My New Sabbat Character

The last LARP game I wasn't able to go because I had twisted my ankle at work, driving to and from LARP wasn't going to be easy with two crutches.  I realized I missed my peeps too much so I decided to try Sabbat, knowing that I would probably get pulled into going every game and now gaming 3 weekends out of the month.  Is that such a bad thing? No. 

So up to the night before I wasn't sure what to make for a character.  Luckily a friend of mine told me a general idea of Sabbat.  It's not related to my Vampire: The Requiem character or world at all.  That's new World of Darkness, with different rules and a different setting.  New World of Darkness doesn't have the presence of Sabbat, just the Camarilla with smaller sects of off groups that go against the, like the Brood and Seven.  Old World of Darkness had the Camirilla, a group of Vampires who were extremely hierarchical by age and were about being hidden from mortal society by almost hiding in it, and the Sabbat, who were about freedom and earning your status and being proud of the fact that you are Vampire and not hiding it.  You still couldn't reveal to mortals you were a vampire and make it obvious, but killing a mortal when drinking or eating them is not a bad idea.  Ripping people's faces off with your brute vampire force is cool if you know the fucker is going to die and not tell anyone.   Have some fun, just don't be stupid.

Now with this in mind I decided that for once I wanted to play a character who could actually kill somebody.  I love Ellen, she's a brilliant quiet power player who kind of fell into being Seneschal of Chicago (and gladly), but she is not a fighter and she rarely uses any of her powers.  With that in mind I made a character that wouldn't mind getting her hands dirty.  Also, my friend asked me "what kind of monster do you want to be?" And my reply was "motherly".  With that, and mostly on the car ride over to game, I figured out the story of Rose, my Sabbat vampire.

Rose had always lived in the woods, near a river and a bog, always lived off the land.  Her parents were originally from city life and decided to rough it in the woods.  Rose was an only child, and her family was extremely isolated in there cabin.  They were self reliant and knew only a few neighbors.  They were pretty happy with only the three of them. 

Rose had seen her father hit her mother sometimes, but only after her mother had been hysterical.  Rose never thought much of it, so when she finally married Peter from three houses down, she tried her best to be a team with him.  At nineteen she was happily married with child, and still able to talk to her family.  Peter didn't start hitting her until after the boys were born, beautiful identical twins with blond hair and brown eyes.  Rose named them Andrew and Anthony.  She loved them.  Peter was jealous of the attention, something Rose never really thought about until she was already embraced.

Any time Peter felt that the boys were coming before him, or that Rose wasn't listening or moving fast enough, she would get some sort of hit.  Possibly to the face, but usually on her torso.  When the boys were just one her mother asked about a bruise on her arm.  Rose didn't tell, but that was when Peter insisted she didn't see her parents anymore.  Letters would have to suffice.

Rose was alone with the boys a lot, gathering food and water while they were nearby.  She didn't have the internet or even a telephone, nor did she have any news outlet.  She hadn't been to the town center since she married Peter, with him pleading that he could not live with her that far away.  Rose didn't know any better, and her only comparison was now shut away from her.

When Anthony and Andrew were four, they were little explorers.  They would touch anything that Rose didn't already say don't touch four times.  So it wasn't any surprised that Anthony found an old thing of Peter's to play with.  Rose never remembers exactly what it was, but it was something Peter had treasured since he was a child.  Rose can only imagine the rage that Peter had after coming back from butchering a chicken to see Anthony had broken one of his favorite things, in pieces on the floor.

Rose heard the screams and rushed inside to see Peter had swiftly chopped Anthony to pieces in the kitchen, his butcher knife spraying the blood along the walls.  She feared to make a sound, just rushed over to Andrew, covered his eyes and looked away.  When Peter was done, he took the pieces of their son out and burned them.  Rose tried to wash the walls, but she was thinking.  Would Andrew ever survive this life?  When would be the next time Peter would snap?  Rose had no problem with dying by Peter's hand, but she only wanted the boys to go in her arms if they had too.

The next morning Rose took Andrew out to the bog.  She told them that they were going to take a nap under the water, something no one had tried before.  They laid in and Rose kept him under.  His nature caused him to struggle, but Rose held him tight and close under her until he stopped, whispering "Trust me". She stood there for hours, grieving, crying.  When her eyes were dry enough and her nose stopped running, she went back to the house and cooked dinner.  She stayed away from Peter, who made a stand for his butcher's knife.

That night noises came from outside.  Peter always slept like a rock, but Rose shot up and got a lantern to look out.  She walked around, first to the chicken coop, then south of it into the forest.  She saw shadows moving, trying to follow them.  Who knew they were here?  Not even the mail man came by more than once a week, who would stop by here?  And then suddenly she was knocked back into a tree.  The lantern went out.  She felt the blood leaving her, a pain in her neck, a hand holding her on her waist.  She passed out.

She awoke abandoned in the middle of the night, a pain coming over her entire body.  She knew something was different, something was wrong.  She felt hungry, but nothing she knew would satisfy her.  She went back to the house, and she saw Peter, sleeping.  Instinct that had never been there before kicked in.  She jumped on his back and chomped on his shoulder.  She held on as he tried to get up.  She was stronger than before, the blood was helping.  He struggled, she sipped.  It wasn't a lot, but she didn't want much from him.  She jumped back and ran out the house.  Peter yelled out to her, threatening to get the knife.  She knew he couldn't kill her though.

Right before sunrise she made a shelter, but as the sky lightened it was now obvious what she had become.  She dug swiftly into the earth and made a canopy of leaves and dead branches.  It worked.  The next night she decided to head west.  Her mother always hinted the west was where people seek freedom.   Rose didn't know if she needed freedom, but she knew she had it. 

Rose would walk or run for miles, trying to stay near wooded areas and follow highways.  She would run when she knew no one could see.  When she  was starved nearby animals would be ripped apart and sucked dry.  Hunting them kept her focused.  She got to route 66, and stayed outside a rest station, where she heard somebody arguing.  He was saying something about being a Cainite, being more than human, needing to protect that.  And that's when Rose came up to him, explained her story, explained her urges, and hoped he understood.  He did

He was the leader of a pack, a ductess they called him.  They were The Defensive Line, fighting against anything that threatened the Sabbat.  What was the Sabbat?  Vampires who were proud.  So we are vampires?  Yes, didn't your sire tell you?  What is a sire?  The vampire who made you this way.

The pack taught her everything she needed to know.  What to avoid, how to hide, and even what her lineage was--Lasombra.  Everyone seemed confused that she was left to fend for herself and that she survived as well as she did, but they were happy to help.  And she was happy to help them when they said they would help with the siege of Chicago.

Rose had never been in an urban area before but she fought well.  Her newfound comrades, however, were cornered in the fight and all perished.  Afraid of what was to become of her, once again Rose fled, finding the nearest wooded area and sleeping there.  She got out to feed once in a while, hunting animals, keeping to herself.  Was there more sabbat?

After a year she went out to hunt only to careless miss a human that had been looking around the area late at night.  She didn't need him to know she was there, so she feed on him.  It was much more satisfying sucking his life out of him than it was a bird or a coyote.  But the woods didn't have enough people. She decided to find the Sabbat again, maybe find some other pack.  Did they still need fighters?  What if all of the Sabbat perished?  What if she could've stopped that.

One old contact was still around, a Revenant named Zoey.  And with her help Rose came back to find that the Sabbat was still around, but fighting petty fights amongst each other over hats and still quibbles.  But maybe she can still help.  There are some that need some guidance, some that need some teaching.  Maybe she can help.  It still seems to be better than being alone in the woods forever.

There isn't really a good reason for this.

Mystic found this website, and when he sent me the link he goes "I hope this is a joke".  It's advertising Slavery the Game.  I'm not going to post the video they put up there, I'm already supporting the site too much by linking it.

It's advertising Slavery the Game, where you can buy, manage and exploit slaves, during the time of European colonial expansion.  There's no real game footage (at least nothing convincing) and there's no company that's supporting it other than Red Javelin, that Mystic discovered was an advertising agency.

So now people are going to assume that gamers are sick twisted individuals because some company is "producing" this and instead of focusing on the product or idea Red Javelin was hired to sell, the focus is going to be how sick gamers are.  Great.

I might be wrong and they won't focus on that, but when was the last time they let gamer culture over something that gamers have no hand in? 

I hope I'm proven wrong.

Floating, Speeding

[The netbook is in, so I am delivering what I promised. Enjoy the beginning of the Titania Chronicle.  If you want to reply to this entry in character/universe, feel free to do so with IC in parentheses in the beginning.]

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License

HEA 10.12.406
I'm awake again, and I'm typing this up not sure when it will get to you all, but I figured I should make a first post for when I out in the middle of space.

They're right, your bones ache. I think Georgia told me that in her vid. No amount of stretching makes me feel better.

These little pods are a joke. They keep you in here, so you can't see anyone else the entire time. Some liability thing. But then they give you enough space to walk about when you're not strapped into your awkward bed thingy. It's the weirdest thing. It's like there's a bed to the wall and nothing else. My only company is my luggage.

By the way, I need to thank my mom for giving me this ridiculous peacock pattern on my suitcase. I wake up every week in a haze and and spook myself because I think some monster is across from me.

Dad, you're reading this right? Thank Mom for me, as long as she doesn't find out about this thing.

Same for the rest of you. I only wanted a few of you to read this. I'm serious, Alick, not a word to anyone else. Not your girlfriend of the week.  Not even your sister, Lexia.  I know she won't tell anyone.  But if I find out across galaxies that she knows, you will  lose access to this thing.  This is not something I want to share with everyone.  Just some people.  Just someone.

I don't want everyone back home to know my new debutante life. It's embarrassing enough that you're parents raise you only to ship you away so that they never see you again. Whoever thought of that? Mom cried and everything, but she never said she would miss me. I don't think she will.  Don't argue, Dad.

There's no stars out here. Not many. It's kind of empty.

So I'm going to meet Georgia and Garrisson in two more weeks. Or one. I think this is my third time out of stasis.

How should I take it that I'm going the farthest suggested to go in stasis because my mom insisted? She just wants to marry me off. Like Georgia. Except I think Georgia wanted to.

It's been six years. And we were really good at keeping apart. Send a vid, catch up on petty stuff, and move on. I don't know if I can live with her again. And I barely know Garrison. He's apparently some hot shot for… something that makes money. I'm not sure what. Apparently he makes a lot of money, they have a 2 story loft so he must know what he's doing.

There's no open space where I'm going.  No yard.  No sky.  No plants I can watch grow.  No wild pigeons or squirrels to see eat my trash.  And there's no space whatsoever.  The room I'm getting is smaller than the one I'm leaving, and it's considered luxurious.  What scam is that?  Is my stuff going to fit?  Is Georgia even got a closet for me?  Dammit, now I'm worrying.  Maybe I will clean this up before I post it.

But then you guys would get mad at me.  You know how I think.  Dad would call me out in a minute.

There's the blue warning light. I got 15 minutes. A couple more naps and then I'm done and on Titania. I'm lucky I had enough brain power to type this.

Wish me pleasant dreams. And no more peacock luggage frights.

VIRGINIA

Help Out Extra Lives!

Every gamer should know about Extralives.org.  I've talked about them before, but this time I'll spend a little more time about them since weather may impede their good deeds.

Started when a group of teenagers decided to be giving and awesome, the guys of Extra Lives decided to play video games for charity.  Now in college, the guys have raised over 60,000 dollars that went directly to charity.  They don't touch a red cent.  They have played everything from speed races of favorites to the dreaded Zelda videogames on the CDI, merely for your entertainment and the hope of building school and cleaning water for those less fortunate across the globe.

This current marathon of bootlegged games may be interrupted this weekend due to Hurricane Irene.  They're going to stream until they lose power, but may I suggest donating regardless.  These guys are actually entertaining to watch and will respond to the IRC chat set up in their website.  So donate!

Feel free to watch the marathon while it lasts below.  After the marathon, they'll show clips from marathons past if you still want to watch.



Free desktop streaming application by Ustream

Warning: Fiction will appear

Because of my promise, the day I get my netbook set up I already have my first fiction post ready.  I'm just going to start writing about Titania, hoping to get two posts up a week.

You'll be reading the posts from Virginia, an unwilling debutant living in a world where it's about who you know and how you breed.  She's leaving everything she's ever known in hopes of pleasing her family with a suitable husband on one of the most elite planets colonized.  Will she let herself be pursued, or will she try to strive for something more?

Sure, it doesn't sound like a standard scifi story, but I don't want to reveal everything now, do I?

It's not going to be super refined, it's going to be raw writing.  I don't have an editor.  It's going to be an experiment of sorts.

To be honest, readers, this week has stunk.  My car needs repairs, auto shops have been bogus, and then yesterday I twisted my ankle at work.  I'm hoping to get some normality in this chaos, and writing has always been with me.  The netbook is almost on its way (and thankfully my mother was able to make it an early birthday present) so it's time to get back to the real job.  And I hope you guys like it.

Fan movie of awesome

Today, I don't have much to write... right now.  But I definitely do think you will appreciate this fan movie, titled Portal: No Escape.

A promise to myself

I said in an earlier post that I'm looking for a netbook to replace my mac that is insistent on destroying itself.  But I need to make a promise to myself if I'm going to make such a huge purchase. 

I have to write something that is at least either a page long or complete EVERYDAY that I have this netbook.

Writing is a hobby that you have to make into a habit, something that you have to continue doing every day.  And I'm not doing it enough.  I figure with a laptop that I can actually take places, I should be able to keep to this habit and refine my skills, let alone get back to all the projects I have put to the wayside. It's a lot of project guys, and I'm determined to start working on ALL OF THEM.

Yes, my job is kind of sucky right now, and I'm looking for a new one.   But as a resident told me a while ago, that's the second job.  The writing is the dream.  How am I going to achieve it if I never do it?

So readers, I know I've given you this right before, but please feel free to nag me about it.  When I get the netbook, remind me to write.  Every. Single. Day.  Should make more blog posts on top of that if that happens.

In the meantime, back to the grind.

Only seems like a good idea

I recently watch Adam Ostrow's Ted Talk about death and social networking.  He brings up so pretty interesting points, about the continuation of existence online through social network after death.  And then he got to the end of his talk, and I got scared.

Ostrow mentions that hopefully in the future we can take everything that someone put on the internet and recreate an image of them from all their output.  Basically, say if I were to go tomorrow to the big MMO in the sky, you could take all my blog posts and twitter feeds and forum posts to compile a virtual version of my personality, where I could exist on after death.

Sure, for people who are like me and have blog posts that actually reflect your personality, that's fine.  But there are some people who are going to be remembered quite differently.  Do you think everyone wants their family and friends to remember them as the raiding elf lord in their favorite RPG?  Or what if you secretly checked out fetish sites?  Great, now your image to everyone you knew after life involves you licking feet every five seconds.

Ostrow's idea is not the worst in the world, but it does make me think of what the hilarious results would be.