Let's Play: Vampire: Bloodlines

[EVILNess]

Originally Posted by DFM

The picture most likely was painted by commission from her after her embrace and whatever happened had already happened.

I seriously doubt anyone who wasn't Malkavian would keep a deformed monster like that around the house.

LESS BANTER AND MORE UPDATE.

[bananarama]

So is there anyway of doing things so that Jeanette shoots Therese in the head? Or is Therese always the last one standing?

[Krylo]

I've never had Therese live, because she's an insufferable bitch. Except when I made them both survive.

[DFM]

Yeah, whoever you favor throughout the quests and especially the final conversation determines who survives. With a high enough persuasion you can get them both to co-exist peacefully and coordinate their personalities to bring Santa Monica to it's knees.

Helen had a high enough persuasion to do it, but, you know, "Buhbuhbuhbuh..."

[Karrrrrrrrrrrresche]

Originally Posted by DFM

Yeah, whoever you favor throughout the quests and especially the final conversation determines who survives. With a high enough persuasion you can get them both to co-exist peacefully and coordinate their personalities to bring Santa Monica to it's knees.

Helen had a high enough persuasion to do it, but, you know, "Buhbuhbuhbuh..."

So we just passed up the chance to have leverage over a potentially city ruling power...for "buhbuhbuhbuh"?

[DFM]

Yeah, she's like "You know, I think I'm just gonna lose it."



"It'll be for the best."

[BitVyper]

I like making them coexist. Just 'cause talking to them is funny.

[DFM]

I walk out of the club in a daze. I'm not even sure if what I saw was real. Vampires probably have all kinds of... ways to mess with your head. I don't know why they'd... why she'd... or...

No.

It doesn't matter, I should just forget it. I'll probably need to suppress a lot of what I see from now on, might as well get some practice. Tung's hiding out in an empty oil tank near an abandoned gas station just outside of town. The great Bertram Tung, rival of the Baron of Santa Monica, living out his days in an abandoned oil drum.

I hope that isn't what it means to be a power player in the afterlife. I'm not exactly unaccustomed to squalor, but... I'd prefer not to live in it, if I can help it.

Bad memories.



The walk to the outskirts of town doesn't take long. Sunco. I can't figure out if Tung's being ironic or sarcastic or if there just wasn't anyplace else. The property is fenced off, but the gate's held down with nothing but a padlock. I might be able to vault over the whole thing if I got a running start, but I'd rather not deal with the barbed wire, my twenty grand cloth straps are getting risque enough already.



I pick the lock without much trouble and make my way behind the service station. Only oil tank in sight, that's got to be Tung's place. I don't know if there's a hidden door or a tunnel or just some kind of hole I've got to crawl through. I think about banging on the sides and shouting at him, but I've got no idea how he'll take to that. I prowl around the perimeter of the tank until I get to a relatively large tear in the side.



There's light coming from the inside. Definitely Tung. I hope he's normal, I really do. I don't know if I can take any more crazy. Not even normal crazy, let alone what I've been put through lately.



At least he's managed to wire up some electricity. Maybe he's not doing as bad as I thought.



Well, shit. He's an ugly fucker, too. Who the hell seduced and sired him?



"Look who finally made it. Thought you'd never find me, didn't you, sweatheart?" His voice is gravely and rough, almost raspy, but... there's something about it I like. He doesn't have the twang of superiority all the other vampires I've talked to have had.


Which would be three.





Two.


Three?

"You're Bertram Tung, right?"

"The one and only." It's almost refreshing to hear the charismatic cliche delivered by an uncharismatic voice. "Don't bother with introductions, fledgling. I know who you are."

I'm actually a little surprised.

"You do?"

"News travels down the kindred grapevine like wildfire, sweatheart, and that courtroom spat between LaCroix and Nines Rodriguez is juicy little morsel. With you in the middle, well... I've certainly got less interesting things to watch."

It sounds like I'm already on the center stage of some sort of political upheaval. Not the first place I want to be, but I suppose it's not the last.



It's pretty fucking close, though.

"So, you've been watching me. Then you probably know Therese has Santa Monica firmly in her icy grip again and your inside man is hanging skinless from the ceiling. Figuratively, I mean. Therese didn't actually..."

He looks confused for a moment.



"Wha- Oh. You mean Voermann. That was just silly vampire politicking, cupcake. Ruffle some feathers so everyone knows you haven't gone belly up."

"Therese seemed to take it pretty seriously."

He snorts, almost laughs.

"Yeah, no kidding. Now that the Camarilla moved in to LA, Therese has been running herself ragged trying to get the title 'Prince of Santa Monica'. Guess she saw me as a threat." There's a derisive chuckle. "I wouldn't want to be the Prince of Terre Haute, I'll leave that headache to the Ventrue. Besides, there's like four vampires in all of Santa Monica anyway. Therese can have it."

"The sad little prince on her sad little hill?"

"That's what I'm talking about. Your kind's cut out for that kind of thing. Hmm. Kind of an odd choice for a demolition job, though. Someone must have faith in you, cupcake. Of course they could just want you out of the picture. Interesting choice, either way."

What's he mean 'My kind?'

"You know I'm supposed to take out a... warehouse somewhere, then?"



"Yeah, I've been watching the place. The Sabbat has a bunch of lowlife humans working day and night to move stuff through there. There's some major staging going on, haven't figured out what they're gearing up for, though."

"You mean just humans?"

"Well, as far as I can tell. They seem to know the score from the way they've been talking. I think most of them have aspirations of joining the next graduating class of shovelheads." He snorts. "Ugh, losers."

"Wait, they know they're working for a bunch of monster vampires?"

"Yeah. The Sabbat like everyone to know just who they're dealing with. So if you get in there and have to bust a few heads... don't feel bad. Think of it as... heh, 'upholding the Masquerade.'"

I glance around the mostly empty tank.

"And you can take me there?"



"Yes I can. Just tell me when you're ready and we'll make for the warehouse. Once you're there, though, you're on your own. You'll have to get into the place and plant the explosives in the middle office to take the whole structure down."

"Alright, I need to grab the Astrolite. Probably some other stuff. I'll be back."

"Don't take too long. This isn't really something we planned around your schedule."



I leave the gas station and head back into town. Grab the Astrolite, grab my weapons, head for the warehouse of the damned.



A full on assault is probably out. I've seen well armed squads cut to shreds trying to move in on garrisoned buildings and I don't feel all that super human being dead. Half dead. Sorta dead. Mainly dead, probably.

Maybe if I could get my hands on some hardware and being shot didn't hurt so fucking much I'd consider it.



Coming up now on Santa Monica Suits, home of a handless bounty hunter and a half dead super human.



I hope he didn't turn into an all dead super human.



Mercurio hasn't moved, but he's breathing better. He must have managed to crawl over to the radio and some point, because the evening news is playing.

"-gone wrong at the Surfside Diner only moments ago. Four men, armed with handguns and hunting rifles entered the famous diner in Santa Monica and opened fire on an unknown woman who was eating inside. As patrons and employees dove for cover, the victim retaliated against her attackers with what witnesses described as a 'Samurai Sword', killing all four. Said one witness, 'It was like something out of an action movie. I didn't know real people could do that.' The victim, who was apparently wounded herself, grabbed a rifle from one of the bodies and then fled the scene. Police have no further information on the victim, and the bodies of her assailants have not been identified."

The Elizabeth Dane was found floating-"

I'm awesome.



"Hey, Merc. I'm just hear for the Astrolite."

"You found Tung, then?"

"Yeah, and so you don't get caught with your pants down, Jeanette's dead."

"Shit, really? That's gonna shake things up around here."

"No kidding. I'll see you later, alright?"

"Hey, before you go, you remember what I said. Anything you want, I can get it. Just..."

"Yeah, I know." I give him a smile as I leave. "Not a word to LaCroix."

The man on the couch.

Even if I didn't like him, I'm not going to turn in one of apparently two people in all of California that I can trust.



I grab some newspapers from Mercurio's place before I leave and stuff the explosives as gently as I can into the mammoth purse. No room for anything else, though. I head through the back alleys until I get to my stash of firepower.



If it's gone, somebody's going to have something ripped off. I'll decide what when I get to them.



Good. It's dumb as hell, but the swords worked pretty well so far.



I check the shotgun, pulling the rounds from the chamber. Two. Trip didn't sell any shotgun shells that I could see, and I haven't seen any other place open this late. Damn. I stuff the buckshot back into the gun and set it on the cement. Two shots isn't worth lugging the damn thing around. I wrap the newspaper around the sword and crawl out of my hole.



I hoof it back to the Bertram and tell him I'm ready to go. He takes me across the industrial section of town to a semi abandoned railroad depot. We take an old underground passage that leads up under one of the smaller buildings.

"Up to you now, sweatheart."



He's gone before I can answer. I head up the last stretch of the passageway into the ruined building. Must have been some kind of service station at one point.



I push open the door at the top.



The first low rent shovelhead I see and he's pissing with his back to me. Jesus Christ. No sense shooting him, it'd only alert everyone else. I slip the gun back into my purse and pull the newspaper from the sword. I hold it to my side and creep across the floor, thankful for the first time that I'd lost the heels.





One blade through the spine. And to think, I would've been this easy to kill a night ago. I don't know if I should feel lucky or not.



His head hits the urinal as he goes down, chin catching on the lower lip, lifeless mouth half submerged in urine and grungy water.


I feel a little lucky.



I easy over to the next door and push it slowly open, listening for sounds from the other side.



Nothing, thankfully. The door at the end is locked. I could pick it, maybe, or...



I pry the plywood patch away from the wall. Years of exposure to the wind and rain have worn it down to almost nothing. isn't even nailed to the wall anymore.

If only it was the worst wood I'd ever seen.




I kill myself sometimes.

I crawl the the hole and onto a train platform. There's a homeless man by a barrel fire a little ways away. He hadn't heard me come out. Or he was too far gone to care.



I am kind of hungry... and that blood rush... I could probably use all the help I can get. But... I don't think I'm supposed to turn other people into vampires. I'm pretty sure that's what start this whole mess. I think that means I'd have to kill him, and... I don't really want to do that.

Plus he smells. I mean, really bad. He's probably got small pox or something. And I'd have to... put my mouth on his... skin. God, no. Forget it.



Fuck you, hobo Dave.

I follow the side of one of the trains, listening to a conversation come from somewhere on the other side.



"When I'm a vampire, I'm gonna move to Alaska."

"What? Why Alaska?"

"Geography, man. Winter's just one long night."

"Geography? You even know what Alaska looks like? What the fuck are you gonna eat? Penguins?"



Losers.

I'm out of earshot before I hear the rest of the conversation. I sneak past a few more patrols, whatever heightened senses being dead apparently gives me, they're helping. I make it to the front of the warehouse without anyone seeing me.



Front's too well guarded, I'll have to find a back way in. As I move behind another train car I can hear one of the men on the makeshift observation post.

"There! Did you see that? Something's moving out there."

"Holy shit, calm down. You been sayin' that for weeks and you ain't been right yet."

"I'm tellin' you, I saw something. Gotta be one of those Carmalla... Camilla... one of them other vamps."

"Bullshit. It's probably a bag like it was last time. It's probably not even a bag."

"Fine then, let it eat all of you. See what the fuck I care."



I slip further into the shadows and around the corner. Thank god for the boy who cried wolf.



There's a ladder leading up to the second or third story of the warehouse, just one goon with is back to it. I rush the ladder as quickly and quietly as I can hopping onto it and flying upwards. I'm already over the edge before I hear him turn and start to question what just went past him.



I go to the edge of the tiny attic to a vent cover on the far wall.





I take a careful step out onto the narrow iron beam.



For the second time tonight, I'm suddenly glad I lost the shoes.



None of the guards below seem to be able to hear me. I'm not sure where the 'middle" office would be, exactly, so I head towards the middle of the warehouse, desperately trying to keep my balance.

I was never exactly graceful.



There's a catwalk in the center of the room, just a ways off the floor. I really don't know if I can jump down without being heard. There's a chain dangling just off the beam.



I wrap my hands around it and lower myself down, hand over hand, feet dangling in the air. It's actually surprisingly easy. I suppose even the mildest form of undead strength is enough to outperform anything you'd be able to do prior.



The catwalk ends in a door. I don't hear anything from inside, so I slide it open.



The water cooler by the door gurgles, almost on command.

"What the hell was that?" It comes from one room down.

It's the water cooler you fucking moron. I use some of my power to rush as fast as I can to the nearest cover, a desk near the end of the room, to wait out whoever comes investigating.



Come on...



Leave.



There. This is an office and it's sort of near the middle of the warehouse. If it isn't exactly what Tung meant, it's close enough. I pull the make-shift explosive from my purse and set it under the desk, activating the timer. Three minutes. Two fifty nine.

"Hey!"

I whip around. Someone on the other side of the window behind me, pointing and yelling through the glass. Shit. I grip the sword handle and hurl myself towards the office door, jumping down the stairs.



They're all shouting now. Shots are ringing out everywhere. Shit. I kick open the door.



I have no idea where this goes.



I rush out the door and get funneled down the only exit I can see. I run through the labyrinth of train cars and half ruined buildings, dodging bullets and avoiding all the guards suddenly on the hunt. I leap up onto the deck of the service station just in time to hear a massive explosion and a rush of heat.



I start to turn to admire my work, when I see it running at me across the top of the train.

[DFM]

His face is illuminated by the towering blaze.



"The warehouse..." He glances over at the pillar of smoke and fire before looking back at me. His voice is droll, almost academic. "Your handiwork, I presume?"

"Now I meet a fucking werewolf? Does everybody have to go through this much on their first night of this horrible shit?"

He laughs, or rather, he chuckles. Droll and academic, same as his voice.

"Not experienced much in the creatures of the night, are you? For future reference, you might keep in mind that werewolves...aren't in the habit of introducing themselves."

"Oh." I'm not exactly ready to let my guard down. "So you're not going to try to kill me, then?"

He scratches his chin and I can't tell if he's just being an ass or if he's actually thinking.

"Well, I hadn't planned on it."

"That's good enough for me. Who are you?"

He smiles. Droll and academic.

"I see that my reputation, for once, does not precede me. My name is Beckett. And just to ease your potential paranoia, I'm not watching you. We've just coincidentally arrived at the same place at the same time. For different reasons, I imagine. So sorry if I unnerved you."

"As long as you're not trying to kill me or happen to be a girl hitting on me, I've got no real problem with being unnerved anymore."

"If you could tell me, have you seen or felt anything... strange, since your embrace?"


Hah.







Heehee.






HahahahahahahaahHAHAHAHAHAHA

HAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA



"Yes, actually."



"Like what, for instance?"

"There was a vampire in Santa Monica who was insane, and I mean scary insane. She had this schizophrenia thing, where she thought she was two people and both of them were horrible somehow and her father... Jesus, she's fucking messed up."

"She's undoubtedly Malkavian. Or should I say, they are undoubtedly Malkavian."

"No, 'she's' correct at the moment."

"I see. Has there been anything else?"

"Alright, there's a... well, there was, this fucking demon hotel by the beach. It's like the fucking Shining in there, like some portal to hell with this angry fucking ghost."

"A ghost?" He stifles what sounds like a small laugh. "Quite ordinary. I generally pay wraiths no mind. All but a few are willing to give up their secrets."

"Um..." I think for a moment. "There's these vampires called thin bloods. I don't know how common that is..."

"Thinbloods." I can almost see his eyes light up. "They're a fascination of mine. They are considered a weaker, more human-like Kindred, hence the name 'thin-blood', but they are sired same as any of us. I've heard a large collection of them live in this city. They're one of the reasons I'm in Los Angeles."

"Oh, is that what you were looking for then, when you asked?"



"Most of my contacts here report sensing something unusual in the night air, like a sense of dread or pressure... but I'm not a native to these parts, so I can't tell if it's irregular. And since you're still fresh, perhaps you're not attuned to it."

"I'm not a native either, so I wouldn't be much help even if I wasn't."

"Ah, well. Pleasure making your acquaintance, but there are rumblings for me to discredit. We shall, I'm certain, meet again. Or never again. Goodnight, young one... and do be careful. If word gets out about the warehouse... well... the Sabbat can be... antagonistic."


It's a quick enough walk back to Tung's empty tanker to deliver the news. Seems like he already heard.



"Nice work, cupcake. I felt that explosion a mile away. It's all over the news, too. Man, there's gonna be some pissed off Sabbat just howlin' for blood tonight, hehehe."

"Hey, you know someone named Beckett?"

"Beckett? I know of him. Why?"

"I ran into him after I took care of the warehouse."

"Really? Something big must be happening if he's in town."

"What's he do?"

"Beckett is... a historian of sorts. He's unearthed more vampire lore than anyone. That's all Beckett does; seek the truth behind our... condition."

"Um... speaking of the truth..."



"What is it, cupcake?"

"Um... earlier you mentioned 'my kind' and I was just wondering what it was... you meant by that."

"Just talking about your clan, that's all."

"...I didn't join any clan."

"No, it's- Jesus you really just fell off the boat. Clans are just bloodlines. Traits passed down from Sire to Childe since the third generation."

"So... what am I?"

"You're a Ventrue, cupcake."

"What... are Ventrue like?"

"Leaders. They get a bad rap if you ask me. Everyone likes to take shots at the man in charge, but when it comes to getting the job done, the Ventrue know how to step up. They can take the heat."

"...You're not just saying that because I'm one, right?"

He laughs. "I'm talking about powerful Ventrue. You're just a pup."

"Um... I actually had some other questions..."

I ask him about vampires, about feeding, about the current state of vampire politics that everyone seems to be so worked up over. Apparently there's three main groups of vampires, the Camarilla, the Anarchs, and the Sabbat. The Camarilla are basically all the organized vampires, the bulk of their population. They're like a governmental body that helps keep law and order among the various vampire clans. They also enforce the Masquerade, which is basically a bunch of rules about not letting humans wise up to what you are. The Anarchs are... revolutionaries. They oppose Camarilla rule because of its hierarchal nature and believe that everyone should be treated equally. A respectable but unrealistic goal, according to Tung. The Sabbat are bad horror movie monsters. They want to round up Kine to use as cattle and are in an unending war with the Camarilla, who they see as 'pawns of the elders'.

It's also apparently okay for me to feed on living people, since they don't turn into vampires unless you follow some complicated process. They'll just pass out and wake up a little while later, dizzy and not sure how they got there.

I thank Tung and grab a cab to LA, hoping to find LaCroix and tell him about my success. Hopefully he'll let me run around free like a good little undead girl.













"Let's drain it."

"Let's stake it and leave it out for the sunrise."



"Before you do anything... I want its teeth."



"Wake up, you stupid shit. We know it was you, and you're going to be an example to all the other dickless clowns who think they can cross the Sabbat and live. Camarilla fuck."

He kicks me in the side of the head. Like it didn't already hurt enough.



"Those of you in the first few rows, will get wet."

He doesn't get a chance to turn around from addressing his imaginary audience when a gunshot blows off the side of his head.



"Son of a bitch."



"Leave. Now."



"You can't take us all, Rodriguez. What are you gonna do, shoot us?"

He taps something on his hip.



The Sabbat shovel head turns back to me.



"I'm going to make it that much worse for you when I find you again."



I remember him from the courtroom. I guess that's twice I owe him. There's a flash of movement, and the shovel head's back from wherever he ran off too. In the blink of an eye, he's on top of Rodriguez.

"Good effort."







"Execution could use a little work."



"Should've been more careful, newbie. This ain't the burbs."

I pull myself back onto my feet. Head still aches.

"Thanks. For the courtroom, too."

"Kid, I got things to deal with. Why don't you pay me a visit at the Last Round tonight. I don't know what you've heard so far, but it's time you heard the real story."



"Watch yourself out there. This is a mean existence."

Whelp we're done with Santa Monica for awhile, moving onto Downtown LA and the next area of the game. I am really tired as per usual so I don't know what the last part of the update was about and it probably really is awful like amazingly so. My eyes hurt so I'm going to go do something about that now next update will be done when not I am doing bad sleep.

[Mirai Gen]

Everything with Jeanette and all aside, this part starts my favorite part of the game. Looking forward to it.

Also; the "Seen anything strange?" laughing was great.