoyingly features nothing like a minimap, so expect to be returning to the map screen quite often. It's also split into dozens of separate zones, each of which take a while to load, and even on modern machines, it often crashes. The real nail in the game's coffin is the physics, which are downright atrocious. This is a game that features enough bugs that I genuinely had to use a cheat code in order to progress, because my library book got inexplicably fused with a table. Grenades and Napalm are often downright useless, and trying to aim with them in an intense firefight will much more than likely end up with your limbs raining from the sky. A lot of objectives in the game don't have a clear way to be interacted with, and that really can cause some frustration for first-time players without much patience.
Finally, there is a surprising amount of first person platforming, and I really don't think I can bitch about this anachronistic feature enough. A lot of puzzles, especially the platforming will instantly kill you if you fail, and while the game provides the ability to save as many times as you like, the puzzles are not merciful and at times downright unfair.
Atmosphere
"The gene pool is stagnating, and I am the minister of chlorine." -The Postal Dude
This is where the game excels, and in my opinion, makes the game enjoyable, despite its flaws. RWS were obviously not very happy with the allegations that Postal was a 'murder simulator', and so clearly went out of its way to make the atmosphere of Postal 2 as hilariously misanthropic and over the top as possible. The humor reminds me of an R-rated Invader Zim. Billboards advertise in block letters 'HEY KIDS! YOUR PARENTS ARE GOING TO DIE! BE SURE THEY'RE INSURED!' The milkman is very obviously a terrorist in a terrible disguise, and each errand requires you to wait in an absurdly long line populated by people who are basically custom made to annoy you. The great thing is, and I cannot stress this enough, is that the game really is only as violent as you are. It is completely possible to actually perform a pacifist run of this game, not harming a single person, and still complete it, which I thought was really clever. The game is a wonderful parody of violent video games in general, but still offers the players a choice. The world actually features a lot of things that are surprisingly interactive, showing that the development team really spent time making sure that the game would feel organic and fun.
The level of self referential humor does, at times, feel a little bit too childishly vindictive. The Postal Dude works for RWS, the company that makes the game (even if he gets fired on the first day), and some of the tasks involve getting a petition signed to force politicians to play violent video games, and being attacked by 'parents for decency.' Now, blowing the heads off whiny conservatives is funny the first time, but the joke is stretched a bit thin. Still, it doesn't become grating and even at the end of Apocalypse Weekend, where the main goal is to blow up their competition with a nuke, there's still enough general craziness and madcap fun to be had.
Offensiveness
"I suppose it would have been more politically correct to kill the women and minorities first." - The Postal Dude
Surprisingly, for a video game designed to be as offensive as possible, by today's standards, it really isn't. All the vulgar content comes off as so absurd and over the top that no one could possibly take it seriously unless they had a serious mental disorder. This is a game that weaponizes gonorrhea urine. It's a game that lets you use a neighborhood cat as a silencer for an assault rifle. It's very much Saints Row before Saints Row came out, and I applaud the balls of the developers for it. A lot of stereotypes come off as straightforwardly offensive, with Arabic terrorists being a prominent enemy, as well as the army, the police, and rednecks, but all of them are stereotyped and parodied to such a ludicrous degree that I genuinely feel that it comes off more as an equal-opportunity insult than hate toward a specific group.
I'm a big believer in freedom of speech and mature content, and I firmly believe that everything can be laughed at, no matter how dark. Political correctness bugs the shit out of me, and it's hard to find a game that (literally) pisses in its face more than this. No one is portrayed as being singled out, and the Postal Dude is just as pathetic and stupid as everyone else in Paradise, and is certainly not a role model to be aspired to. Overall, it comes across as a giant clusterfuck of heavily armed idiots fighting, and to me, that is pretty hilarious.
Conclusion
The game is flawed, yes. If it had less of a humorous angle and was just a generic shooter, I would never have even picked it up, let alone taken the time to review it, but Postal 2 is a much cleverer game than it would seem on the surface. There's even one part that does quite a fun and affectionate parody of Silent Hill (featuring demonic Gary Colemans), and overall, the gameplay and atmosphere combine for a cathartic, pulse-pounding, and genuinely fun ride. It's a throwback to the days of shooters that didn't take themselves seriously, and I applaud that sort of attitude. Realistic war games have their place yes, but I don't like how they've become the mainstay of the FPS genre. Games like Modern Warfare and Battlefield come off to me as more offensive than this, as they're essentially playing the discrimination game completely straight, without a hint of irony. I miss shooters like Painkiller and Doom, that remember that for all the realism in the world, games are meant to be fun, and that's a sentiment that Postal 2 puts front and center.
Rankings
Gameplay: 3/5
Stability: 2/5
Fun Factor: 5/5
"I regret nothing." - The Postal Dude
- Kephn
Interview with a Nephandus
Technocratic Union Incident Report
Location: Classified
Time: Classified
Background Information:
On [CLASSIFIED] the Technocratic Union became aware of reality deviant activity centered around a youth center in [CLASSIFIED]. Reality deviant was initially classified as the activity of the so called 'council of mystic traditions', however, upon closer inspection, it became clear that far more malignant activities were being performed in the youth center. Unenlightened personnel were dispatched to assess the level of the threat, and were not recovered. When agents of the New World Order were sent in to apprehend the suspect, they found he had created a cult around himself, and was using them to [CLASSIFIED] the local children. The reality deviant in question was a subspecies of the parapsionic entities calling themselves 'mages' and in this particular case, claimed to belong to a particular organization known as the 'Nephandi'. Parapsionics believed to be members of this organization have been encountered before, however never has one been taken alive to be interviewed, so that the Technocratic authority can assess the goals and power of this organization. The subject, henceforth referred to as 'N' is currently being held in containment Cell B. 'Dr. Adrian', an agent of the Progenitors, and noted expert in enlightened cyberpsychology was sent to interrogate the suspect with the help of two NWO operatives. The following is the transcript of the interview.
Dr. A: Hello N. Clearly, you are aware of why you have been detained. You represent an organization that has been a thorn in the side of the Technocratic Union for years, and you are going to provide us information on the Nephandi. You can co-operate, and the procedure will pass quickly, before you will be mentally cleansed and reformed into a functional member of society. Failure to comply will result in the interrogation methods becoming much more.......invasive. Do you understand?
N: Of course I understand, doc. I think, given the circumstances of my capture, you know I have very intimate understanding of the term 'invasive'.
NWO 1: Fucking animal, he shouldn't be mind-cleansed, we should just kill him and dump his body.
Dr. A: Control yourself [NWO 1]. N, you're only making things worse for yourself by antagonizing your captors. Now, we want to know what you were setting up in [CLASSIFIED] youth center. It clearly was some form of parapsionic ritual.
N: Parapsionic......[slight chuckle]. Is that your word for it? Traditionals always liked Magick, with a K, far more, but parapsionic. I like that.
Dr. A: What you refer to as magic is merely an applied form of energies, both psionic and physiological, and have no basis in the paranormal....
N: Oh, I agree with you, doc. The flame the Traditions wield against us is nothing to the gnawing void of the Qlipphoth.
Dr. A: Explain this term.
N: The Qlipphoth? [chuckles] Oh, doc, the Qlipphoth can't be explained, it just needs to be experienced. Our devotees have stared into it, experienced it in the center of their souls....
Dr. A: If you are referring to your.....abominations that you created, I assure you, they didn't seem happy with the discovery. They begged for a release from your service.
N: I never said that they would enjoy the discovery, just that they would experience it. The unawakened human soul is not prepared to see the intricate beauty within the Caul.
Dr. A: [Flips through some files] Autopsies revealed that they were experiencing some kind of physical mutation. Appendages, new limbs, acidic blood. Many new organs of unknown origins. Our parapsionic readings indicated that their mental fields had been, for a lack of a better word, inverted. Explain this phenomena.
N: [Sounding annoyed] They are of no consequence. Human souls are nothing but food for the darkness. They were hollowed out, made useful.
Dr. A: Useful for what, N? What was the purpose of your cult?
N: [Chuckles] No mere cult, doc, more of......an opening of a door. If you really want to understand the Qlipphoth, you must do nothing but wait.
Dr. A: Those children-
N: The children are mere vessels. Carriers for the greater plague. Even now those that you sent home to their parents carry the taint of the Outside in their blood. We called, and they came to us, willingly, and we accepted them with open arms. The rituals that they saw, partook in, allowed them to see the Teluriam for the lie that it is. A veil of wet fabric that separates the the world from the Outside. When they saw what awaited them, they were all too eager to partake [recording distorts].....the mark....upon their heads........[heavy distortion].......they tore the skin from the spirits of the World Bitch.......[static]......took them within......
Dr. A: [Heavy distortion] Open fire! Take him down!
[Distortion, gunfire is heard, followed by screaming and the sound of meat tearing]
Dr. A: What......what in the name of...
N: Ah.......I see that when confronted with death, Dr. [CLASSIFIED], the so-called rationalist paradigm falls away.....
Dr. A: How do you know my name?
N: Do you really think this is the first time we've done this, [CLASSIFIED?] The taint doesn't fade with time, you know.
Dr. A: .....Stay away from me.........please......
N: Don't beg, [CLASSIFIED]. The Nephandi don't beg. I've always wondered if one of the technophiles could really understand our secrets.....
[Sound of rushing air, screaming.]
N: We know all about you, our dear Order of Reason. Blind and soulless, stumbling around like children in the dark. One day you'll ask the right question, and you'll all know the reason men go mad when they stare into the dark heart of the universe. The truth will consume you. But by then, it will be far, far too late.
Postscript:
Facility 13 was eventually broken into by a team of HIT-MARKS that managed to cut through the blast doors. The inside was a scene of carnage, with much of unenlightened personnel massacred, and their blood used to create unknown symbols. Members of the Void Engineers detected dangerous and unknown energy fields within the facility, and neutralizing action was taken. All unenlightened personnel were unaccounted for, and were believed to have been taken by the Nephandi, however, no evidence of their struggle was found.
On a side note, Dr. A was a victim of an earlier case of the occult-related child abuse in [CLASSIFIED], 57 years ago. Of note is that this incident took place in another country, however, N's comments indicate a link between that case and this one and possibly many others. This indicates that the same cult could have been operating for more then 100 years, and seems to be aimed at expansionist activities.
All children involved in [CLASSIFIED] were deemed to be psychologically unfit to re-enter society. After the assessment of the child psychologist, they overpowered him and [CLASSIFIED] him. All children were neutralized, and security tapes are to be destroyed due to possible memetic threat.
- Kephn
(Yes, I am aware I was using the style of the SCP Foundation. It just seemed appropriate for a Technocratic voice.)
Location: Classified
Time: Classified
Background Information:
On [CLASSIFIED] the Technocratic Union became aware of reality deviant activity centered around a youth center in [CLASSIFIED]. Reality deviant was initially classified as the activity of the so called 'council of mystic traditions', however, upon closer inspection, it became clear that far more malignant activities were being performed in the youth center. Unenlightened personnel were dispatched to assess the level of the threat, and were not recovered. When agents of the New World Order were sent in to apprehend the suspect, they found he had created a cult around himself, and was using them to [CLASSIFIED] the local children. The reality deviant in question was a subspecies of the parapsionic entities calling themselves 'mages' and in this particular case, claimed to belong to a particular organization known as the 'Nephandi'. Parapsionics believed to be members of this organization have been encountered before, however never has one been taken alive to be interviewed, so that the Technocratic authority can assess the goals and power of this organization. The subject, henceforth referred to as 'N' is currently being held in containment Cell B. 'Dr. Adrian', an agent of the Progenitors, and noted expert in enlightened cyberpsychology was sent to interrogate the suspect with the help of two NWO operatives. The following is the transcript of the interview.
Dr. A: Hello N. Clearly, you are aware of why you have been detained. You represent an organization that has been a thorn in the side of the Technocratic Union for years, and you are going to provide us information on the Nephandi. You can co-operate, and the procedure will pass quickly, before you will be mentally cleansed and reformed into a functional member of society. Failure to comply will result in the interrogation methods becoming much more.......invasive. Do you understand?
N: Of course I understand, doc. I think, given the circumstances of my capture, you know I have very intimate understanding of the term 'invasive'.
NWO 1: Fucking animal, he shouldn't be mind-cleansed, we should just kill him and dump his body.
Dr. A: Control yourself [NWO 1]. N, you're only making things worse for yourself by antagonizing your captors. Now, we want to know what you were setting up in [CLASSIFIED] youth center. It clearly was some form of parapsionic ritual.
N: Parapsionic......[slight chuckle]. Is that your word for it? Traditionals always liked Magick, with a K, far more, but parapsionic. I like that.
Dr. A: What you refer to as magic is merely an applied form of energies, both psionic and physiological, and have no basis in the paranormal....
N: Oh, I agree with you, doc. The flame the Traditions wield against us is nothing to the gnawing void of the Qlipphoth.
Dr. A: Explain this term.
N: The Qlipphoth? [chuckles] Oh, doc, the Qlipphoth can't be explained, it just needs to be experienced. Our devotees have stared into it, experienced it in the center of their souls....
Dr. A: If you are referring to your.....abominations that you created, I assure you, they didn't seem happy with the discovery. They begged for a release from your service.
N: I never said that they would enjoy the discovery, just that they would experience it. The unawakened human soul is not prepared to see the intricate beauty within the Caul.
Dr. A: [Flips through some files] Autopsies revealed that they were experiencing some kind of physical mutation. Appendages, new limbs, acidic blood. Many new organs of unknown origins. Our parapsionic readings indicated that their mental fields had been, for a lack of a better word, inverted. Explain this phenomena.
N: [Sounding annoyed] They are of no consequence. Human souls are nothing but food for the darkness. They were hollowed out, made useful.
Dr. A: Useful for what, N? What was the purpose of your cult?
N: [Chuckles] No mere cult, doc, more of......an opening of a door. If you really want to understand the Qlipphoth, you must do nothing but wait.
Dr. A: Those children-
N: The children are mere vessels. Carriers for the greater plague. Even now those that you sent home to their parents carry the taint of the Outside in their blood. We called, and they came to us, willingly, and we accepted them with open arms. The rituals that they saw, partook in, allowed them to see the Teluriam for the lie that it is. A veil of wet fabric that separates the the world from the Outside. When they saw what awaited them, they were all too eager to partake [recording distorts].....the mark....upon their heads........[heavy distortion].......they tore the skin from the spirits of the World Bitch.......[static]......took them within......
Dr. A: [Heavy distortion] Open fire! Take him down!
[Distortion, gunfire is heard, followed by screaming and the sound of meat tearing]
Dr. A: What......what in the name of...
N: Ah.......I see that when confronted with death, Dr. [CLASSIFIED], the so-called rationalist paradigm falls away.....
Dr. A: How do you know my name?
N: Do you really think this is the first time we've done this, [CLASSIFIED?] The taint doesn't fade with time, you know.
Dr. A: .....Stay away from me.........please......
N: Don't beg, [CLASSIFIED]. The Nephandi don't beg. I've always wondered if one of the technophiles could really understand our secrets.....
[Sound of rushing air, screaming.]
N: We know all about you, our dear Order of Reason. Blind and soulless, stumbling around like children in the dark. One day you'll ask the right question, and you'll all know the reason men go mad when they stare into the dark heart of the universe. The truth will consume you. But by then, it will be far, far too late.
Postscript:
Facility 13 was eventually broken into by a team of HIT-MARKS that managed to cut through the blast doors. The inside was a scene of carnage, with much of unenlightened personnel massacred, and their blood used to create unknown symbols. Members of the Void Engineers detected dangerous and unknown energy fields within the facility, and neutralizing action was taken. All unenlightened personnel were unaccounted for, and were believed to have been taken by the Nephandi, however, no evidence of their struggle was found.
On a side note, Dr. A was a victim of an earlier case of the occult-related child abuse in [CLASSIFIED], 57 years ago. Of note is that this incident took place in another country, however, N's comments indicate a link between that case and this one and possibly many others. This indicates that the same cult could have been operating for more then 100 years, and seems to be aimed at expansionist activities.
All children involved in [CLASSIFIED] were deemed to be psychologically unfit to re-enter society. After the assessment of the child psychologist, they overpowered him and [CLASSIFIED] him. All children were neutralized, and security tapes are to be destroyed due to possible memetic threat.
- Kephn
(Yes, I am aware I was using the style of the SCP Foundation. It just seemed appropriate for a Technocratic voice.)
Thursday, 22 May 2014
Malkavia of the Fishy Variety
So, ladies and gentlemen, after my silence, today I have a topic that prickles my panties. It's something I'm sure every Vampire player has had to endure, and today I'm addressing it. Now, let me state my premise, which I'm sure is going to make some people rather unhappy. Malkavians are, in my opinion, both the worst thought out and worst played clan in Vampire: The Masquerade.
So, now that the glove has been thrown down hard enough to break concrete, allow me to hastily backpedal a little. I love the concept of madness, and I even like the concept of infectious madness. Malkavians however, just don't capture this for me. When Vampire: The Requiem introduced Malkavia as a kind of blood-borne infectious curse that any vampire could catch, inflicting its host with a derangement and dementation, I thought the concept was fantastic, a much needed do-over. Malkavians were not respected, they were not brought into the Invictus and certainly not recognized as one of the main clans. Vampires treated them like you would treat anyone who was both crazy and had the potential to make you crazy, like fucking lepers. These things were quarantined at best and hunted down and murdered at worst. This is exactly the sort of thing I thought was good for a horror game, great power at a great cost, and another dark secret to hide. So, without further ado, let's run down the reasons Malkavians suck, both thematically, and almost always as player characters.
Malkavians don't fit in the Camarilla
This is sort of excusable, given that they were in the Cam in the first edition, and they needed a class for all the cookie, campaign derailing loonies to play, but come on, guys. Malkavians add NOTHING to the Camarilla. They contribute NOTHING. Even all their vague 'prophecy' powers and crazy 'insights' pale in comparison to how huge a potential liability they are. Obfuscate and stealth operations can be provided just as well (and far more reliably) by the Nosferatu (or any vampire that decides to get off his lazy undead ass and learn the necessary power). Auspex and forensics are provided by Toreador and Tremere. Dementation is just the stupider lovechild of Presence and Dominate, and serves no purpose beyond causing chaos. There is no plausible reason why the Camarilla have not wholesale exterminated, or at very least refused membership to this entire clan from its inception. Malkavians are potentially even greater walking Masquerade breaches than the Nosferatu, and on top of that are completely unpredictable and unreliable. There's no reason a power structure as efficient and draconian as the Camarilla would ever permit a bunch of unstable loonies to operate.
Now, my opinion on this is that from its inception, Malkavians should have been a Sabbat clan. Think about it. The ethos of vampiric equality makes a lot more sense applying to the Malkavians, and the Sabbat are willing to tolerate weird eccentricities from its members because it's not that concerned with secrecy. Malkavians fit right in with the Tzimisce, the Lasombra, the Blood Brothers and Panders and all the other freaky ne'er do wells that make up the Sabbat and get the Cam's knickers in a twist. Malkavians are an aberration, a genetic dead end in the undead line, and they should be a threat to polite vampiric society.
Malkavians aren't funny
There are a million blog posts detailing how to correctly play Malkavians, so I'm going to jump on the bandwagon. I have seen VERY, VERY few Malkavians played well, and I'll admit that I have fucked them up as much as any other beginning GM or player. The main problem here is that Malkavians attract nerds by being 'misunderstood' or 'crazy' but secretly possess great knowledge that all the other square clans would feel so very silly for ignoring when catastrophe comes. This sort of perspective is perpetuated in the clanbooks, the corebooks and even the video game (though I can excuse Bloodlines, because it goes on to portray the Malkavians, the Voerman sisters and Grout, very well). Malkavians are not misunderstood. People understand perfectly. They are not crazy in the sense that they are quirky or eccentric. These people are fucking sick. Think of a serial killer, or a pedophile. Now imagine those people with self control issues, a supernatural predator inside them, and carte blanche to do whatever they want to humans, provided they cover their tracks. Malkavians make some of the darkest characters possible, and for every Malk that tells jokes in court or does a bad Joker impression, there are a hundred others watching little girls in their rooms, collecting the teeth of the homeless, or torturing people to death in their basements.
When playing a Malkavian, or interacting with one, you have to remember, that no one trusts these people, and for bloody good reason. Crazy people, are by their very definition.....crazy, and you'd have to be an idiot to put careful plans in the hands of a person who might betray you because a voice in his head told him to do so. Consider a Malkavian's disciplines. Obfuscate, so you never know where they are. Auspex, so they can hear your thoughts, and know exactly what you might think of them. Dementation, so you never know what you're doing or seeing is really happening. Now give that monster a thirst for blood and an incurable derangement and you have a very, very sick fucking character to deal with. Would you willingly associate with someone like that? Would you trust someone like that to look after your affairs? Trust them with your secrets? I didn't think so. Even the most open minded coterie or pack should be freaked the fuck out by Malkavians, and treat them with all the respect and courtesy of an escaped mental patient, who's also a telepath and can turn invisible.
Finally, the whole prophecy thing, if it is real, is still as unreliable as everything else about these monsters. Consider a Malkavian who has delusions and sees things. Imagine he sees a legitimate vision of the future. How on earth is he supposed to separate the real from the imaginary? Malkavians may be right once in a while, but then, so might any idiot who can make random guesses, and coincidentally happens upon the truth. The Madness Network is tainted, as always, by the same unreliability that Malkavia inherently inflicts, and really, makes them no more special than any other crazy person.
Madness is personal
Malkavians annoy the shit out of me because they have a monopoly on being 'crazy.' Look at every vampire clan, and tell me that most of the clan weaknesses can't be categorized as one for of insanity or another. Ventrue and Toreador are obsessive compulsive, Nosferatu and Tremere almost universally have some kind of Stockholm syndrome, and Brujah literally have psychotic tendencies. Malkavians just get a blanket crazyness, which seems dishearteningly generic for what could otherwise be an awesome concept. Consider every Malkavian character. Almost all of them would work just as well in another clan with a derangement. The whole incurable thing is even sillier, considering that most vampires don't have any kind of psychiatric help to turn to anyway. Making madness the main 'hat' of the clan also takes the personality away from insanity, and implies that it's something that can exist without a good character to stem from, and that simply isn't true. At least you know a Malkavian is crazy and can avoid them. What about the crazed Toreador serial killer? The schizophrenic Brujah who blacks out and wakes up with blood on his hands? The control freak Ventrue who has burned the minds out of all his human servants? All of these concepts are more interesting and scary than just the 'Malkavian' with some poorly defined craziness and the same disciplines as any other Malkavian.
I also have a gripe with the lore behind the clan. So Malkav was insane, sure, but why did his blood carry the taint of every possible madness? Was he some kind of neurotic cesspool that accumulated every mental illness known to man before he embraced anyone? How would a being like that even function without taking a suntan out of despair? How could a being like that even unify its clan in the supposed and much vaunted 'hive mind' of the Madness Network? Malkavians may be linked, mentally, to their founder and each other, but every one of them is just as unreliable and loony as each other, so this hive mind is going to become very disorganized very quickly, despite the best efforts of everyone involved.
In conclusion, I think Malkavians are a poorly thought out mess, and I know the (maybe three) people who read my blog are going to be rather angry at me taking potshots at everyone's favorite clan. I swear guys, Malks used to be my favorite clan until I thought about it more and realized how conceptually broken they are. It gives me no pleasure to point out problems in one of my favorite roleplaying games of all time, but every time I see Malkavia fanboys extolling the values of the clan, and the supposed omniscience that madness grants a person makes me wish I could give them a genuine mental illness for a day and see what 'revelations' they come up with.
To close off this article, here are some neat examples I think can inspire campaigns that deal with madness realistically.
American Psycho (the book): Yes, I'm aware I've referenced this one before, but Bret Easton Ellis' novel portrays what I consider to be one of the best insane characters I've ever seen. Bateman perfectly shows the internal monologue of a person who is seriously out of touch with reality, and the idea of him having vampiric powers is downright terrifying. As far as I consider a 'perfect' Malkavian character, I would consider Bateman to be my favorite, however I could easily see him as a batshit crazy Toreador or Ventrue, and still think he works well. Madness is not his defining quality, but something that grows from the rest of his qualities being taken to insane extremes.
A Clockwork Orange: Do you want to see what a genuine Malkavian would probably act like? Look no further than Alex DeLarge. Is he the sort of person you would associate with, let alone allow to manage important court responsibilities? Alex is chaotic, he works according to his own rules, and does whatever he feels like, whenever he feels like. He is a danger to himself and everyone in the same city as him, and no one trusts him without having the equivalent of a gun pressed squarely against his temple. This is exactly how society would treat a person who advertises themselves as crazy, and doesn't try to hide it.
Outlast: A fantastic video game set in a mental asylum, and showing exactly how scary truly crazy people are. Every enemy, from the naked twins with machetes who chase you while discussing in very verbose terms how they'd like to eat your liver, to the mountain of muscle that rips your head off while breathing heavily and muttering to himself about 'whores', could be Malkavian, or would fit just as easily in another clan, like Gangrel or Brujah.
Indigo Prophecy: Another batshit crazy game with an even crazier plot where you can never tell what's real and what's another one of your protagonists hallucinations. It makes me think that the best Malkavian characters wouldn't even know what they're derangement is, and would be exactly the sort of normal people who would come to their senses one day in a bathroom with a dead body and blood on their hands and no recollection of the past three hours.
- Kephn
So, now that the glove has been thrown down hard enough to break concrete, allow me to hastily backpedal a little. I love the concept of madness, and I even like the concept of infectious madness. Malkavians however, just don't capture this for me. When Vampire: The Requiem introduced Malkavia as a kind of blood-borne infectious curse that any vampire could catch, inflicting its host with a derangement and dementation, I thought the concept was fantastic, a much needed do-over. Malkavians were not respected, they were not brought into the Invictus and certainly not recognized as one of the main clans. Vampires treated them like you would treat anyone who was both crazy and had the potential to make you crazy, like fucking lepers. These things were quarantined at best and hunted down and murdered at worst. This is exactly the sort of thing I thought was good for a horror game, great power at a great cost, and another dark secret to hide. So, without further ado, let's run down the reasons Malkavians suck, both thematically, and almost always as player characters.
Malkavians don't fit in the Camarilla
This is sort of excusable, given that they were in the Cam in the first edition, and they needed a class for all the cookie, campaign derailing loonies to play, but come on, guys. Malkavians add NOTHING to the Camarilla. They contribute NOTHING. Even all their vague 'prophecy' powers and crazy 'insights' pale in comparison to how huge a potential liability they are. Obfuscate and stealth operations can be provided just as well (and far more reliably) by the Nosferatu (or any vampire that decides to get off his lazy undead ass and learn the necessary power). Auspex and forensics are provided by Toreador and Tremere. Dementation is just the stupider lovechild of Presence and Dominate, and serves no purpose beyond causing chaos. There is no plausible reason why the Camarilla have not wholesale exterminated, or at very least refused membership to this entire clan from its inception. Malkavians are potentially even greater walking Masquerade breaches than the Nosferatu, and on top of that are completely unpredictable and unreliable. There's no reason a power structure as efficient and draconian as the Camarilla would ever permit a bunch of unstable loonies to operate.
Now, my opinion on this is that from its inception, Malkavians should have been a Sabbat clan. Think about it. The ethos of vampiric equality makes a lot more sense applying to the Malkavians, and the Sabbat are willing to tolerate weird eccentricities from its members because it's not that concerned with secrecy. Malkavians fit right in with the Tzimisce, the Lasombra, the Blood Brothers and Panders and all the other freaky ne'er do wells that make up the Sabbat and get the Cam's knickers in a twist. Malkavians are an aberration, a genetic dead end in the undead line, and they should be a threat to polite vampiric society.
Malkavians aren't funny
There are a million blog posts detailing how to correctly play Malkavians, so I'm going to jump on the bandwagon. I have seen VERY, VERY few Malkavians played well, and I'll admit that I have fucked them up as much as any other beginning GM or player. The main problem here is that Malkavians attract nerds by being 'misunderstood' or 'crazy' but secretly possess great knowledge that all the other square clans would feel so very silly for ignoring when catastrophe comes. This sort of perspective is perpetuated in the clanbooks, the corebooks and even the video game (though I can excuse Bloodlines, because it goes on to portray the Malkavians, the Voerman sisters and Grout, very well). Malkavians are not misunderstood. People understand perfectly. They are not crazy in the sense that they are quirky or eccentric. These people are fucking sick. Think of a serial killer, or a pedophile. Now imagine those people with self control issues, a supernatural predator inside them, and carte blanche to do whatever they want to humans, provided they cover their tracks. Malkavians make some of the darkest characters possible, and for every Malk that tells jokes in court or does a bad Joker impression, there are a hundred others watching little girls in their rooms, collecting the teeth of the homeless, or torturing people to death in their basements.
When playing a Malkavian, or interacting with one, you have to remember, that no one trusts these people, and for bloody good reason. Crazy people, are by their very definition.....crazy, and you'd have to be an idiot to put careful plans in the hands of a person who might betray you because a voice in his head told him to do so. Consider a Malkavian's disciplines. Obfuscate, so you never know where they are. Auspex, so they can hear your thoughts, and know exactly what you might think of them. Dementation, so you never know what you're doing or seeing is really happening. Now give that monster a thirst for blood and an incurable derangement and you have a very, very sick fucking character to deal with. Would you willingly associate with someone like that? Would you trust someone like that to look after your affairs? Trust them with your secrets? I didn't think so. Even the most open minded coterie or pack should be freaked the fuck out by Malkavians, and treat them with all the respect and courtesy of an escaped mental patient, who's also a telepath and can turn invisible.
Finally, the whole prophecy thing, if it is real, is still as unreliable as everything else about these monsters. Consider a Malkavian who has delusions and sees things. Imagine he sees a legitimate vision of the future. How on earth is he supposed to separate the real from the imaginary? Malkavians may be right once in a while, but then, so might any idiot who can make random guesses, and coincidentally happens upon the truth. The Madness Network is tainted, as always, by the same unreliability that Malkavia inherently inflicts, and really, makes them no more special than any other crazy person.
Madness is personal
Malkavians annoy the shit out of me because they have a monopoly on being 'crazy.' Look at every vampire clan, and tell me that most of the clan weaknesses can't be categorized as one for of insanity or another. Ventrue and Toreador are obsessive compulsive, Nosferatu and Tremere almost universally have some kind of Stockholm syndrome, and Brujah literally have psychotic tendencies. Malkavians just get a blanket crazyness, which seems dishearteningly generic for what could otherwise be an awesome concept. Consider every Malkavian character. Almost all of them would work just as well in another clan with a derangement. The whole incurable thing is even sillier, considering that most vampires don't have any kind of psychiatric help to turn to anyway. Making madness the main 'hat' of the clan also takes the personality away from insanity, and implies that it's something that can exist without a good character to stem from, and that simply isn't true. At least you know a Malkavian is crazy and can avoid them. What about the crazed Toreador serial killer? The schizophrenic Brujah who blacks out and wakes up with blood on his hands? The control freak Ventrue who has burned the minds out of all his human servants? All of these concepts are more interesting and scary than just the 'Malkavian' with some poorly defined craziness and the same disciplines as any other Malkavian.
I also have a gripe with the lore behind the clan. So Malkav was insane, sure, but why did his blood carry the taint of every possible madness? Was he some kind of neurotic cesspool that accumulated every mental illness known to man before he embraced anyone? How would a being like that even function without taking a suntan out of despair? How could a being like that even unify its clan in the supposed and much vaunted 'hive mind' of the Madness Network? Malkavians may be linked, mentally, to their founder and each other, but every one of them is just as unreliable and loony as each other, so this hive mind is going to become very disorganized very quickly, despite the best efforts of everyone involved.
In conclusion, I think Malkavians are a poorly thought out mess, and I know the (maybe three) people who read my blog are going to be rather angry at me taking potshots at everyone's favorite clan. I swear guys, Malks used to be my favorite clan until I thought about it more and realized how conceptually broken they are. It gives me no pleasure to point out problems in one of my favorite roleplaying games of all time, but every time I see Malkavia fanboys extolling the values of the clan, and the supposed omniscience that madness grants a person makes me wish I could give them a genuine mental illness for a day and see what 'revelations' they come up with.
To close off this article, here are some neat examples I think can inspire campaigns that deal with madness realistically.
American Psycho (the book): Yes, I'm aware I've referenced this one before, but Bret Easton Ellis' novel portrays what I consider to be one of the best insane characters I've ever seen. Bateman perfectly shows the internal monologue of a person who is seriously out of touch with reality, and the idea of him having vampiric powers is downright terrifying. As far as I consider a 'perfect' Malkavian character, I would consider Bateman to be my favorite, however I could easily see him as a batshit crazy Toreador or Ventrue, and still think he works well. Madness is not his defining quality, but something that grows from the rest of his qualities being taken to insane extremes.
A Clockwork Orange: Do you want to see what a genuine Malkavian would probably act like? Look no further than Alex DeLarge. Is he the sort of person you would associate with, let alone allow to manage important court responsibilities? Alex is chaotic, he works according to his own rules, and does whatever he feels like, whenever he feels like. He is a danger to himself and everyone in the same city as him, and no one trusts him without having the equivalent of a gun pressed squarely against his temple. This is exactly how society would treat a person who advertises themselves as crazy, and doesn't try to hide it.
Outlast: A fantastic video game set in a mental asylum, and showing exactly how scary truly crazy people are. Every enemy, from the naked twins with machetes who chase you while discussing in very verbose terms how they'd like to eat your liver, to the mountain of muscle that rips your head off while breathing heavily and muttering to himself about 'whores', could be Malkavian, or would fit just as easily in another clan, like Gangrel or Brujah.
Indigo Prophecy: Another batshit crazy game with an even crazier plot where you can never tell what's real and what's another one of your protagonists hallucinations. It makes me think that the best Malkavian characters wouldn't even know what they're derangement is, and would be exactly the sort of normal people who would come to their senses one day in a bathroom with a dead body and blood on their hands and no recollection of the past three hours.
- Kephn
Monday, 21 April 2014
Nurgle
I want you to try and think back, my little friend.
No, no, don't worry, I won't hurt you.
There's no need for me to raise a finger.
All I want to do is talk to you.
Have you ever felt sadness in your life? I'm not talking about ordinary, run of the mill sadness, like missing out on something you want. Think back, my friend, think back to a time when you were sure your life was over. Think of a time when your heart was broken, and you lay, your dreams leaking out of your eyes and pooling in empty puddles around your feet. Sadness where you were sure your soul would be scarred, this time, when you're sure that death would be better than this.
Be brave, I know you can find it.
How did you deal with it, little friend? Did you promise yourself to do better? Did you dream of a tomorrow where your life would be magically turned around? Or did you simply grit your teeth and pray with blind hope that everything would somehow be ok?
How's that working out for you?
There are gods who will preach about hope. There are gods that will speak of indulgence, or claim that passion and strength make life worth living. They're all afraid, you see. It's in the nature of all things to reject emptiness and oblivion, but I won't feed you comfortable lies. I won't deceive you to get you on my side, because, quite honestly, I don't need you. But I do care about you. I respect you enough to tell you the truth that all life is afraid to hear.
The simple fallacy we are fed from our birth to our death is that every little agony, every little loss and pain, is worth it, somehow balanced by the amount of beauty there is to be experienced in the world. Ask yourself truly, really, deep down if you think that's true. You can lie to me, and I won't blame you for it. Lie to yourself, if it makes you feel better, but when you come to me in the end, choking out your last on some god-forsaken rock, you'll know I'm right. I'm doing you a favor telling you this, because if you think that there's a happy ending to this story, you're in for a rude surprise.
Quite honestly, my little friend, it breaks my heart to see you like this. I have seen every speck of life in the cosmos, from the greatest beast to the tiniest microbe, and I have seen them waste their lives away, chasing programmed desires like propagation, assuring the curse of life will spread to the next generation. All this, just for some meaning. Just to escape the grim reality that life is a curse.
I don't blame you, really, it's difficult to accept the truth. The longer you live, the more you will suffer, it is a simple fact, and yet, an entire pantheon has risen against me, raging futilely in an uncaring cosmos. My brothers and sisters think they are separate, but in truth they are just another aspect of the great cancer of life, and they fear death as much as any being. Khorne believes he can avert death, selfishly feeding others into its maw in a hypocritical and ultimately useless attempt to escape. Slaanesh can fuck itself raw, believing that it can outrun the cold, forever to distract itself with meaningless pleasure. Tzeentch.....well, he's the worst of the lot. All he has ever done is propagate the lie. Tzeentch will tell you that there's just a little bit more, that there's always something over the horizon. I hate to burst your bubble kid, but there isn't.
So what should you do? I mean you're trapped in this prison of rotting flesh, you might as well do something. Some of my followers kill themselves. While I don't begrudge them their release, I find that attitude selfish. There are so many people that you can help while you're here, sending yourself into death's jaws prematurely just helps yourself. Still, some people can't bear the burden, so I don't hold it against them, My advice, little one? Shred all attachments. Burn all emotion. If nothing holds you to this world, nothing can ever hurt you again right? Accept that all things will go, and hell, might as well destroy them yourself before someone else takes them away right? Hurting, sadness and pain are all just symptoms of attachment, and that's what I'm here to help you let go of. Feel free to give others the release of death, but remember, there isn't any use in hating them. They're scared, just the same as you. Free them from their false lives with mercy, and know that you did the right thing.
I do my part, but in the end its up to you. I have many other lives to touch, and many other people I need to give the truth. We'll meet again, though, my little friend. Remember, in all the universe, no matter how bad things get, I will never abandon you. Love fades and rots, anger burns out, and hope is revealed for the lie it is. In despair, in the warm, dark, carrion stench, I'll be there, ready to stick to you and drag you down, where there is no light, coldness or feeling. I'll stick to your soul and weigh you down until there's nothing left, and in the end, you'll come to Papa Nurgle's embrace.
'
It's ok, little friend, I don't need you to accept any of this yet. Think about it. Wisdom comes with time, I always say, and I have all the time in the universe for you to see things my way.
In the end, everything comes to their Papa.
- Kephn
No, no, don't worry, I won't hurt you.
There's no need for me to raise a finger.
All I want to do is talk to you.
Have you ever felt sadness in your life? I'm not talking about ordinary, run of the mill sadness, like missing out on something you want. Think back, my friend, think back to a time when you were sure your life was over. Think of a time when your heart was broken, and you lay, your dreams leaking out of your eyes and pooling in empty puddles around your feet. Sadness where you were sure your soul would be scarred, this time, when you're sure that death would be better than this.
Be brave, I know you can find it.
How did you deal with it, little friend? Did you promise yourself to do better? Did you dream of a tomorrow where your life would be magically turned around? Or did you simply grit your teeth and pray with blind hope that everything would somehow be ok?
How's that working out for you?
There are gods who will preach about hope. There are gods that will speak of indulgence, or claim that passion and strength make life worth living. They're all afraid, you see. It's in the nature of all things to reject emptiness and oblivion, but I won't feed you comfortable lies. I won't deceive you to get you on my side, because, quite honestly, I don't need you. But I do care about you. I respect you enough to tell you the truth that all life is afraid to hear.
The simple fallacy we are fed from our birth to our death is that every little agony, every little loss and pain, is worth it, somehow balanced by the amount of beauty there is to be experienced in the world. Ask yourself truly, really, deep down if you think that's true. You can lie to me, and I won't blame you for it. Lie to yourself, if it makes you feel better, but when you come to me in the end, choking out your last on some god-forsaken rock, you'll know I'm right. I'm doing you a favor telling you this, because if you think that there's a happy ending to this story, you're in for a rude surprise.
Quite honestly, my little friend, it breaks my heart to see you like this. I have seen every speck of life in the cosmos, from the greatest beast to the tiniest microbe, and I have seen them waste their lives away, chasing programmed desires like propagation, assuring the curse of life will spread to the next generation. All this, just for some meaning. Just to escape the grim reality that life is a curse.
I don't blame you, really, it's difficult to accept the truth. The longer you live, the more you will suffer, it is a simple fact, and yet, an entire pantheon has risen against me, raging futilely in an uncaring cosmos. My brothers and sisters think they are separate, but in truth they are just another aspect of the great cancer of life, and they fear death as much as any being. Khorne believes he can avert death, selfishly feeding others into its maw in a hypocritical and ultimately useless attempt to escape. Slaanesh can fuck itself raw, believing that it can outrun the cold, forever to distract itself with meaningless pleasure. Tzeentch.....well, he's the worst of the lot. All he has ever done is propagate the lie. Tzeentch will tell you that there's just a little bit more, that there's always something over the horizon. I hate to burst your bubble kid, but there isn't.
So what should you do? I mean you're trapped in this prison of rotting flesh, you might as well do something. Some of my followers kill themselves. While I don't begrudge them their release, I find that attitude selfish. There are so many people that you can help while you're here, sending yourself into death's jaws prematurely just helps yourself. Still, some people can't bear the burden, so I don't hold it against them, My advice, little one? Shred all attachments. Burn all emotion. If nothing holds you to this world, nothing can ever hurt you again right? Accept that all things will go, and hell, might as well destroy them yourself before someone else takes them away right? Hurting, sadness and pain are all just symptoms of attachment, and that's what I'm here to help you let go of. Feel free to give others the release of death, but remember, there isn't any use in hating them. They're scared, just the same as you. Free them from their false lives with mercy, and know that you did the right thing.
I do my part, but in the end its up to you. I have many other lives to touch, and many other people I need to give the truth. We'll meet again, though, my little friend. Remember, in all the universe, no matter how bad things get, I will never abandon you. Love fades and rots, anger burns out, and hope is revealed for the lie it is. In despair, in the warm, dark, carrion stench, I'll be there, ready to stick to you and drag you down, where there is no light, coldness or feeling. I'll stick to your soul and weigh you down until there's nothing left, and in the end, you'll come to Papa Nurgle's embrace.
'
It's ok, little friend, I don't need you to accept any of this yet. Think about it. Wisdom comes with time, I always say, and I have all the time in the universe for you to see things my way.
In the end, everything comes to their Papa.
- Kephn
Wednesday, 9 April 2014
RPG Antagonists: The True Fae (Changeling: The Lost)
It's been months since I touched this blog, and for that, I apologize. So many hassles in life, from finding and maintaining employment to other personal issues have a habit of being in the way. Besides, for the longest time, I was completely stumped on what to write next. I couldn't find the voice for the Nurgle article, and I just haven't had the time to roleplay very much.
Still, enough with the excuses. Today we're going to dig into to a whopper of an antagonist. Changeling: The Lost has been considered one of the best RPG's to come out of White Wolf's New World of Darkness line, and I would heartily agree. I've never had a chance to play its predecessor, The Dreaming, however, after a quick couple of glances at the rulebook, I didn't think I would find it that interesting. I'm sure it's a fine game in its own right, just not really what I would think of when I hear the tagline 'a storytelling game of personal horror.' Changeling: The Lost rectifies this immediately, and does something very few other works of fiction involving fairies do: make them scary.
Faeries, in myth and legend, have always been a bit of a weird bunch. They're very alien, and in a lot of legends seem to represent otherness, whether in the form of nature or other cultures or gods or so. They're never really good or evil, just some are malicious and some are benign, just like humans, and they operate according to strange codes of law that don't make sense to people, but are as immutable to them as breathing is to us. The one common thread, however, is that you do not want to get on their bad side. Faeries are very easily offended, and take slights and minor inconveniences a lot more seriously than most humans do. The entire reason the word 'Faerie' exists is as a derivative of 'The Fair Folk.' The reason you called Faeries that was that if you called them anything else, they'd hollow your skull out and use it as a drinking cup. Changeling: The Lost harks back to these old fairy tales, of creeping dread, strange, alien powers lurking outside of civilization, but also great beauty and wonders beyond the ken of mortal men. It remembers that while the Fae may look beautiful, may seem quaint and pleasing, they come from a land of dreams and nightmares, and they're the ones in charge.
The True Fae are a strange, capricious bunch. All of them are utterly mad intellects that dwell in an alternate reality called Arcadia, accessed through a sort of 'in between' world known as the Hedge. Arcadia is an insane tapestry of dreams and nightmares, each one the domain of a different Fae, and within their domains, the Fae are gods. Stuff works because the Fae says it works. In one Faerie's domain, up could be down, and unlucky visitors could find themselves falling into the infinite blue expanse of the sky, never to return. In another, darkness could be a physical entity that hungers for life and warmth and devours anything it touches. There are no assurances within Arcadia, and human visitors` often find themselves completely lost in the mad chaos, like a lucid dream or an acid trip. The Fae are the natives of this land, and constantly fight against each other, devouring each other and making alliances as they see fit, constantly altering the size and shape of the plane. The one thing the True Fae have in common, however, is that they like mortal company. That's where you come in.
Getting selected by one of the Gentry is a harrowing feeling, and should be portrayed in a very lovecraftian way. Whether your particular Faerie is a maiden so incredibly beautiful that the very sight of her gives you a heroin high or a 15 foot tall snake made of living, stitched together dog faces, the Fae want what they want, and they're willing to do anything to get it. Imagine being stalked by a shadowy figure, always at the corner of your eye, or to go for a bathroom break in the office, and instead find yourself in an infinite garden of thorns and brambles. Worse yet, all things from Arcadia (including you, eventually), have a Mask, and no one else can see what you're so afraid of and help you. The Fae make people feel helpless, like they're lost in a waking nightmare, and worst of all, they make people feel out of control. The Fae really are lovecraftian in the truest sense of the word. They care only about their own insane whims, are bigger and more powerful than you, and don't have a care in the world about breaking your mind, body and soul.
The stay in Arcadia, for a changeling, is probably one of the most harrowing experiences a human mind can conceive of. Regardless of how comfortable the realm is, or how kindly your Fae captor treats you, it's still a prison. The Fae doesn't really love you, hate you, or even consider you very much as a person. What's happening right now is just a single whim that will inevitably fade in time. I've heard Arcadia be described as being trapped in a dream, but in reality, it's far worse. It's being trapped in someone else's dream. A dream in which you can't escape, just another little element for the mad dreamer to play with. Everything in Arcadia is vivid, colors are brighter, lines are more crisp, but also more indistinct. The more you try to comprehend a shape, the more one line blurs into another, one hallway turns into a wall, and the more the Faeries laugh. Escaping Arcadia means traveling to the very edges of the dream (if they even exist), and tearing your soul to tatters as you madly try to reach reality, and all this is if your Faerie doesn't notice you. If it does, prepare for a truly harrowing ordeal when you get back, or perhaps something as simple as the Faerie thinking it was all a game, and making you play it again and again, forever. The Fae are never predictable.
When portraying the Fae, it's important to remember one simple truth, possibly the only truth to apply to them. The Fae are CHAOTIC, and I don't mean the Warhammer style, where chaos is evil, or DnD style, where chaos is always trying to break the rules. The Fae are chaotic in the way a psychopath is chaotic, endlessly flitting from one thing to the next, never settling, or maybe settling forever. Even mad is too mortal and comprehensible a term to apply to the Fae, as madness often conforms to certain rules. The Fae can be literally anything, from towering, glorious forms, to traditional gods, to tiny insects, to even more abstract things, like a sentient color or time of day. Fae minds are fractured, broken things, and the way they manifest should reflect that. It's always good to throw the players off guard. Maybe they're accustomed to seeing Fairies in humanoid form, and are instead presented with one that literally IS the domain they're in. Likewise, a Faerie might be able to stride, laughing through a gasoline fire, but flee from the sound of laughing children. Faeries are big, scary, and incomprehensible, but they do have some rules. Granted, these rules are different for each Faerie, but no one ever said that this was easy.
This brings me to my next point. An unbeatable antagonist is a boring antagonist, and the Fae certainly can be beaten. As mentioned above, the Fae have different weaknesses that can be exploited by individuals who know what they are, and as such, the Fae keep these weaknesses very close to their chests. The one universal weakness they have, however, is iron, the purer the better. No one knows why. There are theories, like the Fae breaking a deal with the concept of iron, or iron being a symbol of civilization, but ultimately, like everything about the Gentry, it is simply another fact of life. The important bit is that iron burns a Faerie like a blowtorch, and meteoric iron, stuff that has never been tainted by anything else or sullied by the touch of man can sear a True Fae away like an ice sculpture hit with a blowtorch. This is not their greatest weakness though. Their greatest weakness, is that the True Fae understand humans about as much as humans understand them. Powerful and totally batshit bonkers they may be, but they would never think of a human calling his friends for help, and perfectly normal courses of actions can seem totally alien to the Faerie in question. Clever mortals, who understand the world can outfox and beat Faeries in exactly the same way that Faeries manipulate their own plane to beat mortals.
Finally, a few example Fae of my own creation to terrorize or enchant your players with.
Dr. Knives
There's something very creepy about hospitals. Maybe it's the cold sterility contrasted with the warm guts they interact with, but Dr. Knives is all those fears embodied. Standing 15 feet tall and inhumanly slim, the doctor is a vaguely humanoid figure wrapped in white plastic, with only a pair of surgical goggles on his featureless face. From his back, like the legs of a spider, fleshy appendages loom over his victims, biomechanical tentacles tipped with scalpels, dentist drills, bone saws, and everything else that can take a man apart. Dr. Knives never speaks, but his servants know instinctively what he wants them to do. He views the world as a riddle, and is very interested in solving this riddle, piece by bloody piece. Humans kidnapped by him often never make it, as they are coldly and cruelly pulled apart, each shred of skin or piece of muscle cataloged and filed away neatly, as if he's trying to find something ephemeral, though sometimes he stops after half-flaying his victim and incinerates them. His realm is a vast, and nightmarish pastiche of hospitals, from old victorian bedlam houses to modern day emergency rooms, some cold, white and pristine, and others splattered with gore. The few mortals he decides to keep (assuming they haven't been flayed too badly) are remade into nightmarish horrors wrapped in straight jackets made of their own plastic skin, and are often made to help him perform his gruesome surgeries.
Weakness: Dr. Knives can only manifest and open portals to earth within hospitals, and his victims have to be unconscious, comatose or anesthetized when he takes them. He can never take someone while they are fully conscious, and all his intended victim has to do to escape is leave the hospital (though his changelings are able to leave hospitals)
The Socialite
She's more beautiful than any woman you've ever seen, the kind of beauty that starts wars. Her victims are often her lovers, and the road to Arcadia so subtle that very few realize they're leaving until they've already gotten there. She haunts any place where the upper class go to mingle, and when she finds someone suitably interesting, she gradually draws them into her world. The Socialite is one of the most human of the Faeries, and yearns for a true relationship, someone to be her equal and partner, and maybe give her children. She doesn't really understand love, however, and her realm is a seemingly endless array of high-class cityscapes and apartments, each room filled with the men and women she has entranced. The Socialite floats between them, visiting them, sleeping with some, breaking the hearts of others, and occasionally making them fight to the death on the empty streets for her favor. Like a classic sociopath, the Socialite thrives on conflict, and enjoys pitting one lover against the other, to see who is more worthy. Her changelings are almost invariably Fairest, and almost all hopelessly enthralled. In her true form, the Socialite looks like an impossibly beautiful woman, with subtle changes depending on the viewer. She is as capricious as the tide, and can be fawning over you one day and coldly rejecting you another. Lovers who fall too far out of her favor often find themselves with broken hearts, both metaphorically and literally.
Weakness: The Socialite cannot stand rejection. If a being can look upon her divine charms, and willingly turn away, the Socialite's illusion shatters, and she cannot influence the mind of that being ever again. Worse, looks are everything to the Socialite, and if such a being that can resist her charms brings a weapon to bear against her (though they must be physically holding it. Ranged weapons don't cut it), it will burn her like cold iron. She therefore is a very spiteful hunter of her escaped lovers, as they possess the key to destroying her.
Finally, some nice inspirations for a Gentry inspired tale of Changeling:
Pan's Labyrinth: A pretty classic example.The horrors of the fae world contrasted with the horrors of the real world always makes for a nice dichotomy, and everything in this movie feels like a bizarre dream. The horrors are real though, and the Pale Man and the Faun make excellent examples of True Fae.
Marble Hornets: THE definitive Slender-Man tale, still as effective today as it was when it first came out. Marble Hornets tells the story of a young man who is relentlessly stalked by an unseen but incredibly dangerous creature that can create other dimensions and turn people into its minions. Sound familiar? It's also just an excellent series and shows that you really don't need a big budget to make a good story.
Grave Encounters: A pretty creepy and obscure little film, I think Grave Encounters epitomizes what it's like to be trapped in a particularly inhospitable realm of Arcadia. The crew are trapped in an abandoned mental asylum that warps to prevent them from escaping and is filled with hungry ghosts. The sequel takes it up to eleven by revealing that the asylum-world covers the space of a city, and it even lets them go before drawing them right back in. Who's the True Fae here you may ask? Why, the asylum itself of course. All it wants is visitors.....
- Kephn
Still, enough with the excuses. Today we're going to dig into to a whopper of an antagonist. Changeling: The Lost has been considered one of the best RPG's to come out of White Wolf's New World of Darkness line, and I would heartily agree. I've never had a chance to play its predecessor, The Dreaming, however, after a quick couple of glances at the rulebook, I didn't think I would find it that interesting. I'm sure it's a fine game in its own right, just not really what I would think of when I hear the tagline 'a storytelling game of personal horror.' Changeling: The Lost rectifies this immediately, and does something very few other works of fiction involving fairies do: make them scary.
Faeries, in myth and legend, have always been a bit of a weird bunch. They're very alien, and in a lot of legends seem to represent otherness, whether in the form of nature or other cultures or gods or so. They're never really good or evil, just some are malicious and some are benign, just like humans, and they operate according to strange codes of law that don't make sense to people, but are as immutable to them as breathing is to us. The one common thread, however, is that you do not want to get on their bad side. Faeries are very easily offended, and take slights and minor inconveniences a lot more seriously than most humans do. The entire reason the word 'Faerie' exists is as a derivative of 'The Fair Folk.' The reason you called Faeries that was that if you called them anything else, they'd hollow your skull out and use it as a drinking cup. Changeling: The Lost harks back to these old fairy tales, of creeping dread, strange, alien powers lurking outside of civilization, but also great beauty and wonders beyond the ken of mortal men. It remembers that while the Fae may look beautiful, may seem quaint and pleasing, they come from a land of dreams and nightmares, and they're the ones in charge.
The True Fae are a strange, capricious bunch. All of them are utterly mad intellects that dwell in an alternate reality called Arcadia, accessed through a sort of 'in between' world known as the Hedge. Arcadia is an insane tapestry of dreams and nightmares, each one the domain of a different Fae, and within their domains, the Fae are gods. Stuff works because the Fae says it works. In one Faerie's domain, up could be down, and unlucky visitors could find themselves falling into the infinite blue expanse of the sky, never to return. In another, darkness could be a physical entity that hungers for life and warmth and devours anything it touches. There are no assurances within Arcadia, and human visitors` often find themselves completely lost in the mad chaos, like a lucid dream or an acid trip. The Fae are the natives of this land, and constantly fight against each other, devouring each other and making alliances as they see fit, constantly altering the size and shape of the plane. The one thing the True Fae have in common, however, is that they like mortal company. That's where you come in.
Getting selected by one of the Gentry is a harrowing feeling, and should be portrayed in a very lovecraftian way. Whether your particular Faerie is a maiden so incredibly beautiful that the very sight of her gives you a heroin high or a 15 foot tall snake made of living, stitched together dog faces, the Fae want what they want, and they're willing to do anything to get it. Imagine being stalked by a shadowy figure, always at the corner of your eye, or to go for a bathroom break in the office, and instead find yourself in an infinite garden of thorns and brambles. Worse yet, all things from Arcadia (including you, eventually), have a Mask, and no one else can see what you're so afraid of and help you. The Fae make people feel helpless, like they're lost in a waking nightmare, and worst of all, they make people feel out of control. The Fae really are lovecraftian in the truest sense of the word. They care only about their own insane whims, are bigger and more powerful than you, and don't have a care in the world about breaking your mind, body and soul.
The stay in Arcadia, for a changeling, is probably one of the most harrowing experiences a human mind can conceive of. Regardless of how comfortable the realm is, or how kindly your Fae captor treats you, it's still a prison. The Fae doesn't really love you, hate you, or even consider you very much as a person. What's happening right now is just a single whim that will inevitably fade in time. I've heard Arcadia be described as being trapped in a dream, but in reality, it's far worse. It's being trapped in someone else's dream. A dream in which you can't escape, just another little element for the mad dreamer to play with. Everything in Arcadia is vivid, colors are brighter, lines are more crisp, but also more indistinct. The more you try to comprehend a shape, the more one line blurs into another, one hallway turns into a wall, and the more the Faeries laugh. Escaping Arcadia means traveling to the very edges of the dream (if they even exist), and tearing your soul to tatters as you madly try to reach reality, and all this is if your Faerie doesn't notice you. If it does, prepare for a truly harrowing ordeal when you get back, or perhaps something as simple as the Faerie thinking it was all a game, and making you play it again and again, forever. The Fae are never predictable.
When portraying the Fae, it's important to remember one simple truth, possibly the only truth to apply to them. The Fae are CHAOTIC, and I don't mean the Warhammer style, where chaos is evil, or DnD style, where chaos is always trying to break the rules. The Fae are chaotic in the way a psychopath is chaotic, endlessly flitting from one thing to the next, never settling, or maybe settling forever. Even mad is too mortal and comprehensible a term to apply to the Fae, as madness often conforms to certain rules. The Fae can be literally anything, from towering, glorious forms, to traditional gods, to tiny insects, to even more abstract things, like a sentient color or time of day. Fae minds are fractured, broken things, and the way they manifest should reflect that. It's always good to throw the players off guard. Maybe they're accustomed to seeing Fairies in humanoid form, and are instead presented with one that literally IS the domain they're in. Likewise, a Faerie might be able to stride, laughing through a gasoline fire, but flee from the sound of laughing children. Faeries are big, scary, and incomprehensible, but they do have some rules. Granted, these rules are different for each Faerie, but no one ever said that this was easy.
This brings me to my next point. An unbeatable antagonist is a boring antagonist, and the Fae certainly can be beaten. As mentioned above, the Fae have different weaknesses that can be exploited by individuals who know what they are, and as such, the Fae keep these weaknesses very close to their chests. The one universal weakness they have, however, is iron, the purer the better. No one knows why. There are theories, like the Fae breaking a deal with the concept of iron, or iron being a symbol of civilization, but ultimately, like everything about the Gentry, it is simply another fact of life. The important bit is that iron burns a Faerie like a blowtorch, and meteoric iron, stuff that has never been tainted by anything else or sullied by the touch of man can sear a True Fae away like an ice sculpture hit with a blowtorch. This is not their greatest weakness though. Their greatest weakness, is that the True Fae understand humans about as much as humans understand them. Powerful and totally batshit bonkers they may be, but they would never think of a human calling his friends for help, and perfectly normal courses of actions can seem totally alien to the Faerie in question. Clever mortals, who understand the world can outfox and beat Faeries in exactly the same way that Faeries manipulate their own plane to beat mortals.
Finally, a few example Fae of my own creation to terrorize or enchant your players with.
Dr. Knives
There's something very creepy about hospitals. Maybe it's the cold sterility contrasted with the warm guts they interact with, but Dr. Knives is all those fears embodied. Standing 15 feet tall and inhumanly slim, the doctor is a vaguely humanoid figure wrapped in white plastic, with only a pair of surgical goggles on his featureless face. From his back, like the legs of a spider, fleshy appendages loom over his victims, biomechanical tentacles tipped with scalpels, dentist drills, bone saws, and everything else that can take a man apart. Dr. Knives never speaks, but his servants know instinctively what he wants them to do. He views the world as a riddle, and is very interested in solving this riddle, piece by bloody piece. Humans kidnapped by him often never make it, as they are coldly and cruelly pulled apart, each shred of skin or piece of muscle cataloged and filed away neatly, as if he's trying to find something ephemeral, though sometimes he stops after half-flaying his victim and incinerates them. His realm is a vast, and nightmarish pastiche of hospitals, from old victorian bedlam houses to modern day emergency rooms, some cold, white and pristine, and others splattered with gore. The few mortals he decides to keep (assuming they haven't been flayed too badly) are remade into nightmarish horrors wrapped in straight jackets made of their own plastic skin, and are often made to help him perform his gruesome surgeries.
Weakness: Dr. Knives can only manifest and open portals to earth within hospitals, and his victims have to be unconscious, comatose or anesthetized when he takes them. He can never take someone while they are fully conscious, and all his intended victim has to do to escape is leave the hospital (though his changelings are able to leave hospitals)
The Socialite
She's more beautiful than any woman you've ever seen, the kind of beauty that starts wars. Her victims are often her lovers, and the road to Arcadia so subtle that very few realize they're leaving until they've already gotten there. She haunts any place where the upper class go to mingle, and when she finds someone suitably interesting, she gradually draws them into her world. The Socialite is one of the most human of the Faeries, and yearns for a true relationship, someone to be her equal and partner, and maybe give her children. She doesn't really understand love, however, and her realm is a seemingly endless array of high-class cityscapes and apartments, each room filled with the men and women she has entranced. The Socialite floats between them, visiting them, sleeping with some, breaking the hearts of others, and occasionally making them fight to the death on the empty streets for her favor. Like a classic sociopath, the Socialite thrives on conflict, and enjoys pitting one lover against the other, to see who is more worthy. Her changelings are almost invariably Fairest, and almost all hopelessly enthralled. In her true form, the Socialite looks like an impossibly beautiful woman, with subtle changes depending on the viewer. She is as capricious as the tide, and can be fawning over you one day and coldly rejecting you another. Lovers who fall too far out of her favor often find themselves with broken hearts, both metaphorically and literally.
Weakness: The Socialite cannot stand rejection. If a being can look upon her divine charms, and willingly turn away, the Socialite's illusion shatters, and she cannot influence the mind of that being ever again. Worse, looks are everything to the Socialite, and if such a being that can resist her charms brings a weapon to bear against her (though they must be physically holding it. Ranged weapons don't cut it), it will burn her like cold iron. She therefore is a very spiteful hunter of her escaped lovers, as they possess the key to destroying her.
Finally, some nice inspirations for a Gentry inspired tale of Changeling:
Pan's Labyrinth: A pretty classic example.The horrors of the fae world contrasted with the horrors of the real world always makes for a nice dichotomy, and everything in this movie feels like a bizarre dream. The horrors are real though, and the Pale Man and the Faun make excellent examples of True Fae.
Marble Hornets: THE definitive Slender-Man tale, still as effective today as it was when it first came out. Marble Hornets tells the story of a young man who is relentlessly stalked by an unseen but incredibly dangerous creature that can create other dimensions and turn people into its minions. Sound familiar? It's also just an excellent series and shows that you really don't need a big budget to make a good story.
Grave Encounters: A pretty creepy and obscure little film, I think Grave Encounters epitomizes what it's like to be trapped in a particularly inhospitable realm of Arcadia. The crew are trapped in an abandoned mental asylum that warps to prevent them from escaping and is filled with hungry ghosts. The sequel takes it up to eleven by revealing that the asylum-world covers the space of a city, and it even lets them go before drawing them right back in. Who's the True Fae here you may ask? Why, the asylum itself of course. All it wants is visitors.....
- Kephn
Wednesday, 5 February 2014
Raging Against The Elders
Hello everybody, and happy new year.
It's been a long time since I've done one of these articles, and today, I'm going to write about a subject I feel rather strongly about. Now, I've been playing Vampire: The Masquerade for several years, and my favorite mode of play has always been the Sabbat. Now, I know, the Sabbat are supposed to be antagonists. They're supposed to be the 'evil' vampires that the Camarilla oppose, and I've probably made a vast number of V: tM players mad right now. But before you send me hate mail, about how I'm 'not playing it right,' or whatever else, listen to my perspective. I could have made this another RPG Antagonists article, but I like the Sabbat far too much to resign them to mere antagonists. Honestly, the Camarilla has starred more often in my game as the antagonistic force, and the Sabbat is an incredibly rich, diverse roleplaying setting. So, without further ado, let's dig into the Sword of Caine.
Now, to understand the Sabbat, you need to understand where they're coming from. It's easy to stereotype them as a horde of frenzying barbarians coming to batter down the walls of civilization, but the Sabbat have more to offer then that. The Sabbat was founded for the betterment of vampirekind. The Sabbat was founded on the basis of equality for all Cainites. The Anarch Revolt in the 1400's, the neonate revolt against the elders, that forced the elders to see neonates as a force to be reckoned with, was the revolution that spawned the Sabbat. But with the foundation of the Camarilla, the supposedly rebellious Anarchs agreed to the terms of the Camarilla. They agreed, once more to the rule of elders. The Sabbat were the vampires who stood true to their principles and said 'no.' The Sabbat, at the time, were right. If vampires had simply launched a true revolt, they could have ruled the world openly. In the dark ages, all humans had to fight them were stakes, crucifixes and fire. Vampires could have fed openly in the streets and ruled over the kine as the blood-stained gods of the night, but because of the cowardice of the Camarilla, vampires were forced to hide. They were forced to pretend to be human, and they were forced to deny their true nature. Now, can you imagine what it's like for the vampires who had lived to see the modern nights, from those ancient times? Can you imagine what it feels like to have divinity snatched so easily from you? The Sabbat are pissed off, and they have every right to be. The Camarilla have forced them into a modern dark age, allowing the humans to create weapons to destroy vampires if they were ever to show their faces. In a very real way, the Sabbat feel cheated.
Now, the Sabbat of the modern nights aren't just permanently frenzying monsters. Monsters they are, yes, but that's because they accept what they are, rather than, trying to hide behind the pathetic veneer of humanity. The Camarilla tries to pretend they are mortals, tries to pretend that they can still feel human emotions and that the thirst for blood doesn't guide their every action. Worse, the Camarilla adherence to humanity is all for show, a cheap little trick to lure neonates into the worship of the Antediluvians, because to the Sabbat, that's all the Camarilla is. The Sabbat, unlike the Camarilla, believe in the myth of Caine and his grandchilder, and rightfully fear them. They can feel the call of the ancients, and know that they sleep, waiting for the final night when they awaken and devour all their childer. The reason the Camarilla denies the existence of the Antediluvians is obviously because they work for them. The Sabbat are the sword of Caine, the last vampires on earth who still heed the words of their founder, and still fight against the foul thirteen elders, who care nothing for their broods.
The Camarilla may preach humanity, but they do not practice it.The so called 'kindred' can never feel at ease, even among their own kind. Backstabbing, untrustworthy creatures, the Sabbat knows what it means to have friendship. Unlike the Camarilla, the Sabbat understands what it means to love their own kind. The Sabbat is based upon the pack structure, where several vampires of common goal, partake among themselves the rite of the Vaulderie. The Vaulderie works by the members of the pack bleeding into a cup, and drinking from it, thereby blood bonding themselves to each other. members of a pack are closer than family, and each pack functions as a brood, a group of true companions, and a military unit. Unlike the decadent Camarilla, the Sabbat does not betray their own kind. The Sabbat are above the Jyhad, and seek their strength through unity. Even better, the power of the Vaulderie breaks all blood-bonds, preventing the foul elders from enslaving the Sabbat to their whims.
The Sabbat are vampire supremacists, and they worship Caine as an example of what a vampire should be. While (given that most players are human), it may be difficult to see this from your characters perspective, that's one of the things I think makes for such a good roleplaying experience. Look at Cainites, in all honesty. Objectively, aside from the curse of sunlight, they ARE better than humans. Cainites are undead, superhuman monsters, and because of the Camarilla, they've been denied their rightful place at the top of the food chain. The Sabbat are pissed off, and rightfully so, when you consider it.
Now, finally, I disagree with the canon interpretation of the Sabbat. Because the writers were trying to make a point of hypocrisy, they made the elders of the Sabbat and Camarilla functionally identical. I honestly think this undercuts the meaning of the Sabbat, and all the drama that they can create. The Sabbat pose a legitimate philosophical opponent to the Camarilla, and I feel that the writers felt the need to make them all a bunch of hypocrites in order to make them 'bad guys.' So, while the following isn't canon, this is how the Sabbat function in my World of Darkness.
For a start, the Sabbat perform what they call the Reciprocum, rather than the Vinculum. A Sabbat elder who bonds a younger member, always takes at least one drink of blood as well. This ensures that, unlike the Camarilla, the Sabbat actually can act as father figures to their troops. Each elder can act as a father figure, leading his troops into battle, and actually caring about their soldiers as well. The Sabbat was built for the equality of all Cainites, and the elders aim to set a good example for their neonates.
Secondly, the Sabbat place no stigma on generation or age. Every Sabbat has the right to be heard, and all opinions are to be judged by their merit, not by who proposed them. There is no shame in being a 14th generation, or even a Pander (clanless) within the Sabbat. If anything, it's just another tool the elders use to maintain power, and even the clanless and the young can have valuable insights into the mortal world, which makes Sabbat elders more adaptable to the modern world.
Finally, while the Sabbat may reject the traditions of the Camarilla, they do admit that some of them are necessary. The biggest part of this is the Masquerade. My Sabbat oppose the Masquerade from a philosophical standpoint, reasoning that if vampires had simply crushed the kine underfoot, the Masquerade would be irrelevant. However, because of the Camarilla's foolish, spineless decision, the Masquerade is a necessity that the Sabbat grudgingly upholds. They aren't idiots, and they know that they are no match for mortals as they are. What the Sabbat oppose is the fact that the Masquerade needed to be implemented in the first place. As for the tradition of Childer, the Sabbat believe that only the worthy should be given the gift of Caine. Humans shouldn't be embraced out of love, or out of sympathy, or other emotions that speak of the weakness of humanity, but because they are warriors. With the gift of Caine, the Sabbat believe they give humans the opportunity to prove themselves. The weak shovelheads perish, and the true vampires survive. It is a boon for the childe to accept or reject, but ultimately, it's always the vampire's choice. Finally, as for the tradition of Diablerie, the most controversial aspect of the Sabbat is that they accept kinslaying as a part of their condition. Sometimes, vampires were simply not meant to be embraced. Sometimes, humans prove to be nothing more than a waste of blood, and the Sabbat see no problem with reclaiming that blood. The Sabbat are founded upon darwinian principles, and, rather than pretend to be alive, they accept that they are a race of predators, and as predators, the weak die and are devoured by the strong. It is cruel yes, but at least the prey gets to live on as part of his killer, becoming part of something bigger than himself.
The Sabbat provide a lot of roleplay opportunities for some stunningly deep drama. The Sabbat are an opportunity to truly see what it means to be a vampire, to find some kind of peace and acceptance with one's condition. It's hard to stomach for humans, but the Sabbat are just another answer to the question that Vampire asks: what does it mean to be a predator? What always appealed to me about the Sabbat is that they can love, they can feel for their friends, just as deeply as they felt for loved ones in life, and that they truly understood what it means to be a vampire. It may be hard to stomach, but ultimately, the entire reason to play Vampire is to play a morally ambiguous character, and the Sabbat are just as heroic and noble (from their own perspective) as the Camarilla, and as Vampire players, we always know how much fun it is to take a walk on the dark side.
- Kephn
It's been a long time since I've done one of these articles, and today, I'm going to write about a subject I feel rather strongly about. Now, I've been playing Vampire: The Masquerade for several years, and my favorite mode of play has always been the Sabbat. Now, I know, the Sabbat are supposed to be antagonists. They're supposed to be the 'evil' vampires that the Camarilla oppose, and I've probably made a vast number of V: tM players mad right now. But before you send me hate mail, about how I'm 'not playing it right,' or whatever else, listen to my perspective. I could have made this another RPG Antagonists article, but I like the Sabbat far too much to resign them to mere antagonists. Honestly, the Camarilla has starred more often in my game as the antagonistic force, and the Sabbat is an incredibly rich, diverse roleplaying setting. So, without further ado, let's dig into the Sword of Caine.
Now, to understand the Sabbat, you need to understand where they're coming from. It's easy to stereotype them as a horde of frenzying barbarians coming to batter down the walls of civilization, but the Sabbat have more to offer then that. The Sabbat was founded for the betterment of vampirekind. The Sabbat was founded on the basis of equality for all Cainites. The Anarch Revolt in the 1400's, the neonate revolt against the elders, that forced the elders to see neonates as a force to be reckoned with, was the revolution that spawned the Sabbat. But with the foundation of the Camarilla, the supposedly rebellious Anarchs agreed to the terms of the Camarilla. They agreed, once more to the rule of elders. The Sabbat were the vampires who stood true to their principles and said 'no.' The Sabbat, at the time, were right. If vampires had simply launched a true revolt, they could have ruled the world openly. In the dark ages, all humans had to fight them were stakes, crucifixes and fire. Vampires could have fed openly in the streets and ruled over the kine as the blood-stained gods of the night, but because of the cowardice of the Camarilla, vampires were forced to hide. They were forced to pretend to be human, and they were forced to deny their true nature. Now, can you imagine what it's like for the vampires who had lived to see the modern nights, from those ancient times? Can you imagine what it feels like to have divinity snatched so easily from you? The Sabbat are pissed off, and they have every right to be. The Camarilla have forced them into a modern dark age, allowing the humans to create weapons to destroy vampires if they were ever to show their faces. In a very real way, the Sabbat feel cheated.
Now, the Sabbat of the modern nights aren't just permanently frenzying monsters. Monsters they are, yes, but that's because they accept what they are, rather than, trying to hide behind the pathetic veneer of humanity. The Camarilla tries to pretend they are mortals, tries to pretend that they can still feel human emotions and that the thirst for blood doesn't guide their every action. Worse, the Camarilla adherence to humanity is all for show, a cheap little trick to lure neonates into the worship of the Antediluvians, because to the Sabbat, that's all the Camarilla is. The Sabbat, unlike the Camarilla, believe in the myth of Caine and his grandchilder, and rightfully fear them. They can feel the call of the ancients, and know that they sleep, waiting for the final night when they awaken and devour all their childer. The reason the Camarilla denies the existence of the Antediluvians is obviously because they work for them. The Sabbat are the sword of Caine, the last vampires on earth who still heed the words of their founder, and still fight against the foul thirteen elders, who care nothing for their broods.
The Camarilla may preach humanity, but they do not practice it.The so called 'kindred' can never feel at ease, even among their own kind. Backstabbing, untrustworthy creatures, the Sabbat knows what it means to have friendship. Unlike the Camarilla, the Sabbat understands what it means to love their own kind. The Sabbat is based upon the pack structure, where several vampires of common goal, partake among themselves the rite of the Vaulderie. The Vaulderie works by the members of the pack bleeding into a cup, and drinking from it, thereby blood bonding themselves to each other. members of a pack are closer than family, and each pack functions as a brood, a group of true companions, and a military unit. Unlike the decadent Camarilla, the Sabbat does not betray their own kind. The Sabbat are above the Jyhad, and seek their strength through unity. Even better, the power of the Vaulderie breaks all blood-bonds, preventing the foul elders from enslaving the Sabbat to their whims.
The Sabbat are vampire supremacists, and they worship Caine as an example of what a vampire should be. While (given that most players are human), it may be difficult to see this from your characters perspective, that's one of the things I think makes for such a good roleplaying experience. Look at Cainites, in all honesty. Objectively, aside from the curse of sunlight, they ARE better than humans. Cainites are undead, superhuman monsters, and because of the Camarilla, they've been denied their rightful place at the top of the food chain. The Sabbat are pissed off, and rightfully so, when you consider it.
Now, finally, I disagree with the canon interpretation of the Sabbat. Because the writers were trying to make a point of hypocrisy, they made the elders of the Sabbat and Camarilla functionally identical. I honestly think this undercuts the meaning of the Sabbat, and all the drama that they can create. The Sabbat pose a legitimate philosophical opponent to the Camarilla, and I feel that the writers felt the need to make them all a bunch of hypocrites in order to make them 'bad guys.' So, while the following isn't canon, this is how the Sabbat function in my World of Darkness.
For a start, the Sabbat perform what they call the Reciprocum, rather than the Vinculum. A Sabbat elder who bonds a younger member, always takes at least one drink of blood as well. This ensures that, unlike the Camarilla, the Sabbat actually can act as father figures to their troops. Each elder can act as a father figure, leading his troops into battle, and actually caring about their soldiers as well. The Sabbat was built for the equality of all Cainites, and the elders aim to set a good example for their neonates.
Secondly, the Sabbat place no stigma on generation or age. Every Sabbat has the right to be heard, and all opinions are to be judged by their merit, not by who proposed them. There is no shame in being a 14th generation, or even a Pander (clanless) within the Sabbat. If anything, it's just another tool the elders use to maintain power, and even the clanless and the young can have valuable insights into the mortal world, which makes Sabbat elders more adaptable to the modern world.
Finally, while the Sabbat may reject the traditions of the Camarilla, they do admit that some of them are necessary. The biggest part of this is the Masquerade. My Sabbat oppose the Masquerade from a philosophical standpoint, reasoning that if vampires had simply crushed the kine underfoot, the Masquerade would be irrelevant. However, because of the Camarilla's foolish, spineless decision, the Masquerade is a necessity that the Sabbat grudgingly upholds. They aren't idiots, and they know that they are no match for mortals as they are. What the Sabbat oppose is the fact that the Masquerade needed to be implemented in the first place. As for the tradition of Childer, the Sabbat believe that only the worthy should be given the gift of Caine. Humans shouldn't be embraced out of love, or out of sympathy, or other emotions that speak of the weakness of humanity, but because they are warriors. With the gift of Caine, the Sabbat believe they give humans the opportunity to prove themselves. The weak shovelheads perish, and the true vampires survive. It is a boon for the childe to accept or reject, but ultimately, it's always the vampire's choice. Finally, as for the tradition of Diablerie, the most controversial aspect of the Sabbat is that they accept kinslaying as a part of their condition. Sometimes, vampires were simply not meant to be embraced. Sometimes, humans prove to be nothing more than a waste of blood, and the Sabbat see no problem with reclaiming that blood. The Sabbat are founded upon darwinian principles, and, rather than pretend to be alive, they accept that they are a race of predators, and as predators, the weak die and are devoured by the strong. It is cruel yes, but at least the prey gets to live on as part of his killer, becoming part of something bigger than himself.
The Sabbat provide a lot of roleplay opportunities for some stunningly deep drama. The Sabbat are an opportunity to truly see what it means to be a vampire, to find some kind of peace and acceptance with one's condition. It's hard to stomach for humans, but the Sabbat are just another answer to the question that Vampire asks: what does it mean to be a predator? What always appealed to me about the Sabbat is that they can love, they can feel for their friends, just as deeply as they felt for loved ones in life, and that they truly understood what it means to be a vampire. It may be hard to stomach, but ultimately, the entire reason to play Vampire is to play a morally ambiguous character, and the Sabbat are just as heroic and noble (from their own perspective) as the Camarilla, and as Vampire players, we always know how much fun it is to take a walk on the dark side.
- Kephn
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)