Let's Play: Vampire: Bloodlines

[Corel]

Originally Posted by Krylo

Try Toreador with a semi-automatic weapon. Celerity + Point Blank Range + Ingram = Death. Seriously, even bosses. Teleporting vampire hunter guy, for instance, only got to teleport once or twice before I wasted him completely.

As for the flesh-balls just punch them like twice. Even with, literally, zero brawl skill and no experience spent toward strength (I think I had one, maybe two) they die in two or three hits.

Ah right, when I played Toreador I attempted to go through the entire game with just non combat skills (As it was my first play through)...suffice to say it didn't end very well, as my firearm skill meant I shot like a Stormtrooper.

Originally Posted by Krylo

As for the flesh-balls just punch them like twice. Even with, literally, zero brawl skill and no experience spent toward strength (I think I had one, maybe two) they die in two or three hits.

Ah, I never tried meleeing them, only Firearms. I think my problem was that the panic reflex sets in when it's rushing towards you proclaiming God knows what.

Originally Posted by Krylo

The console commands have a whole lot of multiplayer 'GM' commands, too. Like gifting experience with the option to give it to everyone or by name, etc.

Have you had any experience playing Multiplayer? If so what was it like? I always wanted to try it but finding other like minded people proved difficult.

This thread make me miss Black Isle Studios and Troika.

[DFM]

MINI UPDATE





I walk to the cab that I know's waiting for me outside LaCroix's. I never really thought of myself as the ambassador type, but charisma is charisma. Just have to sell myself and not a product. LaCroix had said the Anarch leader was more civil and levelheaded than the downtown crew, hopefully he wasn't exaggerating. I'd have to lie my ass off to appeal to Damsel's type.



"Hollywood?"

HOLLYWOOD



The cab travels down a narrow street before pulling up against the sidewalk. I step out and the cab moves down the street, its driver watching me for a little longer than I'm comfortable with.



Dirtier and more claustrophobic than I'd anticipated. I guess even Tinsel Town's been on the decline. In its own way, it'd be as much of a nightmare to assault as LaCroix's tower. Winding, narrow streets flanked by stone buildings with a million windows. At least you could hit LaCroix with a bunker buster, you'd need a carpet payload for this place.

"Hey!" There's a deep voice and a forceful tap on my shoulder.



"Ain't seen you around here before, and if I ain't seen you, neither has Isaac, so that's your next stop."

"Wait, Isaac wants to see me?"

"Isaac wants to see everybody who's new to Hollywood.He's in the jewelry store at the end of the street, consider yourself invited."

"Alright. I'll do that."



Jewelry store at the end of the street. Sounds more like a mob front than the lair of a Prince. Or a 'Baron' or whatever they're calling themselves. I suppose that makes sense, the Anarch version of a prince being a mob boss.



Hollywood. Hollywood. Rising stars, broken dreams and untalented hacks. I haven't been to the silver screen for a long while, probably not since the dollar shows back when I was a kid. Those were the days.



Back when a city was the entire world. Funny, I suppose, that it's becoming that way again.



That must be the jewelry store Isaac's at. Front door is locked.



Must be an office door somewhere around back.





Well.



"Good evening, neonate... Isaac Abrams. I've been expecting you." He motions towards the chair opposite his desk, asks me to take a seat. "Seems like the wooden soldiers of the Camarilla are perched around Hollywood too often in numbers a little too high, these past few nights. That baby-faced, two-bit jester LaCroix got something to say to me?"

"He wants me to find the Nosferatu Primogen, you've heard of Gary? LaCroix thinks he's underneath Hollywood and that he's in possession of... well, something LaCroix wants. He said you might be willing to help."

He leans back in his chair, eying me.

"Really, now? LaCroix must be desperate if he's lowered himself to consorting with the sewer rats. And asking for my help, of all people. He's either drowning in his own political cesspool or he's got the nerve of a pachyderm."

"Both, I'm coming to believe."



"I don't doubt. I understand you helped the group of layabouts that hang around the Last Round with the plague that's been ravaging downtown, so I'm inclined to offer you a hand, despite your allegiances."

"Thank you."

"However... call me old-fashioned, but this is my barony and as is tradition, an exchange of gifts must be made between dignitaries."

There's a pause while I squint and raise an eyebrow.

"I'm a dignitary?"

"You've been here five minutes and haven't told me to bow before the Camarilla yet. I'm willing to put you on the list."

I half smile. "What's the exchange?"



"Information for a favor. Last week I paid for a certain item - a movie - and this evening I got an email saying that the seller is ready to deliver it. Unfortunately... he's become a bit paranoid all of the sudden." Isaac's voice becomes notably more annoyed. "Won't meet me in person, won't drop it off, won't even answer his phone. Say's he'll send the location of the pickup to a computer in the nearby internet cafe tonight. I'm sure you see where I'm going with this."

"You think it's a trap, so you're sending Camarilla fodder to the drop point. Worst case scenario, two birds with one stone, right?"

He shakes his head.

"Speaking of paranoia - No. Simple pickup's all that's involved. Go to the Ground Zero internet cafe, look for a directory named 'Josefk' and use the password 'Kafka'. There'll be an email in there that will specify a nearby location. Meet the contact, pick up the item, come back. Not too painful, right?"

"If it's that simple, why send me? And why is he so paranoid?"

"It needs to be done and I need something for you to do. As for the rest, I'll explain everything when you get back."

I frown before agreeing and standing up to leave.



"In the meantime, consider yourself a welcome guest in my barony. Welcome to Hollywood, Kindred."



I'm sure this will turn into another exciting chapter in the book of horrors that's become my life. I leave the store and walk down the street, keeping an eye open for the internet cafe. I pass an upscale restaurant when I hear someone call my name.



"Helen! Helen is that you?" She grabs me and hugs me tight enough to impress Nines Rodriguez. "Oh my god... it's... what are you doing? Everyone said... the news... there was a damn funeral what are you doing here?"

I'm surprised I do anything besides stammer.

"Sam?"

She pulls back slightly, still holding me. "What happened? Are you... you look half dead, what the hell's going on?"

"I..." It hangs in the air for a moment before I rest my forehead against hers and return the hug. "I'm sorry, Sam. I didn't plan any of this."

"What do you mean? What's going on? My god, you're alive..."

Should I lie? Do I have to lie?

"Sammy, I'm in deep with some bad people. When they're gone, when every thing's cleared up, I'll come back, but until then you can't say you've seen me, not to anyone. I don't want you getting involved. Any of you."



"Helen..."

"How..." I'm not sure I really want an answer. "...how's mom?"

Sam doesn't say anything, just stares down at the ground.

Damn it.

"Did she at least take the money?"



"I'm sorry, Helen. You know how she's been..."

God damn it, mom.

"Sam, you need to go, god knows who's watching me talk to you. I'll call you when I get a chance, take care of yourself. And mom, too."

"Helen, wait... are you sure you're okay? You don't look... right."

"I'm pretty fucking far from okay, but there's not a lot I can do about it. I'm sorry I have to break off like this, I'll talk to both of you later."

"Yeah. Yeah, alright. Be... careful. I don't want to find out you're dead for real."



Goodbye, Sam.




I love you.



I need a drink. Or a rest or... something. There must be a coffee shop or something around here.



Fuck it.



The gas station's surprisingly clean and bright on the inside, a late night talk show plays in the background.



So what if I can't really drink coffee? It'll at least feel good to have something hot sitting in my mouth.



"S'up?" He rolls his eyes and coughs. "Oh, right. Welcome to Red Spot, home of the Monstro-Chug, 72 ounces of your favorite beverage for 89 blah blah. You need some help or something?"

"Give me some of that coffee. Lots of cream, lots of sugar."

"Yeah, sure."

He turns around, talking while he fills the cup.

"So, you visiting Hollywood or what?"

"Business. Sort of."

"Well, if you get some free time you should come check out my band. We're playing the the Vesuvius tomorrow night. No cover for chicks. We're gonna ruin the place. Plus the girls there are fucking wicked."

He turns around and hands me the cup.



"Uh, if you're into that sort of thing, I mean."

"I'm sure they're the best."

I open my shirt just enough to pull a money clip from the inside pocket, which happens to be just enough for the glint of the Ingram to reflect off the merciless florescent lights. The attendant eyes it, raising a curious eyebrow.

"Hey, you should... really ask about our special."

I hand him the clip of money and take the cup, blowing steam off surface.

"What's your special?"



"Well, I'm glad you asked, baby. Seeing as how you look... interested or something, we got this special where you buy this really expensive glass of Grapple juice, you get a free pea shooter. Sweet deal, huh babe?"



God bless America.

[Ryong]

$317!? He really wasn't kidding when he said it was a "really expensive glass of grapple juice". And who's Sam? Now I'm curious .

[BitVyper]

I always wondered why having her phone your friends was an automatic Masquerade breach. I mean, it probably isn't too smart, but it's not exactly revealing your vampirism.

[ReaperRain]

Yeah, but it's revealing that you're not dead (kinda), which means everyone you knew as a human will of course flock to you and question you until they find out the truth, or at least twig that something isn't right.
Oh, and thank you for the update, DFM! *inflates DFM balloons*

[Mirai Gen]

I kind of wondered if that bitch was always the same regardless of which clan you were. As a Gangrel I thought you were siblings or something.

[tzimisce]

This is some pretty good stuff. Keep them coming. Regularly.

Looking forward to see how Helen reacts to those creepy headrunners. That snuff film scared the shit out of me the first time around. Confronting those monsters even more so.

[DFM]

The club the station clerk had mentioned is just down the street. Odd design on the outside, reminds me of a moselium. I head further down the street, near where Isaac had mentioned the cafe. I toss the empty coffee cup in the wastebasket next to a public phone booth. Don't feel rejuvenated, but at least my mouth's warm. It was good to see Sam again. Out of everyone left in my family she's the only one I never really blamed for what happened to dad, and I think she's the only one who never blamed me for what happened to mom.



I'll have to see her again when I get this mess sorted out.



First step on the road of being a nightmare errand girl, a run down internet cafe that looks like it belongs in the fields of Germany. I don't know what kind of people need an internet cafe, I always imagined anyone who cared about the internet had the money to get their own. I step inside and sniff the air.



Whoever it is, they love the fuck out of some Cheetos.

I head to the nearest free computer and don't bother sitting down. My fingers stick to the keys as I type and I hope to God it's Mountain Dew.











Ten to one I get jumped by a pack of thugs. Two to one they know what they're dealing with. One to one that either way I'm going to have to kill some people.

I head out of the cafe and hurry across the street, rinsing off my fingers in a public fountain. Not great, but I feel a little cleaner.



The Fast Buck. Goddamn Hemingway in that company.



And there's my man. I check the colt before he sees me, just to make sure it isn't stuck in my pocket. Not exactly a quick draw, and it'll be left handed, but it'll do. I should really get holsters for these things.



"Y-yeah? What do you want?"

"The tape. Isaac sent me."

"O-Okay. I-I mean, what? Who the hell is Isaac?! I don't know anyone named Isaac. Get lost, bitch!"

Jesus Christ, that wouldn't have scared me if I was twelve.

"Kafka I'm going to hurt you unless you give me that tape. If you take too long, I'm going to hurt you anyway. In fact, I might shoot out your kneecaps right now for making me take the time to explain that to you."

"Alright! Alright... S-sorry. It's just that... I mean, something is..." He pulls a cigarette up to his mouth in shaking hands. "Look, I just want out of this. Out of the whole thing. I don't want anything to do with that damn tape." He struggles for a moment with a set of matches before he calms his hands enough to hold a steady flame. "I'm not some kind of pussy, alright? I... I've seen people die, I've watched them get tortured, I don't... but Jesus... that tape." He blows a whiff of smoke lowers the cigarette, his voice breaking a little less.



"You see it... you see it and you know it can't be real, but it is. God, you have no fucking idea... that girl... the things they're doing to her. It's like the god damn exorcist."

"I see."

"I watched... I watched some of it. Most of it, maybe, I don't know. Now... I don't know, something's after me."

"Something? You don't know what?"

"No, I... ever since I watched that movie, I've been seeing things. There's these awful shadows darting across the walls everywhere I look, I hear breathing when nobody's around, my phone rings and the line goes dead as soon as I pick it up." He shakes his head, taking another long drag. "I'm out. I'm out of this whole fucking thing. Isaac can go to hell, I'm not getting the other half of that tape for him."

Other half. Ten to one the half I'm getting now doesn't count as the favor.

"Fine, give me the half you have. That's all I came for anyway."

He looks surprised.

"I don't have here! Good god, I'm not carrying that fucking death trap."

"If you buried it in a crypt guarded by a minotaur and locked with four magical crystal wards I'm going to murder you. I'm not even going to be slow about it, I'm just going to murder you."

I point my finger at his forehead and cock my thumb.

"Bam."

His hands are shaking again as he takes another drag.

"Ginger Swan. Tell Isaac it's with Ginger Swan's."



"What the hell? Did you see that? Oh fuck, oh fuck I'm getting out of here."



He charges past me, running straight for the ally. I could have stopped him, but I got what I wanted. Well, I got the only thing he had. There's a scream from the alley and I hear something metal drag across the ground.



You know, if I catch this thing now, I might not have to go digging for the second half of that tape.



I race around the corner to find an empty alleyway with a recently dislodged manhole cover. Metal dragging.



Party time! Who is excited for party times?



I am excited for party times.



I crawl to the end of the tunnel and find what must be the remains of my contact. Blood along the pipe, some in the water. I don't see the rest of his body, but if it left the pipe it wasn't dragged.



Nothing trailing to the left.



Nothing to the right either, just one of many four way cross sections. God damn it, I'm never going to find him or whatever took him down here.

At least, that's what I tell myself because I don't really want to go tromping through any more sewers. I climb back out the manhole and glance across the street.



Huh. Could've sworn that was on the other side of town. Hmm. Ginger Swan. Could be the name of a dancer, maybe the club matron? Wouldn't surprise me, I've heard worse names.



Not quite as dead inside as I was expecting. The receptionist watches me a little oddly as I pass, I suppose I'm not really a strip club's typical clientele.



Perfume. Lots of perfume. Probably not as much as it seems, though. I think my nose just works better now than it did before. Christ, how's that for a kick in the teeth?



Wow. This is... it's almost a kind of classy.



Bartender is probably the place to start, he'd know if there's a Ginger Swan working at the-



"A hundred clubs in Hollywood and you just happen to walk into mine. How's that for fate?"

Her voice is soft and low, but it isn't sultry like Jeanette's. It's... gentle.

"I..." I blink a moment before I remember what I think I was going to say. "...do I know you?"



"Apparently not, but... I think you will soon. My name is-"

"Ginger Swan."

"Velvet Velour."

That isn't right. That can't be right, the club was... and she... it's too perfect...



"Ms. Velour will do. I was wondering if I'd ever meet you." She looks me over, eyes lingering a little longer on my breasts than the rest of it, but it doesn't seem... predatory, like when Jeanette did it. More like somebody admiring a sculpture. When she's done, she almost smiles.



"And here I was expecting horns."

"I don't-"

She glances around us before leaning in close to my ear, her fangs glistening under the neon light.

"I think... we... should get to know each other a little better." Her breath isn't cold. "Someplace where we can... be ourselves." Her voice is so soft. "Come up to my room... just... fourteen little steps." Warm. She's warm. "I'll make it worth it."

"A-Alright."

She turns away and heads up the stairs behind her, glancing once over her shoulder before disappearing around a landing.







Wait, what the fuck? Did I just... I just fucking... what the hell?



And how the fuck did I get here?





------------------------------------

End of that mini update! I'm going to be away for a good ten days or so on Christmas Vacation so I'll try to get a regular update in before I leave Monday but I work straight through the weekend so who knows how that'll go. Also I clicked too many pictures while uploading and got my Left 4 Dead spray in the batch, so you're getting that too.



Guess who my friend always plays as?

[ReaperRain]

And here I was thinking Helen wouldn't turn out to be a lesbian.

[42PETUNIAS]

Oh, she won't. DFM loves the cock.