For over a year now, I've started delving a little deeper into this great big thing we call a Hobby. This whole blog is one giant self exploration sounding board for Live Action Role Play. Through this, and through the magic of the internet and the gaming community, I found a friend in Shoshana Kessock. I later learned that she, like me, wrote on the subject of Larps and their profound affect on us as people and and our affect on it. She has made this hobby into her vocation, and by doing so, she's become a name in the global gaming circles, both in practical and academic spheres, and someone attempting to learn through all the forms of Role Play. Through her I learned of Sarah Lynne Bowman and Lizzie Stark, and know more about the possibilities and theories of Larp than I did a year ago.
I'll admit she's kinda my idol.
In December, she ran a two hour presentation featuring several names in LARP to the NYU Game Center, introducing LARP to people who most likely never experienced it before. I was asked to take part, representing Theater Larp. Out of all of them, I felt like the little fish in a big fucking pond. I'm sitting next to Avonelle Wing, Dexcon organizer and mainstay figure in gaming circle; Michael Pucci, game developer and the father of Dystopia Rising, the Zombie Apocalypse boffer Larp that is now being played in 1/5th of the United States;Sean Jaffe, game designer and writer; Mike**, lead game runner for Dystopia Rising New Jersey;and Christopher St Louis, one of the best game runners and players I have ever seen and the high mark of what it means to be a role player And then there is me, some schmuck who talks faster than he thinks and if he stuttered any more they'd confuse him for a flooded engine. I felt like Junior Varsity during a Pro All Star Game, and the fact I just used a sports reference should tell you all exactly how nervous and under-fucking-prepared I felt!
In the end, the presentation went well. Most of us knew that this was something of a dry run, a test for a bigger event. Shoshana was putting together an academic conference in March, where she was gathering people to discuss and introduce Live Action Role Play in all it's myriad forms. There were to be lectures, workshops, panels and games played. It wouldn't be a convention, per se' run for the sake of gaming. It would be a conference to discuss who we are and where we're going and what we're doing.
I submitted a lecture based on my Living in Myth article from last March. It's actually one of my favorite articles I've written, and certainly my first serious attempt to write about this thing I love doing/considering. I like mythology, I like storytelling, and I like making believe and taking something out of that. It's that last little sparkle of Magic. Power of creation and imagination.
My problem, however, was that this was an academic conference, with quantitative research and data going mostly behind it. My blogging is anecdotal, at best. There is no data to back this up, and no review really. I just write what I think and hide behind my bunker. So it got turned down, and the explanation was exactly that. Spend enough time in the psych department and you learn a thing or two about research, and about what articles are and aren't acceptable for academic appraisal. I'm oddly okay with the letter of rejection, if anything because the letter was matter of fact. Normally I'm hiding in my bunker wanting not to deal with the world in my only little introverted emo way of handling life. I knew the score, and I knew that this was exactly what it was, and my lecture wasn't what it should have been.
Then I flashed back to a previous hangout we had last month, Shoshana was really supportive of my endeavors with Kensei and with this site. In that conversation told me what she did to go from just blogging about larping to being published academically about larping.
"I just decided to"
That really stuck with me. It's been a month since she said it and it stays with me. After reading the letter of rejection, I just made my decision. I want to make games, I want to share my thoughts and learn more about this marvelous hobby/vocation of ours. That doesn't mean that this blog is going to change. It's my baby and I love it as my sounding board, but this means I will be making myself read more reviews and studies, which may crop up in these articles. But if I can do this, I want to. If anything just to say I did it.
Having said all that, in March 14th-16th, I will be assisting Shoshana in running the Living Games Conference in Brooklyn. Come on down from wherever you are and learn more about this amazing hobby, meet fellow players, and help the academics learn about this amazing thing of ours.
And to Shoshana, thanks.
Later
**: Due his stating of occupational concerns about his hobby I've opted not to mention his name broadly on the internet. He knows who he is (if he reads this) and he should know I consider him to be one of the consummate gamers and storytellers I've encountered and I would love to work with him at some point.
Friday, January 31, 2014
Tuesday, January 21, 2014
Theatre Larp 101
But what the Hell does that mean?
 |
| NYC's Changeling the Lost Game, photo by Craig Page |
So, before I begin in describing it. Let me first state that this is MY interpretation. If my blog has said anything, it's that I do not speak for everyone in the community and my opinions and biases are well known. If you have a different meaning to it, by all means comment and contribute! So on with the show.
Let's first begin with the statement of what I feel Larp means: Larp is when people create characters and perform them physically in a setting created and/or moderated by a core set of people. This is the core definition that can apply to mosts larps. Note, I say most larps, as even then there are exceptions. That's the general definition. What separates Theater Larp from say a Boffer Larp is that Theater Larps tend to be shorter in their time span, lasting only a few hours (2-6 on average). Physical combat, and most actions that are out of the question for the player or the environment are narrated, not acted out. As such, the focus of these games is social interactions. Most games centering around some sort of social function while the action goes on (most often) outside of the area.
Games are generally held in black box rooms, studios and spaces that the Storyteller narrates as being the location in general. I have played poker with Vampires on the top Floor of the Empire State Building, I have held secret meetings in abandoned theaters and subway stations with Mages, I have been beyond the Hedge and in the Goblin Markets where only Changelings may go. I have been all of these places in my mind, my body is more often than not in some studio space in manhattan, or an apartment in the City. Because the logistical need in these games are low, and most interactions rely on the storyteller, you just really need a space to play in. Of course, there are those who play in churches, bars, and apartments and they are treated exactly as they are...some of us are lucky. Ultimately it boils down to economics and the Cost of Gaming, we can only play where we can afford to play.
I've mentioned that actions are narrated, and that leads me to IC/OOC bleed out. Social interactions are considering in character unless specifically stated otherwise. Sometimes, descriptions have to be narrated out of character. Changeling the Lost is notorious for this as it has a Mask and a Mien, a Mask is generally what you look like and a Mien is the Changeling you're playing. My mask looks roughly like me while my mien looks like an Orcimer from Elder Scrolls. The same goes for the environment, castles, special areas, even common areas like landmarks that players are visiting should be narrated, and most often by the Storyteller or the hosting character's player.
The key point is that all interactions generally have to go through the Storytelling staff. ST staffs in large games are often spread out and not everything can be monitored by staff. In a theater Larp, the staff is most often in the room with them, moderating the function. If players wish to engage in investigation of the environs or engage in combat, they need to speak to the Storyteller. In this, it shares close ties with it's cousin in Tabletop games, and a large chunk of tabletops have been converted to Larps. Of these the World of Darkness games have a large following. However, this leads to a special problem: whereas in boffer larps or fully immersive games, you need a storyteller to do most of anything. Some games can be run just knowing your characters and the situation and running loose. In a theatre Larp, someone is often usually at the wheel, or at least moderating.
Which also leads to the fact that games do not end at the end of game. Scenes, character interactions and further actions take place over the month, in what we call "Downtimes". Downtime Actions are done through emails, skype or google hangouts, dinners. I've had Ordo Dracul meetings in the backrooms of Horror themed bars and Changeling meetings in swanky apartments. The key, again, goes back to roleplay, mechanics doesn't often happen here. We call it soft RP. If these are monitored or acknowledged by the Storyteller, the players get experience points and more personal or game related plot. This type of gaming though leads to an interesting form of Alternate Reality Gaming, where real life and game life bleed into one another. It's fascinating stuff, something I'd love to work with if I had the time/money/energy/sleep cycle to figure it out.
When things DO get rough, and fights or investigations need to happen, that's when the character's stat sheets come out and the storytellers need to get to working. Actions are based on the stats of the characters, usually their inherent traits like Social, Intelligence or Physical aptitudes and specific skills added together with other factors to make a base number. From there, chance decides. Some games uses cards, others dice, Old World of Darkness uses Rock Paper Scissors. Either way, Chance decides how those factors work. Some times it can change a whole game, some times it is purely academic. This leads to a lot of number crunching, which is time consuming. Large combat actions that in game-time takes minutes, but in real time takes much more than that. Also, some people, when making their characters, Maximize the stats they need for certain actions making pulls a moot point. I'm not particularly a fan of min maxing, unless you're playing a savant or something which in that case you've got other issues to deal with as well.
So, to conclude. Theatre Larps are Character Driven Gaming, with the Storyteller being directly involved in each player's action. It can span multiple media, and can be played roughly anywhere at any time. Because of these, it can be accessible to casual players from all stripes.
However, because of such things, it isn't as inherently immersive and relies on the players performances to carry the immersion (assuming that is what the players wish to do). It also presumes that the Storytellers can access each player on an equal basis, giving everyone the freedom/understanding. Storytellers are just people too, and sometimes they forget, or can't be everywhere. It's also mechanics heavy, which becomes a major time and energy drag. I've seen combat scenes go four hours without resolution, incidentally I've seen people not come back afterwards.
It also, I should say, has the distinctness of favoring people with high social skills in real life. I've seen the truly charming be able to play masterfully without ever having to use their sheet. I've seen the great debators talk their way out of things both ICly and OOCly, and I've seen these players be the top of the pile in terms of the game. Keep in mind that some of us aren't born with that, and you sometimes find yourself locked out a bit. In all Larps this is a thing, but when Social skills is the key factor, it becomes paramount.
And that, is my description of Theater Larping. It's not a perfect one, it's not even a great one. But it's the one I have.
Later.
Sunday, January 19, 2014
Needs Must: a Dystopia Rising concept story
Jayk woke up, and Jayk felt pain, and Jayk knew that
very soon he was going to die. The world
was dark, his vision darkened by wet cloth. The pain was numbing, almost
freezing on principle and yet he could still feel the ice cold water lapping
underneath his back and his legs. All things considered, Jayk did the only
sensible thing anyone would do.
Jayk screamed for help.
It was stupid, and Jayk knew it. Being a guard for the caravans as long as he had told him it was a stupid idea. Sure he was dying, sure he had fucked up and deserved it. But noise attracted the Zed. It was either make noise, though, or become one of them.
And needs must when the Devil drives.
Time passed in the wet, cold, and pain. Time that Jayk couldn't even know. Hours? Minutes? Seconds? Why didn't he dissolve into the ground? Why didn't the gravemind claim him? He kept screaming, screaming helped. Screaming meant he was still alive. They weren't words, Lost Boys could mimic words. Scream in pain, pure and without bias and you'll live.
Between the screams, in the bid for air, Jayk heard a counter sound. It was a sweet melody, a soft tune that Jayk couldn't make out the words.
Jayk screamed again, words came to him. "HELP!" He screamed.
The melody stopped abruptly. Jayk stopped his shouting to gauge. Moments passed, heartbeats into eternities. A voice came out from the distance, musical and casual. "Are you alive?"
Jayk had to stop and question that, in this much pain. Was he sure he wasn't already in Hell? He realized he had no time to consider. "Yes! I'm Alive! No, I'm not making this up. Help me please!" The words flowed out of him. Words were always good to passersby when in aid. "I'm not a trap! I'm in help! Help!"
More silence, and then footfalls near him. "I'm going to take the hood off of you, close your eyes."
Relief washed over Jayk, almost making him forget his pain, almost allowing him to pass out. "I'm a Retrograde." he said. "I haven't changed. Don't kill me because of it."
"I don't think that's going to be a problem," The voice said. Jayk's world suddenly exploded in white, brilliant light. The pain of light burned almost as much as the pain in his chest.
"Easy now," said the voice. "Take a moment,"
"Pain." Jayk rasped. "Pain." He realized the person did not run or flee when his face was revealed. Retrogrades tend to get shot because they resemble the shambling hordes of the dead. This one seemed fine with it.
"Pain will subside," the voice said. "I'd be glad, it means you aren't dead." There was a pause. "Although, death might be preferable."
The light began to lessen, and Jayk could see the blue of the sky with green trees in his peripheral. There was a man in front of him. His clothes were a uniform black, with a faded black denim jacket patched over. He had dark hair, silvering in some places. His eyes weren't the same color, both were hazel, but the left one was noticeably a deeper green and the right a golden brown. There was a casualness about him, as if he wasn't in the Zed and Raider infested end of the world.
"Hey" the man said. It was soft and welcoming. "I'm Walker,"
"J-Jayk," he replied. His teeth chattering once he gave his body some time to adjust.
"Hi Jayk," he said. "You have two options right now. You can look at me and not have to face what's happened to your body or..."
Jayk craned his neck up, looking down. Small tines poked out of his arms, chest and legs, bone white and curved. They blossomed like thorns of a flower. A groan gurgled from his mouth, bubbling like the stream that was beneath him.
"...or you can look and see what happened." Walker finished. He sucked in a breath, "I'm going to guess from the positioning and the watermask you were wearing, you didn't just slip and fall, right?"
The question shocked Jayk from his pain and his suffering. "Natural Ones....Clan Shrike."
The man raised an eyebrow, "Cannibals?"
Jayk shook his head, the only thing that was free to move. The man eyed him up and down, then snapped his fingers. "You're bait," he said. "They mount you onto this thing, keeping you alive and screaming for the Zed to hear and be attracted. Even dead, the smell of meat and flesh will be potent enough...and since you're not technically touching the ground, you don't get to be taken by the Gravemind. Clever. Sadistic, but clever. "
"Help...me." Jayk said. It was a plea, a cry for help.
The man took in another sharp breath. "I'm no Doctor, but I'm pretty sure those...yeah, those are antlers, are puncturing several major organs...and even if they aren't...pulling you off will most definitely rupture a major organ. " Walker stood silently, looking at his body. "Okay, I'm going to do something incredibly stupid. I'm going to peel you off this thing and then I'm going to pull you to the side and heal you."
"You said you weren't a Doctor?"
"Man doesn't always need medicine to survive."
"Priest?"
Walker shrugged. "You religious in any way?"
Jayk struggled, "Dad was Fallows Hope. I hung out at the Blue House in Aysea."
Walker laughed, "you probably missed me a couple of times."
Jayk said nothing at first, then looked up at the man. "Can I...do you do confessions?" The man raised an eyebrow, and Jayk explained. "I've died three times...once in a bar brawl in the Aysea...once when Raiders hit our Caravan, the third time I slipped off a wagon and broke my neck. This is it for me. I die...I won't come back as pretty."
Walker nodded. He clearly knew what happens to Retros when they die all the way. They become Zed, but not just any Zed, stronger Zed. No shambling horde for them. They get to cause major mayhem. "You want absolution." the young Priest said. "Sure, hit me with your best shot."
Jayk took in a breath. The pain of the Shrike's antler mount was a distant pain. Either he'd gotten used to it, or his body was in so much shock it was pointless to worry about it. "I asked for this. Our caravan was stopped over with the Clan, we traded goods, kept the guns and tech out of the way. I caught the eye of a little thing. Cute. Did this little trick with his...anyways, you know how Hill Folk can be about...intermingling."
"So they crucified you on a pile of antlers to die as Zed bait?"
"I said some nasty words," Jayk said, lying.
Jayk screamed for help.
It was stupid, and Jayk knew it. Being a guard for the caravans as long as he had told him it was a stupid idea. Sure he was dying, sure he had fucked up and deserved it. But noise attracted the Zed. It was either make noise, though, or become one of them.
And needs must when the Devil drives.
Time passed in the wet, cold, and pain. Time that Jayk couldn't even know. Hours? Minutes? Seconds? Why didn't he dissolve into the ground? Why didn't the gravemind claim him? He kept screaming, screaming helped. Screaming meant he was still alive. They weren't words, Lost Boys could mimic words. Scream in pain, pure and without bias and you'll live.
Between the screams, in the bid for air, Jayk heard a counter sound. It was a sweet melody, a soft tune that Jayk couldn't make out the words.
Jayk screamed again, words came to him. "HELP!" He screamed.
The melody stopped abruptly. Jayk stopped his shouting to gauge. Moments passed, heartbeats into eternities. A voice came out from the distance, musical and casual. "Are you alive?"
Jayk had to stop and question that, in this much pain. Was he sure he wasn't already in Hell? He realized he had no time to consider. "Yes! I'm Alive! No, I'm not making this up. Help me please!" The words flowed out of him. Words were always good to passersby when in aid. "I'm not a trap! I'm in help! Help!"
More silence, and then footfalls near him. "I'm going to take the hood off of you, close your eyes."
Relief washed over Jayk, almost making him forget his pain, almost allowing him to pass out. "I'm a Retrograde." he said. "I haven't changed. Don't kill me because of it."
"I don't think that's going to be a problem," The voice said. Jayk's world suddenly exploded in white, brilliant light. The pain of light burned almost as much as the pain in his chest.
"Easy now," said the voice. "Take a moment,"
"Pain." Jayk rasped. "Pain." He realized the person did not run or flee when his face was revealed. Retrogrades tend to get shot because they resemble the shambling hordes of the dead. This one seemed fine with it.
"Pain will subside," the voice said. "I'd be glad, it means you aren't dead." There was a pause. "Although, death might be preferable."
The light began to lessen, and Jayk could see the blue of the sky with green trees in his peripheral. There was a man in front of him. His clothes were a uniform black, with a faded black denim jacket patched over. He had dark hair, silvering in some places. His eyes weren't the same color, both were hazel, but the left one was noticeably a deeper green and the right a golden brown. There was a casualness about him, as if he wasn't in the Zed and Raider infested end of the world.
"Hey" the man said. It was soft and welcoming. "I'm Walker,"
"J-Jayk," he replied. His teeth chattering once he gave his body some time to adjust.
"Hi Jayk," he said. "You have two options right now. You can look at me and not have to face what's happened to your body or..."
Jayk craned his neck up, looking down. Small tines poked out of his arms, chest and legs, bone white and curved. They blossomed like thorns of a flower. A groan gurgled from his mouth, bubbling like the stream that was beneath him.
"...or you can look and see what happened." Walker finished. He sucked in a breath, "I'm going to guess from the positioning and the watermask you were wearing, you didn't just slip and fall, right?"
The question shocked Jayk from his pain and his suffering. "Natural Ones....Clan Shrike."
The man raised an eyebrow, "Cannibals?"
Jayk shook his head, the only thing that was free to move. The man eyed him up and down, then snapped his fingers. "You're bait," he said. "They mount you onto this thing, keeping you alive and screaming for the Zed to hear and be attracted. Even dead, the smell of meat and flesh will be potent enough...and since you're not technically touching the ground, you don't get to be taken by the Gravemind. Clever. Sadistic, but clever. "
"Help...me." Jayk said. It was a plea, a cry for help.
The man took in another sharp breath. "I'm no Doctor, but I'm pretty sure those...yeah, those are antlers, are puncturing several major organs...and even if they aren't...pulling you off will most definitely rupture a major organ. " Walker stood silently, looking at his body. "Okay, I'm going to do something incredibly stupid. I'm going to peel you off this thing and then I'm going to pull you to the side and heal you."
"You said you weren't a Doctor?"
"Man doesn't always need medicine to survive."
"Priest?"
Walker shrugged. "You religious in any way?"
Jayk struggled, "Dad was Fallows Hope. I hung out at the Blue House in Aysea."
Walker laughed, "you probably missed me a couple of times."
Jayk said nothing at first, then looked up at the man. "Can I...do you do confessions?" The man raised an eyebrow, and Jayk explained. "I've died three times...once in a bar brawl in the Aysea...once when Raiders hit our Caravan, the third time I slipped off a wagon and broke my neck. This is it for me. I die...I won't come back as pretty."
Walker nodded. He clearly knew what happens to Retros when they die all the way. They become Zed, but not just any Zed, stronger Zed. No shambling horde for them. They get to cause major mayhem. "You want absolution." the young Priest said. "Sure, hit me with your best shot."
Jayk took in a breath. The pain of the Shrike's antler mount was a distant pain. Either he'd gotten used to it, or his body was in so much shock it was pointless to worry about it. "I asked for this. Our caravan was stopped over with the Clan, we traded goods, kept the guns and tech out of the way. I caught the eye of a little thing. Cute. Did this little trick with his...anyways, you know how Hill Folk can be about...intermingling."
"So they crucified you on a pile of antlers to die as Zed bait?"
"I said some nasty words," Jayk said, lying.
If Walker had picked up on the lie, he didn't show
it. "And do you feel sorry for this?"
"If I could do things differently, I would have."
Walker nodded, and then grabbed under Jayk's body. "I don't want to alarm you, but this is going to really hurt."
A sudden thought occurred to Jayk as Walker took in a deep breath. "Shouldn't you break off the antlers ffffffffffuuuuuuuuuuuuuuc---"
"If I could do things differently, I would have."
Walker nodded, and then grabbed under Jayk's body. "I don't want to alarm you, but this is going to really hurt."
A sudden thought occurred to Jayk as Walker took in a deep breath. "Shouldn't you break off the antlers ffffffffffuuuuuuuuuuuuuuc---"
Pain. Pain as blinding and as sharp as the light
that stung his eyes. Pain that made his skin want to rip itself off and escape
the entire situation all together. He almost wished at that moment to just sink
into the ground, join the Gravemind and become one with the Horde.
Soft, firm ground embraced Jayk's back, and he was surprised he did not descend immediately into the ground. Walker rested a hand on the Retro's head, on the roughened face, the bones of his skull practically sticking out of his greying, mottled skin. His chest burned and itched. He imagined the air touching his organs, blood vessels bleeding into the wild.
"Okay," Walker said. His voice was unhurried. "Here goes."
Soft, firm ground embraced Jayk's back, and he was surprised he did not descend immediately into the ground. Walker rested a hand on the Retro's head, on the roughened face, the bones of his skull practically sticking out of his greying, mottled skin. His chest burned and itched. He imagined the air touching his organs, blood vessels bleeding into the wild.
"Okay," Walker said. His voice was unhurried. "Here goes."
He placed his hands onto Jayk, one on his forehead
and the other on the bloody remains of his chest. "I call out to you,
those who hear my voice. Guide this man in his darkest moments. Allow him to
find the power within. To liberate himself from his shackles." Walker's tone changed, it wasn't casual and
melodic. It was direct and powerful. As if he called on someone. Jayk
remembered seeing priests of the King's Court at the Blue House in Aysea. They
sang songs, songs of the late Kings and Queens of the world long since claimed
by Zed and Radiation. They spread the
messages of their preferred Prophet to others. Their seat in Aysea was the Blue
House, where music and religion were one and the same.
This man Walker was not one of them.
The realization flashed on Jayk's face, and Walker caught on. The Priest's hand clasped around the young Retrograde's ghoulish mouth. It moved like a flash, but Jayk saw all he needed to see to prove his fears. A brand beneath the wrist, an eye, and where there should be an iris was a glyph from the old world. It's true meaning was lost, but everyone knew it well enough. It meant the Danger of Rad, the killer of worlds.
Jayk was in the hands of a Final Knight. Devil Worshipers, while the other faiths built for a better day, the Final Knights armed for the hell that was here and more to come.
"Shhh" Walker said calmly. He leaned in conspiratorially, and Jayk wanted to recoil. To fight the hand around his mouth and call out to someone, anyone to help him. "Jayk...JAYK" The last was a command, a bark of order. "You're dying Jayk, you were dying to moment they put you on the rack, you were dying the moment you were born. How old are you Jayk? Eighteen?" Jayk didn't answer. "Younger?" Jayk blinked. And Walker nodded.
"Not even eighteen, and already on your last legs against the infection. How long would you survive before you found yourself in this position again? Weeks? Months? And what would you do in that time? Continue working? Embracing Life? No...you'd probably squander it. I offer you some meaning in your final moments. Some clarity as you face the Gravemind. I offer you the chance for revenge in death that you could never gain in life. To Rise and claim your revenge on Clan Shrike for murdering you. For you are murdered, Jayk. And they have done the deed. Do you accept?"
Jayk knew he would die there. He knew that there was no escape, and he knew deep down that this Damned Priest was right. His life would have no meaning. As the last minutes of his life's blood ebbed out of him, he nodded.
Walker smiled, and took his free hand and placed what felt like the whole thing into one of Jayk's open wounds. When extracted, the fingers were sticky and coated with blood. Walker dabbed the blood on Jayk's head, proving to be cooler than Jayk had thought it'd be. Walker said nothing, and just smiled. The world darkened around Jayk, and his last thoughts were of that smile.
And revenge on Clan Shrike.
---
In the end, the Gravemind took him. The Gravemind always takes them. And they always come back as the shambling dead.
Hell. How could the other Faiths see this as anything less than Hell?
Walker asked this question as Jayk's veins turned green under mottled skin, as his eyes bled black, and as the tendrils of the gravemind claimed his body and took him down through the earth. Jayk, young Retrograde was dead. Life squandered and never being able to fulfill his true power and potential on Hell on Earth.
But was it a complete waste.
Walker sat on the bank of the stream, allowing the sun to warm and dry his soaked black pants. It was ultimately a pleasant day. The Zed hadn't been that numerous, and he was glad for warnings about Clan Shrike. His eyes travelled to the rack Jayk had been stapled to, it was a gruesome way to die. But ultimately an ingenious one. He'd have to remember that when he found a place to stay.
Time past, and the sun was warm. And as bright sun turned into orange sunset, the screaming began. It was distant first, but it soon grew clear. The shout of surprise, combat, anger. Then came other noises, low but clear and distinct. The groans of the shambling horde. The groans, as they often did, followed the screams. The screams, through the forest, sounded at least several miles away to the east.
"May the survivors find enlightenment as those in the old days found enlightenment as they beheld the bombs falling to earth. That this is Hell and we are Damned. May they come to power in their truth, and may they draw strength from that power. May they learn the names of the Infernal Lords and may we join to bring this world to a true understanding." He felt his strength return to him, he felt invigorated by the words and knew that, somewhere, something was listening and approved.
And in the twilight gloom, the man known as Walker Blackforest made his way along the path, now made empty as the zombies and hill folk made war in the east. A song in his heart and on his lips.
This man Walker was not one of them.
The realization flashed on Jayk's face, and Walker caught on. The Priest's hand clasped around the young Retrograde's ghoulish mouth. It moved like a flash, but Jayk saw all he needed to see to prove his fears. A brand beneath the wrist, an eye, and where there should be an iris was a glyph from the old world. It's true meaning was lost, but everyone knew it well enough. It meant the Danger of Rad, the killer of worlds.
Jayk was in the hands of a Final Knight. Devil Worshipers, while the other faiths built for a better day, the Final Knights armed for the hell that was here and more to come.
"Shhh" Walker said calmly. He leaned in conspiratorially, and Jayk wanted to recoil. To fight the hand around his mouth and call out to someone, anyone to help him. "Jayk...JAYK" The last was a command, a bark of order. "You're dying Jayk, you were dying to moment they put you on the rack, you were dying the moment you were born. How old are you Jayk? Eighteen?" Jayk didn't answer. "Younger?" Jayk blinked. And Walker nodded.
"Not even eighteen, and already on your last legs against the infection. How long would you survive before you found yourself in this position again? Weeks? Months? And what would you do in that time? Continue working? Embracing Life? No...you'd probably squander it. I offer you some meaning in your final moments. Some clarity as you face the Gravemind. I offer you the chance for revenge in death that you could never gain in life. To Rise and claim your revenge on Clan Shrike for murdering you. For you are murdered, Jayk. And they have done the deed. Do you accept?"
Jayk knew he would die there. He knew that there was no escape, and he knew deep down that this Damned Priest was right. His life would have no meaning. As the last minutes of his life's blood ebbed out of him, he nodded.
Walker smiled, and took his free hand and placed what felt like the whole thing into one of Jayk's open wounds. When extracted, the fingers were sticky and coated with blood. Walker dabbed the blood on Jayk's head, proving to be cooler than Jayk had thought it'd be. Walker said nothing, and just smiled. The world darkened around Jayk, and his last thoughts were of that smile.
And revenge on Clan Shrike.
---
In the end, the Gravemind took him. The Gravemind always takes them. And they always come back as the shambling dead.
Hell. How could the other Faiths see this as anything less than Hell?
Walker asked this question as Jayk's veins turned green under mottled skin, as his eyes bled black, and as the tendrils of the gravemind claimed his body and took him down through the earth. Jayk, young Retrograde was dead. Life squandered and never being able to fulfill his true power and potential on Hell on Earth.
But was it a complete waste.
Walker sat on the bank of the stream, allowing the sun to warm and dry his soaked black pants. It was ultimately a pleasant day. The Zed hadn't been that numerous, and he was glad for warnings about Clan Shrike. His eyes travelled to the rack Jayk had been stapled to, it was a gruesome way to die. But ultimately an ingenious one. He'd have to remember that when he found a place to stay.
Time past, and the sun was warm. And as bright sun turned into orange sunset, the screaming began. It was distant first, but it soon grew clear. The shout of surprise, combat, anger. Then came other noises, low but clear and distinct. The groans of the shambling horde. The groans, as they often did, followed the screams. The screams, through the forest, sounded at least several miles away to the east.
"May the survivors find enlightenment as those in the old days found enlightenment as they beheld the bombs falling to earth. That this is Hell and we are Damned. May they come to power in their truth, and may they draw strength from that power. May they learn the names of the Infernal Lords and may we join to bring this world to a true understanding." He felt his strength return to him, he felt invigorated by the words and knew that, somewhere, something was listening and approved.
And in the twilight gloom, the man known as Walker Blackforest made his way along the path, now made empty as the zombies and hill folk made war in the east. A song in his heart and on his lips.
Saturday, January 4, 2014
Going Splat: What I Would Be If the Games I played Were Real
This came from a conversation during New Years Eve, where several of my friends were discussing what types of characters they would be if they were actually made into Vampires as seen in Vampire the Requiem. This of course got me to thinking...
For those of you just tuning in, that's never really a good way for me to start one of these posts.
In Psychology, the moment we were taught diagnoses, we were told one simple thing: don't diagnose yourself. By the end of studying, you will have classified yourself with every major diagnoses in the book. That being said, keep in mind that most of the games I play in are from The World of Darkness, a line of games that prides itself on the trope "Blessed With Suck" and "Cursed with Awesome". So when I mention these Splats ('splats' is a catchall term for either Races, Jobs, Organization Choices that help define a player character, for those who didn't already know) it helps to understand that I'm also looking at their baggage as well. The games I'll be going through are Vampire the Requiem, Changeling the Lost, Mage the Awakening, Accord, and Dystopia Rising.
Warning: I may be getting personal in this article, so if you don't have the time or energy to deal with that, please click the little 'x'. I appreciate your patronage.
Vampire the Requiem:
It was universally decided by my friends that I would definitely be a Mekhet. Mekhet are a species (lack of a better term, they prefer the word 'Clan') of Vampires who favor high Intelligence and Wits (depending on the day, I qualify for either). They specialize in Auspex, a mental power that specializes in altering senses, from advancing sight, sound, touch, taste and smell; to seeing the aura's of others, to seeing the emotional aura of others, to telepathy and finally projecting their minds into the twilight realms. They also specialize in Obfuscate and Celerity, mentally tricking the mind something isn't there and superspeed, respectively. This makes Mekhet the information gatherers/spies/assassins/overall passively dangerous figures.
However, it also comes with the fact that Mekhet tend to be a little bit out of touch with reality...which is accurate for me in most cases. It's not that I am completely out of touch with reality, I'm fully aware of what's going on around me and much prefer the shit going on in my own head (most of the times).
This kinda jives as my longest running PC was a Mekhet. Vincenzo Taglia DaVenezia. He was a therapist, an eidetic with a penchant for scanning the minds of others and remembering it. He remembered 100 years of being stuck in the vampire equivalent of a coma with nothing but his Beast (the supernatural entity that technically makes a Vampire a Vampire) as his company. He was a bit unhinged, and he drank heavily to cope. In the new line of stories, I play Owen Asteria, a morally ambiguous occultist in a family of morally ambiguous figures. He's also a Khaibit, servants in the samurai kind of sense who can control and even become one with the shadows.
Out of all the clans of Vampires, I *get* the Mekhet the most. There is however a strong running for the Nosferatu, who evoke a sense of weirdness, which is something that I also tend to do (for good and ill).
The question for me is 'what covenant would I as a Vampire be a part of?". Covenants are socio-political groups that hold sway through Vampiric Society. Due to my history of being a Mental Health Counselor and my working idea of the science of the mind, I'd probably say Ordo Dracul, who wish to study,examine, and transcend the Vampiric Condition. But they have something that I'm not a fan of: a highly structured Hierarchy. If not them, I'd probably be part of the Circle of the Crone, a religious group based around pagan beliefs of multiple faiths and deal heavily with the concept of embodying Archetypes. The groups have a lot in common, except where the ordo wishes to transcend, the Circle wishes to embrace. So go figure
Changeling the Lost
Changeling the Lost is all about what you came back as after years of systematic torture and abuse. So these choices aren't for a "how cool would this be" factor but a "that's fucking horrible and tragic" factor.
So in terms of what I'd be if I escaped my Faerie Keeper and came back to the mortal world, I'd have to say it'd be one of two choices. The first would be an Elemental, a Changeling that had been turned into something like a fireplace, a silver mine, an actual toy or a gust of breeze. Note, being a Changeling is NOT a good thing. There are reasons for this, mostly because I have a strong affinity for the elements (I wrote an essay on the elements as archetypes, I know I'm weird, shut up). Most likely I'd have been a water elemental, something that constantly moves either externally or internally, who can be completely still one minute and running everywhere the next.
The other option would be a Wizened, a changeling who is altered and stunted in some way and tasked with some sort of trade. Smiths, Soldiers, Surgeons. My luck? I'd be an Author, someone meant to write and notate for their Keeper. That'd be my hell, to be some scriv for a god thing who would most likely drain my blood at the slightest embellishment.
As for Court...Courts are probably the easiest to figure out because it's a matter of describing what core emotion goes with me. For me, it'd probably be either the Autumn or Winter Courts, Fear or Sorrow. I have boughts of depression, sometimes cripplingly so, and my usual reaction is to stop and sleep. However, these emotions also come with a sense of anxiety, of Fear, of the great What Ifs. Both emotions, and therefore Courts, are both viable to me.
Alot of people will tell you about how they're the Court of whatever-makes-them-come-off-like-a-boss. Even the Sovereigns of these Courts are bound and chained to the emotion they are. It's a part of them, they embody it. And none of those emotions are easy ones to live with. Either way, in reality, let's face it. I'm really Unseelie.
Changeling's fucking depressing, okay?
Mage The Awakening and Accord
Mage is more difficult to describe, as their splats are more about how one views the universe and therefore their magic. I would have to say Acanthus, a form of Mage who receives their powers from the Fae Realm of Arcadia. I say Acanthus for it's specialty in Fate Magic, the exploration of Themes, the power of Oaths, and the blessing and cursing of others. It's not direct in it's actions, it's subtle. Depending on temperament, mood and situation, Acanthus can either sweat the details or rube-goldfarb someone to death.
Orders are what Mages do in the Awakened community. Honestly, I'd probably steer clear of those, dealing on my own as an Apostate. What would most interest me would be the Mage Legacies, subsets of magic that denote specialty and mindset. One of them is my absolute favorite: The House of Ariadne. The House of Ariadne are Mages who have attuned their souls to the fates and history of a given city. They can access it's history, speak to it's condition, find things that only someone who intimately understood it. Furthermore, their personalities come to match the cities they are closest to.
I gravitate towards this because my main pasttime is walking through New York. I love walking through it, through the streets and seeing neighborhoods bleed into one another. Of learning of the little hidden things and seeing the designs and artwork/grafitti. On New Years, when I left the party I was at and in the few minutes I was out in the open, I could taste the winter wind on me that blew through the canyon-like streets of manhattan. I could hear the traffic of foot and car. I felt more relaxed out there than I did in the warmth of the rooms.
This love has cascaded over to Accord, as I'm unable to play in my own game. I play Mage and love Mage because they are the ones who speak to the universe and to the soul. While others are dealing with Blood, Madness, and Bestial Drives. Mages are what speak to the universe within and without. And there is a part of me that enjoys that.
Dystopia Rising
Switching tracks to the Dystopia Rising line, where the characters are split into different Strains of Humanity that evolved after the world ended in Atomic and Zombie Apocalypses (possibly multiple, history is a bit screwed). One of these races is Yorker, and they are exactly what you think of them. I'm not saying that because of where I'm from...I AM, but it's not the sole reason.
Yorkers are classified as people who are preternaturally pissed off survivors. They have lived through hell and have kept going and have taken on personalities larger than life. Their tongues are acid etched and their weapons are big and threatening. Sarcastic to the final fault and with emotional walls that would make a Titan blink (look it up folks) Yorkers are ones whom you do not cross lightly.
Faiths are a major thing, but to be honest, I probably wouldn't pick any of them, if anything because they are Faiths born out of a response to chaotic/insane times and none of them call to me. I've an affinity for *playing* some of them, but I'd be faithless in game. I'd most likely be a Teacher or Printer, possibly even a Jones, who explores the wastes for artifacts of the past. It's what *I* would do, both as a player and as a person. I would explore the world and try, very hard, not to die.
I should point out that most of the characters I've played in DR have been confused for Yorkers. So what, I'm from the Bronx and the Accent happens when I get nervous/excited/drunk
So I don't know what this blog post succeeds in doing. Perhaps in showing I'm neurotic and think to much? Probably. It's my belief, and I've stated it before, that playing in LARPs is a great way to explore your internal workings, and possibly coming to an understanding/confrontation of the things inside you that you may not even be aware of. It may enhance you as a player, it may enhance you as a person.
Later.
For those of you just tuning in, that's never really a good way for me to start one of these posts.
In Psychology, the moment we were taught diagnoses, we were told one simple thing: don't diagnose yourself. By the end of studying, you will have classified yourself with every major diagnoses in the book. That being said, keep in mind that most of the games I play in are from The World of Darkness, a line of games that prides itself on the trope "Blessed With Suck" and "Cursed with Awesome". So when I mention these Splats ('splats' is a catchall term for either Races, Jobs, Organization Choices that help define a player character, for those who didn't already know) it helps to understand that I'm also looking at their baggage as well. The games I'll be going through are Vampire the Requiem, Changeling the Lost, Mage the Awakening, Accord, and Dystopia Rising.
Warning: I may be getting personal in this article, so if you don't have the time or energy to deal with that, please click the little 'x'. I appreciate your patronage.
Vampire the Requiem:
It was universally decided by my friends that I would definitely be a Mekhet. Mekhet are a species (lack of a better term, they prefer the word 'Clan') of Vampires who favor high Intelligence and Wits (depending on the day, I qualify for either). They specialize in Auspex, a mental power that specializes in altering senses, from advancing sight, sound, touch, taste and smell; to seeing the aura's of others, to seeing the emotional aura of others, to telepathy and finally projecting their minds into the twilight realms. They also specialize in Obfuscate and Celerity, mentally tricking the mind something isn't there and superspeed, respectively. This makes Mekhet the information gatherers/spies/assassins/overall passively dangerous figures.
However, it also comes with the fact that Mekhet tend to be a little bit out of touch with reality...which is accurate for me in most cases. It's not that I am completely out of touch with reality, I'm fully aware of what's going on around me and much prefer the shit going on in my own head (most of the times).
This kinda jives as my longest running PC was a Mekhet. Vincenzo Taglia DaVenezia. He was a therapist, an eidetic with a penchant for scanning the minds of others and remembering it. He remembered 100 years of being stuck in the vampire equivalent of a coma with nothing but his Beast (the supernatural entity that technically makes a Vampire a Vampire) as his company. He was a bit unhinged, and he drank heavily to cope. In the new line of stories, I play Owen Asteria, a morally ambiguous occultist in a family of morally ambiguous figures. He's also a Khaibit, servants in the samurai kind of sense who can control and even become one with the shadows.
Out of all the clans of Vampires, I *get* the Mekhet the most. There is however a strong running for the Nosferatu, who evoke a sense of weirdness, which is something that I also tend to do (for good and ill).
The question for me is 'what covenant would I as a Vampire be a part of?". Covenants are socio-political groups that hold sway through Vampiric Society. Due to my history of being a Mental Health Counselor and my working idea of the science of the mind, I'd probably say Ordo Dracul, who wish to study,examine, and transcend the Vampiric Condition. But they have something that I'm not a fan of: a highly structured Hierarchy. If not them, I'd probably be part of the Circle of the Crone, a religious group based around pagan beliefs of multiple faiths and deal heavily with the concept of embodying Archetypes. The groups have a lot in common, except where the ordo wishes to transcend, the Circle wishes to embrace. So go figure
Changeling the Lost
Changeling the Lost is all about what you came back as after years of systematic torture and abuse. So these choices aren't for a "how cool would this be" factor but a "that's fucking horrible and tragic" factor.
So in terms of what I'd be if I escaped my Faerie Keeper and came back to the mortal world, I'd have to say it'd be one of two choices. The first would be an Elemental, a Changeling that had been turned into something like a fireplace, a silver mine, an actual toy or a gust of breeze. Note, being a Changeling is NOT a good thing. There are reasons for this, mostly because I have a strong affinity for the elements (I wrote an essay on the elements as archetypes, I know I'm weird, shut up). Most likely I'd have been a water elemental, something that constantly moves either externally or internally, who can be completely still one minute and running everywhere the next.
The other option would be a Wizened, a changeling who is altered and stunted in some way and tasked with some sort of trade. Smiths, Soldiers, Surgeons. My luck? I'd be an Author, someone meant to write and notate for their Keeper. That'd be my hell, to be some scriv for a god thing who would most likely drain my blood at the slightest embellishment.
As for Court...Courts are probably the easiest to figure out because it's a matter of describing what core emotion goes with me. For me, it'd probably be either the Autumn or Winter Courts, Fear or Sorrow. I have boughts of depression, sometimes cripplingly so, and my usual reaction is to stop and sleep. However, these emotions also come with a sense of anxiety, of Fear, of the great What Ifs. Both emotions, and therefore Courts, are both viable to me.
Alot of people will tell you about how they're the Court of whatever-makes-them-come-off-like-a-boss. Even the Sovereigns of these Courts are bound and chained to the emotion they are. It's a part of them, they embody it. And none of those emotions are easy ones to live with. Either way, in reality, let's face it. I'm really Unseelie.
Changeling's fucking depressing, okay?
Mage The Awakening and Accord
Mage is more difficult to describe, as their splats are more about how one views the universe and therefore their magic. I would have to say Acanthus, a form of Mage who receives their powers from the Fae Realm of Arcadia. I say Acanthus for it's specialty in Fate Magic, the exploration of Themes, the power of Oaths, and the blessing and cursing of others. It's not direct in it's actions, it's subtle. Depending on temperament, mood and situation, Acanthus can either sweat the details or rube-goldfarb someone to death.
Orders are what Mages do in the Awakened community. Honestly, I'd probably steer clear of those, dealing on my own as an Apostate. What would most interest me would be the Mage Legacies, subsets of magic that denote specialty and mindset. One of them is my absolute favorite: The House of Ariadne. The House of Ariadne are Mages who have attuned their souls to the fates and history of a given city. They can access it's history, speak to it's condition, find things that only someone who intimately understood it. Furthermore, their personalities come to match the cities they are closest to.
I gravitate towards this because my main pasttime is walking through New York. I love walking through it, through the streets and seeing neighborhoods bleed into one another. Of learning of the little hidden things and seeing the designs and artwork/grafitti. On New Years, when I left the party I was at and in the few minutes I was out in the open, I could taste the winter wind on me that blew through the canyon-like streets of manhattan. I could hear the traffic of foot and car. I felt more relaxed out there than I did in the warmth of the rooms.
This love has cascaded over to Accord, as I'm unable to play in my own game. I play Mage and love Mage because they are the ones who speak to the universe and to the soul. While others are dealing with Blood, Madness, and Bestial Drives. Mages are what speak to the universe within and without. And there is a part of me that enjoys that.
Dystopia Rising
Switching tracks to the Dystopia Rising line, where the characters are split into different Strains of Humanity that evolved after the world ended in Atomic and Zombie Apocalypses (possibly multiple, history is a bit screwed). One of these races is Yorker, and they are exactly what you think of them. I'm not saying that because of where I'm from...I AM, but it's not the sole reason.
Yorkers are classified as people who are preternaturally pissed off survivors. They have lived through hell and have kept going and have taken on personalities larger than life. Their tongues are acid etched and their weapons are big and threatening. Sarcastic to the final fault and with emotional walls that would make a Titan blink (look it up folks) Yorkers are ones whom you do not cross lightly.
Faiths are a major thing, but to be honest, I probably wouldn't pick any of them, if anything because they are Faiths born out of a response to chaotic/insane times and none of them call to me. I've an affinity for *playing* some of them, but I'd be faithless in game. I'd most likely be a Teacher or Printer, possibly even a Jones, who explores the wastes for artifacts of the past. It's what *I* would do, both as a player and as a person. I would explore the world and try, very hard, not to die.
I should point out that most of the characters I've played in DR have been confused for Yorkers. So what, I'm from the Bronx and the Accent happens when I get nervous/excited/drunk
So I don't know what this blog post succeeds in doing. Perhaps in showing I'm neurotic and think to much? Probably. It's my belief, and I've stated it before, that playing in LARPs is a great way to explore your internal workings, and possibly coming to an understanding/confrontation of the things inside you that you may not even be aware of. It may enhance you as a player, it may enhance you as a person.
Later.
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