Let's Play: Vampire: Bloodlines

[synkr0nized]

Oh, thread get. I am going to read this now; I briefly saw some of this game at a friend's a while back and was interested.

[ReaperRain]

You just can't beat the Malkavians. You get to be crazy, you get to drive other people crazy (in dialogue and in battle), you get an entirely different set of reactions from other characters, and you get to talk to inanimate objects on occasion.
Plus the outfits. White pimp coat + Dr Zeuss hat = WIN.
Not to say that the other clans aren't without merit (Ventrue come second for me, maybe Tremere third). But there's nothing quite like playing a lunatic.

[Mirai Gen]

I dunno, in a single-player game efficiency doesn't matter to me that much. Plus it was hilarious to use Protean to make hacking more effective.

Also since I played original Vampire: The Masquerade and I played Gangrel they were lots more fun.

[Krylo]

Efficiency matters in so much as I want to enjoy a game as opposed to being frustrated with a game. And in some of the later fights, their abilities being so unusable would be an incredible frustration/detriment to playing them at all.

I played Tremere, Troubador, Ventrue, and Brujah. I played Gangrel for about an hour before I got frustrated with their abilities and stopped. Dying multiple times to asian vampire dude because I wasn't leveled enough/put too many points into disciplines to do it without disciplines--and my 'melee badass's melee disciplines being actually detrimental to combat made me quit. I mean, I beat him with a ventrue, and their melee abilities are basically blood buff and fortitude. A gangrel shouldn't have a harder time in melee combat than a ventrue.

I was saving Nos and Malk for last due to all the changes--but then got bored of replaying.

[Mirai Gen]

I didn't have any problems with combat at all. A few points into brawling, two into Protean, and I could just futz around with whatever I wanted. I never had that many problems, aside from how much I got messed up by the glitch that I mentioned. The Asian vampire was cakewalk.

Granted of course watching Celerity with a baseball bat and a handgun was awesome but I swore I'd finish the game once as Gangrel and I'm going to stick with that.

[BitVyper]

My Gangrel glitched about halfway through the game, and my Protean form started moving and attacking like my normal form, whereas my normal form did the reverse unless I had a weapon equipped. So I probably didn't notice this problem.

One thing I remember is one of those Tzmisce giant woman-things jumping down on me as a boss. I frenzied at the first hit, and she was dead so fast I didn't even realise it was a boss fight until I died and had to do it again..

[DFM]

I leave the hospital, stuffing the card into my pocket. I'll deal with Milligan after I take out this 'bu'ness deal' Larry got wind of. It isn't long before I reach the parking garage holding the unfortunate lot of undesirables.



No telling how many I'm up against or where they are, might be better to scout the area before I draw any attention to myself. Situational awareness is paramount, hurricane of undeath or no.



Two tangos on the first level. Don't know if I can take them both out before one of them raises the alarm and a gunshot would probably send the entire place on alert. Probably better to sneak by them. I hug the wall until I'm almost clear of their field of fire when I notice the maintenance ladder bolted to the cement wall.







I follow the shaft for what seems like miles, winding ever further downward into the inner bowls of the urban parking garage. When I finally make it to the bottom story, I ease open the last grate in the shaft and peer down.



There's a Tong gunman not far from the opening, his back to me.



I hit the ground in a single fluid motion, like a liquid pouring out of the hole. He hears something, but before he has a chance to move, his head is in my hands and his gun clatters to the floor.



His body goes limp after the sharp cracking sound, and I drag him further back into the garage where I stuff him under an Escalade. I head back to where he fell.



I crouch walk to the next corner, peering out just far enough over the edge to see a group of Chinatown Tong waiting behind a black Sedan. One of them's carrying a black attache case.



Briefcase number one.

He carries the case past my field of view, and I can hear someone else walking towards him. Must be the local boys. They exchange words, but I can't make out most of what they're saying. Something about "Mr. Paladin." It's quiet for awhile, then I hear gunshots. Small caliber. The Tong behind the Sedan open fire with automatic weapons, shouting and screaming in Chinese.



A horn sounds above the gunfire like a low, death rattle. After a few moments, the Tong stop shooting, peeking out from over the Sedan to see if there's anyone left. When they're not immediately shot at, they start to get up.

I stand and walk out from around the corner, Ingram raised in one hand. I fire a burst into the furthest Chinaman, splattering blood against the glass of the Sedan as he crashes to the ground. The other has time to turn and look at me before the second burst hits his chest and he crumbles, moaning.

I walk past the bullet-ridden sedan, firing a round into the man's head without breaking stride. One the local punks, a tattooed kid in a wife beater stands up from behind the shattered mess of steel that used to be their car, obviously expecting his buddies to come give him a high five. The burst catches him in the head and he drops back down behind the car.

Two bodies are lying between the cars, a Chinaman and a punk in a hoodie. There's a brown briefcase lying open, the bricks inside scattered onto the floor. Briefcase number one is on its side, battered, scratched and covered in blood that didn't come from this exchange.



I pick it up by the handle and walk out of the garage, heels clicking on the clicking on the concrete.



I slip the Ingram into my shirt as I near the exit of the parking garage. It's a little blocky looking, but nothing overly obvious. I walk back to Larry's truck of mack and hand him the briefcase. He takes it and rolls the grubby, gold-plated combination lock. When it clicks, he cracks the case open, and a golden light radiates from the opening, bathing his face an almost divine glow. He smiles before snapping the case shut and rolling the lock.



"Oh, that's beautiful. Somebody somewhere got to be pissed off about losin' this! Too bad I sent my main girl here after 'em, innit?" He opens the back of the truck and slides the case in before shutting it again and turning around, pulling out a wad of money from his pocket. "Alright! Let me peel off a few bills for ya."

I take the money.

"Thanks, Larry."

"I'll drop the case off to the new owner in the mornin'. Then I'm 'oing to get me a big old steak. Not that domestic stuff neither. I'm going to order up 32 ounces of Kobe beef - the expensive shit. You wanna come? My treat."

"Sorry, I'm not much of an eater."

He coughs into his hand, snorting.



"Yeah well you a little pale for me anyway. Say, my girl down at Confession, name Venus Dare, she askin' around for someone with the skills to- well, I'll let her tell you. I'll giver her a call, recommend you, if you interested."

What good is power if you don't completely abuse it for your own personal gain?

"Sure, tell her I'm on my way."



I can't wait to sit around in another night club. Maybe at least this one won't be some kind of shitty neon goth interior.



Yeah, not crossing my fingers on that one.





I suppose the bartender's the person to ask. I hope this place isn't co-owned.

[DFM]

"Hello, gorgeous. Lookin' a little prim and proper for this kind of place, aren't you? Everyone who comes in here's got to have a shot, house rules. Inhibition's the first thing to go. You look like you're going to need more than one." She pours a drink from a flurry bottles whose labels I don't have time to read and slides the concoction in front of me. "A few more of these and you'll be telling me your nastiest, dirtiest stories." She leans forward, apparently wanting me to stare at her cleavage.

"I am your beat priestess, and it's time to confess."

"I confess you look like a groupie for The Cure."

"Cute. The name is Venus, and I own this club. If you want to stick around, you're to have to come up with a real confession."

I put an, elbow on the bar and rest my head in my hands, giving her me best bored expression.

"Fine. I just killed three men and Larry said that meant you'd be interested in my services. Father forgive me."

"Oooh, so you're the... 'Ice Caping Cleopatra Jones' he was going to send over. Good, I need someone like you. See, I've got this situation that's gotten a little... out of hand and I need someone to inform someone else that they won't be getting paid this month. Intrigued yet?"

"You want me write a scathing editorial to your credit card company."

"Something like that. The parking lot next to the Empire Hotel... couple of guys, Russian accents, bit thick. I need you to tell them Venus doesn't have their money. That's it."

"That's it."

"That's it."

"And what's in it for me?"

"Drinks on the house for a week."

"I'm straight edge."

She rolls her eyes.

"You want cash? Whatever, I can do that. Question is: 'Are you worth it?'"

"There is literally no one better. At least, no one better who'd care enough about the money to do it."



"Good enough for me. Empire hotel, tell them I'm broke. You can run, right? Never mind... just don't go starting any street fights, alright? These guys are connected. Later, darling."



This is going to be so easy I'm not sure if it's even worth it.



Empire Hotel, parking lot must be around back.



And there's my Russian chums. I walk up to the leader and he snorts derisively before I can say anything.

"Bitch send you?"

"Yes, bitch send me."

"Money. Where is money."

I wonder if I can...

"MONEY. WHERE IS-"

I just gave you the money.



"Have again next month."



I'm like some kind of god.



"Hey! Venus!"



"I can't hear you, darling! Let's talk in my office!"



"Well, you certainly did better than my bouncer did; poor dear can't turn his neck to the right any more. Already had a call from Boris - wasn't too happy about tonight, son of a bitch. Say, how would you like to get into the club business, hmm?"

"What?"



"Well, to start this club, I had to take out a significant loan from a king bastard by the name of Boris, and every time I haven't been able to make the monthly, plus interest, the bastard takes what he feels is a suitable late fee."



"I've got a club to run, so I'll be blunt. I refuse to fuck that fat, misogynistic old man one more time to hold on to the club. So, I need someone to eliminate him. Do this, and I'll make you a silent partner."

"That... wouldn't happen to be Boris Demidenko, would it?"

"Yes, actually." She sighs. "I take it you're not going to do it, if you know about him."

"I... didn't say that."

She raises an eyebrow.

"Really now? Didn't think I'd meet anyone that crazy. He's at the Empire hotel. Always has a few of the fiercest bully boys standing around tryign to out-sneer each other. He's got a short temper and more than likely he's been drinking since his men turned up empty handed. Here, key to the penthouse level."



Well, this is going to be awkward.









It isn't long before I reach the end of the hall and the double doors to Boris' office. Ivan's on body guard detail, must have been promoted since last time.



"Wh... Helen?"

"Hi, Ivan. It's been awhile."

"Chk. Everyone say you are dead. Boris started buying from Irish sooka. Is not happy. Bad product, worse prices. Is going to start buying directly from army soon. Not so much mind limited stock anymore."

'I'm sorry to hear that. Can you let me in to see him, Ivan?"

"Eh. He say no visitors but I am thinking he will not mind good news."



"Boris! I bring you friend!"



"Who the hell- Helen?" He lets out a laugh. "Ha! Bullshit assholes tell me you are dead! Say you put bullet in head, but I know bullshit when I hear it. Not my Helen. My Helen would put bullet in mother's head before her own."

Well, she has already lived her life.

"Glad to see you, Boris. How's the Kamov?"

"Flies like murderous wet dream. Will be a good 'FUCK YOU' if ATF try raid again."

"Ivan says you've had to go through some Irish seller?"

"Ugh." He shakes his head and offers me a package of cigarettes. "You make me complacent, I forget how to deal with incompetent fuck heads. I am thinking I should stuff him in barrel and drop into channel but I cannot remember, has been so long. Tell me you are selling merchandise."

"Sorry, Boris. I'm actually here because... well, you know this woman, Venus?"



"Venus." He spits on the floor. "She takes half a million dollars to start that bullshit faghole. I tell her no, I say club will never make money. Not enough fags in all of LA to pay for it but no, she does not listen. She does not shut up, does not stop whining, I finally sign check because I cannot stand wheezy, spoiled girl voice of hers anymore. We set up payment plan. Starts out fine, I get money, she can pretend to be vampire or whatever she does in that abortion of a business."

He sits back down behind his desk and I take the opposite seat.

"Then she starts missing payments, missing deadlines by more and more every month. Club is failing, money is hemorrhaging. She comes to me every deadline, whining she can not pay. So I fuck her. Like prostitute." He leans back in his chair. "Is not worth it."

"She actually sent me here to kill you."

Boris laughs, sitting up in his chair again.

"Ha ha! No shit? Stupid bitch." He sighs and starts punching a number in on his phone. "I will have Dimitri and some of his friends teach her a lesson. Then tear down that stupid club." He pauses for a moment before looking at me. "Actually... I think I have better idea."

"What's that?"

"How would you like to kill her? Stupid bitch killed by own assassin, would send good message."

"Eh... I don't know."



"Ah, come on. Think about it. Spoiled bitch doesn't know who you are, thinks you are just Jane Doe come blundering off the street. She send you up here to kill me, thinks what, maybe you get a few shots off and I am killed before my guards gun you down? Spoiled bitch send you up here to die. That not piss you off?"

"Well..."

"Tell you what, I throw in a few grand spending change, get yourself some new clothes so maybe you not look like angry soccer mom. Then you kill stupid bitch who tried to kill you, is right thing. I read in bible."

I laugh. I can't help it.

"Alright first of all, you can lecture me on fashion as soon as you stop wearing your pajamas around all day."

"Is my office, I wear leather chaps if I want. You take offer?"

I sigh a little and glance out the office window at the city skyline jutting harshly into the starless sky.

"Yeah, I'll do it."

"Good!" Boris claps and digs through one of his desk drawers. "Here, take this knife. Make it painful, spoiled bitch deserves no better."

I take the offered handle and stand, shaking his hand.

"Good to see you again, Boris. I'll be back pretty quick."



I hadn't thought about it before, but there's no way she could have expected a mortal to walk out of there alive. She'd been banking on the fact that maybe Boris would bite it during the gunfire.



What a bitch.



It's a short walk back to Confession, Venus is waiting in her usual place.

"Hey!"

She seems surprised to see me. Happy, though.



"What!? I can't hear you! Come to my office!"



"So, is he dead?"

I lean against her desk. "Dead as a doornail." I take the knife out of my pocket and flip it in my hand. "I got this off the body, figured you might want it as a souvenir."

She takes it and holds it up to the light, examining the blade.

"I wonder if I should mount it, like a trophy? Or maybe sell it to one of his rivals..."

"Actually..." I light one of the cigarettes Boris had given me, taking a long drag before letting the smoke out. "What you should do is take that knife-" I snap the lighter shut. "And kill yourself."

She stares at me and flips the blade inward, jabbing herself in the stomach in one prolonged, jerking motion. Her eyes go wide and she lets out a muffled cry. Her hands pull the knife out on their own accord and jab it into her stomach again. She keeps staring at me, terrified. She doesn't understand what she's doing, but she can't stop it. She's hyperventilating, trying to cry and breathe and scream all at once. She drops to her knees, her whole body shaking. I take another drag on the cigarette as she stabs herself again. She falls onto the floor, body convulsing. Blood's pooling all across the floor. Venus gives off one last desperate, strangled sob before she stops jerking.

I slip the lighter back into my pocket and catch her wide eyed stare before she slumps onto her stomach.



She'd expected me to die. She'd never had any intention of fulfilling her end of the bargain, she'd just wanted a kamikaze to sacrifice themselves for the god awful club she didn't even have the brains to manage. Fuck her. She had this coming.



But it still doesn't feel right.









"Helen! How did it go, is spoiled bitch dead?"

"Yeah." I slip down into the chair, looking at a painting on the wall. "Yeah, she's dead."

Boris furrows his brown and leans closer to me.

"What is wrong? Did something happen?"

"No, it just..." I shake my head. "I don't know. It was a little gruesome, I guess."

"Ha! If it disturb you then I hope janitor can keep his lunch. Here is money, job well done. You being in town long? We can have dinner sometime."

"No, I... thank you, Boris but... I'm probably not going to be in the city long."

"I am sorry to hear. You come visit. Let me know when you have market up and running again, I cannot take these govniuks."

"I'll do that. See you around, Boris."



Jesus.



Did I really just... I didn't just kill her, I... and I didn't even care, I don't... know what happened. I knew what I was doing, but I..."

I toss the cigarette in the ash tray near the lobby. I've got to get some fresh air.



Milligan.



The doors locked, but I manage to force it open.



"Milligan?"

I'm not feeding him to that monster.



"Simon? It's alright, I'm not... nothing's going to hurt you."



"Hello?"



"You don't have to worry, that thing isn't coming for you."



"Simon?"



"Simon..."



"You're... from the hospital! But... you went down to..."

I sit down on the carpet next to him.

"I went down to find out what was going on, and the monster and I had a talk. You're lucky to be alive, you're the only one who managed to get away."

"Oh no... my crew..."

"I'm sorry. I'm also sorry it's not over yet."

He stares at me, eyes wide with panic.

"W-w-what-"

"Because as long as you're alive, that thing is going to hunt you. You've seen too much and it's never going to let you live and risk having you tell everyone about it."

"What? N-No, I-"

I sigh, resting my back on the closet wall.

"Simon, you've spent your entire career looking for the boogie man, didn't you ever wonder what you'd do if you actually found him?"

He sinks to his seat, head cupped in his hands.

"Oh god... oh god..."

"It's alright. I'm one of the good monsters, one of the ones who fakes having a conscience. So I'm not going to kill you."

"Then..." He take his head out of his hands and looks up at me. "...what are you going to do?"

"I'm not going to do anything, because nothing happened and I was never here. You're going to leave LA, abandon your paranormal hunts and never return to either."

He looks around, his eyes glazing over.

"I... I have... I have to get out of here."

He rushes past me out the door. I can hear is feet clomping down the stairs. I sit in the closet for a good while longer, quietly thinking in the dark.




Pretend I have a conscience.



I hope Pisha doesn't mind that Milligan isn't going to die. I take the elevator up to my room, stepping off and opening the unlocked door.



Thanks for the comments everyone, this has been pretty fun to write so far. Next update: DR. GROUT

[Loyal]

Do we get to see Boris again? He sounds like a fun guy.

I like how Crazy Lady Whose Name I Can't Remember is just waiting there happily, like it's her job.

[synkr0nized]

I think it is.