It's on! (200x)

Full Version: [World of Darkness] New Babylon
You're currently viewing a stripped down version of our content. View the full version with proper formatting.
In this topic, all things about the game(s) I run that are set in my personal fictional setting, the east coast city of New Babylon. First came a short lived Mage: the Awakening game set in that bleak metropolis (now defunct), soon we'll have a sporadic Vampire: the Requiem game as well. Time and creativity permitting I'll post a description of a location, personality, feature, or urban legend every now and then. The free mapping software I downloaded so far manages to be fiendishly hard to learn on my own, so a map of the city is not something you should hold your breath for.
The Gardens

As high as a skyscraper, and as wide as several city blocks at the base is The Gardens, the most famous feature of New Babylon. Outwardly it appears as a ziggurat of black glass. It has seven tiers in all, each one as tall as an appartment building, and on top of each tier an entire park is laid, complete with trees, artifical lake basins, and some wildlife. Inside it contains everything a city needs apart from living space; the bottom tier is one gigantic mall filled with shops, theaters, and cafes. The second tier contains a stock exchange, an auction house of Sotheby's, a modern art museum, and similar facilities that are public yet more high brow than a Wallmart or fastfood outlet.

The tiers above all contain offices rented out to various companies, from top notch law firms to building contractors. The higher tiers are considered more prestigious, and naturally contain less room, so the rent increases astronomically as one looks further up. A popular joke is that each foot above sea level means another zero is added to the bill. The final top tier itself is not for rent, as it contains the administration of the Gardens itself.

The Gardens form a natural barrier between the city's financial district and Maroon Heights, one of the city's more affluent residential areas. To the south of the Gardens lies Crescent Park. Just to the north east stands the city's tallest structure, the slender radio tower of Station Babel FM.
The Marina

During the summer the marina is like a slice out of Miami: a long gold-white beach, people walking around in swimwear until late in the sweltering evenings, long lines outside the many popular nightclubs, swaying palm trees, and a widespread presence of cocktail bars. In winter the tourists pack up, leaving the nightclubs comfortable instead of crowded and the yacht club all but deserted. Only the fishmarket sees regular business all year through.

Every monday morning a crew combs the beach for the detritus of the weekend. Used and mostly empty beercans, used and mostly empty syringes, used and mostly empty condoms... and since a few years back they also find with alarming regularity a used and entirely dead young woman washed ashore. Eighteen unfortunate girls have been found so far, all drowned and showing signs of recent sexual abuse. Nevertheless, the young people continue visiting the nightclubs, getting drunk, and hooking up with strangers for one night. After all, headlines is what happens to other people.

As one goes further inland from the marina, the nightclubs get filthier and the prostitutes get older (but also much younger if you know where to ask around), look more tired, and are more desperate. It's not hard to get a blowjob in a back alley for almost free here, provided you don't mind the working girl having a black eye and a split lip from when her pimp bashed her face in last week.

Gangs of illegal latino immigrants rule those run down streets. From simple kids with more guns than future, to large organisations with ties to some of the wealthiest Columbian men you've never heard of.
I really like it so far;
I'm really getting the feel of this New Babylon
Since you like it so much, have an extra special bonus today.

Fallon & Morello Yard

At the southern edge of the city is a maze of rust spread over almost fourteen square miles of concrete. It's cheaper to simply forget about a jumbo jet than to properly dispose of it. And so the Fallen & Morello partnership provides a simple service: allowing big companies to save money in the long run by dumping their planes, ships, trucks, industrial machinery, and even an entire oil rig sawed into pieces. The discarded carcasses are simple hollow shells, long ago stripped of anything useful. United they stand, lined up and stacked high, until rain and wind reduces them to nothing.

Many homeless try to carve out an existence here, using the wrecks to construct temporary shelters. The underpaid security guards don't often venture into the deeper parts of the Yards, and as such are not a big thorn in the squaters' side. Unfortunately, the reason for this is the famished packs of roaming stray dogs that also make their home in the steel jungle. Rent-a-cops don't get paid enough to chase off dogs that hunt on men, nor the wild-eyed bums who are feral enough to not have become prey yet.

The Yards lies directly next to the sea. This makes transportation easier, and the salty breeze speeds up the rust. West and north lie industrial facilities, as well as the city's sewage treatment plant. Urban legends tell of alligators and giant mutant leeches that sometimes crawl out of the plant to feast on the hobos that live nearby.
Anyway, first session. When? Sunday evening the 22nd good for everybody?
Hey, why not throw in some music in as well? These wouldn't be part of the score but definitely in the soundtrack; "music from and inspired by" kind of stuff. Recommended you watch the clips!





5 (Too bad we can't hear what he sings exactly.)

Sunday's good for me, but before that, I would like to make some adjustments to my wigger so he's less of a... well... wigger.
Oh, and, concerning the music you posted...

Pretty When you Cry by Vast - AWESOME.
Come to Daddy by Aphex Twin - fucking legendary.
Afriac Shox by Leftfield - Meh.
Within by Neurosis & Jarboe - Whoah. Weird.
That Finnish Song by StamIna - kinda gayish vocals in the 'chorus', but otherwise really cool Tongue
Chicago Typewriter by Yakuza - very Tool/Metaphor-y but with a younger Ozzie Osbourne as singer. Not sure.
sunday the 22nd shouldn't be a prob Smile jelte, how does that work out for you? and what time're we thinking of?

loving the work you're doing on fleshing out New Babylon arik! very nice Grin
Financial Sector

If you go south from the Marina you'll find a bustling forest of skyscrapers wedged in between the sea and the Gardens, ranging from brick towers to mirrorglass spires. Major banks, insurance companies, hedge funds, and other players on the game of money call this home. This place is always crawling with cabs and fancy suits. Even in the depth of night harried corporates talk into their earpiece phones and tap into the wireless LAN the city kindly provides to the sector to check stock movements around the globe, working overtime to meet the nonsensical deadlines the chain of command set for them. Despite this great activity the streets are always clean.

Cutting the entire district in half is Istar Boulevard, a wide avenue lined with birch trees. It runs from the waterfront all the way to the Gardens in a straight line, where it flows into the parking lot. Istar Boulevard is known for its many theaters, high cuisine restaurants, movie houses that show obscure foreign explorations of the human psyche, and other cultured entertainment.

Underneath, the sprawling network of subway tunnels gather around from all over the city into a complex knot that's almost undecipherable to people who see the maps for the first time. An earthquake in the 1920's collapsed many of the older tunnels. Already obsolete in many regards, it was decided not to restore them but instead build a more modern system that also extended to outside the financial sector. Many pockets of tubing and entire stations still survive in those lightless depths, and occassionally constructing workers unearth one. Others are accessible by walking into the new tunnels and knowing the exact right intersection, or through the sewers.
Ramson Lake, Ramson River, and the Cranshaw Projects

Near the northern edge of the city the Ramson River winds its way to the coast from its source, Ramson Lake. In the 60's it was decided that the growth of the city would be directed northward, and so a series of bridges was constructed. Afterwards the Cranshaw Projects was established, named after Patrick G. Cranshaw, erstwhile mayor and initiator of the idea. Despite the presence of a chemical plant at Ramson Lake the projects laid down streets, city blocks, parks, and more at an astonishing rate. The plant was ultra-modern and clean and new housing was vital at the time, as baby boomers from the war wanted to settle down and raise families of their own.

But in the early 70's disaster struck while the projects were only half finished. During a hurricane an accident happened at the plant, and toxic sludge spilled into the lake. Due to wind and heavy rain the river spilled out northwards (where protection from flooding was not yet completed) and bathed the soil in toxic chemical by-products. Although strictly speaking only the ground within a few hundred feet of the river was contaminated, the entire project's reputation was ruined and investors backed out massively. Smaller and less competent companies took over the contract like vultures, barely cooperating with one another and embezzling vast sums of money.

Fast forward to the 21st century, and one finds Cranshaw an urban disaster area. Near the river one can see classy houses in abysmal disrepair, some partly burnt or riddled with bullet holes. Further away apartment blocks of dull grey concrete mix with shoddily built suburbs. And at the very edge there are slums, abandoned construction sites, and asphalt roads leading to nowhere.

The population is prodominantly african american, with large percentages of hispanics and asians. Drug abuse, gang warfare, and robberies are common here. Much of the area is controlled by a particularly violent set of the Eastcoast Bloods, though it suffers from daily attacks and internal strife. Police presence is low during the day and entirely absent at night. Task forces and urban renewal projects in the 90's to restore the area to civility have all failed, often at gunpoint.
kewl Smile nice work.

so what's the 411 for sunday? we're on, right? and from what time onwards? BYOB?
Just spoke with JLT. He's up for it, 8 o clock, BYOB indeed.
duely noted Grin
And now for something completely different, just to make a salient point...

History of the Tremere.

In the old World of Darkness, the Tremere were once mortal mages who embraced vampirism (by stealing it) in order to gain immortality.

They ended up being a playable faction in the Vampire: the Masquerade game.

In the new World of Darkness however, the Tremere also exist. There was a line of vampires called the Tremere who gained knowledge of the supernal realms (by torturing it out of an entity from the Abyss) and learned how to directly consume souls instead of doing it the roundabout way through blood. After attempting to do so with the most brilliant souls of all, a cabal of mages, their food burned them to ash from the inside in the middle of the process. The mages were still left half-soulless and called themselves "Tremere-infected" to describe their condition. Today they are a unique villainous legacy of mages who initiate new members through altering the souls of their apprentices. They can also leech away the souls of true mages to halt their aging process.

They ended up being an unplayable faction in the Mage: the Awakening game.

The point I'm trying to make is this: try your best to un-learn what the Masquerade taught you. Don't assume that a similar name means a similar entity, no matter how much they might act the same for the moment. The movie Casino Royale from 1967 is not like the one from 2006. The Joker as portrayed by Jack Nicholson is not the same as the one by Heath Ledger. And the Tremere are definitely not like the Tremere.
Should we try and set a date for a next session? somewhere between 3 and 5 week intervals?
I'm open to suggestions. I can do saturdays, as well as sundays on the 8th and 22nd.
I think 22nd would be best for me, saturdays are possible but not favored Smile
I don't mind, Saturdays and Sundays are generally open in my planning Smile
For fun I'm keeping a log of events of this chronicle. Events are not 100% accurate or fully detailed, but close enough.

Chapter 1: Cold Awakening

New Babylon was a bleak sight. Winter covered everything under a thick, amorphous blanket. The wind hurried along heavy flakes and chilled people along the streets. And somewhere inside, Jack awoke with his face almost frozen stuck to the dirty white tiles. His head pounded and his memory was fuzzy.

What happened last night?

Jack Wrote:A few minutes after walking from the 7-11 back home Jack suddenly got a nasty feeling. Where was his wallet? He'd obviously paid for the cherry coke and chips, so where the hell was it now? Groaning as he turned around he recalled the scruffy young man who bumped into him as he left the store. With a bit of luck he'd be able to track him through the snow or something.

And yes, it turned out to be easy to find that son of a bitch again. He spotted him in a filthy alley. He was a bit younger than him, wore ghastly faded red sneakers, and had the complexion of a junkie. Jack walked up cautiously, his phone ready to speed dial the cops, demanding his wallet back. For a moment he seemed to negotiate very fine indeed, until the pickpocket looked over Jack's shoulder and looked relieved to see someone there. Crap.

So that was that. Who knows what happened next. Probably a good blow to the head or something. And now he's somewhere cold... and chained to a steel ring set in the floor it seems. And he was not alone. Two other unconscious figures were in here, just out of his reach and also chained like him. One of the guys seemed to be waking up as well. Guy? Maybe rather... thing.

Simon Wrote:The routine was the same as every other day it seemed. Work for sixteen hours at the hospital. Take bus home. Try to ignore drunken hobo who smells like piss and rambles at him. Reheat old Chinese takeaway. Eat. Sleep. Wake up at six. Contemplate what a shitty life it's been so far. Shower. Eat. Take bus. Study from textbooks along the way. Be too busy to notice that the bus slips over the ice, rams through the railing of the overpass, and drops down onto a Toyota Prius. Die.

Ok, not the routine of every other day after all.

His hair was stiff and beastly, his ears inhumanly tapered to a point, and his fingernails were long and dirty with caked blood. And he didn't look very happy to be here. And right on cue, the final occupant of their cold cell awoke.

Rode Wrote:It was a good party. Beers at the office, dinner and more drinks at a good restaurant, company's paying. And it should. The deadline had been met, a big and difficult order that they managed to meet flawlessly. But Rode went home around midnight. It had been fun, but he'd put in too much overtime the past few weeks. So he called a cab and let it drive him home; although it had to make a pretty big detour thanks to some roads being blocked off. The cabby chattered about some accident with a bus, but Rode didn't pay much attention.

Finally back in his comfortable apartment he ordered himself a pizza. Damn restaurant tasted good but served way too small portions. Plus, if it took more than 25 minutes he'd get it for free. With the snow being what it is, there'd be a good chance of that. Eighteen minutes after the call, the delivery boy's moped turned the corner of the street. Twenty minutes after the call, the delivery boy was lying in a dumpster with a slit throat. Twenty-two minutes after the call, ghastly faded red sneakers stepped into the elevator of Rode's apartment building.

Twenty-three minutes after the call, the pizza was right on time.

Rode paid the pale looking guy and started eating his pizza. Around thirty-four minutes after the call, whatever drugs were on it knocked him out.

A dirty cold storage cell, hazy t.l. lights buzzing above, and three men chained down. A steel door with flaking white paint stood ominously in a wall, close but too far to reach for the chain.
Goddamnit, don't stop now! MORE!
very niccccce Grin
Saturday the 21st just opened up Smile
Reference URL's