September 1989
He saunters into Manhattan Project at about quarter to midnight, just ahead of the crowds spilling out of the bars across the river. As he approaches his usual table, a gaggle of suspiciously young-looking girls in identical Goth-face makeup shriek "Alex!" He smirks in greeting, tossing his creaking-new black leather jacket over the back of the booth before sliding in next to... Annabelle? Anaconda? Whatever the hell her name is. The waitress deposits a snakebite and black in front of him moments later, and he gives her a more sincerely appreciative smile. It's been a long week - since Parliament has been in session, he's actually been expected to do some *work* at the office, which has been seriously eating into his sleep time as a result. He might actually go home before Manhattan closes tonight.
In the meantime though, the DJ's just put on The Sisters, and the entire bar surges towards the dancefloor like an oilslick wave. The bass thunders through the floor, jacked up almost to the point of overloading the speakers, but not quite. Alex loses the tie and takes a drag off Julia's (Jocasta?) clove cigarette, letting the alcohol and the noise numb his senses.
Although maybe that's not quite what he's looking for tonight.
He shakes his head angrily and shrugs off a black-taloned hand, heading for the bathroom. A thin boy with a shock of lime-green hair is bent over the counter, inhaling lines. He notices Alex watching.
"Want some?"
Alex thinks about it, his mind shying away from the image of his mother with bloodshot eyes and a smear of white under her nose.
"How much?"
"Ten a line?"
"Is it good shit?"
The kid laughs shakily.
"Yeah, I'd say so."
"Okay."
He hands over a twenty, then rolls up another as the kid arranges two lines on the counter with practiced ease despite the trembling in his hands.
* * * * * * * *
Five minutes later Alex is back on the dancefloor, feeling like God almighty. Instead of feeling numb, his senses are heightened to an almost painful degree. Colours are brighter, shadows are darker, and even with feedback and ambient noise, he can hear each note in the harsh industrial track and appreciate the way they fail to harmonize. It's almost too much - he retreats to the table and impresses the girls with tales of Montreal and hobnobbing with foreign diplomats. It's mostly complete bullshit, of course, but he's always had a talent for bullshit.
* * * * * * * *
The DJ's just put on the new Nine Inch Nails track when there's a buzz of conversation audible even over the wash of bass. Through the darkened (and rather grubby) front window he can see the outline of a white stretch limousine. Then the door opens and a guy in a long, white leather coat comes sweeping in like he owns the place, followed by an entourage of about seven or eight people, all of whom are dressed in such a way that makes everyone else in the club look like preschool kids playing dress-up.
"Who the fuck is that?"
He thought he'd said it to himself, but Cleo (Christine?) says, "That's Omar. Haven't you ever seen him before? They go to a different bar every night - I don't know what he does for a living, but he must be super rich..."
Alex's sense of tact disappeared after the third snakebite. He blurts out, "But he's so old - he must be at least forty!"
... just as the song fades and there's a sudden inconvenient lull in the conversation. Omar looks over sharply, takes in his rumpled work clothes and smudged eyeliner, and smiles beatifically at him. Feeling like a complete asshole now, Alex quickly knocks back the rest of his drink and lurches unsteadily to his feet. A hand rests lightly on his forearm, holding him steady. One of the girls from Omar's crew is standing there with a flute glass full of something milky green.
"Mr. Ravenhurst wishes to know if you would care to join him at his table."
17.1.07
More Research
So C. is starting up his _Mage_ campaign again, and by way of research I've dug out all the vaguely Japanese-related literature I've got and have also checked out Murasaki Shikibu's _The Tale of Genji_ from the university library. I found it pretty heavy slogging the last time I took a run at it - for someone who has to see someone a good half-dozen times before I remember their name (unless they do or say something particularly awe- or outrage-inspiring), a thousand-page novel with several dozen characters, each with four or five poetic sobriquets or official titles on top of their regular name - well, you can certainly understand my confusion. Fortunately, the library also had a study guide available - sort of like a more erudite version of _Coles' Notes_.
[Honestly, I'd really like to see the people at Coles take a run at summarizing the _Tale of Genji_. Although given how fragging lazy the average student is, it'd still probably be too long for some people. It leads to the interesting question of just how much you can dumb something down before it becomes a reductio ad absurdum: "The _Tale of Genji_ is about a Japanese guy named Genji who writes a lot of poetry and has sex with a lot of women. He dies about halfway through the book though, so the title really isn't all that accurate."]
Anyway, I ploughed through most of the study guide last night, and so far the thing that's got me the most intrigued is the fact that the entire story takes place before what most Westerners consider classical Japanese culture, what with the katanas and the Zen buddhism and the samurai bushido ethic and so forth. Honestly, imperial court life in Heian Japan sounds, on first reading, a lot like the French aristocracy centred around Versailles in the 16th and 17th centuries. The courtiers at Heian-Kyo, much like those at Versailles, spent most of their time and energy trying to outdo each other in sartorial splendour, gossiping, seducing people related to or favoured by the Emperor, and various other games of one-upmanship.
I've got the oldest English translation of the text, done by Arthur Waley between 1921 and 1933. Apparently it's less of a direct translation and more of a paraphrase, although having had a look at the first couple of chapters it's certainly very accessible. Two later translations, one from 1976 and one from 2002 are supposed to be more accurate, so perhaps I'll check out one or both of them just to see how pronounced the differences are.
It's interesting comparing _Genji_ with _Hagakure: The Book of the Samurai_ by Yamamoto Tsunetomo, which admittedly is more of a primer for young samurai than a novel. Still, the difference in tone within the space of just a few centuries is striking, especially when Tsunetomo spends a fair bit of time in _Hagakure_ complaining about how decadent samurai have become since the rise of the Tokugawa shogunate and the end of a long period of civil war. I can only imagine what Tsunetomo might have thought of the poetry-writing, wisteria-viewing, romance-addicted aristocracy of the Heian court.
18/1/07 - Added a link to an online copy of _Genji_, if anyone's interested. (It's linked on the post title, because apparently with the latest system upgrade Blogger no longer automatically makes links a different colour.)
[Honestly, I'd really like to see the people at Coles take a run at summarizing the _Tale of Genji_. Although given how fragging lazy the average student is, it'd still probably be too long for some people. It leads to the interesting question of just how much you can dumb something down before it becomes a reductio ad absurdum: "The _Tale of Genji_ is about a Japanese guy named Genji who writes a lot of poetry and has sex with a lot of women. He dies about halfway through the book though, so the title really isn't all that accurate."]
Anyway, I ploughed through most of the study guide last night, and so far the thing that's got me the most intrigued is the fact that the entire story takes place before what most Westerners consider classical Japanese culture, what with the katanas and the Zen buddhism and the samurai bushido ethic and so forth. Honestly, imperial court life in Heian Japan sounds, on first reading, a lot like the French aristocracy centred around Versailles in the 16th and 17th centuries. The courtiers at Heian-Kyo, much like those at Versailles, spent most of their time and energy trying to outdo each other in sartorial splendour, gossiping, seducing people related to or favoured by the Emperor, and various other games of one-upmanship.
I've got the oldest English translation of the text, done by Arthur Waley between 1921 and 1933. Apparently it's less of a direct translation and more of a paraphrase, although having had a look at the first couple of chapters it's certainly very accessible. Two later translations, one from 1976 and one from 2002 are supposed to be more accurate, so perhaps I'll check out one or both of them just to see how pronounced the differences are.
It's interesting comparing _Genji_ with _Hagakure: The Book of the Samurai_ by Yamamoto Tsunetomo, which admittedly is more of a primer for young samurai than a novel. Still, the difference in tone within the space of just a few centuries is striking, especially when Tsunetomo spends a fair bit of time in _Hagakure_ complaining about how decadent samurai have become since the rise of the Tokugawa shogunate and the end of a long period of civil war. I can only imagine what Tsunetomo might have thought of the poetry-writing, wisteria-viewing, romance-addicted aristocracy of the Heian court.
18/1/07 - Added a link to an online copy of _Genji_, if anyone's interested. (It's linked on the post title, because apparently with the latest system upgrade Blogger no longer automatically makes links a different colour.)
2.1.07
AFK
Today is my first day back at work after Christmas holidays, and I'm probably feeling better today than I have since about the 20th of December. X. and I have both been wretchedly ill during the Yuletide season, a condition apparently shared by just about everyone we know. I don't know if it's the flu, but there does seem to be something extraordinarily nasty going around right now. Fortunately, X. is between jobs and I've had since the 22nd off, so at least we didn't have to haul our diseased carcasses in to work, but I suspect we've made up for it by infecting our respective families with the Damned Thing. Unfortunately, it's difficult to appreciate ten solid days of slack time when you're busy drowning in your own noxious secretions.
So here's what I've been up to, for anyone who's interested:
Dec. 22: Got to leave at noon. Watered office plants thoroughly, because dead houseplants make baby Jesus cry. Went to early Christmas Eve dinner at folks' place because my dear little sister and her beau were leaving for Spain on the 24th. Tried to avoid coughing on her, as I didn't want to spoil her holiday. Opened presents. Went home early at my mother's insistence.
Dec. 24: Christmas Eve at X.'s folks. Learned a great deal about the eating habits of various ruminant species from X.'s dad, who evidently misses lecturing. Opened more presents. Went home early due to hellacious stomach cramps.
Dec. 25: Christmas Day at my folks' with my aunt, uncle, and two of my three cousins. Wore a great deal of makeup to disguise sickly complexion for obligatory family photography session. Went home early after hacking germs all over extended family.
Dec. 26-7: Hacking, sniffling, and watching _Shogun_ on DVD.
Dec. 28: Birthday. X. was feeling a bit better, so he made me breakfast. Went to folks' place for dinner (chicken cordon bleu - my favourite) and profiteroles in lieu of cake. X. earned my undying gratitude for erasing the picture my mother insisted on taking to mark the momentous occasion of my turning 35. Like I really want to immortalize the moment when I look and feel as though I've been run over by the "Bust Loose" party bus
Dec. 30: More or less alive. Went with X. to a D&D session at TFG's apartment although only as a spectator.
Dec. 31: Went to a smallish soiree at Strixy and Franca's apartment and got rather drunk. Felt considerably better. Decided to consume more alcohol next time I get sick.
So here's what I've been up to, for anyone who's interested:
Dec. 22: Got to leave at noon. Watered office plants thoroughly, because dead houseplants make baby Jesus cry. Went to early Christmas Eve dinner at folks' place because my dear little sister and her beau were leaving for Spain on the 24th. Tried to avoid coughing on her, as I didn't want to spoil her holiday. Opened presents. Went home early at my mother's insistence.
Dec. 24: Christmas Eve at X.'s folks. Learned a great deal about the eating habits of various ruminant species from X.'s dad, who evidently misses lecturing. Opened more presents. Went home early due to hellacious stomach cramps.
Dec. 25: Christmas Day at my folks' with my aunt, uncle, and two of my three cousins. Wore a great deal of makeup to disguise sickly complexion for obligatory family photography session. Went home early after hacking germs all over extended family.
Dec. 26-7: Hacking, sniffling, and watching _Shogun_ on DVD.
Dec. 28: Birthday. X. was feeling a bit better, so he made me breakfast. Went to folks' place for dinner (chicken cordon bleu - my favourite) and profiteroles in lieu of cake. X. earned my undying gratitude for erasing the picture my mother insisted on taking to mark the momentous occasion of my turning 35. Like I really want to immortalize the moment when I look and feel as though I've been run over by the "Bust Loose" party bus
Dec. 30: More or less alive. Went with X. to a D&D session at TFG's apartment although only as a spectator.
Dec. 31: Went to a smallish soiree at Strixy and Franca's apartment and got rather drunk. Felt considerably better. Decided to consume more alcohol next time I get sick.
20.12.06
A Hundred Years of Rain [Dream]
The sky is in that state of extended twilight you only get with heavy cloud cover - the grey has steadily darkened, but it's not dark enough yet for the sodium lights to come on and make everything that surreal shade of orange. I'm in my dream city - a gothic metropolis that combines elements of all the places I've lived as well as a few places I've only seen in this parallel life. Or in games. A lot of it looks like how I'd imagine Metropolis would look in _Kult_, only without all the aforementioned inside-out monsters, and because of the rain it feels a lot like The City in _A/State_. Huge, glittering skyscrapers of glass and steel and black marble are standing right next to disintegrating brick warehouses. The streets are a foot deep in water, and at the right angle you can see swirls of oilslick drifting across the surface.
I'm wading down an alley with six people. I don't know them, because we're all wearing helmets with mirrored faceplates and heavy rubber suits. I suspect the rain might be the reason for all the protective gear. There's nobody else outside, but I can see a few people looking out of darkened windows or moving behind lit ones. We're carrying long metal staffs with flashing lights on them. They seem to be something between a weapon and a metal detector, because the one the guy (?) at the front of the line is carrying starts strobing, and we all stop. Someone else turns on a light attached to her (?) helmet and shines it down through the water. There's a trap door in the middle of the street. It has a lock holding it in place, but when I poke at the lock with my staff it crumbles. I reach down and grab the edge of the door, but it's heavy and the hinges aren't in the best of shape. So we stand there and pound on the thing with the staffs. Each time they connect, sparks briefly flash under the greasy water.
When it finally breaks, all the water in the street rushes to fill the hole. One of the others gets swept over the edge, but the rest of us brace our feet and manage to stay upright. The person with the light cautiously looks into the hole. Apart from the guy lying at the bottom and the water we let in, the shaft is pristine - the walls are white tile and the floor of the tunnel at the bottom looks like brushed steel. It's really brightly lit, too, although the water broke all the light fixtures in the shaft itself, we can see the tunnel clearly. The guy at the bottom struggles to his feet and beckons for the rest of us to come down. There's a ladder attached to the wall opposite the broken light fixtures. So we go down.
I'm wading down an alley with six people. I don't know them, because we're all wearing helmets with mirrored faceplates and heavy rubber suits. I suspect the rain might be the reason for all the protective gear. There's nobody else outside, but I can see a few people looking out of darkened windows or moving behind lit ones. We're carrying long metal staffs with flashing lights on them. They seem to be something between a weapon and a metal detector, because the one the guy (?) at the front of the line is carrying starts strobing, and we all stop. Someone else turns on a light attached to her (?) helmet and shines it down through the water. There's a trap door in the middle of the street. It has a lock holding it in place, but when I poke at the lock with my staff it crumbles. I reach down and grab the edge of the door, but it's heavy and the hinges aren't in the best of shape. So we stand there and pound on the thing with the staffs. Each time they connect, sparks briefly flash under the greasy water.
When it finally breaks, all the water in the street rushes to fill the hole. One of the others gets swept over the edge, but the rest of us brace our feet and manage to stay upright. The person with the light cautiously looks into the hole. Apart from the guy lying at the bottom and the water we let in, the shaft is pristine - the walls are white tile and the floor of the tunnel at the bottom looks like brushed steel. It's really brightly lit, too, although the water broke all the light fixtures in the shaft itself, we can see the tunnel clearly. The guy at the bottom struggles to his feet and beckons for the rest of us to come down. There's a ladder attached to the wall opposite the broken light fixtures. So we go down.
7.12.06
Dramatis Personae
So... I'm working on a batch of pre-gen characters for a Kult/WoD crossover one-(and possibly more)-off I'd like to run sometime when one of our regular Thursday night crew is at his monthly writers' circle whatsit. After a good long think, I decided to pretty much run with the WoD mechanics system, because I know it reasonably well, all the players know it probably more than reasonably well, and I simply can't be arsed to memorize the Kult system or keep looking things up every time someone picks a fight. In any case, on the rare occasions I actually run games, I tend to play pretty loosely around the rules anyway, because a lot of times rules get in the way of a good story.
The main changes are going to be that I'll be bringing back nature and demeanour from the old WoD system in addition to the new virtue/vice pair. Virtue and vice will still be used for regaining willpower, but I think nature and demeanour are much more useful for describing what a character is actually like as a person. I'm also turfing morality in favour of the mental balance system from Kult. Think of it this way - in this game, a mental balance of zero is roughly equivalent to a standard morality of seven. A lower mental balance generally goes with a lower morality, but it's possible to have a pretty low mental balance and not actually do anything to anyone else. Having a twisted, fucked-up soul doesn't necessarily entail acting like a fucking psycho, but it does mean that your motivations for even straightforward acts are increasingly less comprehensible to "normal" people the further the balance drops. Positive mental balance works the same way, although it takes a proportionately higher mental balance before the character is no longer able to pass as "normal". Even so, just because someone has a high mental balance, it doesn't mean they're necessarily a more compassionate or charitable person. They might just be so detached from the muck and filth of "the world" that they can witness atrocities with supreme detachment. I think it's a little more interesting and considerable less limiting than just having a straight ten-point scale based on conventional western moral/legal codes. Realistically though, unless someone makes a concentrated effort (yeah, Mal, I'm looking at you) to tip themselves over the edge one way or the other, I don't see characters going any farther from zero than plus or minus 10. At least not in the first session, anyway.
I'm also going to be borrowing heavily from the magic system in Kult, although again, I don't see this being relevant in the first session. Everyone's going to start off as just regular people, because in order to practice magic in Kult, you have to be pretty fucked in the head to start with, and in order to learn the techniques you have to a) find, and b) interact with people who are even crazier than you. This isn't just waking up to something that was there all along - this is deliberately becoming something more (or frequently less) than human.
One of the things I'm going to seriously tone down from the Kult material is all the multiple-legged, organs-on-the-outside, asymmetrical monstrosities populating the supplementary materials. I think the monsters kind of detract from the central theme of Kult, which is that every single person has the potential to become a god or a demon. Considering the heights (and depths) of himan behaviour in real life, holding out this possibility of godhood and then dumping in a bunch of drooling things with claws and mandibles seems to be seriously missing the point. So no goddamn monsters. Or at least not many, and if there are monsters, they're there because some human was evil enough (or stupid and unlucky enough) to attract their attention.
So... on with the character descriptions. You'll note that there are no stats provided. I want players to choose their character based entirely on the persona they want to play, rather than considering strategic advantages like skill in firearms, strength, ass-kicking ability and so on. You should know by now that I don't like killing characters. Think of it as Feng Shui (no, you don't get Gun Fu) - it'd be a pretty crap movie if the protagonists got ganked. Unless they did something outrageously stupid that would require a karmic boot-fucking by way of bloody violent death. Nice thing about Kult is, even if you die, you're not necessarily our of the game.
The Psychiatrist
Virtue: Justice
Vice: Lust
Nature: Autocrat
Demeanor: Caregiver
[Mechanism: Denial]
Mental Balance = -6
This isn't the sort of therapist you'd want to see if you had serious mental health problems. Or any sort of mental health problems. Doesn't provide therapy so much as exhaust his clients over a period of months or years, then gives them a prescription for mood stabilizers so they don't notice that their underlying non-chemical problems are still there. Has recurring nightmares about his reflection coming out of the mirror and eviscerating him, but thinks it indicates he's got some unresolved issues with his mother. Is romantically involved with a former patient. Despite being seriously fucked in the head, he's got a very good professional reputation, mainly for his expertise in treating "difficult" adolescents.
The Artist
Virtue: Charity
Vice: Sloth
Nature: Visionary
Demeanor: Gallant
[Mechanism: Sublimation]
Mental Balance = +6
The Artist has gained local (and to some extent, national) fame/notoreity for his paintings, which have been compared to the works of Francis Bacon, Salvador Dali, and Attila Richard Lukacs, generally followed by "only creepier". Most people whose first exposure to him is through his art are terribly surprised at how generally decent and well-adjusted he turns out to be in person. In fact, he attracts would-be lovers of both sexes like honey attracts flies, but most end up being put off by his lifestyle, which allows time for very little other than painting and as little promotion as his agent lets him get away with. Reportedly only sleeps four hours a night.
The Priest
Virtue: Faith (surprise!)
Vice: Pride
Nature: Martyr
Demeanor: Pedagogue
[Mechanism: Confrontation]
Mental Balance = +6
If his friends (see other characters) are to be believed, the Priest has not raised his voice since he was 14. Ministers to the few regular parishoners at a once-beautiful stone church in the downtown core, but mainly keeps it open at night for the local homeless population. Is currently in the third year of his novitiate to the S.J. The Priest is honest, honourable, decent, and the sort of guy who (were he not celibate) you'd want to take home to meet the folks. For all that, he's constantly surprised, in light of past events, that he doesn't burst into flames from the inside whenever he takes communion. Quite probably the only priest in Calgary who has the exorcism rite memorized.
The Criminal
Virtue: Fortitude
Vice: Envy
Nature: Penitent
Demeanor: Competitor
[Mechanism: Denial]
Mental Balance = -7
Apart from the nightmares about co-workers suddenly metamorphosing into Kafkaesque insect entites, he's fine. Really. And that accounting glitch last month? He's talked to IT about that several times now and they always swear they've got it straightened out. He'll look into it ASAP. Thinks he's a lot better adjusted than his former classmates, who keep talking about that thing they did one summer like it was some sort of sanity-shattering thing. It was just a stupid game, right?
The main changes are going to be that I'll be bringing back nature and demeanour from the old WoD system in addition to the new virtue/vice pair. Virtue and vice will still be used for regaining willpower, but I think nature and demeanour are much more useful for describing what a character is actually like as a person. I'm also turfing morality in favour of the mental balance system from Kult. Think of it this way - in this game, a mental balance of zero is roughly equivalent to a standard morality of seven. A lower mental balance generally goes with a lower morality, but it's possible to have a pretty low mental balance and not actually do anything to anyone else. Having a twisted, fucked-up soul doesn't necessarily entail acting like a fucking psycho, but it does mean that your motivations for even straightforward acts are increasingly less comprehensible to "normal" people the further the balance drops. Positive mental balance works the same way, although it takes a proportionately higher mental balance before the character is no longer able to pass as "normal". Even so, just because someone has a high mental balance, it doesn't mean they're necessarily a more compassionate or charitable person. They might just be so detached from the muck and filth of "the world" that they can witness atrocities with supreme detachment. I think it's a little more interesting and considerable less limiting than just having a straight ten-point scale based on conventional western moral/legal codes. Realistically though, unless someone makes a concentrated effort (yeah, Mal, I'm looking at you) to tip themselves over the edge one way or the other, I don't see characters going any farther from zero than plus or minus 10. At least not in the first session, anyway.
I'm also going to be borrowing heavily from the magic system in Kult, although again, I don't see this being relevant in the first session. Everyone's going to start off as just regular people, because in order to practice magic in Kult, you have to be pretty fucked in the head to start with, and in order to learn the techniques you have to a) find, and b) interact with people who are even crazier than you. This isn't just waking up to something that was there all along - this is deliberately becoming something more (or frequently less) than human.
One of the things I'm going to seriously tone down from the Kult material is all the multiple-legged, organs-on-the-outside, asymmetrical monstrosities populating the supplementary materials. I think the monsters kind of detract from the central theme of Kult, which is that every single person has the potential to become a god or a demon. Considering the heights (and depths) of himan behaviour in real life, holding out this possibility of godhood and then dumping in a bunch of drooling things with claws and mandibles seems to be seriously missing the point. So no goddamn monsters. Or at least not many, and if there are monsters, they're there because some human was evil enough (or stupid and unlucky enough) to attract their attention.
So... on with the character descriptions. You'll note that there are no stats provided. I want players to choose their character based entirely on the persona they want to play, rather than considering strategic advantages like skill in firearms, strength, ass-kicking ability and so on. You should know by now that I don't like killing characters. Think of it as Feng Shui (no, you don't get Gun Fu) - it'd be a pretty crap movie if the protagonists got ganked. Unless they did something outrageously stupid that would require a karmic boot-fucking by way of bloody violent death. Nice thing about Kult is, even if you die, you're not necessarily our of the game.
The Psychiatrist
Virtue: Justice
Vice: Lust
Nature: Autocrat
Demeanor: Caregiver
[Mechanism: Denial]
Mental Balance = -6
This isn't the sort of therapist you'd want to see if you had serious mental health problems. Or any sort of mental health problems. Doesn't provide therapy so much as exhaust his clients over a period of months or years, then gives them a prescription for mood stabilizers so they don't notice that their underlying non-chemical problems are still there. Has recurring nightmares about his reflection coming out of the mirror and eviscerating him, but thinks it indicates he's got some unresolved issues with his mother. Is romantically involved with a former patient. Despite being seriously fucked in the head, he's got a very good professional reputation, mainly for his expertise in treating "difficult" adolescents.
The Artist
Virtue: Charity
Vice: Sloth
Nature: Visionary
Demeanor: Gallant
[Mechanism: Sublimation]
Mental Balance = +6
The Artist has gained local (and to some extent, national) fame/notoreity for his paintings, which have been compared to the works of Francis Bacon, Salvador Dali, and Attila Richard Lukacs, generally followed by "only creepier". Most people whose first exposure to him is through his art are terribly surprised at how generally decent and well-adjusted he turns out to be in person. In fact, he attracts would-be lovers of both sexes like honey attracts flies, but most end up being put off by his lifestyle, which allows time for very little other than painting and as little promotion as his agent lets him get away with. Reportedly only sleeps four hours a night.
The Priest
Virtue: Faith (surprise!)
Vice: Pride
Nature: Martyr
Demeanor: Pedagogue
[Mechanism: Confrontation]
Mental Balance = +6
If his friends (see other characters) are to be believed, the Priest has not raised his voice since he was 14. Ministers to the few regular parishoners at a once-beautiful stone church in the downtown core, but mainly keeps it open at night for the local homeless population. Is currently in the third year of his novitiate to the S.J. The Priest is honest, honourable, decent, and the sort of guy who (were he not celibate) you'd want to take home to meet the folks. For all that, he's constantly surprised, in light of past events, that he doesn't burst into flames from the inside whenever he takes communion. Quite probably the only priest in Calgary who has the exorcism rite memorized.
The Criminal
Virtue: Fortitude
Vice: Envy
Nature: Penitent
Demeanor: Competitor
[Mechanism: Denial]
Mental Balance = -7
Apart from the nightmares about co-workers suddenly metamorphosing into Kafkaesque insect entites, he's fine. Really. And that accounting glitch last month? He's talked to IT about that several times now and they always swear they've got it straightened out. He'll look into it ASAP. Thinks he's a lot better adjusted than his former classmates, who keep talking about that thing they did one summer like it was some sort of sanity-shattering thing. It was just a stupid game, right?
15.11.06
That's Just Sad...
When X. let Hobbes (one of our cats) out into the yard for a wander on Saturday, he got into a scuffle with a squirrel and lost. X. claimed it was more of a draw, as both parties eventually fled in opposite directions, but I'm inclined to agree with Mal's assessment of the situation.
"You've got a predator, you've got a prey animal. Only one of them should be running away, and not the one with the sharp teeth and claws."
I'm just glad he's never been afforded the opportunity to chase after one of the local rabbits, which are even bigger and probably a lot nastier.
"You've got a predator, you've got a prey animal. Only one of them should be running away, and not the one with the sharp teeth and claws."
I'm just glad he's never been afforded the opportunity to chase after one of the local rabbits, which are even bigger and probably a lot nastier.
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