Gratuitous Vampire Weebling
I must have made a few hundred attempts at this post. This is the one I'm settling on.
I realize that of the eight people who read this thing, only one of them would know or care about my Vampire fic. I'm not really expecting that to change (though . . . maybe I should go look for communities? That seems like it might be promising.)
However, I want to write this story. So, .
A little bit of an introduction, first.
If you're reading this and know nothing about World of Darkness, that's fine. You don't need to. As a matter of fact, if you find yourself confused, then I'm doing a bad job with the story. The only primer you need should be the following two paragraphs.
The World of Darkness is the property of White Wolf Publishing company. It is the term coined to describe the common setting of their popular Vampire: the Masquerade, Werewolf: the Forsaken, and assorted other "creature [colon] the [gothic abstract]" games. Core themes of the setting include salvation, humanity, damnation, and the discovery of the self. There are other themes particular to each segment, but these are the concerns at the heart of the game --whether you are a player, a writer, or simply a spectator.
The story I'll be writing is set in the Vampire: the Masquerade milieu. Ergo, undead bloodsuckers abound. In particular, I'm writing about the Clan Tremere, who are a group of vampiric mages. The mechanics of that will be explored in detail during the course of the story, so we're not going to go there now.
What I love about the story I'll be telling, though, is less its relationship to the roleplaying games and use or misuse of the setting, and more the characters and the plot that I've created within their purview. I have to add: I can't take credit for most of the original concept for either of these --both the plot outline and about five of the most crucial characters are my GM's creation. But the writing is mine, and almost every complication has been my doing. So I do feel like I have some claim.
Anyway, as prelude for publishing some of my work on it, here's some playlists for characters. An introduction, if you will, to things you need to know about them and to their views on the world. (Not to mention their musical tastes.)
Robert Jameson
"Hunger," Hans Zimmer. Black Hawk Down.
Robert is very, very old. To give you some idea: he remembers going on the Third Crusade. In fact, the Crusade has become the definitive experience of his long life, the point from which all else predicates --damnation, discovery, redemption, conviction, intention. This piece, with its very traditional Middle Eastern vocals and instrumentation, speaks vividly to the culture he encountered while abroad. And the later, high-intensity percussion sections are absolutely sword-swinging fight music.
"The World is Not Enough," Garbage. The World is Not Enough: Music from the Motion Picture.
Shirley Manson slinks her way through this piece like aural embodiment of a Bond tart, and the lyrics are a pretty much spot-on description of Robert's world view --take that as you like.
"People like us
Know how to survive.
There's no point in living
If you can't feel the life.
We know when to kiss
And we know when to kill.
If we can't have it all
Then nobody will.
The world is not enough,
But it is such a perfect place to start, my love.
And if you're strong enough,
Together we can take the world apart, my love."
"Skellig," Loreena McKennitt. Book of Secrets.
Robert returned to Europe in 1198 to swear loyalty to the Duke Leopold VI --and to make a similar oath to the newly-established House Tremere, the clan of vampiric mages into which he had been created. He spent the next century studying Thaumaturgy, first at the clan's embattled strongholds in Vienna and Ceoris, and then in France at the court of his childhood friend and hereditary liege-lord, Ethan Dormir. As the only scholars at the time were all in the service of Church, Robert spent a great deal of the time tonsured and cloistered and pretending to be a monk.
As for the song: McKennitt has a breathtaking voice, and this is a rich and solemn piece that I think captures the unique stillness, the isolation, the unexpected beauties and discoveries that might attract a man like Robert --ambitious, active, and irreligious-- to such a life.
"I joined the brotherhood--
My books were all to me.
I scribed the words of God
And much of history . . .
On dusty roads I walked,
And over mountains high,
Through rivers running deep
Beneath the endless sky.
Beneath these jasmine flowers,
Amidst these cypress trees,
I give you now my books
And all their mysteries . . .
O, light the candle, John.
The daylight is almost gone
The birds have sung their last
The bells call all to mass."
"Sorry for Nothing," Thomas Newman. Meet Joe Black.
"Sorry for Nothing" is a gorgeous, schmoozy, insincere Big Band number, all flash and trumpets. I've given you an awful lot of Robert's history, and enough private details to give you the wrong impression of his character. Robert's fond of libraries, and fonder of books, but he's come a long way from those early years of cloisters and monkish existance. These days he owns the controlling share of several major corporations, speaks eight languages fluently, is a recognized collector of manuscripts, and attends the occasional international glitterati function when he thinks there might be something to gain from the experience. That tonsure and the hair shirts are all long gone. Instead he wears impeccable suits, accessorizes them with attractive and eloquent dates, and when the situation calls for it he can flatter, manipulate, and hard-sell with the best of them. Nobody's ever accused him of being the most attractive man in the room, the most intense, or even the most eloquent. But he's a past master of knife-in-the-back negotiation and the subtle insult.
Life in the monasteries taught him that much, anyway.
"The Only Living Boy in New York," Simon and Garfunkel. The Best of Simon and Garfunkel.
This is one of the few pieces of recent music that Robert has heard or bothered to remember. He finds most of the rest of Simon and Garfunkel's work detestably sentimental, but identifies with this song.
Never let it be said he has no appreciation of irony.
Listen in.
Elyssa Adrienne Remy
It's probably worth saying that Elyssa is my protagonist and viewpoint character, and Robert one of my several antagonists.
"Sweet Georgia Brown," Benny Goodman. (Can't find an album.)
Elyssa spent the first twelve years of her life in New Orleans. Her childhood was Latin and grammar and piano lessons at a private Catholic girl's school --and then for three weeks in the summer, the blessed freedom of her family's hereditary estate outside the city, running wild under the big oaks with their veils of Spanish moss, skirting the edge of the bayous with curious eyes.
Meanwhile, this lovely little clarinet ditty is about as jazzy and New Orleans riche as beignets or the wide, sloppy Mississippi delta. I've included it as a nod to her creole heritage and bayou childhood.
"Songbird," Eva Cassidy. Songbird.
Eva Cassidy's lovely, throaty, graceful voice does sweet justice to this simple love song. It was one of Elyssa's favorite songs as a girl, and it was the first lullaby she ever sang for her niece Adrienne. It was also the only song that played at Addy's funeral, six years later.
To you, I would give the world
To you, I'd never be cold
'Cause I feel that when I'm with you
It's alright, I know it's right."
"And the songbirds keep singing
Like they know the score
And I love you, I love you, I love you
Like never before."
"Don't Bother None," Yoko Kanno, Seatbelts, and Mai Yamane. Cowboy Bebop v.2.
Elyssa comes from money. Her mother's family, the Girors, are old southern aristocracy, with blood as blue as the Confederacy wasn't. For the first eighteen years of her life, her family's wealth paved an easy road for her: first a private Catholic primary school, piano and riding lessons; then a Massachusetts boarding school, and two years later, enrollment at the prestigous International School of Toulouse, in southern France.
But that all changed when Elyssa finished at the International School and returned to the United States to attend college. Her parents had intended she should attend Tulane, make her debut, probably marry and settle down neatly within the fold of their financial empire. Elyssa wasn't interested in their plans. Instead she got a scholarship to Berkley, and when her parents refused to support her, Ely bussed tables and tended bar to cover books and ramen. It was one of the hardest times of her life, long stretches of grey exhaustion and fear studded with moments of rare-but-blazing happiness. Those four years taught her a great deal about surviving, about bar fights and bad tips and broken cars and living in a dirty ghetto apartment and eating potatoes for six months because you wanted to take fencing lessons. Although she's come up in the world since then --but four years of hungry and poor has given her a real appreciation for luxury, and a sense of what she's capable of enduring.
"Don't Bother None" is pretty much the anthem of that experience --a gritty, dirty, down-luck bar song that captures both Elyssa's opportunistic core, and her tremendous resilience.
"Winter: Allegro," Vivaldi. Four Seasons.
In my opinon this is the most emotionally diverse movement of all Vivaldi's Winter, or in the entirety of the Four Seasons. It is fragile, stirring, romantic, and bleak all at once, and honestly, if Elyssa had a musical theme, this would be it.
I'll Forget You," Rachel York. The Scarlet Pimpernel.
I've put this up for download before, but basically, this Marguerite singing to the ghost of Percy, mourning the the man that she loved, wed, and discovered to be a stranger. The lyrics and the story parallel Elyssa's own experiences, to be sure, but I've chosen it out of all the "I mislead myself in love" songs because of York's stirring, subtley French, Broadway-powerhouse delivery.
Listen in.
Let me know what you think! And I'll be posting more playlists for bit characters as I post chapters that include them.
-Rantza
I realize that of the eight people who read this thing, only one of them would know or care about my Vampire fic. I'm not really expecting that to change (though . . . maybe I should go look for communities? That seems like it might be promising.)
However, I want to write this story. So, .
A little bit of an introduction, first.
If you're reading this and know nothing about World of Darkness, that's fine. You don't need to. As a matter of fact, if you find yourself confused, then I'm doing a bad job with the story. The only primer you need should be the following two paragraphs.
The World of Darkness is the property of White Wolf Publishing company. It is the term coined to describe the common setting of their popular Vampire: the Masquerade, Werewolf: the Forsaken, and assorted other "creature [colon] the [gothic abstract]" games. Core themes of the setting include salvation, humanity, damnation, and the discovery of the self. There are other themes particular to each segment, but these are the concerns at the heart of the game --whether you are a player, a writer, or simply a spectator.
The story I'll be writing is set in the Vampire: the Masquerade milieu. Ergo, undead bloodsuckers abound. In particular, I'm writing about the Clan Tremere, who are a group of vampiric mages. The mechanics of that will be explored in detail during the course of the story, so we're not going to go there now.
What I love about the story I'll be telling, though, is less its relationship to the roleplaying games and use or misuse of the setting, and more the characters and the plot that I've created within their purview. I have to add: I can't take credit for most of the original concept for either of these --both the plot outline and about five of the most crucial characters are my GM's creation. But the writing is mine, and almost every complication has been my doing. So I do feel like I have some claim.
Anyway, as prelude for publishing some of my work on it, here's some playlists for characters. An introduction, if you will, to things you need to know about them and to their views on the world. (Not to mention their musical tastes.)
Robert Jameson
"Hunger," Hans Zimmer. Black Hawk Down.
Robert is very, very old. To give you some idea: he remembers going on the Third Crusade. In fact, the Crusade has become the definitive experience of his long life, the point from which all else predicates --damnation, discovery, redemption, conviction, intention. This piece, with its very traditional Middle Eastern vocals and instrumentation, speaks vividly to the culture he encountered while abroad. And the later, high-intensity percussion sections are absolutely sword-swinging fight music.
"The World is Not Enough," Garbage. The World is Not Enough: Music from the Motion Picture.
Shirley Manson slinks her way through this piece like aural embodiment of a Bond tart, and the lyrics are a pretty much spot-on description of Robert's world view --take that as you like.
"People like us
Know how to survive.
There's no point in living
If you can't feel the life.
We know when to kiss
And we know when to kill.
If we can't have it all
Then nobody will.
The world is not enough,
But it is such a perfect place to start, my love.
And if you're strong enough,
Together we can take the world apart, my love."
"Skellig," Loreena McKennitt. Book of Secrets.
Robert returned to Europe in 1198 to swear loyalty to the Duke Leopold VI --and to make a similar oath to the newly-established House Tremere, the clan of vampiric mages into which he had been created. He spent the next century studying Thaumaturgy, first at the clan's embattled strongholds in Vienna and Ceoris, and then in France at the court of his childhood friend and hereditary liege-lord, Ethan Dormir. As the only scholars at the time were all in the service of Church, Robert spent a great deal of the time tonsured and cloistered and pretending to be a monk.
As for the song: McKennitt has a breathtaking voice, and this is a rich and solemn piece that I think captures the unique stillness, the isolation, the unexpected beauties and discoveries that might attract a man like Robert --ambitious, active, and irreligious-- to such a life.
"I joined the brotherhood--
My books were all to me.
I scribed the words of God
And much of history . . .
On dusty roads I walked,
And over mountains high,
Through rivers running deep
Beneath the endless sky.
Beneath these jasmine flowers,
Amidst these cypress trees,
I give you now my books
And all their mysteries . . .
O, light the candle, John.
The daylight is almost gone
The birds have sung their last
The bells call all to mass."
"Sorry for Nothing," Thomas Newman. Meet Joe Black.
"Sorry for Nothing" is a gorgeous, schmoozy, insincere Big Band number, all flash and trumpets. I've given you an awful lot of Robert's history, and enough private details to give you the wrong impression of his character. Robert's fond of libraries, and fonder of books, but he's come a long way from those early years of cloisters and monkish existance. These days he owns the controlling share of several major corporations, speaks eight languages fluently, is a recognized collector of manuscripts, and attends the occasional international glitterati function when he thinks there might be something to gain from the experience. That tonsure and the hair shirts are all long gone. Instead he wears impeccable suits, accessorizes them with attractive and eloquent dates, and when the situation calls for it he can flatter, manipulate, and hard-sell with the best of them. Nobody's ever accused him of being the most attractive man in the room, the most intense, or even the most eloquent. But he's a past master of knife-in-the-back negotiation and the subtle insult.
Life in the monasteries taught him that much, anyway.
"The Only Living Boy in New York," Simon and Garfunkel. The Best of Simon and Garfunkel.
This is one of the few pieces of recent music that Robert has heard or bothered to remember. He finds most of the rest of Simon and Garfunkel's work detestably sentimental, but identifies with this song.
Never let it be said he has no appreciation of irony.
Listen in.
Elyssa Adrienne Remy
It's probably worth saying that Elyssa is my protagonist and viewpoint character, and Robert one of my several antagonists.
"Sweet Georgia Brown," Benny Goodman. (Can't find an album.)
Elyssa spent the first twelve years of her life in New Orleans. Her childhood was Latin and grammar and piano lessons at a private Catholic girl's school --and then for three weeks in the summer, the blessed freedom of her family's hereditary estate outside the city, running wild under the big oaks with their veils of Spanish moss, skirting the edge of the bayous with curious eyes.
Meanwhile, this lovely little clarinet ditty is about as jazzy and New Orleans riche as beignets or the wide, sloppy Mississippi delta. I've included it as a nod to her creole heritage and bayou childhood.
"Songbird," Eva Cassidy. Songbird.
Eva Cassidy's lovely, throaty, graceful voice does sweet justice to this simple love song. It was one of Elyssa's favorite songs as a girl, and it was the first lullaby she ever sang for her niece Adrienne. It was also the only song that played at Addy's funeral, six years later.
To you, I would give the world
To you, I'd never be cold
'Cause I feel that when I'm with you
It's alright, I know it's right."
"And the songbirds keep singing
Like they know the score
And I love you, I love you, I love you
Like never before."
"Don't Bother None," Yoko Kanno, Seatbelts, and Mai Yamane. Cowboy Bebop v.2.
Elyssa comes from money. Her mother's family, the Girors, are old southern aristocracy, with blood as blue as the Confederacy wasn't. For the first eighteen years of her life, her family's wealth paved an easy road for her: first a private Catholic primary school, piano and riding lessons; then a Massachusetts boarding school, and two years later, enrollment at the prestigous International School of Toulouse, in southern France.
But that all changed when Elyssa finished at the International School and returned to the United States to attend college. Her parents had intended she should attend Tulane, make her debut, probably marry and settle down neatly within the fold of their financial empire. Elyssa wasn't interested in their plans. Instead she got a scholarship to Berkley, and when her parents refused to support her, Ely bussed tables and tended bar to cover books and ramen. It was one of the hardest times of her life, long stretches of grey exhaustion and fear studded with moments of rare-but-blazing happiness. Those four years taught her a great deal about surviving, about bar fights and bad tips and broken cars and living in a dirty ghetto apartment and eating potatoes for six months because you wanted to take fencing lessons. Although she's come up in the world since then --but four years of hungry and poor has given her a real appreciation for luxury, and a sense of what she's capable of enduring.
"Don't Bother None" is pretty much the anthem of that experience --a gritty, dirty, down-luck bar song that captures both Elyssa's opportunistic core, and her tremendous resilience.
"Winter: Allegro," Vivaldi. Four Seasons.
In my opinon this is the most emotionally diverse movement of all Vivaldi's Winter, or in the entirety of the Four Seasons. It is fragile, stirring, romantic, and bleak all at once, and honestly, if Elyssa had a musical theme, this would be it.
I'll Forget You," Rachel York. The Scarlet Pimpernel.
I've put this up for download before, but basically, this Marguerite singing to the ghost of Percy, mourning the the man that she loved, wed, and discovered to be a stranger. The lyrics and the story parallel Elyssa's own experiences, to be sure, but I've chosen it out of all the "I mislead myself in love" songs because of York's stirring, subtley French, Broadway-powerhouse delivery.
Listen in.
Let me know what you think! And I'll be posting more playlists for bit characters as I post chapters that include them.
-Rantza