(((months ago, I tried to get a round robin up and running based on
the hunter variant outlined below. I offer this world again in an
attempt to rouse you all from your slumber. If anyone is interested
in playing with me in this world of mine, please send me a PRIVATE
email expressing interest. Once I have five or more players we can
decide which of the numerous forums to post our little interactive
nightmare… --mitch (henry's left foot) )))

Please, forget everything you know about the World of Darkness.

Please, forget most everything you know about Hunter: the Reckoning.

Please, forget everything you may know about the world of Henry Quirk.

In the first case, nothing that happened, or happens, in my variant
world has anything to with the WoD. It's best not to make
comparisons. Comparisons will only lead your characters down the
wrong path, and make for an unsatisfying and frustrating experience.

In the second case, while preserving the essence of H:tR (ordinary
people confronting the extraordinary) I hope to do so in an original
and mysterious fashion.

In the third case, Henry's story is apocalyptic, to say the least.
Over several years, I took a garden-variety Hermit and turned him
into an avatar of Death itself. An enjoyable story for me to write
(despite being incomplete and fragmented) but totally off the mark
for what I intend here.

And what do I have planned in this World of Shadows I've cooked up?

Let's find out...

THE WORLD
Pick up your morning paper, go out for coffee, go to work. The world
you do these things in -- with one exception -- is the world your
characters live in.

The exception: There is a conspiracy. There are monsters. Just not
the ones you've come to expect.

I can't emphasize this too strongly:

There are NO vampires.

There are NO were creatures.

There are NO ghosts (free-floating or embodied).

There are NO fairy-folk.

There are NO magi.

There's no Technocracy, no demons, and no other denizen of the WoD --
large or small, popular or little known -- in this variant world.

There is no vast, secret history overshadowing and belittling
humanity; a secret history full to overflowing with gothy angst and
ersatz profundity.

Humanity in this variant world is essentially the same -- and holds
the same place in the scheme of things -- as humanity in the real
world: venal, shortsighted, capable of nobility and self-sacrifice,
and sitting pretty – and unaware – at the top of the food chain.

But, again: There is a conspiracy, and there are monsters.

THE CITY
I like Cleveland. But, although this variant world mirrors our own
closely, there's no reason why the Cleveland of the variant world
must mirror the real Cleveland. Other than geography, I say we make
our Cleveland serve the story, not hobble it. A little googling, and
a lot of imagining, will give us everything we need.

CHARACTERS
The moment your characters 'see' the monsters for the first time may
be the single most terrifying – and confusing – moment of their
lives.

The common factors in all eye-openings (I resist call it imbuing…too
much baggage from vanilla H:tR) include your characters doing what
they normally do --shopping, sitting in a coffee shop or theatre,
working, taking the dog for a walk, etc. -- when there is a pregnant
pause: the world seems to hold
its breath for a moment, and your character 'sees'. There's no
booming voices in the head, no cryptic messages spelled out in the
rearranged letters of a billboard.

There's only the 'seeing'...and what is 'seen'.

Let's talk about the Sight...

First, I would encourage you to think of the Sight more along the
lines of altered perception. When your characters 'see' a monster,
it's a whole body experience. The characters not only 'see' the
horror, but they also 'smell' it, 'taste' it, and 'feel' it. The
particulars of this experience come a
little further down in this essay.

Second, the Sight is 'on' all the time. It's not a skill or a power
your characters need to actively summon up.

Third, the sight is 100 percent effective. Never will it fail to
inform a character of the face-to-face presence of a monster. The
Sight, however, will never tell your character WHAT the monster
is...only that it IS a monster.

Also, the Sight only works face-to-face. Viewing others by video
camera, or watching videotape, reveals nothing about the possible
presence of monsters.

Fourth, a function of these altered perceptions is a bolstering of
the will, the mental constitution, the gumption. Bottom line, when it
comes to monsters, the internal fortitude of your characters is
enhanced. When it comes to the rest of his or her life, your
character is on his or her own.

In game terms, if your character has a will of, say, 3 (unassertive),
then -- in the presence of monsters -- it might run as high as 7
(determined) or 8 (controlled).

Fifth, while there certainly are hidden monsters (thus the need for
the Sight), there are no mind-controlling or illusion-producing
entities in the variant world, so the Sight offers no protection
against these things...it's simply not needed.

Sixth, another component of the Sight is a
precognition/clairvoyance/post-cognition all the characters
experience from time to time, but only in dreams and nightmares,
never with the waking mind. This function of the Sight is as
unreliable as the Sight itself is reliable. If followed faithfully,
and without question, these meaningful dreams and nightmares can lead
your characters to hell as often as they can lead them to salvation.

Character Creeds: Don't worry about Creeds…they don't exist in the
variant world. Certainly, if you feel more comfortable giving your
character a Creed, and sticking to it, please do so, but it has no
real bearing on the writing/play. For example, my detective, Harry
Bochs, in a conventional
Hunter game/story, is a Judge, but in the variant world, he's just a
detective, a man, touched by strangeness. Sure, he still has the
qualities and characteristics that made him a Judge, or that make him
a detective, but in the variant world, these are not facets of a
Creed, just aspects of his personality.

More bad news: There are NO edges. That's right, no supernatural or
divinely bestowed powers, skills, or talents.

There are no Virtues or conviction, either.

How then, you may ask, can we gauge our characters' progress or
advancement? The old-fashioned way, I suppose: staying alive,
learning new (mundane) skills, sharpening old (mundane) skills,
learning about the world, the monsters, themselves (and
the 'monsters' inside themselves).

Pretty much your characters 'advance' and become 'powerful' the way
people do in the real world. Look at what the 'Waywards' did on 9-11,
or in London -- not an edge in sight -- and you get my meaning.

Derangements still apply (in fact, each character gets one the first
time they 'see' the monsters) but are the simple result of living in
a worldwide (but covert) war-zone, 24 hours a day, 7 days a week.

I'm guessing my approach to Creeds and edges would cause a few
problems in a conventional tabletop game, but this isn't tabletop or
a game. We're embarking on collaborative story writing, so the
stakes, the demands, and the goals are different.

The Hunter's Code: In the variant world there's no such animal. No
code, sigils, or glyphs are impressed into the minds of your
characters. They'll have to make due with whatever conventional means
of communication, and recognition, they can come up with.

Hunter-net: While your characters may use the net for communication
and networking, there is no Minister-sanctioned and protected analog
of Hunter-net in the variant world. A real bastard, aren't I? And,
with no Hunter-net, there's no need for 'handles' or code names…
unless your character is a melodrama queen.

The Ministers/Messengers/Heralds: Do they exist? Who knows? Well,
actually, I do…but I'm not telling…not just yet. If unearthly or
divine benefactors or sponsors exist, the only evidence is in the
Sight, the strange, meaningful nightmares and dreams, and the
bolstered will. Never do these sponsors talk to, or communicate with,
your characters as they might in a vanilla Hunter story.

And, if the Sight, the dreams, and the bolstered will are simply a
reaction to the presence of the monsters, and there are no Ministers?
Well then, your characters are truly alone…

Because of this, no one in the variant world talks about Messengers
or Heralds. Characters may posit the existence, assistance, or
interference of higher powers, but they'll come up with their own
descriptors.

The Monsters (what your characters know, or will discover): To anyone
not touched by strangeness, the monsters look human, completely, in
both body and behavior. If autopsied, a monster's carcass is human,
from the number, kind, and arrangement of organs, right down to the
composition of the very human cells. There's no proof for your
characters to gather in the realm of
the forensic.

From the first time your characters 'see' the monsters (till the day
they die) they always recognize the abominations. Let's say your
characters 'see' a monster in the guise of a 90-year old black woman
(not inconceivable, or even improbable – monsters are everywhere, in
both sexes, all races, all ages, all economic and social and
political and religious groups). The characters see the old woman –
black, wrinkly skin; white, thinning hair; osteo-stooped – but they
also 'see' simultaneously, with as much realness and solidity,
something horrific. What they 'see' will vary from character to
character and monster to monster, but it's always awful. This isn't
just the super-imposition of a ghostly image over the old woman (and
let's call her Matilda Jenkins). The characters see both images as
equally real. My detective, Harry Bochs, might see Matilda while at
the same time he 'sees' a horrible, stretched out jellyfish-like
thing covered with bloodshot eyes and leering, sharp-toothed holes
that can only be mouths. One of your characters sees Matilda,
and 'sees' a twitching, giant insect-thing with flickering mandibles
and glistening, segmented eyes. What each character 'sees' may vary
from moment to moment while observing the same monster, but whatever
they 'see', it's always monstrous and predatory. The 'smell' is
sometimes like brimstone, sometimes like rotting meat, sometimes a
harsh chemical stench…and this too varies from character to character
and monster to monster. But, however the 'smell' comes, it's always
unpleasant, nauseating. Same for the 'taste', and what your
characters 'hear'. All these disturbing, off-putting, and downright
sickening sights, sounds, smells, and tastes culminate in a sense
of 'wrongness'…the feeling that this thing is an abomination, is not
natural, and should not exist.

What the sight doesn't convey is what the hell the monster is.

So, one thing the characters know, or will discover, is the monsters
are human, or, live in humans, or, have excellent human disguises,
or…?

And, the monsters are always human. The sight never reveals Fido the
monster dog, or Sparkles the monster cat.

Just as confusing: if your characters covertly observe Matilda for a
few days or weeks, they might be hard-pressed to determine what
exactly the abomination is doing. Matilda plays with the neighborhood
kids, bakes cakes and pies for her church bake sales, trundles over
to the hospital (taking two bus changes!) to spend time with the sick
and infirm.

A background check (like Bochs might do) would be equally
unenlightening and distracting, showing Matilda has never been in
trouble with the law, was married for 40 years till Melvin had a
stroke, and has good – if somewhat meager – credit.

Now, Bochs may discover that since Matilda moved into the depressed,
Cleveland neighborhood (ten years ago this month) there's been an
increase in crime…nothing outrageous, just increasing levels of
street-level and domestic violence. Does Matilda have something to do
with this? Seems
unlikely, even though prior to her entrance into the community, crime
rates had been stable for at least 15 years…

Of course, Matilda is just one example.

There's a serial killer of some note (identity unknown…hasn't been
caught, never arrested, never even had a traffic ticket) responsible
for the deaths of at least 30 young men and women across the
continental United States. The press has dubbed him 'the junkyard
killer' because all the bodies turn up in or near junkyards. A year
ago, he was 'seen' for the monster he is, and was stalked by, an
accountant named Anne Harper.

Every city the killer has 'played' in has at least two mutilated
bodies, plus the grieving families, and paranoid populace.

Anne caught up with the killer…and he – it – caught her.

Back to Matilda: let's say your characters confront the old woman.
perhaps catching her alone in a hospital elevator, or bravely
entering her home...for the privacy it offers.

As long as the characters don't get physical, Matilda will be
defensive, angry, pleading, she'll cry, express fear, and on and on,
just like you'd expect a woman of her years to act. At the very
least, the behavior will be interesting to the characters, being as
they see Matilda and 'see' a monstrosity simultaneously.

Now, if Matilda is threatened -- physically and overtly threatened --
all bets are off. If the Matilda persona is an act, or if Matilda is
a real person becomes moot. The old woman's voice deepens to guttural
as she reaches out lightening quick and rips out the throat of the
character nearest her. A character out of arm's reach pulls the
triggers of his sawed-off double-barrel shotgun, blowing off
Matilda's left arm and shoulder, and still the monster -- spewing
very human blood all over the place -- leaps the eight feet
separating her from the shotgunist and punches a hole clean through
his abdomen with her right fist.

The mayhem continues. If any of the characters survive it's because
they disassemble the old woman to such a degree it can't attack any
more, or they destroy the head.

If the monster's head is destroyed, it dies, and when it dies, a
singular thing occurs: Again: if an ordinary person observed the
death scene, they would see an old woman take a shotgun blast to the
face...the body would drop; blood, bone, and brain all over everyone
and -thing. The characters see this too, of course, but they
also 'see' the monster die, its superimposed, real form becoming like
a thick black vapor that hangs in the air for a moment as an inhuman
wailing fills the characters' heads -- not ears -- heads.

The vapor quickly dissipates and, even though it is as real as the
monster (or Matilda) was, efforts to collect some always fail,
whether using a jar, or a ghostbuster-style trap.

Again: an autopsy of Matilda would show her to be what she appeared --
a 90-year old woman, human in every respect.

You people butchered an old woman...an old woman who evidenced the
strength of an elder silverback gorilla, the agility of a gazelle,
the speed of a cheetah, and the sheer physical constitution of, well,
something NOT human.

Just what the hell was she? And just what the hell was/is she, the
serial killer, and all the other monsters, doing?

Is there a monster organization? Maybe. Certainly, some monsters seem
to know one another. but always in the context of their human
identities. Even eavesdropping remotely, say by way of an electronic
bug, reveals nothing monstrous about the interactions.


How long have the monsters been around? Considering their hidden
nature, and at least human-level intelligence, it seems they could be
running the world. But investigation shows the number of monsters in
positions of power and authority is not particularly high, no higher
certainly than their infiltration of any other profession or social
strata.

Has anyone had a conversation with a monster and learned anything
useful? Not that anyone is aware of. No matter how the monster is
approached, once it becomes apparent to the monster that it will be
interfered with -- as a monster -- and that its accosters know what
it really is, the monster attacks, killings many as it can.
Anecdotally, it has been said monsters will suicide in the unlikely
event that capture is imminent.

Anecdotally, it is also said that IF a monster could be captured, and
IF it could be prevented from offing itself, then a big dose of
sodium pentothal will loosen it lips...whether anything the monster
says can be trusted, or understood, is another matter.

There is no overriding moniker applied to the monsters. demons,
goblins, lurkers, or just plain 'monsters' are all used, as well as
other names.

How long have the pitiful few known about the monsters?
Uncertain...no one can truthfully say that anyone had open eyes
before the end of 1999. Whether this is because monster-investigators
have exceedingly short lives, or because something important happened
at the end of 1999, no one knows.

Does anyone know anything? Well, again, anecdotally, there are rumors
of savants who seem to know much more...but -- if they exist -- they
are rare, and for some reason they hide themselves...perhaps because
they DO know the REAL score they've squirreled themselves away from
harm...maybe the characters should follow their lead...

Also, rumors abound of a man named Lucas Yoder. Yoder apparently
began doing what others wish they could, that is, forming hard, fast,
networks, worldwide, for those who see. Unfortunately, Yoder
supposedly disappeared three years ago...or, maybe he never existed
all...the only evidence that he did exist is the fragile, incomplete
network that seems to still operate.

END

(((as you read what follows, keep in mind you are being introduced to
the three character types your characters will encounter: those
who 'see', savants (npc), and monsters.)))

The killer hasn't been home in years. He'd left the remains of his
entertainment in shallow graves, overgrown ditches, dumpsters, trunks
of junker cars, and abandoned refrigerators across the length and
width of the country, but he'd avoided Ohio. Bad memories.

But something was calling him back. Something coming in dreams --
sometimes as he was wide awake -- pulling, pushing, directing him
home. To Cleveland.

Inside him, the little voice -- what the killer took to be his
intuition, his conscience -- twists and turns: going home...so much
to do...so much to taste...

The killer guns the engine of the black sedan, thinks briefly about
checking in on his passenger, decides against it: 'The trunk is
fine...she'll keep...', and pulls onto the midnight-dark and empty
Colorado highway.

Going home...

*

Carol Hannigan is having a restless night. The pills aren't helping
anymore. She'd have to try something stronger. But even with the
pills, she still sees them...still hears them...still tastes them.
Her stomach rolls at the memory of the last, a teenage girl,
yesterday, blonde and thin and giddy
with the things Carol herself had given up long ago. Her own
bile...she'd gagged as the sight of the thing sharing space with the
teen (a dead baby filled with roaches, it's bone-white skin swollen
to the point of rupture by the shifting, teeming mass of insects just
below the surface) as she tasted
her own bile in a horrible, self-referential cycle. But worse was the
little explosion of 'knowing'...she knew what it was, where it came
from, what it wanted...and the knowledge made her feel smaller than
she thought she ever could. 'They want to eat us...' she
thought, 'till there's nothing left.'
Every time she saw one, something new bubbled up, something she felt
she already knew, but had forgotten...always bad, always mean, always
illuminating.

And then, earlier, when she first lay down, in a vivid dream, she saw
herself as a corpse, standing on the shore of a lake. It was noon,
the sun directly overhead, and she -- her dream-self -- spoke to a
man in a black suit. The conversation was muted -- she could see
herself and the man, but
she couldn't hear them. Whatever it was this 'alternative her' spoke
about must have been dire: the black-suited man with the glasses
seemed angry, and her corpse-self backed away in fear.

One word was audible in the exchange.

Cleveland.

In New Orleans, it's very hot and muggy, but Carol Hannigan --
standing at her open window, looking out into the streets of the
sleeping city is very cold...awake and cold.

*

Harry Bochs is drunk. Gin, gin, and more gin. And still he can't
sleep. Doesn't want to, really, but Harry knows he needs it...can't
work, if you can't think. And to think means he needs a fresh mind.
And to have a fresh mind means sleep...but with sleep comes dreams
and other things.

Harry doesn't want to dream.

Harry used to like to sleep. He was a master at it, could wile away
big blocks of time doing it, enjoyed it more than anything.

But that was a long time ago...a solid year. After seeing what he saw
and dealing with what came after, how could anyone be expected to
sleep? How can any man sleep when everyday, monsters are walking
around?

So, Harry Bochs is drunk (again), sitting in front of his little
black and white television, praying if sleep does come, it should be
like the sleep of the dead: dreamless, quiet, eternally peaceful.

Barring that, Harry Bochs doesn't ever want to sleep again.

More worrisome than his skewed insomnia is the sense of anticipation.
Something coming...something around the corner...

Harry listens to the dead channel hiss of his TV, lights another
cigarette, and waits...

*

In Cleveland, those who see -- the few, the pitiful -- dream of
lakeshores and corpses and of a black sedan piloted by a giant
hideous spider with a distorted human face. Some few who are awake,
still feel a restless nudge, a sense of something building.


'Something is coming...' they say, 'something bad.'

END

(((it should be noted: though this is based in Hunter: the Reckoning,
it is MY variant...anyone try and turn a buck with MY work and i'll
sue your ass... --a litigious left foot)))