Wednesday, 4 August 2010

Changeling: the Lost - Movies and Character Generation

 So which film for a next week (Monday 9th) Changeling Character generation session/Changeling movie inspiration? Choose just two.

Note! Go to the Poll link to actually vote as it is on Livejournal and Posterous don't like this

 Poll #1601502 Which movie for Changeling session
Open to: All, detailed results viewable to: All

Which Movie

 Hellboy 2
 Pan's Labyrinth
 Labyrinth
 Neverwhere (TV series)
 Mirror Mask
 Howl's Moving Castle
 Carnivale (HBO Series)
 Casanova (Heath Ledger Film)
 Francesco da Mosto's Venice (TV Series)Series
 The Imaginarium of Dr Parnassus
 Stardust

These are just the films that Sam and I have so other suggestions are welcome.

 

Monday, 2 August 2010

Changeling will be...

A lot of this

 

 

 

 

A very old short story I wrote #mage #shortstory

    The city was still in the summer breeze, hues of orange and violet filled the evening sky over head, jet contrails crisscrossing the heavens, carving through the nimbus clouds.

    The buildings of the city loomed overhead like dark brooding priests, tired from gasping in the carbon thick air of the streets. Their vermillion brick faces stained by the years of smog and acerb rain. Windows, dusty filters to the world, dragonfly arrays of lenses held in place by pealing acrylic, looked down and dour. In this twilight of greenhouse chemicals and ammonia clouded skies Vincent marched home. His noir polymer boots stomping on cracked and crushed paving slabs. Each step was heard. A faint creak as the leather clad feet strode along the pavement.

    A tinkle and rattle of coins and keys heralded Vincent's return home as he dug from his pinstripe trousers his door key. A satisfying clunk and a ghostly creak welcomed him home. The warm synthetic air gave way to a chill musty one. Pungent incense still lingered on from the night before.

    Vincent hung long windbreaker from its usual peg, and the satchel nestled into the sofa. A bubbling and a click, and soon Vincent had a piping hot coffee in hand, the mug emblazoned with an insipid "Your the Best". He ran a hand through his flambouyant red hair, allowing the tufts to take on some order. It was still a mop of ragged, vivid, mess. He removed the shades from his forehead and made his way up stairs, collecting the satchel as he passed.

    The leather boots thumped up the steps, muffled by the 70s vomit patterned carpet. The banister straining against each hand grip upon the lacquered cream paint. Vincent passed the other rooms on the floor and made his way to his study, entering the curtained room, faint slivers of light cutting past the the thick fabric drapes. Sat humming in some digital tune was Vincent's PC. The titanium white case freckled with dust. Beside it sat a dated CRT monitor, the standby light blinking a lime green disco. Above the monitor was a crome camera, its cover off to allow the device to zoom at the corner of the room.

    Vincent took in a tired breath and sat down on the thread worn office chair and took a gulp of the amaroidal coffee. "Still no answer then?" He sighed, his voice ragged, disguising his youth.

    He turned about on the spot, the chair straining, and he looked in the direction the camera was viewing. Inscribed in a sticky black fluid was a circle, lined with ten burning candles in one quadrant of the circumference. Within the circle lay a fat slab of beef steak and about it three small coffee mugs containing various fluids. One contained Mercury, the next had some Iodine brown emulsion, and the last held what was obviously blood, thick and blackened by the oxidised iron.

    Vincent turned back to the PC and pulled out the keyboard from under a morass of books and printouts. Some held menageries of Norse runes, pages held madalas and seals. The monitor blinked on.

    FILE TO BIG

    Vincent eyed the screen and peered at the unix shell, fumbling about for a DVD to write too

    Well thats new. I thought these demons were only little?

    The tray slid out of the face of the difference engine, and Vincent plucked the silvered polycarbon dish out with his middle finger. A faint emanation of sulphur followed the disc from the cd writer.

    Should be glad I know at least which realm this blighter is from.

    Gingerly Vincent held his hand out over the magic circle and placed the disc on the pungent piece of cow, directing the rainbowed face towards the digital camera.

    For a Decarabia this sucker has taken up a lot of band width.

    Viincent sat back on the chair and swivelled around so to lean his forearms on the back rest, he took off his suit jacket and slung it on the door handle. He reached back for his cup of coffee and pulled out a coin from his pocket. With a plop the coin dropped into the inky caffine and he took a slug of the potion.

    Words not heard of on Earth except by those of his calling emanated from his stern lips, the sounds tugging at the cords of the world, holding back all the locks and veils for a brief moment. The world paused in its rotation and the stars above screamed from their fiery hearts. The candles flickered and the DVD crackled as the reflective metal vaporised within the disc. The smell of cooking fat filled the room and a wind picked up, flicking pages and notes from the computer desk.

    Vincent grinned. Time for an interrogation.

    Seeping through the cracks in the cage of reality, the Decarabia took form, its luminous being spilling from the camera lens and sucked into the magic circle. Blood and mercury boiled.

    "Bastard! Who are you to bring me here?!" Spat the foul toady being, no higher than 2 feet, it observed Vincent with avian orbs. "I shall have the crows tear from you your eyes, I will. Feast upon them, and dance upon your broken form."

    Vincent leaned back laughing and gulped back more of the coffee and held out his cell phone. The LCD screen flared into life and red numerals bled in from the edges. The demon clutched at its ears with 6 spindle like fingers on each hand.

    "Yaarggghhh!" The beast screamed, frantically shaking its pocked marked head back and forth. "It hurts! Nooo. No More!"

    "We have an understanding I see?" Vincent lowered the phone. "So lets get the obvious stuff out the way. Whats the price?"

    "Fine!" The demon sulked and stared at the mage. "Bloody toys and you. Easy it was back when all they had were swords and crystal balls. Nooo. Make diiigiiital  things you did. Bah! Lazy!"

    "Oh come on. I at least gave you breakfast."

    "Ok. The half moon, on the eleventh hour of night. Burnt in foxglove and nightshade. The hair of a newborn boy. And with it part of the placenta."

    "I see we've gone and gotten a little refined in our tastes?" Vincent got up of the chair and crossed over to the edge of the circle, bringing with him a map of the city and a collection of glossy photos. "You know what I'm going to ask?"

    "The city stone. The Great Stone. Oh dear. Late in the hour is it that we try to undo the mistakes of ages past. Of our forefathers." The Decarabia grinned and licked at it's greasy lips, cracked and weeping with sores and scabs. "You've heard him dream. Restless he is. Neither here nor there he dreams. Looking for what was his."

    Vincent sighed. "Yeah. I guess we are a bit late. What is the name?"

    The pygmy creature let out a gutteral cackle. "You think any of us know. Viiiiincent my boy. Are we tired? Has it been a long day? Bless."

    "Fuck you." Vincent sat down cross legged and placed the maps to his side. "Lets rephrase that shall we. What awoke it?"

    "A shard. How does one cut diamond? One uses diamond of course. What awoke him is what sealed him away. Stones and rocks are my speciality didn't you know" With a snigger the demon held up the 'OK' hand signal. Vincent had to smile, as much as these beast were cruel, they did have a way with comedy.

    "Ok, so some idiot breeched the Atlantean seals using some device made of the same stone as the Great Stone and the standing stones about the city. How do we seal it?"

    "Now thats a tough one. Bit like an egg shell."

    "Huh?" Vincent rubbed his chin and got up for a second, the floor boards creaking as his weight shifted. The Decarabia hopped up onto its avian legs and turned to regard the lump of steak and greedily snatched it up, gnawing away of the racid flesh with a mouth of pirana teeth.

    "SHIT!" Vincent stood up and stared at the demon. "Your saying those seals were a one shot! Oh fuck. We're fucked then!"

    "Mwha?" The demon looked over its shoulder, it's mouth half stuffed with the sickly meat. "Mwo ye. Mwah!" The hellish spawn giggled.

    "But thats what it's looking for its name. It's true name. That was how they stripped it of its power. Stole its name and sent the bastard to Elsewhere. Genius. Now all I need to do is find its name before it can. That'll be easy." Vincent chewed on a nail and paced back and forth in the study.

    "Book of Dead Gods."

    "Don't take the piss. Lovecraft was having a joke when that was written. It's not true. The one in London has no power."

    "But in his own cage Man makes power and makes magic."

    Vincent stood and looked at the hellspawn puzzled. Makes its own power and its own magic. Then did the Seers truely win? What if they made things worse. What if man can in the emptiness of this cage invent horrors never seen of before the Fall.

    "Best joke ever made I think that one."

    Vincent raised an eyebrow and slid his hand into his back pocket and ran a finger over the smooth plastic buttons of the cell phone.

    "Piss off!" And in unison Vincent thumbed the button on the cell phone. A high pitched whine broke the stench of the air and the veil of the worlds open once more, sucking back into the pits of hell their foul little minion.

    "Remember the deal Vincent! Remember" The howl of the winds of the Abyss cut the vile creature off as its form was folded into itself and the DVD crumpled and crispened.

Thursday, 29 July 2010

A World of Darkness

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A World of Darkness ??
The Terrifying Tale of James Magnus

Monday 2nd of August, 8:30 pm - Midnight

Monday, 19 July 2010

Communication Frequencies

?????? ?? ??This has all the chance of becoming a rant. But I will try and stay on topic. It's all about communication.So why this topic. I will get to that as examples. ???? ?? ??
???? ?? ??Roleplay games are a form of communication between a group of friends. The thing being communicated is fun, unity and of course the story which is what the game is. But of course things are never perfect. Things can fall apart and break. And it is this that I have experienced first hand, and very recently. ???? ?? ??
???? ?? ??
???? ?? ??For a roleplay game troupe to survive there must be communication. Communication between the players and the storyteller. It is two way street and has to be respected. We need this communication so that everyone is one the same page. We use it to understand what each individual wants to get out the game and to learn why things are not quite working/what is working and if there are any issues that need to be worked around.
???? ?? ??The first thing for a rpg troupe that must be communicated is whether or not the group gets along. This may not be obvious at first, but it should never be held back. Keeping quite about things like this can lead to a very cancerous atmosphere in the gaming group where the energy is sapped away and people start looking for excuses for not showing up. It is only by finding out about this issue that it can be addressed and remedied in what ever manner suitable for the group. You can't be afraid of hurting someone's feelings when the entire troupe is at stake (this is an issue I will return to a lot).

???? ?? ??Next up is the game. It is important that everyone has an idea about what everyone wants to get out of the game. You can't run a game that no one wants to play. Equally players can't play characters in a manner that is harmful to the game experience of the rest of the troupe. It is by communication that the desires of all troupe members can be ascertained and a balance can be met. Again, don't be afraid that you are going to hurt someone's feelings. Better to nip this in the bud now than to let it fester through 5 gaming sessions. In fact a persons expectations of a game can change over the lifetime of the game and it is important that this too is communicated.

???? ?? ??Next, the players are struggling. So the game is basically what everyone wants to play. However, along the line it has got too difficult for the players to comprehend. They feel like they are lost, trapped, and basically have no control over the game. In that case it is important to make that known to the storyteller. Things can be easily tweaked and adjusted to make the game experience more fun and less confusing. Once more it is better to say these things rather than be afraid that the storyteller will take offence.

???? ?? ??Next, Characters. Now I have come up against this a few times. And really I find the excuses for not doing so weak. But here goes. Playing in a roleplay game that is story (and thus character) drive, rather than dice roll driven, requires a certain amount of player commitment. You have a certain idea for a character you want to play? Fine, great. But please, please, please write out some form of background for them. Communicate the character concept, put the effort in. Otherwise, why bother? The game and the setting are not just the sole responsibility of the storyteller.

???? ?? ??Finally, and this is a big one relating to most of the above. If things are really not going well outside of game then just speak up, tell the person running the game and things will be fine. Simply not turning up, and not giving enough notice is plain rude! Now sometimes this is not always possible, but those times are rare. In this day and age a simple phone call and text to say you can't make it are easy. However, it is a bad habit to do this always on the day of the game, a few hours before. A day or so before means the person running the game can have time to reschedule things.

???? ?? ??Now am I going to rant about my more personal experiences of any the above? No. Not yet. But that doesn't mean I am happy currently with certain things, and feel very annoyed. Simple good manners are hard to come by these days it seems.

Wednesday, 14 July 2010

Changeling: The Lost - Venice: Broken Mask, Shattered Dreams - Motleys of Venice


The Harlequins of Carnelian


The Hundred Masks is not the only motley devoted to pleasure. There are others, and in the Court of Carnival they are collectively known as ‘Stocking Groups’, after the term used for those groups of men that would compete in the organization of the festivities for Carnival.

The Harlequins of Carnelian is led by the self titled Count Carnelian, the city Columbine, and one of those officially tasked with organising the balls and parties of the Freehold. His motley are equally devoted to the task and takes the role seriously and does not appreciate the interference by those of the House of Spring who have not been appointed to the task by the Doge.

Where the parties of the Hundred Masks are decandent affairs, those of Carnelian are more formal, and follow the etiquette of the Venetian courts of old.

The Keepers of the Imaginarium

The Imaginarium, as they are known are a fellow Stocking gang of the Harlequins. They have a friendly rivalry and follow the laws of Carnival closely. The Imaginarium, led by the Columbina, Silver Heart, are devoted to their art of entertainment, and claim one of the smaller theaters as their territory. However, they are also known for travelling to other Freeholds in the region to spread the word of Carnival.

The majority of their entertainment takes the form of morality plays, designed to let the audience realise their own fears and desires, and embrace their lost humanity.

The Imaginarium takes their work seriously and takes great offence to those that playgerize their work or use their shows as opportunities for other actions that the Imaginarium has no interest in.

Changeling: The Lost - Venice: Broken Mask, Shattered Dreams - The Freehold of Venice




The Freehold of Venice


The Freehold of Venice has been held by the Court of Carnival for many centuries. All that time countless Doges have held office. Some were granted the position by the departing Doge, others were simply bestowed the seat upon the death of the last Doge. The identity of the Doge has always been one of the greatest mysteries of the city. Every time a new Doge is appointed he is bound to keep that identity secret or he will die and the title is then past on. Meanwhile the old Doge slips back into his old life as if he was never gone. Gaps in details are filled in, and all memory of his time as Doge is removed. The only tie between the Doges of the Court of Carnival is the Book of the Long Masquerade, a journal detailing the history and lore of the Freehold.

The role of the Doge is that of arbiter and chairman. He is the head of the freehold but not a despot, his rule must first pass the approval of the Dukes of the Seasonal Houses. Only in times of great need can the Doge rule without question, but even that must be agreed upon by the heads of the Seasonal Houses of Venice. The Doge authorizes new laws for the Freehold, acts as the final judge of tribunals, and acts as the commander of arms when war is declared.

The Doge also plays a major role in the social aspect of the freehold, holding court and listening to the needs of his subjects. Thus the Doge performs an important part in the freehold, acting as counsellor and master of rites.

The Glamour that acts upon the Doge ensures that in the identity of the Doge is a secret and his human face is concealed when in court. Outside of his duties as Doge, the Doge is cannot reveal his title, and the magic associated with the title is not revealed. For all intents and purposes the Doge is just like any other changeling.

The Glamour associated with the title of Doge is not just limited to the Doge, but extends to all of those within court. When entering the official court of the Doge all other changelings have their mien banished and their image is concealed by a mask. The Pact of Carnival allows for all changelings to associate with each others as equals at the price of not knowing whom they are with. This curious effect means that only changelings that enter court together are aware of which mask that they each wear. For others that arrive at the court changelings must ask for their identity. Thus it is completely possible for changelings to remain anonymous in court, free to speak their mind to all others. Such a state of affairs means that concerns can be openly expressed without fear of repercussions. But it also means that rumour and conspiracy is rife, and paranoia reigns as changelings try to ensure that they are not identified and singled out for their views and actions. But this maddening court of intrigue, backstabbing and whispers is the price paid for their freedom. The Pact of Carnival gives the Lost of the city shelter from the Gentry. Carnival works its Glamour upon all members of the freehold, hiding their mien from the Gentry so that they appear as just mortals. This does not stop the True Fae however, it is just another mask and like all masks they can be looked past.

The most notable Hollow of the Court of Carnival is associated with the Ca’ Pésaro, the museum for oriental and modern arts. This stone-clad gothic building is covered in gruesome heads.

The current Doge is theorized to have been in power for the last decade at least. His rule has been characterized by his balance between tough justice and light handed rule. Balls and parties are allowed at all times but in the shadows his agents are constantly on the look out for loyalist, privateers, Gentry and militia. Within court the Doge has been attacked openly for not being more proactive, and has gained the hatred and distrust of those within the Summer and Spring house. This revulsion has been born out of the disgust at the Court of the Carnival preventing seasonal rule, but also the Doge clamping down on those parties and gatherings that have gotten out of hand, or the more militant Summer courtiers who think the Doge is not doing enough to actively hunt those who would bring down the freehold.

The Doge appears in court as dressed much like a prince or lord would during the 18th century. His attire is white and gold, with an opulent coat, buckled shoes and powdered wig. His mask fully conceals his face and is a shifting mask of emotions.

The Doge does not work in a vacuum, and has a number of aides that are known within Court. The Pact of Carnival allows for the changeling of the city to come to court and act anonymously, but there are those changelings of the court who are identifiable, at least within court. Outside of court their it is up to these changelings to reveal their title.

The seneschal of the Doge is the Bauta. This changeling is keeping track of the details of the city, the funds that are kept by the Doge, files on the threats to the Freehold, working with the Dukes of the Seasonal Houses to distribute titles and duties, maintaining the location of Freehold commons, safe houses and hollows.

Of all the members of the Court of Carnival the seneschal is possibly the most important role but also once of the most disrespected positions within the Freehold. Many of the House of Autumn feel that the seneschal is intruding on their responsibilities, while the House of Summer and Spring see the seneschal as a puppet of the Doge.

The Bauta appears in court in robes almost opulent as the Doge, and his mask is the Bauta mask. The Bauta mask is a full face mask but with an angular pronounced jaw that disguises the mouth. The mask is covered in gilding and ornate.

The role of Volto is the official peacekeeper of the city. Dressed in the Volto mask, similar to the Bauta but in pure black, but worn with a tricorn and a cloak. The Volto acts as both investigator and executioner, and works in unison with those defenders of the Freehold from the Seasonal Houses. Thus the Volto acts as leader and commander of these militant changelings, but this an uneasy alliance that leads to conflicts of interest. Of all the positions with the city the identity of the Volto is well known to all changelings in the Freehold.

The Larva appears similar to the Volto, however with a mask of pure white. The Larva is the official ghost hunter of the Freehold. Such a position is required when the city has such a deep and troubled history. Thus the Larva is normally associated with the Autumn and Winter Seasonal Houses. The other main duty of the Larva is that of assassin. Whenever things must be done quietly then the Larva is the one that is called upon by the Doge. This means, unlike the Volto, the Larva operates in complete secrecy.

Servetta Muta is always a female changeling and dressed in opulent robes and a black oval mask that has only slits for eyes. The wearer must bite down onto a bit so that the mask is held against the face. Thus the role of the Servetta Muta is that of a confessor, the Lost of the Freehold can reveal their sins and troubles to her without the fear that she will reveal these secrets to others, such is the Pact with Carnival that is made by the Servetta Muta. Over the centuries others have tried to pervert this position, but before long there is a new Servetta Muta, a changeling is missing and the Larva is cleaning his blades.

The Columbine and Columbina are two changelings who are considered the most beautiful within the Freehold. The Columbino masks are the classic half masks, concealing just the eyes and nose leaving the lower portion of the face exposed. The masks are very ornate and so are the costumes that the courtiers wear. These two changelings are in charge of organizing the balls and parties of the Freehold, gifted in the performing arts, and also are notorious for their numerous and frequent sexual encounters at these parties.

The final official position within the Court of Carnival is the Medico della Peste, or Plague Doctor. This changeling is dressed in the traditional black robes and wide brimmed, with a mask that covers the entire face. The mask features small eye slits covered in clear stones, and is completely white. The main feature is the grim looking curved wide beak. This beak, during the Venetian plagues, was designed so that it could be stuffed with herbs and spices that would prevent the doctor from breathing in the plague.

The Medico della Peste is the Freehold physician, but also acts as intermediatory between the Freehold and the Vampire and sorcerers that live within the bounds of Venice and the Venetian mainland. Other than the Larva and Volto, the Medico della Peste is one of the most feared and respected changelings in the Freehold, and on rare occasions changelings that have been brought in for minor aliments have disappeared without trace.

The Mantle of Carnival


The Court of Carnival, the Thousand Masks, the Quicksilver Court, the court of revelry and laughter.

Some wish to hide, some wish to loses themselves to their desires, others give into their rage, and others wish to cause fear. But the court of Carnival is something else. It is farewell to the flesh, to let go of themselves and be lost within the festival of Carnival. If they are willing to make the sacrifice the Carnival offers safety, pleasure, mystery, magic, secrecy and power. The ultimate message of Carnival is one of festival, and showing that the Lost can turn the tables on the Gentry. Of course the question is when Carnival will come seeking to collect their debts.

For the above reasons the Court of Carnival is eclectic, maddening, and colourful, attracting changeling from all walks of life. But typically the court attracts those changelings that have a taste for politics, intrigue, revelry and magic, all at once. They are all self styled princes of Faerie. But of course this intense mix is difficult for many changeling to accommodate, and often courtiers can be driven to insanity but the pressures of Carnival. But this is the cost of the power that comes from the court.

Of course the most important rituals of the court focus on the period of Carnival. Starting on the 26th of December the Doge, along with a representative of the House of Winter, lead the celebration of the start of Carnival. Masks are ritually burnt, signifying the start of the period of renewal. But first they must give up their past year and confide to Carnival their sins. The real celebrations do not begin until two weeks before Fat Tuesday, and on the Sunday at the start of this period the Doge elects the Carnival Prince and Princess. These two lead the balls and parties and act as a focus for the Freeholds celebrations, culminating in their ceremonial marriage on Fat Tuesday. This marriage sees a grand ball and Lost from other Freeholds beyond Venice are invited to join in the celebration.

The following day, Ash Wednesday, marks the start of Lent, and so the changelings of the Court of Carnival focus intently on their purpose and duties for the following year.

For the remainder of the year the Court is devoted to secrecy and study, defending, the Freehold and rooting out dangers within the city.

The heraldry of the Court is a strange mix. It is the clear blue skies over the Adriatic in February, the bracing sea breeze, the smell of mulled wine, the sparkle of light of the crests of waves, the taste of hot chocolate, the sound laughter, the ringing of church bells, masks, tricorn hats, cats, lions, violins, gondola, mercury, salt, a sense of disorientation and loss of direction.

The mantle of Carnival is somewhat a mix of all others. The Mantle gives a sense of Carnival as an overload of the sense as a means to hide the changeling. At Mantle ● to ●●● the mien of the changeling is confusing and sensual as the observer is assaulted by the smells and tastes of Carnival. When invoking a contract laughter may be heard or a cold wind blows. At Mantle ●●●●+ the mien of a Carnival courtier is even more intense as dimensions are confused, directions twisted, spices can be smelled in the air and laughter assaults the ears of the observer.

At Mantle ●+ a Carnival courtier become harder to spot and so those actively seeking the changeling have a -1 die penalty to their appropriate search skill (Wits + Composure or Wits + Skill) roll. At Mantle ●●●+ the changeling becomes even more masked by Carnival, their mien is diminished and they gain a +1 dice bonus to all ssubterfuge. At Mantle ●●●●● the previous penalties and bonus at previous levels increase by one. Thus their stealth/subterfuge rolls are increased by +2, and a -2 penalty to those seeking the changeling.

The emotion tied to the Court of Carnival is Carnival itself. Changeling harvest the Glamour associated with festivity, celebrations, grand balls, drunken parties. This emotion is brought to the fore in others as a way of once more feeling what was stolen from them by the Gentry. Only by seeking out Carnival can the Court feel as though it has turned the tables on their debauched Keepers, stealing back their old lives and the magic of Faerie. But also Carnival means acknowledging that all great things come at a great price, that their freedom and powers come with strings attached. It is only when this is acknowledged, that a changeling is free to celebrate his freedom, knowing what it cost to regain it.

The Court holds certain stereotypical views of the other courts.

Spring Court: The may indulge in their passions, but they lose themselves to easily to their desire and forget to celebrate all other aspects of life.

Summer Court: They may win the war but they never take the time to rejoice in the achievements. No instead they just seek out more war, more bloodshed.

Autumn Court: They may try to steal the magic of Faerie, and use such things for their own war, to make the Gentry fear their own tools, but they do not take the time to enjoy the pleasures that it can bring. Celebrate the world that it reveals. But always know that all gifts come with a price.

Winter Court: You can hide but Carnival will always come, always seeking to take what is owed, that debt. But also, no matter how the Winter Court act, they cannot deny that they have succeeded in escaping the Gentry, and not celebrating such an achievement is a terrible thing as then you have no drive to achieve greater things.