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Gaslight An Immersion LARP set in mid to late 1800s Europe

Post-Game / Planning

Get it off your chest

For after game specific topics, like shout-outs, game stories, lost and found, pictures, group planning, and quotes. (Food has a separate planning area)

Get it off your chest

Postby LaurenMorgan@KatrinaHarrison » Thu Mar 30, 2017 9:19 am

With the end of game announced and as the only constant Bastet player, I feel it's my duty to give players this space. Are there elements of your back story that you're dying you share but that never came into play? Want to spill your entire story? Need to explain your character's actions? Have questions about other characters? This is the place to let the cat out of the bag (haha). Sorry folks. This is what I need in order to mourn.
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Re: Get it off your chest

Postby PeterS » Thu Mar 30, 2017 10:06 am

So, starting at the beginning.

Constable Randolph West was a Redcap. As a child he was thrown into solitary confinement for over a month, which broke his Faerie soul and reduced him into a broken husk of a man. He was also massively repressed about being gay. Constable Randolph West was in love with Apple-A-Day, but didn't have the words or ability to deal with it. He also had prepared himself mentally to kill that man every night once he learned what the supernatural was.

Dominic Bertram had a daughter, who I named Alice because I was trying to squeeze her into the Wonderland mythos thing we had going on in early seasons. He spent about two sessions believing that Captain Cheshire was Lord Ashford's father.

F. Charles Darby felt incredible guilt over the fact that he had left town as part of his plan to get Cage and Farrow to reconcile their differences. He also never got told that Werewolves normally don't get along with Vampires, which was going to blow up in his face eventually. (Sadly, my OOC goal of having Darby on Caern watch is sadly never going to happen.) Darby attempted to diablerize Teo, but failed.

Liam MacNaughton was spying on his cousin for the rest of his family. Also, Liam was very certain that his cousin didn't actually care about him but was just putting on a show. (Yay drama!)

Let's see... there were a LOT of stories in the Beacon that were background plots that never got picked up on by players. The fact that the firm that was renovating the spire at St. Elphins was purposefully causing accidents so they could drag out the construction longer and thus continue to siphon money from Warrington's corrupt government never got exposed.

There was so much that could have happened, but five seasons is a decent run. Longer than many games get. And it was worth it.
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Character Names: Constable West (DEAD)
Dominic Bertram (DEAD)
Richard Giovanni (NPC)
F. Charles Darby
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Real Name: Peter Svensson

Re: Get it off your chest

Postby KatrinaHarrison » Thu Mar 30, 2017 10:41 am

I remember home. I remember the thrill of hunting, stalking. I remember the snap of bones as I tore into my prey, and these memories fill my dreams.

I also remember when it ended, in a sharp sting, and the sluggish warmth that overwhelmed me.

I awoke in a prison. Such a small space for a mighty hunter. I could smell and hear prey, but they were outside my prison, locked in prisons of their own.

I spent my days pacing as far as I could pace. I watched. I learned. I waited. One day, the weak thing that brought unsatisfying dead meat to me would make a mistake. I would kill him, and be free.

For a full set of seasons, I paced that prison and waited. Then, like a miracle, my chance was given to me. He slipped the cage door open, as he always did, with a slab of meat in one hand. Just as he was about to toss the paltry offering at me, there was a loud sound from behind him, in the fancy cave. I smelled blood in the air, which gave me the courage. With one strong paw, I ripped the door open all the way. With the other, I pulled the weak thing’s legs out from under him. My teeth were sinking through his spine before he could make a sound. His blood filled my mouth and my mind.

The next thing I remember, I was in a ravine with cylindrical shiny boulders. I could tell by the blood scent in the air that I hadn’t gone far, but I felt…odd. I was unbalanced, and too tall, and cold. Looking down, I saw that I had become one of the weak things. I growled my displeasure, but my voice was as weak as my form. I had seen how the weak things walk on two legs, so I went stumblingly out of the ravine into…madness. It was night, but the day had left so many strange scents, and my nose couldn’t tell one from the other.

Having found my balance, I ran…right into another weak thing. I hissed and growled to show I was not afraid, even though I was more terrified than I had ever been. He was a brave thing though and stripped some of his own fur to cover my furless body. He made noises at me, but I didn’t know what they meant. I had no claws, and no clue how to survive here, so I let him lead me to another fancy cave.
I had never seen inside a cave. It was insane. Nothing was anything like it. There were fires on the cave walls. I dove behind…something…and cowered. When the weak thing came near, I did my best to growl and scratch.

Eventually, he came with food. It was on a strange flat rock, and was warm. It smelled very good to me. He set it down just far enough out that I would have to leave my shelter to get to it. I sat stubborn for a while as my stomach made hunger sounds at me.

When I hadn’t seen or heard the weak thing in a while, I crept silently out and sniffed at the food. It was meat and plant but…different. I ate, as I have always eaten, with teeth and claws...or…face and hands now.

He made a loud noise and I dove back behind…whatever it was I dove behind before.

Eventually, he made the fires go dark, one by one. I kept vigilant in case he came back, but he didn’t, and eventually I had to sleep.
I woke up when the sun was out and peeked from behind my shelter. He wasn’t there, but there was some of the weak thing fur that they could apparently take off at will. I sniffed it. It smelled safe, but I had no idea how to put it on my skin.

I realized I was still wearing the fur he had put on me. It now had bits of both my meals of the night on it, so I sat to groom.
He stalked in making more sounds, then stopped and came very cautiously toward me, but never looking directly at me. I growled low, a pitiful sound from my new throat. I didn’t flee though.

He picked up the new fur and made motions like he was putting it on. He showed me the strange things that hold it closed over the skin. I found them on my fur from last night and started trying to put them together. He made a loud, sharp sound and I ran back behind my shelter. How dare he startle me. I made the sound back at him, hoping he would be scared. He was startled. I saw that much, but then he began making a new sound, from deep in the chest, repetitive, a vocalized exhalation. I made the sound back. I would show I would not be roared down. I made myself as tall as I could and “Ha ha ha”ed at him. He would not be outdone. He made the sound louder, and I couldn’t be that loud. I stalked back to the thing I was hiding behind and sulked.

So began my education in English, human mannerisms, and decorum. I learned that wea—that humans have names they call each other. This one was Colonel Harrison. He started calling me Katrina, which is apparently funny because I used to be a type of cat.

The Colonel was part of something called an army. This was a herd of people who hunt other people. I was disgusted at first, thinking humans ate their own kind, but apparently they do not hunt for food, but for territory. They either leave the dead for scavengers or bury them in the ground. I said that I would eat the ones I killed. He yelled (which is like human growling) and said I should never say these things.

It was strange needing someone. I had been alone since I left my mother’s territory, but I had seen what humans do to those who do not follow their rules. I did not want to be in another prison, or worse.
It was weeks before I was deemed fit to go out in public, months before I could attend social events, and a full year before I could go to an Officers Ball. This is where humans put on very colorful fur…er…clothes…and show them off to other humans. Apparently it has nothing to do with mating, so it’s a good thing I asked before we went.

Dancing was…and is still…strange. The female gives the male near complete control of her motions. This is not an easy thing for me to do.

As part of the army, The Colonel had to go on hunting missions. He didn’t want to leave me behind, so I stayed hidden in his tent (like a movable cave made of cloth). I knew how my body worked at this point, so it was very easy not to be seen. Sometimes, people would come to discuss the hunt. Usually, I would tell The Colonel how to fix their plans after they left.

There was one human who started visiting The Colonel frequently. They would drink together (something I was never allowed to join in on, even at home). There was something in this man that made me think of the wild, the freedom of a true hunt, and running just to run.
In the cold time, this man came to visit again. This was during one of the Holy Days where humans celebrate with candles and presents and lots of cooked meat. I was glad to finally be able to talk with him. I learned he was called Mister McNaughton, but The Colonel and I could call him La’Urn. I very much like that name. It’s similar to how I would invite another to join me in sunning on a rock by the stream in my old life, now so far away.

At The Colonel’s instruction, I feigned ignorance of my life before I came to live with him. We made up a story where my family was tragically killed, and because I have the weak mind of a human, I forgot what exactly happened and anything that happened before. In this story, I am The Colonel's distant relative, which is how he came to be my guardian.

La’Urn was happy to leave it at that, and to speak more of his own past. The Colonel warned me he was a “braggart”, meaning most of what he said was not true, or was changed to make him seem more skilled than he is. True or not, his stories amused me.
"Send her like a cup to her mothers table
Drink the water
Watch her play her part in a long fixed fable
Oh as her father’s daughter"
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Re: Get it off your chest

Postby Ted » Thu Mar 30, 2017 5:51 pm

I think you all knew this, but:

As Mortal ST, I kept two tracks. "Violence/Impropriety" and "Veil/Masquerade."

When a mortal NPC went up and saw people with weapons out, or social norms flaunted, that raised the Violence/Impropriety. It also switched from the "Peaceful" fishbowl to the "Trouble" fishbowl. The higher the Violence, the more the place was seen as lawless: more criminals would come in, and eventually the bank would stop its tour because it didn't want to send money in. (That only happened once.)

When a mortal NPC saw supernatural stuff that was inadequately covered up, that raised the Veil/Masquerade level. As it went up, I'd send in more, and more powerful, Inquisition NPCs.

Over time, or with PC effort, those would get lowered, which would bring things back to peace and prosperity. Hiring people helped. Holding social events helped.

At one point the Inquisition was gearing up for a full scale session long attack, but the PCs pulled back from that and recovered well before we ran it. We had plans for a Shakespeare company to roll into town and actually be an Inquisition horde, but PCs managed to keep it peaceful before that happened.

(Happy to answer any other Mortal ST questions from Season One and Two as well, though of course a lot of that would be superceded by later STs who have more recent and interesting information.)
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Re: Get it off your chest

Postby Awen@Twoey » Thu Mar 30, 2017 7:11 pm

Awen was Kinfolk to the BSDs, her sept was Fianna when she was younger, but they fell and so she never knew the difference, since they put the outward face on of being "Fianna" so she just assumed that was the way all Garou, especially Fianna, were. She tried to escape a few times, and was almost killed each time, until she awoke and murdered them all.

Her awakening caused her to be hunted for a while and not able to stay in one place for very long up until she reached Warrington. She thought it was because she had attracted supernatural hunters, in reality it was half paradox backlash, and half her sept's Totem punishing her for running.

Which leads to the one thing only one person in game knew, Awen was a follower of Green Dragon. The BSDs of her Sept forced everyone including the kin, to pledge themselves to him in an effort to give the totem more strength. When she ran, thus breaking part of his ban, he sent his bastards after her.

She continued to follow Green Dragon, partly because she didn't know how to change her affiliations, and partly because she didn't see him as that bad and she saw him as the wyrm side to the balance she needed in order to keep using magic.

She had a book on her filled with the horrible things she had done, and a few pages are literally just soaked in blood.

Her magic did not work if she was out of balance, they would either just not work at all, or more often, they would work without her wanting them to (see, shifting your face and being stuck that way because of wyld taint) So if she was tainted, she either needed to get untainted fully, or balance it out with more taint.

She also believed that her father was not actually her father, that her real father was fae, and she had not changed because she was not garou and was in fact Fae. She was angry that she didn't change until she came to this conclusion. She believed her fae blood was part of what gave her her power, but this meant that everything that works on the fae (folk stuff such as cold iron, apples, cream, etc) worked on her.

Her hubris was mostly in that, she had been supposed to change, and didn't, and got treated horribly for it. Then she awoke and could do so much more and turn into more than just a simple wolf, and so she was clearly better than those who had hurt her.
“Perhaps all the dragons in our lives are princesses who are only waiting to see us act, just once, with beauty and courage. Perhaps everything that frightens us is, in its deepest essence, something helpless that wants our love.”

Covered in scars
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Character Names: Awen Weaver
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Re: Get it off your chest

Postby Tabitha@Twoey » Thu Mar 30, 2017 9:35 pm

Tabitha was Fisher's descendant (though she didn't know this til recently), she was also his ghoul for a while until she went to get something she thought he would like, from off of another ship docked in the harbor, they caught her, and they tied her up and threw her into the ocean so she drowned and was also eaten by sharks. (which hurt more because she had fortitude so it drew the process out...)

The person she was looking for is long gone, her shadow wants her to depend only on him, and not have any friends and so the last time her shadow was in control he stabbed Fredrick with her sword, after verbally tearing him down, and pushed him into the Tempest. She came too outside Warrington, with no knowledge of this.

Her sword used to be her other friend, but her shadow killed him as well as so they made him into a sword to continue to take him on adventures, which is why the blade's name is "Regret".

While wyrm tainted, she was very nearly convinced by her shadow to follow Kate's lead, and let him have a bit of time to stretch in exchange for the answer of what happened to Fredrick, but got cleansed before she could get to her fetters.
“Your body blue and walking along the continental shelf
you are a dream among the sharks
beautiful and terrifying, lit and restless
we dance in dark suspension.
And you bury me in the ocean floor beneath you
where they'll never hear us scream.."
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Character Names: Tabitha Kohl (Tabby)
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