Geist antagonists

Underworld Denizens:

“The cure for an obsession: get another one”

Mason Cooley

“Without obsession, life is nothing”

John Waters

The underworld is a bleak subterrania wherein the petty neurosis and dark impulses of humanity are catastrophised into forces, compulsions, fetters and forms. As discussed in the Geist Underworld appendix, virtues and vices pull more urgently on visitors; expire after spending long enough their and your inclinations become obsessions, trapping you in the cavernous deathscape surrounded by the hazards of a billion years of primal instinct and vicious thought drawn down and down into an endless depth, until - if ever - you are rescued by one of the Bound.

While the origins, and the degenerative process, which forms the following entities is typically mysterious, many parallels can be drawn between human or primal obsessions. A popular theory circulating the twilight network hypothesizes that every entity in the Underworld originated from a point of life, the more sophisticated entities coming from human, or at least sapient, origins (known descriptively as the Life-Source theory). Others suggest that, while it is sound death might require life as an origin by definition, some entities might deny this definition. The common proposition suggests that the underworld itself is an eternal corpse, pure death from a state of never having been alive, an endless source of deathly energy sustaining the microbes of the depths on its rot – cavernous tunnels are the dried husks of vessels and veins that have never known the flow of blood, policed by the Cheironic autoimmune system of a cadaver that can never be saved.

Librarians:

Keepers of Underworld knowledge infrastructure who enforce only one rule: Silence.

"Scientific apparatus offers a window to knowledge, but as they grow more elaborate, scientists spend ever more time washing the windows." Isaac Asimov

"In your thirst for knowledge, be sure not to drown in all the information." Anthony J. D'Angelo Where there is the tree of knowledge, there is always Paradise: so say the most ancient and most modern serpents. Friedrich Wilhelm Nietzsche

Librarians are an underworld Phenomena. Tattered and ethereal by nature, they tend to fray and dissipate if left outside of the influence of the death energies that infuse the lower mysteries.

Librarians are often found congregating around reservoirs of knowledge in the underworld in what remains a chicken-and-egg situation; were these reservoirs first made by some entity, subsequently attracting the attention of Librarians? Or, did they form by accretion as librarians accumulated, collected and ordered information? Librarians, you see, are compelled to catalogue, organize and arrange recorded knowledge instinctively. They are drawn to scraps of knowledge, which they bring together in chains of relevance until they form hornets nests of deathly data: tessellating catacombs chronicling anything from exhaustive lineages and analytics of family attributes, to more surreal information such as the poetry of the communal consciousness of an age. Needless to say, one might also find infernal rites, secret power and incantations, and the secret designations of antediluvian deathlords who would be perturbed even by the distant utterance of their original names. Life-Source theorists suggest that Librarians were probably human (or at most human like Sapient beings) who, in life, were fastidious to the point of neurosis, hoarders and collectors, and comprehensive, encyclopedic chroniclers of mundane and phenomenal occurrences. They may similarly have been beings who craved knowledge, but for whom no amount of knowledge was ever sufficient, or who believed all knowledge and facts were connected by some universal theory which they attempted to construct by the cross-reference of intensive databases and catalogues, and they simply needs the correct factoidal puzzle pieces to connect the dots and discover the theory of everything.

Librarians are humanoid, cloaked figures typically sporting simple tools; handheld eyeglasses, lanterns, and long ladders to access the impossibly high shelves of their knowledge-hive catacombs. Tall and spindly, younger librarians might resemble somewhat spaghettified humans whose features have been eroded or obliviated. Older librarians tend to split limbs at the knee and elbow creating multiple functional forelimbs, and their appendages taken on universal hand-like properties with which they multi-task and micromanage their eternal sortation. Commonly feet or even joints will take on such properties, but also hands, heads, or regions of the anatomical trunk depending on the usage and duties of the Librarian. The oldest Librarians will be multi-jointed insectoidal monstrosities, comfortable functioning at any orientation and with multi-purpose limb extensions; they are the swiss army knives of information cataloguing and menial labour. Librarians are also extremely perceptive and sensorily aware; they must after all, pick up on slight deviations in proper record keeping as well as interpret the objects and information before them with great accuracy and subtly. Similarly, these keen senses (which improve as a librarian ages and their limbs and sensory systems specialize) are used to root out transgressors who might break any laws the Librarians are enforcing. Unless reacting to transgressors, Librarians act a ponderous, almost lethargic pace, traversing ladders step by individual step.

Time, concept and source are the common cataloguing conventions, but Librarians have other, enigmatic, filing systems, and additionally may have to moderate their behavior by the byzantine Old Laws in the region of which they might happen to be congregating. The most common permutations of Librarian behaviour, largely contingent on the Laws of the land therein, are their reaction to visitors interfering with the gathered knowledge. Librarians allow near universal access to the materials they gather, but around half of Librarian congregations on average will not allow the removal of records and information from the vicinity, nor the improper ordering of material that has been accessed and returned, and may respond with hostility or forceful confiscation of material and further access, before reordering. The only universal behavior Librarians exhibit, seemingly regardless of the Laws, is that of enforcing the law of Silence. Written visibly at the entrances of all Librarian hives in the language or hieroglyphics of the Old Laws, is the single word in an imperative conjugation: Silence!

Silence might mean refraining from noise, or it might mean communication of any kind, including hand signals or telepathic communication [a great opportunity to enforce this out of character for a novel roleplay experience; players can only communicate to the Storyteller, or can only communicate nonverbally].

Librarians react with zealous fervour towards those breaking this law, and silence transgressors to incapacitation and even unto death, in those case where the transgressors may be the living. Apart from their wiry limbs and gangly grasping and gripping appendages, Librarians only really have one potent weapon; they slowly develop, integrated into their tool-like limbs, the means to extract knowledge from minds for cataloguing. Young Librarians might only have crude means of doing so, eroding thought clumsily over their thick, rough fingertips, which if escaped in reasonable haste, might result only in a crippling headache and the loss or blur of one or more days of memory. The oldest Librarians however, may enact skilled and swift cognitive lobotomies, extractions and psychosurgeries, neatly purloining identities and the ability to perform bodily functions (skilled visitors may be able to access information known only to previous victims of Librarians). Subdued transgressors are usually subsumed into the hive, and the minds used as storage databases, curios, or tools to continually classify, generate or interpret new information. Some of the oldest hives may have terrifying matrix-esque mindfarms in their deepest, darkest catacombs.

Ectophagocytes:

“Hunger knows no friend but its feeder.” Aristophanes

“Every time you eat or drink, you are either feeding disease or fighting it” Heather Morgan

“I saw few die of hunger; of eating, a hundred thousand” Benjamin Franklin

Feeding is one of the oldest compulsions, sustainable by even the crudest of motivational infrastructure and present fairly few iterations after life was little more than a self-replicating molecule. As the complexity of life increased, this foundation propped up such compulsions as hunger and raveny, spawning ghastly gluttenous gourmands whose specific tastes drives their endless quests of satiation in unlife.

But feeding, and the drive to feed, can take root at a very fundamental level, and as a reflection of the hunger of the vigorous and living, manifests as a hunger for death. Deathly energies coalesce most densely as plasm, and globules or structures of plasm might take on this hunger and begin seeking with every more frenzy more plasm to sustain their amoeboid form. Simple creatures instilled with a need by mere exposure, Ectogerontologists propose that they occur in roughly three stages of development. As they exist in vigorous state of consumption and expenditure, Ectophagocytes often transition rapidly between these stages:

Quiescent

A portion of plasm at this stage has either newly been instilled with the compulsion to feed, or has regressed from a later stage of development after expending so much Plasm that spending more in mobility would threaten its structural stability. At this point it is immobile, typically a puddle or pool, and has formed a membrane that delineates it as a distinct organism. To progress past this stage, Quiescent ectophagocytes must ingest Plasm purely by happenstance, such as proximity to a cenote or Haunt. A source of plasm may step in the organism, at which point the organism will react immediately by expending resources to trap and consume the source. Alternatively, vaporous Plasm or coalescing Plasm deposits may pass through the ectophagocyte’s membrane.

Vital

Two main instantiations of Vital Ectophagocytes are known to occur. The first is similar to the Quiescent type, exempting that it has reserved significant resources to mobility and sensory systems and, as a membranous blob, propels itself in the direction of whatever sources of Plasm it can sense. It subsumes plasm through contact with membrane, and in the cases of sources of plasm contained in protective containers like the bodies of the Bound, the ectophagoctye will expend resources in a caustic graven simulacra of superoxide, hydroxil radicals, hyperchlorite, electroproteins, and interferon gamma. Subsequently it tends to engage its victim in such a manner until it consumes all the Plasm, by which stage it will have generally caused mortal injury. The second instantiation is as an infection, where a victim has survived contact with the ectophagoctye but has ingested some the material through orally or contracted it through abrasions or orifices into the blood stream. This material, generally in a quiescent form, thrives on the internal sources of Plasm in the host, and will multiply enough to severely disrupt bodily and cognitive functions. While this process will eventually result in death due to the breakdown of the body that ectogerontologists call ‘severe parasitic ectosenescence’, there is a period of time where the tumerous ectophagocytic infection co-opts some of the very basic bodily functions. The result in an impaired, semi-functional host organism that may be compelled to seek plasm by the ectophagoctye, experiencing destroyed higher-order cognition (including language expression and interpretation), impaired mental latency and reflexes, motor functions, respiratory functions, and any other system that may have been damaged pre or post-infection. These host organisms will tend to employ their own digestive systems to consume plasm for the parasitic ectophagocyte, and if effective the parasites begin to expend some resources to regenerate the biological processes of its host in order to continue using its sensory and mobility systems to pursue plasm. Intentional or mistaken consumption of ectophagocytic plasm also results in this process. By common understanding, such instantiations of Vital ectophagocytes cannot infect regular humans, who harbour no plasm and whose ghostly form is unavailable while they live and contingent on coalescing by force of anchors when they die. Authors on the Twilight network do speculate on possible ‘soul-munching’ variants with unprecedented digestive access to death energy as dangerous phenomena.

Virulent

At this stage, the ectophagocyte has ingested a great surplus of Plasm, most likely including rich sources such as Geists or the Bound, and is now able to commit its plasmic resources to expressing simple Manifestations, most commonly the elemental Rages, in order to pursue its hunger with as much brute force as possible. Since these organisms are too simple to pursue sophisticated long term planning strategies, they often expend huge amounts of Plasm in futile, excited attempts to subdue a potential victim, and as such Virulent Ectophagocytes burn the candle at both ends until they regress back to a Vital or in more dramatic cases a Quiescent stage. Ectobiologists are concerned, however, that rapid propagation style of the organism, if it survives for long enough, would by natural selection develop into an organism better suited for long term plasm hunting and deterring common means of failure and destruction.

Lampades:

"Haply by the pleasant silences of [the river] Lethe Nymphae Avernales (Underworld Nymphs) mingle and sport around him [a handsome boy who died young], and Proserpine [Persephone] notes him with sidelong glance."

Statius, Silvae 2. 4. 100 (trans. Mozley) (Roman poetry C1st A.D.)

Underworld denizens driven primarily to keep visitors in the underworld. They might set up elaborate scenarios in the upper mysteries, like carnivals, used rules and games to entrap visitors in bindings enforcible by Old Laws.

Supposedly adherents of the deathlord/mythological figure Hecate, Lampades are an exceedingly rare kind of entity when it comes to the underworld; native, living inhabitants. Their origin is strongly intertwined with pagan and hellenistic mythologies, as children of the night Goddess or the caretakers of the Avernal rivers. Krewes of such a mythological channel will have a natural affinity and knowledge of such creatures, though some measure of knowledge alone is not all that is needed to encounter these beings in safety. Such krewes would have more inclination to Eleusinian ceremonies, a series of Mystery rites (religious proceedings only open to initiates) revolving around the story of Persephone, abducted by the Greek god Hades, comprised of the ‘Descent’, ‘Search’, and ‘Ascent’; a structure by which such krewes fashion all their Underworld jaunts.

Similarly liminal beings as the Bound, Lampades manipulate death energies not through fusion with an ancient ghost, but through cultborne sorcery. They bear a light that might differ from Lampad to Lampad, depending on the infastucture of their dwelling. A Lampad in some decrepit facsimile of a warehouse in the underworld might carry a flashlight, one in a subterrian cathedral might carry a liturgical torch, one in a primal, wispy wood might carry crude burning stick or command a bonfire. With this light they can confer the power of prophecy [perhaps enhancing the Oracle key] and gift recipients with a poetic mind [perhaps enhancing the Expression skill or granting specialties], however, it can also illuminate to the viewer those terrifying things in the underworld lurking just below the surface of visible reality - or such things in the mind of the viewer – which can cause them to go mad [consider this at resisted attack that can impart Derangements]. These torches also symbolize their role as Torchbearers; illuminators of the dark way of the Underworld and as such they can kind wanderers to specific places, or more commonly, to Avernian exits, though this role is normally reserved for initiates of the mystery who rank above them (i.e. divinities and heirophants)

Whether Lampades are harmful or helpful can depend on luck, approach, countenance, and overall attitude. Lampades respond most benignly to the Celebrant archetype, something which might find a parallel in the Vice of Lust or similar personality traits, but Sin-Eaters stand a better general chance of good reception than a wayward mortal or other visitor. Adherents of the myth will understand aspect of Lampades as natural revelers, and servants to the goddess of doorways and thresholds, ghosts, and sorcery. Lampades are not encountered outside of the Underworld, calling particular rivers such as Styx and Lethe their home by nature though they are credited (with Hecate) with saving Byzantium from attack in 340 bc, by alerting the dogs of the city with their lights.

Lampades covet pomegranate seeds and asphodel petals, and such goods may be worthy as an offering for knowledge, mementos, trinkets, services or cessation of pursuit. Many of the Bound, of course, speculate on their nature. A common suggestion refutes their nativity to the Underworld, and suggests they are part of a unique metaphysic and race of creatures considered historically to be water divinities, who came to be in the underworld after their patroness participated in an ancient war.

Einherjar:

“Gladhome is hight the fifth where golden shimm'ring Valholl is widely spread out; here Othin chooses every day weapon-slain warriors”

1962 Lee M. Hollander in The Poetic Edda “The Lay of Grimnir”

“All the Einheriar fight in Odin's courts every day; they choose the slain and ride from battle; then they sit more at peace together”

Larrington, Carolyne (Trans.) (1999). The Poetic Edda.

Forbidden to talk with the living by those that created them, these are the souls of the best warriors in life merged with dangerous undead bodies with glowing gold auras. These exemplary combatants propagate, and occur in places that resonate strongly with their conceptual purpose; eternal battle, and the apocalypse. Einherjar rise again when slain, either where they fell, or in the domain of they that sent them forth, with a new body.

Rather than crudely re-appropriate myth like I just did with the Lampades, I might do something a little different with the Einherjar. As antagonists, they should be fairly straightforward to stat; skilled martial combatants, valorous, and supernaturally resist to damage and the limiting effects of injury. They would probably not be ghostly beings; they would be more like vampires or undead. More interestingly, they could be part of restructured Geist 2.0. While many aspects of Geist could be restructured, de-emphasised, foregrounded, or so on, based on taste and intent, one thing I always wanted to de-emphasise were the Geists themselves. They occupy a strangely central role in this ‘storytelling game of second chances), and in many ways work thematically; it’s also a fresh approach in a sense. Geist also has the salience of structuring its powers and soft class archetypes differently to the other WoD gamelines eg the unique ways that Keys and Manifestations interact and the lack of a defining set of political structures. By the latter, I refer for instance to Uratha tribes, the mage Pentacle, the vampire Covenants, and so on. Perhaps it is of a thematic approach that doesn’t suit it, so I attempted something similar but less contingent on culturally defined constructs. Thus characters would have a Threshold:

The Torn: Death by Violence

The Silent: Death by Deprivation

The Stricken: Death by Disease

The Forgotten: Death by Misfortune

The Prey: Death by Nature

And another design pattern. Indistinct, one might consider it a Salvation, a Resurrection (suffer from religious connotations), an Awakening (conceptually tied to Mage), or perhaps a Renascence. In any case, it refers to your means of return.

By Guide: Inspired by the crow, a speechless spirit guide, most typically an animal, ferries your soul from an unknowable other side. Would contribute a unique line of skills regarding this guide and your link to it. Guides might have no impact on how the Bound behaves.

By God

This is where the Einherjar fit in, those of the Torn risen by Odin, though I can imagine any God will do. If one was unwilling to institute these means Renascence, Einherjar could work as a kind of ‘bloodline’ of the Torn threshold, a variation on the theme. Gods would definitely take a backseat in the day to day actions of the Bound, but presumably would impose a code of conduct and ethical standard in return for life and power.

By Pact

Here we can revisit the geist, as well as more goetic demons, cosmic entities, infernal atefacts, and similar. In this case we walk a line between power and danger and brush up on our negotiation skills, but we also have more direct access to an entity that can serve as an ally as well as a demanding hindrance. This would be something of a faustian bargain rather than a fusion. By Will

This would cover those who returned to life through a sheer refusal to die, and perhaps had to struggle through a near death experience to return to their body. A suicide of the Silent threshold risen by Will might become a Nietzschean ubermensch embracing the philosophy of active nihilism. They might suffer from a particular weakness to the thing that killed them in the first place - a knife to the gut, romantic rejection, influenza – but are compelled to put that weakness to the test.

By Wish

This placeholder fifth is not particularly fleshed out nor an idea I’m keen on, but might represent magical intervention that allows a contingent, almost litigious means of coming back to life under special conditions. Alternate ideas for the 5th means of Renascence might be weird science (like a clockwork heart), wisdom (like reincarnation) or perhaps you might have some ideas.

I didn’t write anything about Ferrymen as

-it was someone else’s idea

-the lineage of the concept suggests to me denizens that reside in the underworld, giving passage between regions or across the rivers, like those that separate the autochthonous depths with the lower mysteries. In fact I took this concept a while back, that some might ask for nonstandard payment for passage to the depths (such as a cherished childhood memory), but converted it into a character idea that made it into a Geist campaign of mine as the Merchant of Memories.

The Merchant of Memories

Something of a ghost character that could probably fit well enough as an unfettered Geist, the merchant is first encountered when the party first leave the underworld, exiting an Avernian gate into a gutter drain underneath a park street. Cramped under the iron grill, they find they left with x party members but there are x+1 in the grill.

The merchant has long, spindly fingers, ending in a curved talon. The Merchant can use these talons to reach into a mind and drag out memories, as well as taste sips of memory in the curvature of his nail. He wears the spectral clasps, coats and fabrics of a moneyed Renaissance merchant – like that of a banker or moneylender.

Wretched ghosts may buy memories of affection and warmth, scraping together what plasmic currency they can for a moment of relief in the eternal suffering, like a Sim addict in Shadowrun, while more powerful and established entities in the underworld may use their influence and contract the Merchant to feed the byzantine obsessions for which they have built their dominions in adulation.

The intention of the Merchant other than as a colourful denizen of the Geistverse, was to provide players unprepared, or who made characters poorly suited, to lengthy navigations in dangerous environments like the underworld, a means to circumvent some of those challenges at an alternate price, as well as a kind of resource for the more industrious ones.

This was the write up I gave the players

“The Merchant of Memories

Currently residing in Hyde Park, the Merchant tells you a little about how he grades memories; intensity, flavour and length The overall value of a memory is a function of its intensity and flavour, and it's length adds a variable flat value based on the intensity (Memory value = mx + b) Flavour and intensity are each a value from 1-5. Intensity is fairly straightforward. Fortunately for memories, there is never such a thing as too much flavour. It's the difference between mild irritation and unadulterated rage. Flavour, also a value between 1 and 5, is a little different. Everyday feelings like sadness or envy might be worth 1 or 2, more interesting ones like nostalgia, despair or disgust might be worth 2 or 3, but the Merchant and his clients most enjoy complex recipes of feelings and contexts, rife with tragic irony, high stakes, consequences and the convergence of multiple wills, which would be worth 4 or 5. Of course this is just a guide, and instances of basic emotions might be so profound they are worth much more than expected. Length is a flat value added to Flavour x Length So, torture might add 3 value per hour of the memory while a summer-long romance might add 1 per week or month. Players can offer their own memories in exchange for value, but there are repercussions for doing so, including derangements, skill loss, and confusion.

The Merchant's services;

Plasm - 4 per plasm

Healing - 2, 4, 8 for boxes of bashing, lethal and aggravated respectively

Underworld Ceremonies - a variety of predesigned ceremonies valued between 10-40 based on potence

Vials of Mind Juice - 25

Budget Mind Juice -15

Keystones from the autochthonous depths - 50

Passage to a specific location in the autochthonous depths - 10

Passage to a specific location in the lower mysteries - 30

Passage to an illustrious location anywhere in the underworld - 50

Charms - a limited supply of charms valued about 10-15 each

Information - varies, typically between 10 and 25”

The rest of the information I explained verbally. It pertains to safer forms of payment. The most benevolent source of memories is gained from ghosts you’ve helped pass on. Once you solve their anchor, and gain their plasm as they pass, you contain the qualities of the memory which might otherwise just be passed around as plasm. Other methods, such as ectophagia or forcefully stealing memories from either the living or the dead (which required some means of thought theft such as specific manifestations or artefacts like infernal Trepanning tools) were valid but might trigger synergy loss amongst other concerns associated with hostile behaviour if it was too overt or rampant. Finally, mind juice is the Merchants iconic sales product, memories to be consumed like a fine meal and swirl around in the mind of the buyer like a Chiante. For the players, it grants XP when consumed. Budget mind juice grants a little less XP, and comes with the risk of minor derangements or other complications as fuzzy, loud and poorly distilled memories becomes integrated into the drinkers own mental histories.