"Ich bin ein Berliner!" About VtM "electronic" game, set in Berlin 1992

From the point of view of Greger Wihlborg (similarity with Fanny Niklasson purely intentional) formerly Swede, now of Gangrel descent. Any Scandinavians?

Since I'll have time for my reactions, I figured I will bring you the story, counsel with you, share thoughts, ask for help; this game is an experiment, couldn't be just for our GM.
I will have the last word.

This is actually part II. of the story, I did not participate in the first part. I am about to arrive to Berlin in January 1992 as a Kindred.

-My- history so far:
Greger is a journalist. Well, investigative journalist. He works for some daily newspaper, I like Malmö. So, there. He is good in his field and just came across something that tickles his spidey sense. Due to the game history, I choose antiques trafficking. Because of his ironic comment about a job-coverage of Sami lifestyle ("Oh, to spend a month past the polar circle with laplanders, people here will fight for it!"), and, or course, because someone doesn't like him investigating just that, he's picked to make the coverage ("Widen your horizons!").
Just to be on the safe side, the trip starts during the night period. On the way to the base, point zero of expeditions, he gets some schooling from experienced travelers and explorers, 'Don't get lost' among other things.
So he gets lost in a blizzard. His surviving it is more of a miracle, he doesn't know where he is and it's a long night. Second "day" the frost gets under his skin, he knows he's going to die and the wolves howl ever closer... Last thing he does laying there freezing, is looking a wolf closely in the eyes.

(Continue)

Embrace background:

There are ancient Gangrels out there, dying out, and just made for the city! Yet they choose to be shamen for the Sami relying on them to be awaken, explaining the signs of gods to lead them after game.
Not so our rebellious one, who tries to convince other elders what needs to be done to survive. He wants to move to the great metal cities. But he can't do it outright, and he can't send in a halfwitted laplander with balls bitten off, so he waits for an opportunity.
And he gets it...

(Continue)

My vote was cast after reading the moonspeech that is the title.
Don't mind it

Greger so far:

When he wakes up, he sees he's without majority of his clothes, frozen through and through but *alive.* Something leads him south, something keeps him on the right track. Starved he arrives at some camp... he hears their hearts beating so loud..! ...and he's welcomed, equiped, and strangely enough, fed. He's the chosen of the shaman. (This is his Sires tribe.) He only meets his Sire as a figure shape from afar, with antlers on his head. He's sent south, the night is ending and the distressful journey begins. It's not easy to dig hole in frozen land, he sleeps in drifts, under the ice... Sire speaks with him in his head, manifests before him from time to time.
His task in metal camp Malmö is to start a cult, and is for another story. Let's say he starts taking care about a group religious immigrants, shows a miracle or two so they start worshipping him as a prophet preparing the arrival of demigod. But he has agenda of his own, he wants to know about that art smuggling, he has a hunch -he saw it in e.i. chiefs eyes, something isn't right- that he blew in someone's cards and the someone got rid of him more than expected. He actually has to work around museums and such, for he prepares a transport of some Sami relic (full of his Sire). When that arrives, he is released and can do his own job: Who sent him away past the polar circle? Trail leads to Berlin!
Fortunately he knows German.

Needs to be mentioned, he left a few progeny of his own there.

(Continue)

Shouldda allowed taking back votes, I know there's a Ravnos out there. Whatever.

GMs piece:
>Greger must relate to this greatly. Turning from a mortal to demigod and prophet must change his psyche greatly. What makes him go back to something as puny as smuggling art? I miss a relation to his mortal life and this mystery.
>>>Greger can tell when someones pullig his leg.* You can see it in his eyes, even when his face is calm, seems like his eyes see all, through people themselves. Whatever doubts he might had in the beginning, during his stay with Kindred he witnessed, how mortal they are. He knows he's fooling people for someone much more powerful - someone who gave him a second chance, so he will finish it. But he wants to know who sent him to die. If he starts to like this existence, he'd still want to know who his "second sire" is, who sew the seeds of his rebirth. He's fuelled by curiosity, journalists yearning to solve a mystery.

>How does he feel about his Sire?
>>>Greger respects him. He actually saved him, gave him a chance to find out whom he stepped on a toe. He wanted something in return, and when Greger done that, he let him solve his own puzzle.

*I pumped his alertness and empathy.

(Continue)

OOC:

Where I'd really appreciate your help is his Backgrounds. Greger just arrived in Berlin and has Resources **, Contacts **, an Ally *.
Our (his) thougts with GM were that he might have made a coverage over the Wall and brought someone back, a woman. Was it legally with forged documents, or was it a daring illegal crossing attempt and taking back someone by chance? Thus he made an ally.
About resources, he may just have some money... Contacts are a journalist friend or a photographer, and some crook who forged him passports... Or..?

I need a timeline, important events in his life. The Wall fell in 1989... How long do you think it takes one to manipulate some religious fanatics into something?

Chose Eye of the Storm nature, because I can and when he unearths a scandal it creates a ruckus and that satisfies him. And you should've heard Russian sirens by the Wall...


Chip in anywhere. I will tell GM to give it a go in a day or two. According to the Poll I'll decide to keep you in loop, or to forget I ever wrote in this thread. Your fate is in your hands.
I'm gonna answer me some basic questions in Players Guide.

(The End?)

Hm, for your fanatics, I'd say it would take at least about 5 years to get to a point where they accept your sire as some kind of demi-god, and to get enough of them. So the last time your character was in Berlin should have been in the 80s, when the wall was still standing.
That should set his embrace somewhere in the second half of the 80s. Given the fact that he already was a successful journalist, I'd say he was about 30 when he got embraced.
Say he was embraced in 88, at age 30, that makes a birthdate in in 58. If you like the idea, you could also make him a bit older at the time of his embrace, so he could have been in Berlin as an exchange student in 68/69. Since you seem interested in that part of Berlins history, that would allow him to have first hand memories of the building of the wall as well as its fall. "Niemand hat vor, eine Mauer zu bauen" (Walther Ulbricht)

-

Lifeline:

1953 born in Hässelholm.

1968/69 exchange student in Berlin (is that right?). Got a crush on a girl, they had a little bit of romance going on...
1968-72 high school Malmö (he wanted to get out of parents house; no reason).
1972-75 university, journalism; Göteborg. Lets just say he got a job in Malmö.

*Why Malmö. Because I know it's fucked up right now, I'm not sure when the immigration-related problems begun, but I "hope" it was early and troublesome characters lay in wait to burn it up...

1980 learnt that his high school sweetheart ended up on the wrong side of the wall, so he went to "make a coverage" of the life behind the Wall. Got papers for her, not particularly good ones, so ended up stirring things up to create a diversion so she may pass, while he got a fist in his stomach before things cleared up and it became clear he just "panicked."

1985 fall of a man, rise of the vampire.

1985-91 Malmö.

1992 Berlin, now.


Comments?

Jad.3 wrote:

*Why Malmö. Because I know it's fucked up right now, I'm not sure when
the immigration-related problems begun, but I "hope" it was early and
troublesome characters lay in wait to burn it up...

It has always been the biggest immigration-point of Sweden.
Other than how the place usually is, how is it fucked up down there?

Why would the girl be on the wrong side of the wall in 1980 when she was on the right side in 68?

And knowing that border, though not in Berlin, I don't believe that stirring things up to create a diversion is a tactic that stands even a slice of a chance. If they don't have enough backup to deal with a troublemaker, the first thing to do would be close every door and set the snipers on alert.

-

Childe of Malkav wrote:

Why would the girl be on the wrong side of the wall in 1980 when she was on the right side in 68?

And knowing that border, though not in Berlin, I don't believe that stirring things up to create a diversion is a tactic that stands even a slice of a chance. If they don't have enough backup to deal with a troublemaker, the first thing to do would be close every door and set the snipers on alert.

-

Never mind the minefilds... All Warsaw Pact's states had one continuous minefield as a border. With gaps for (few) crossings, of course.
And creating a diversion would have ended in running through fire of MG's with locking fields of fire. No go.

Bribery, on the other hand... There was whole subculture of smugglers, forgers of papers, people able to provide blackmail material on various figures... All under unofficial aegis of various political polices, of course.

So bribing/blackmiling an border guard (by what?/how much?/what rank/) would be much more realistic.

Unless you want your journalist to be starring in Saving Private Ryan, that is. Or join Swedish Special Forces. Or Marines, running through crossfire on a minefild is their sort of thing, as far as I heard.

Feral wrote:

Childe of Malkav wrote:

Why would the girl be on the wrong side of the wall in 1980 when she was on the right side in 68?

And knowing that border, though not in Berlin, I don't believe that stirring things up to create a diversion is a tactic that stands even a slice of a chance. If they don't have enough backup to deal with a troublemaker, the first thing to do would be close every door and set the snipers on alert.

-

Never mind the minefilds... All Warsaw Pact's states had one continuous minefield as a border. With gaps for (few) crossings, of course.
And creating a diversion would have ended in running through fire of MG's with locking fields of fire. No go.

I don't know if there was space enough in Berlin for miefields. And stray MG rounds ending up in the american sector might have caused some diplomatic comment...

Quote :

Bribery, on the other hand... There was whole subculture of smugglers, forgers of papers, people able to provide blackmail material on various figures... All under unofficial aegis of various political polices, of course.

So bribing/blackmiling an border guard (by what?/how much?/what rank/) would be much more realistic.

To prevent that, the border forces had the habit of always having at least two men at every checkpoint, and changing team-members all the time. So you never knew if your current teammate is actually working for the STASI.

Quote :

Unless you want your journalist to be starring in Saving Private Ryan, that is. Or join Swedish Special Forces. Or Marines, running through crossfire on a minefild is their sort of thing, as far as I heard.

Yep they do that, but only if it is a proper minefield set up by Charly.

-

Childe of Malkav wrote:

Why would the girl be on the wrong side of the wall in 1980 when she was on the right side in 68?

I forgot she's grown up at the time :p

Ok I get it, no daring bravery Backroom bribery or just forged papers, infarctuous moment at the crosspoint and voila.

Sheet (click!)
My GM is insane, I'm off to do some translating.
The Game actually starts in Stockholm, on a roof of a building opposite the redaction offices. My former boss is working really late tonight...

I think a reporter should have some dots in expression, to be able to express himself and his articles
(that or performance to be able to sell it )

GM:

Stockholm, February 1984

ENTER!

Commanding voice of editor-in-chief Ingersson sounded from behind the office door and outvoiced the ever present sound of typewriters for a moment. Greger entered and closed the door, leaving the noise of the redaction behind him. Ingersson waggled in his chair, pushed telephone aside with the back of his hand, which indicated he had a call recently. And because he did nothing else, Greger broke the awkward silence: "Have you read the file?"
"Oh yes, the file," Ingresson reacted immediately and adjusted his glasses. He reached for a yellowish folder at the side of the table. He pushed it in front of himself and opened it. Right on the first page there was a photo of a painting. "Of course I read that, Greger. And I must say that under a certain circumstances I'd go for it." He took off his glasses and put them on the table, while he rubbed his eyes with the other hand. "But at this time it is not a good moment." With that he made a big period after the sentence.
Greger screwed up his eyes and looked aside for a moment so that he wouldn't pounce at his boss right away. "Mister Ingersson, with all due respect... I dedicated several months and vast resources to this and all of it in my free time. I am on to perhaps the most interesting art fraud in Sweden. And you're telling me we're not going for it?" The last words he spat through his teeth and instinctively clenched his left fist.
"Look, Greger, great deal of information you obtained illegaly, you accuse a lot of people among other things, a lawsuit would definitely be filed against us..." Chief editor assiduously gestured with his hands and kept thrusting his finger into the folder. His monologue turned into white noise in Greger's head, he put an end to it in a moment: "You know Ingersson, I'll just take the file and try some else. What do you say?"


EDIT: That sentence sort of stunned the chief. He looked at Greger for a while, and then he got up so that his chair turned around. He walked around both the table and Greger and with a practiced move he pulled down the blanking board of a window into the spacy redaction full of working people. Then he turned to his employee and put a hand on his shoulder. "I'm not saying we won't print that. Just that it's not the best time for that." He tried to look sincere. "Lets give it a three week rest, until the iron works case settles down. Then, Greger, I PROMISE, we will go public with your coverage. What do you say?" he smiled widely and gave Greger an encouraging slap on the back. Greger intuited it wouldn't be as rosy as Ingersson is forcing it to be, but, after all, three weeks is not that long a time and it's true that the scandal of Stockholm ironworks should settle down first. "Allright chief, three weeks and I take your word," he raised his point finger impulsively. However he smiled eventually and Ingersson returned into his comfortable chair. He put on his glasses. "Well, not to be idle, I have a coverage almost made for you! I hope you're not chilly, Greger." Ingersson smiled again.
In five minutes the editor-in-chief was alone again in his office. He went to the window into the redaction, with two fingers he spread the blanking board to make sure Greger is at his desk. Then he returned to his chair, picked up the phone and dialed a number from memory.
"It is done..."

(Continue.)

Claudia wrote:

I think a reporter should have some dots in expression, to be able to express himself and his articles
(that or performance to be able to sell it )

Isn't expression as a talent more artistic expression like acting or dancing? I'd say what you have in mind is better described by linguistics. But I'd expect a reporter writing for a serious paper, and not something like the Sun or the german Bild, to have more than 1 dot there. It is an important part of your education as a journalist after all.
Though a bit of acting experience can of course be helpful for getting information. Sometimes a reporter has to play the role of someone else to get people to talk to him...

-

The linguistics trait is just to know if you can read, write and speak in another language than your native one.

Expression will help you create nice sentences, think about killer titles and else. It's how to express youself

She's right. Lets ban her.

Jad.3 wrote:

She's right. Lets ban her.

If I banned everybody for being right, that would be a very small forum indeed.
And extremely small-minded , too

-

Plus she could just use a ritual to unban herself.

Karavolos wrote:

Plus she could just use a ritual to unban herself.

And send Killing Darkness after us with Path of Shadowcrafting...
I just finished Dark Ages Clan Novel Brujah. Whole series is great... Nad the way Goratrix used shadows through a Ritual. A juicy, little morsel. *wags and rolls over in joy*

Childe of Malkav wrote:

Jad.3 wrote:

She's right. Lets ban her.

If I banned everybody for being right, that would be a very small forum indeed.
And extremely small-minded , too

And it would know no jokes.

EDIT:
GM POST EDITED!
Please note that GM changed the timeline a bit.
Would someone check my English?

GM (former post edited):

Nothern Sweden, past the polar circle, February 1984:

There was silence, at least it seemed like that to Greger. The truth was the other way around however. The storm that raged around him was too fierce and reporters conscience was slowly entering a different world. His eyes were stuck together with frozen tears and his lips slit and bloody. He crawled stressing to the limit on the snow covereg ground not seeing a meter in front of himself through unceasing blizzard. Furry branded jacket was wet already and he could not feel his toes. The gloves were essentially useless...
How did he end up here? What preceded that his life, to which he always tried to give some meaning, should end here, at the end of the world in no-ones land? He stretched his arm so that he would crawl some more over the frozen snow. Who's guilty? Treacherous guards who brought him here and made him get out into the hostile wilderness at gunpoint? Or the chief Ingersson, who comissioned him with seemigly safe coverage on Sami culture? Or someone else in background of the whole thing who did not hesitate to waste a human life just to keep concealed something that souldn't ever surface?
His arm couldn't move anymore. Greger stayed lying on his side and the rest of life slowly faded from his eyes.

Stockholm, 24th December, 1991

HE sat knee-bend on the roof of five storey house opposite Expressen paper publishing building. Full moon shone in his back and he still tasted warm blood of a young stundent girl in his mouth, who went home late at dark. It's no wonder in the winter, and that's why this season is so popular among the Kindred. GREGER sat there only in a leather jacket and with his eyes closed he inhaled the scent of the city he's been out of almost eight years. Thanks to his superhuman senses he smelled every scent, heard every noise... everything composed into one big mosaic in his head, which he could crush with mighty arm. That might... the power of blood that coursed in his dead veins is worth dying for. And he, after many years, is his own master and can decide what to do with that power. He opened his mouth and the cold stockholm air mixed with the taste of female blood. HE is the master...
He opened his eyes suddenly, and it was HIS red eyes that stared directly at a person in the window of the opposite building, where the light was still on. The person was sitting in the comfortable chair, his back to the window. It was the office of editor-in-chief of Expressen evening paper, the man he used to call 'boss' in his mortal life... that memory was so distant and so dim you could argue its genuinity. GREGER tilted his head a bit and with his sharp sight he could count Ingerssons gray hair on his scruff. But that's not why he is here. The reason is pure, blood lined rage fuelled sweet vengeance... which starts right here and now, in a place his life was directed to its end. GREGER hoped to find the file he put away here and that it would fill in the memories lost past the polar circle.
He stood up. The game's on.

(Gameplay next.)