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Let's Play VtM: Wild Nights - Chapter 10


Jul 11, 2010
Wild Nights


Part 1 - Wild Nights

Chapter 1 - Kindred or Kine?

Chapter 2 - A Body In The Water

Chapter 3 - A Game of Words

Chapter 4 - Anarchy in the UK

Chapter 5 - One Hell Of A Night

Chapter 6 - Knight to Rook Six

Chapter 7 - Loyalty

Anthony Sommers, aka ‘The Patrician’

Chapter 8 - A Bleeding Heart

Chapter 9 – London’s Burning

Chapter 10 - Goals

Chapter 11 - The Terror In The Depths

Chapter 12 - Dead End

Chapter 13 - A Gathering Of Friends

Chapter 14 - Preparation's Everything

Sabbat Interlude

Chapter 15 – Alea Jacta Est

Alea Jacta Est - Part 2

Chapter 16 - Heavy The Head

Jamieson Interlude

Chapter 17 - The Final Countdown

Chapter 18 - Inferno

Chapter 19 - The Old Wolf

Chapter 20: Rise And Fall

Chapter 21 – Revelations

Dubrik's Interlude

Chapter 22 - The Water Rises

Chapter 23 - Chip Chop

Chapter 24: Mission Accomplished

Part 2

Cast Of Characters


Character Creation

Chapter 1: A Kindred Enslaved

Chapter 2 - As It Is Written

Prince Kirkbeck kee

Chapter 3 - Two Steps Forward Into Darkness

So I thought I'd experiment with doing occasional mini-choice in

Chapter 4 - All The Devils Are Here

Chapter 5 - At Shakpana

Chapter 6 - Just The Right Bullets

The shovelhead shrieks. The dried

Chapter 7 - Amen Court

Chapter 8: The Fire In The Minds Of Men

Chapter 9 - A Busy Fucking Night

Cast Of Characters


Roger Kirkbeck, Prince of London

A Scottish Ventrue who came to the city in the 1800s, Kirkbeck rose to the ultimate position of power during the twentieth century; less, his detractors argue, due to his own merits and more owing to his relative bankability and the factional divide amongst the barons. Kirkbeck's initial passion for the role sank rapidly, as it became rapidly clear that he was expected to bear the responsibilities of princehood without enjoying real power over the barons. The longer he remained in office, the further his power waned (especially after the bloody and indecisive Two-Week War of 2011); now, divorced from any real power in the capital, he is kept under virtual house arrest at his estate in Cliveden, in the countryside to the west of London.

Samantha Eames, Baronness of Mayfair, Regentia of the Chantry At Greenwich

Known for her cheerful air and a tendency to treat all of those around her as very dear friends, Eames controls Mayfair, and with it, the real power centre of the city of London. Patronising the various high-class restaurants and theatres wherever possible, this Baronness is certainly a far cry from the stereotype of the Tremere; her interest in magic, however, even the most esoteric of occult disciplines, is not to be doubted, though she prefers not to show it in public. While Eames rose to effective control over the Camarilla earlier in the spring during the Two-Week War, only a very few Kindred suspect just how much power she's gained in recent nights. Indeed, some even whisper that she's begun to dabble in unnatural trickery - though Eames continues to court the rest of the barons, playing down her arcane tendencies, ensuring support in the inner circles.

Weep-Not Sorley, Nosferatu primogen

The Nosferatu of London have always kept themselves apart from their fellow Kindred; and Sorley, who thoroughly enjoys infuriating his fellows by speaking in an outdated, cod-Puritan style, is no exception. It's often been noted that the elderly primogen enjoys his own, private surveillance network, in addition to the technological marvels he runs for the Camarilla - pigeons and rats are spoken of as being 'Sorley's eyes'. After the effective disruption of the spy network and Schrecknet at Jack's Warren, in the final nights of the recent conflict with the Sabbat, Sorley has begun to rebuild in an undisclosed location in the city - refusing to let his peers know where it is, he maintains a respectful distance as he builds up what has been lost.

Rodyon Turcov, Baron of Richmond & Hounslow, 'The Old Wolf'

Hearty, tall, and very slightly deranged, Turcov claims to be a member of one of the great Russian Ventrue families that fled the nation in the wake of the Revolution. At present, he enjoys high standing as Samantha Eames' strongest ally in the outer regions of the city - however, his political eccentricity is beginning to create a slight tension between the two parties. Ever the philosopher, Turcov enjoys the company of young Toreador males, insisting that they invent radical new ideas for reform, which he then likes to pass off as his own creations. Whether he ever hopes to bring any of these schemes to light or if they're merely ways of provoking reactions from the conservatives around him remains to be seen.

Aldous Fesk, Malkavian primogen

Fesk, it is said, was sired by the legendary Napoleon, inmate of New Bethlehem Hospital, a Malkavian lunatic whose delusions of grandeur led not to posturing but to his organising the other kine patients into a 'revolutionary army' which rose up against the staff, butchering several of them, before fleeing in all directions into the night. The genuine cunning shown in the tactical prowess of the instigator of 'The Battle of New Austerlitz', as it was affectionately known amongst Kindred, led to the bloodline's rise to fame and power. Fesk, though he performs his duties as primogen of the London Malkavians with equal organisational skill, shares none of his sire's delusions, instead dressing for all occasions as if expecting rain, and speaking ominously of all things.

Terence Rannigan, former Baron of Wimbledon

The story amongst Kindred is that Terence Rannigan, a Ventrue war hero and ally of Prince Kirkbeck's in the Sabbat-infested south, was captured in early March of that year by the Sabbat, tortured for information, and finally butchered. It was this brutal kidnapping and assassination that shocked the barons into letting Kirkbeck take the lead for the so-called Two-Week War - though, pundits note, they quickly shifted the Prince back into the sidelines as soon as the first major retaliatory strike had been carried out.

Anthony Sommers, Baron of Whitehall, 'The Patrician'

Young and ambitious, Sommers took the integral domain of Whitehall during the Two-Week War during a fast-paced reshuffle, as Prince Kirkbeck and a coalition of barons under Samantha Eames and Rodyon Turcov vied for control of the city. While Sommers still enjoys the support of his allies, as well as an extensive and ever-growing network of friends amongst the Kine government, the majority of Barons still see him as an inexperienced upstart, attempting to undermine him wherever possible.

Esteban du Marchais, former Baron of Whitehall

Walter Weybridge was once a schoolfriend of Roger Kirkbeck's, as Kine; and the two were Embraced, simultaneously, by two elder Ventrue of the city who caught them in a London alleyway. As Kirkbeck rose, haltingly, to power, he attempted to bring his old friend along with him. It became increasingly clear that Esteban du Marchais, as he renamed himself, conceited, idle and incompetent, was not fit to rule - as became ever more apparent when the new Prince gave him the title of Baron of Whitehall. The ineffectual du Marchais began to look more and more embarrassing, especially when faced with opposition in the form of a young Kindred by the name of Anthony Sommers, who began to gain allies amongst the Kine government and gain the respect of the local vampires. Finally, despite an attempt by Kirkbeck to oust Sommers entirely, du Marchais was stripped of his office, and promptly arrested on charges of misleading the Camarilla. Few believe that the accusations are true; but anyone can see that du Marchais, now imprisoned in the Sheriff's dungeon, is likely soon to meet his Final Death.

Andre Carabas, Baron of Bexley & Havering

Languid, careless, and easily bored, this Toreador baron treats his exile in 'the sticks' of outer London as easy money - at worst, a slight hindrance. Some speculate that Carabas has designs on a more central domain - but it's just as likely that his real passion, collecting and trading Kindred antiquities and artworks from the many flea markets of the city, occupies too much of his time to allow for much wrangling.

Erika Schiller, former Sheriff of London

Schiller, heavily-scarred from an apparently magical wound many decades ago, served Kirkbeck and the Camarilla faithfully during his tenure, carrying out her orders to the letter...despite her obvious disdain for and distrust of the politicians she dealt with on a daily basis, and her quite incredible capacity for cursing. Without waiting to be ousted or demoted after Kirkbeck's exile to the countryside, Schiller abandoned her post and the city entirely; her current whereabouts is unknown.

Gordon Wyther, Sheriff of London

Slender and cadaverous, Wyther is a childe of Turcov's - and, every Kindred knows, his loyalty will be to him rather than to the Camarilla itself. Rumoured to have worked as a hitman for the Ventrue baron, his tenure as Sheriff has so far been unobtrusive (perhaps, some speculate, due to the creation of a new spy network) - a few Kindred have been dragged away by his men, of course, as is to be expected after a political shake-up, but just how successful Wyther will be at his post remains to be seen.
Daniel ‘Old Rabies’ Leus

Once a subordinate to the ancient Ventrue and former Prince Mithras, the infamous Malkavian Leus has been allowed to return to the city by Regentia Eames. Occupying a position somewhere between a bitter jester and an advisory prophet, he takes pleasure in tearing apart the character of those he encounters.

Edgar Fellowes

Fellowes, an urbane Toreador with decidedly impressive gun-play skills, rose on the coat-tails of Anthony Sommers, acting as his personal bodyguard and hitman (while, of course, maintaining his own interests in the capital). Now that his boss has been made Baron, Fellowes is busier than ever, though his duties are now tailored more towards the organisation of Sommers' men and various meetings with Kine allies - so much so that some suggest he seriously misses having a little adventure in his life.

Oscar Cronin

A Nosferatu entrepreneur of sorts, this Irish Kindred enjoyed the patronage of several London barons, enabling him to set up his own surveillance base away from the main warrens. While he appeared to lose the support of Anthony Sommers after the Two-Week War, Oscar's ever-growing success, even paying other Nosferatu to join his enterprise, suggests that he still enjoys the patronage of other important figures in the city - indeed, some amongst his clan have apparently even begun to treat him with envy and anger for selling their services privately.

Donald Jamieson (deceased)

Donnie, as he liked to be known, was a Malkavian renowned in his home in upstate New York for his skills in tracking and killing human hunters, mainly due to a remarkable knack for both endearing himself to those around him and appearing utterly harmless even to the very suspicious. Don's efforts in taking down hunters often involve elements of subterfuge, sleight-of-hand, distraction and sheer bloody cheek. Died in an ingenious sting against members of the Sabbat during the Two-Week War. His motives for being in London are still unknown.


This hulking doorman at the Pleasure 'N' Pain haven, the most popular club and meeting-place in fashionable Soho, handles more than just security - he's also been known to work as muscle, intimidating the rival Kindred prospects in the area.

Simone Bellevoir

A Nosferatu explosives expert, Simone works freelance - her association with the Tremere Samantha Eames has made her something of an outcast amongst her clan.


Not a great deal is known about Eames' head of security, a tall, grizzled Brujah who spends as much time drinking at the bars of Soho as working. He is, however, apparently tough and dependable, with just enough imagination to serve his mistress effectively, without enough imagination to ever consider working elsewhere.

Gwendolen Rickless

A noted Harpy and famous gossip who currently waits at the Pleasure 'N' Pain - though some of the smaller establishments, including Whiplash, are trying to persuade her to defect.

Joan Willoughby

This Tremere apprentice is currently trying to escape the shackles of the Pyramid, buying her way into the ranks of the Sabbat with information on Regentia Eames’ dealings with the creature known as Hob.

Another Tremere apprentice – laid-back and unambitious, claiming to have no intention of rising any higher in the ranks of his clan, Argyll appears to have a certain inclination towards his peer Joan, loitering in her cell and, once, ‘happening’ upon her by the Ravensbourne river.


Having been left behind by all of his peers, including the now-puissant Samantha Eames, this elderly apprentice is assigned a variety of mundane night-to-night tasks, to the extent that he has grown embittered and woeful.


Robert Griddle, 'Big Bob'

The childike, horribly mutilated Robert Griddle is the de facto leader of Anarch interests in London, though his size and proportions often result in his being challenged or even ignored by more immediately charismatic rivals. There can be no doubt, however, of Griddle's credentials, nor of his cunning - if he has a flaw, it lies in his tendency to act based upon the pronouncements of his personal Malkavian seer, Victoria.


Found abandoned at Victoria station, recently Embraced, this caitiff was taken in by the Anarchs. Her Malkavian blood soon became apparent, as did the remarkable accuracy of her predictions. While she remains fragile and easily distressed, Victoria is nevertheless held in high esteem by Robert Griddle.

Ellie, Vanessa, and Dennis

Three young and rather foolish Anarch neonates.


Sculptor Angelos (deceased)

A genuine artiste and something of a high-riser, Angelos' exact position amongst the Sabbat remains unknown - perhaps due to his connections with the Inquisition. Angelos was assassinated by the Camarilla in an elaborate sting, effectively bringing the Two-Week War to an end.

Bishop Dubrik

The Sabbat's spymaster in Liverpool, Dubrik is known for being cold, calculating and utterly manipulative. While he remains focused on the North, Dubrik has been known to extend his hand southward to London in the past.

Ductus Wallace (deceased)

An enforcer of Sculptor Angelos'. Killed at the same time as his master during the Two-Week War.

Amanda Wilkinson (condition unknown)

Working as a subordinate for several Ventrue masters, it was Anthony Sommers who discovered that Amanda Wilkinson was, in fact, working as a double agent for Bishop Dubrik. In a brief negotiation between the two parties, Wilkinson was allowed to leave the city unharmed - her fate once she arrived home is unknown.


Karthik (deceased)

This portly Indian power-broker and information-trader, one of the very last members of his clan in this city, appears to have died during the Two-Week War...though exactly how he met his end is disputed, to say the least.

The Centurion

This ancient, Latin-spouting maniac, bringer of death to Camarilla and Sabbat alike, apparently at random, is rumoured to be a Samedi - however, some point out that his clan is far too young to have spawned a real Roman. Whatever the case, this chaotic creature has become a good deal more violent in recent days, as if he's somehow enraged by recent events.




Humphrey Trentbridge

The current Home Secretary may very soon find himself on the way out due to marital troubles and personal stress - however, at present he is a valued contact of Anthony Sommers' in the Kine government.

Antonia Grey

Sommers' secretary - loyal to a fault.


This thuggish East End brute makes a healthy living selling firearms out of the back of his van - rarely, if ever, questioning the curious types who loom up from out of the darkness to buy his wares.

Peter Glenville

A politician, caught up in the papers earlier in the spring when his young daughter was found, molested and murdered, in the family's London apartment. The perpetrators, the girl's nanny and her foreign boyfriend, were arrested almost immediately, and Glenville has since returned to active duty.

Frederick Boulton

Eames keeps this ghoul sweet with frequent dining trips in the West End - in return, as a managing director of the British Red Cross, he helps keep her and her allies supplied with fresh vitae.

Father Nicholas

The priest of St. Alphege’s Church in Greenwich, keeping watch over the hidden doorways to the Vessel, Eames’ chantry, far below.


Named after the plague-sodden heath to the south of the chantry, this hideous, relentless gargoyle is Eames’ watchman and often hidden guardian.

Part One


The great wheel turns.

Inside the glass capsules, laughing tourists and couples clink their glasses of champagne together and gaze downwards across the countless lights of the legendary city of London. "Look," a braying husband tells his cowed wife, "Look, there's Whitehall, there's Nelson's Column, there's St Paul's. Doesn’t it look more beautiful at night, darling? Really comes alive. Look. Look."

And far below, unseen in the darkness, crouched on a moss-covered stone jetty on the edge of the Thames, someone is chattering, aloud, to the night air;

"Gehenna! Geh-heh-heh-henna. Gehenna, my swollen arsehole. Not so long ago every fanatical fuck from here to LA would stop you on the street and tell you it was going to happen round the turn of the millenium. But did it? No, sir-ee. They said it was going to happen in 1534, when Jan Matthys - rest his bloody Toreador soul - set Munster aflame. And now look at you, Terence. Just look at you."

The vampire heaves the chain-wrapped body off his shoulder and onto the stone, where it lands with a wet, thick slap. He dusts his jeans theatrically down with both hands, then removes the filthy cigarette from behind his ear and lights it.

"I mean, sure," he continues, thoughtfully, taking his first drag, "you could argue that maybe Gehenna doesn't have to happen at all, because it's already here. That our punishment is to have that possibility of retribution hanging over us every day for the rest of eternity. But that's philosophical bullshit, Terence, and you know it."

He crouches, with a little sigh, and begins to tug at the stone weights secured to Terence's arms and legs, testing their firmness.

"And you start shouting about how the world's going to end," he says, "and you get in with a crowd even the Sabbat would hesitate before shakin' hands with, and...well, honestly, Terry, I'm ashamed of you right now."

He straightens up, and gazes out over the vast murk of the river. Somewhere above, kine teenagers are skateboarding on the Southbank. Far away to the north, taxis hoot, sirens howl and drunks screech at one another. The hollow thump of music, being played from a passing car at high volume, racing across the bridge. The moon is high, and faint, veiled by the city's eternal glow from a million lamps.

"And you know," the vampire says, flicking his cigarette into the water, "it ain't a bad world. For some of us, anyway."

He glances down. And frowns.

The stone jetty is bare. Terence is nowhere to be seen.

"Terry?" he says, glancing quickly behind him. "I know you ain't gone walking, fella. Not with that stake in your chest."

He casually reaches into his jacket pocket and removes his scarlet-handled switchblade. The knife slides outward. Slowly, he turns, first in one direction, then in the next, listening. But there's nothing there.

Finally, stooping, with exaggerated care, the switchblade still clenched in his fist, he leans over the edge of the jetty and gazes down into the depths of the Thames.

The hands reach up, and drag him down.

A tiny yell of surprise; a tiny splash. Both go unnoticed.

The moon rises. The city moves. The great wheel turns.


It's 2011, and the world has not ended. In the great grey city of London, vampires live beneath the rule of the Masquerade, as they have always done. In the haunted corridors of Whitehall, Kindred twist the rulings, the betrayals and the petty hatreds of Kine politicians to their own advantage. The old Prince wanders the foggy parks, wrapped up in hat and scarf, impotent to prevent the schemings, assassinations and wars conducted by the barons against one another. The Anarchs, from their squats and bedsits around Islington and Shoreditch, shout about the inherent decay of the system and toss stones through the windows of the wealthy. In the endless, filth-ridden tunnels of the Underground, the Nosferatu live under the rule of their own masters, shunning the politics of the surface. The Anglican Church, formed by the will of the Camarilla from its very genesis, works unknowingly to keep Catholic hunters out of the country. In the plague pits, parks and stretches of caged greenery, homeless Gangrels practice their Old Customs and make their spring sacrifices. Sabbat packs, brutally put down by Camarilla coteries in the last street wars, gather their strength on the south side of the Thames. From behind the gates of the Palace, the Monitors of the Inconnu watch. Out in the wild countryside beyond the sprawling city, werewolves prowl. And through the streets, feared by all, strolls the ancient Samedi death-dealer known only as the Centurion.*

Yes…this is a city that has always known vampires. But what are you? (Also plz specify gender if you have a preference.)

A) You have crossed oceans. Toppled governments. You watched as this city burnt, centuries ago. You watched them rebuild it. You’ve made good friends amongst the Kindred – and even those who call themselves Cainites. Most of them saw their last sunrise a long time ago; and now you wander the familiar streets of Islington, or hanging out at the Anarch meetings, listening to the young punks talk about affecting change. Most of them speak of you with little reverence, these days, saying you’re past it. A washout. A failure. You don’t care; you’ve got a plan. One final trick up your sleeve. You are Brujah.


B) The city is as great a wilderness as any other. Under the watchful eye of your primogen, your clan has made its nests in the forgotten spaces; the bottoms of underpasses and bridges, where only the homeless dwell. Your lair is in the sewers, on the far edge of a canal to the north. At night, you crawl out and run with the wolves in Regent’s Park. You have no aims; free from the troubles of London Jyhads, you maintain a steadfast, lonely independence, worshipping the Old Gods of your Celtic forefathers as your people always have. You are Gangrel.


C) You run a string of properties in the City, and you hold a position as non-executive chairman of the Metropolitan Bank, as well as President of the London Whiskey Association. Your predilection for cannibalism, conducted discreetly in your penthouse suite in Putney whenever your ghoul driver is able to catch victims for you, is less well-known. Your family – Dunsirn Scotsmen – are doing well. But not, perhaps, well enough…and while you pay little attention to the dealings of the Camarilla, you are more worried by a certain upstart St. John vampire, newly made Baron of Chancery, who you begin to suspect may wish you out of the picture. You are Giovanni.


D) The Dark Father is fled. All’s a-wrong in London-town. Juggling heads and juggling lives. With the ha-ha-bonk, you killed a clown. From the lair of the bear, without a car, but BEWARE! She’s awakened. Fool you are called. From the circus you came, so in the Circus you shall live; the great bright lights of Pick-A-Lilly-Dilly. You are Malkav. You are Malkavian. (I didn’t want to completely shut down the possibility of playing one of the setting’s most iconic clans, but…for obvious reasons, a Malkavian LP would be somewhat hard to follow and to write. So I’d really prefer you didn’t.)


E) Under Whitechapel you make your home, in the sewers beneath the sewers, beneath the roaring Tube lines; a foul netherworld where Roman ghosts wander and horrid, unnamed things lurk. Jack’s Warren, named after the most infamous Nosferatu of London’s history, is small, and its inhabitants mostly fixated on the gathering of information through the now legendary Schrecknet (as well as, occasionally, the viewing of old horror movies and porn). As a political advisor to your primogen, your virtual eye is set on the highest players amongst the Camarilla and other factions – while they know nothing of your existence, you observe their every move through the city above. You are Nosferatu.


F) Your nightclub, ‘Whiplash’, has gained a certain notoriety amongst the Kine of Soho, who see it as the most welcoming club in that most decadent and artsy part of town for patrons of certain…deviant natures. In truth, the loud banging music and S & M paraphernalia mask Whiplash’s darkest secret; it is an Elysium, a neutral meeting-place for Kindred, and from behind your bar you learn the tales of vampires from all across the world…and dish out a little gossip yourself. Some call you a Harpy, but there is more to you than mere spite and delight in story-telling; the roof-garden of your private apartment over the club happens to overlook the streets of Chinatown, where you can keep an eye on certain activities amongst the Kuei-Jin. You are Toreador.


G) The Chantry at Greenwich is located (with your Regent’s sense of irony being what it is) in the converted rooms beneath an old chapel designed by the Tremere and thaumaturgical hermeticist Nicholas Hawksmoor. Above, the ghoul and vicar keeps watch for Tzimisce usurpers; below, you practice at your ancient art, losing yourself in ancient textbooks pilfered from the British Library and astrological charts abandoned by the Observatory. But, even so divorced from reality, you have begun to note a certain stress in those of your peers concerned with Camarilla politics. Some have even disappeared from the city entirely. And, you can’t help but note, the confluence of the stars is worrying; extremely worrying. You are Tremere.


H) Your modest house in Primrose Hill is almost never visited (except, of course, when you’re caught out in the open near dawn. But you’re never caught out.) But in Whitehall, an office is always kept clear for you; and each new Home Secretary finds himself reading a letter from the previous Home Secretary explaining how you will be of use to him. And so you work with each successive government, covering up scandals, dealing with the inevitable corpses of prostitutes…and, every so often, you ask them to return the favour. In the world behind the Masquerade, you organise Camarilla councils, smoothing the ground between primogen, Barons and the Prince himself – or, occasionally, causing conflict where it suits you. You are Ventrue.


(AN: Oh, yay, another IF! But this one's gonna be fun. Honest. It's the Final Nights setting, present-day, but Gehenna has not occurred. Pick your clan, Kindred.)

*I won't edit this. But it is misleading.[/url]


Sep 1, 2006
D! We are Malkav. But you make a fair point on the difficulties with playing as a Malkavian so in that case I vote A. Brujah. Looking forward to this. Just recently finished a playthrough of Bloodlines and I really enjoyed your Lovecraft LP :salute:


Jul 12, 2008
I remember reading the four Gehenna scenarios some years ago. "Awful" would be too kind a word to describe them.

The only :obviously: choices are Giovanni, Tremere and Ventrue. Since I favor spellcasters, I vote for Tremere. Male or female, I don't really care.

The real question is : are gay Codexers numerous enough to make our hero a Toreador ?


This looks interesting. Casting a vote for Tremere


Jun 18, 2010
Tremere. Everyone knows mages are the best class in any RPG.

As for gender, flip a coin or go with random.org.


Jul 6, 2010
Compton, California
MCA Project: Eternity
No Tzimisce? Too bad. I vote Tremere in that case.


Sep 9, 2007
Vault City
F) Will it feature tasteful rape necrophilia?

Now seriously. Being a puppeteer and using [PERSUADE] fits better with text-based stuff. And when it doesn't work, just pull the Colt 45s, Auspex and Celerity.


Best Poster on the Codex
Aug 21, 2007
Frown Town
C, Giovanni

Rule the world through necromancy. :thumbsup:

Tho I guess faggy Tremere will win. You're all in lack of direction of something? Tremere is the most restricted play, you can't do jackshit until the guy up the ladder decides you can clean his toilets or something. Although I guess most Masquerade game do not simulate this aspect keenly enough and Tremere players are just overpowered mages most of the time, but that's lame


Dec 7, 2010
desocupado said:
C'mon guys, don't we have enough mages and shit in our games?

I vote Ventrue.

I'm going Ventrue as well. Ventrue are far more :obviously:, fuck this mage shit. Giovanni sounds p. cool too. Am willing to flip-flop if it gets enough votes.

Brujah is also great as well, though completely different than the above options. If we go Brujah, I suggest that our character be a brawling, collar-grabbing rebel who plays by his own rules. He will be named Shepard.
Jan 7, 2007
I'd like to vote male Malkavian, but if you find it difficult...
Tough choice. I'd prefer a not too popular clan, like the True Codexian Old Tzimisce/True Brujah or something lighter, like Assamite/Setite... or Samedi. In > order of preference.
But if those are out of question, Nosferatu.


Dec 6, 2002
Multikult Central South
Wasteland 2
root said:
i have been convinced that if we cannot play true brujah (which are most :monocle:), i vote ventrue.

I like the scenario where the so called True Brujah are nothing more than poseurs and Ilyes hates them even more than the regular kind since they imply that he made the mistake of Embracing more than once.

Giovanni would be the most depraved choice, barring a Tzimisce, but I think a Ventrue pulling the strings of the government would be pretty fun.


A top effort, grotsnik, old bean.

My vote goes to male Brujah. Seems like they have the most fun.


Of course, I'd dig on a Malkav, but I see the difficulties of writing.

Edit- Actually, if I read the Giovanni bit right, you said the Giovanni will be a Scot. Therefore, I also vote Male Giovanni.

Make it happen.

End of line.


Sad Loser
May 28, 2008
SCO said:
Nosferatu, failing that on a deciding vote, Brujah, Toreador, Ventrue, in this order.

In this LP i want to read a description of entering through a toilet by distorting your bones to malleability incredibly painfully only to be shat on when you're emerging.

We shall call him "nomask"
If someone is wondering, SCO is German.

For the gender I am surprised that no one picked Tranny yet.


Sep 9, 2007
Vault City
To the OP: If you are open to consider adding Tzimisce as an option, ignore my previous post. Being able to use vicissitude to create multiheaded dicks is too much of an opportunity to be missed in a Codexian thread inspired by VTM.



Jul 11, 2010
Yeah, I did consider most of the non-included options that have been mentioned (Tzimisce would've been the next to go on my list), as well as having antitribu options. Basically it came down to not wanting to start the LP off with 20 different options and having 6 people choose 1 each.

But as it appears I was wrong on that front (hurrah!) I'll happily go with something not on the list if it gets enough votes. :M

And cheers, everyone...I'll try to make this a good 'un.

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