Failed Experiment: Witch Trials

Sometimes, people learn exactly the wrong lessons. When the Cult of Enlightened Self-Interest enacted its counter-revolution, some Carthians inevitably drew the conclusion that the mistake of their comrades formerly in power in that domain was leaving too many of their enemies at large. What occurred in these domains seemed on the surface very much like the internal reform movements previously mentioned, but just below that respectable veneer was a less wholesome intent. That intent would be exposed rapidly as the situation deteriorated into chaos. This sort of failure left many survivors, but was so damaging to the Movement’s image as to utterly shatter the Carthians’ power in some domains to this very night.

As the Ordo Dracul subtly took the reins of power in one such chaotic domain, a curious young mem-

ber who had several contacts among the Carthians who had disappeared decided to “follow the dragon’s tail,” in his covenant’s parlance, to see if he could discover what caused the sudden collapse of the covenant that had formerly held so much power in the city. He asked around, and took note of which former Carthians left the city and which stayed to make another try at their experiment. Gradually, the picture became clear. Paranoia led to martial law and several executions, which quickly precipitated civil war among the Carthians. The young Dragon wrote a history of the events, focusing less on who did what and instead structuring his writing as a commentary on the Carthian government as an experiment. He concluded that the Carthians’ method was flawed because it involved no controls, so tracking which variables affected each other was nearly impossible, and received some recognition for his work.

The term “Bodhisatcracy” is language hash. A bodhisattva is a spiritually enlightened being who returns to the world of pain and illusion, leaving the bliss of nirvana to free other souls from bondage. The suffix “-cracy” indicates governance, so democracy is government by the people, theocracy is government by the priesthood and so on. Thus, Bodhisatcracy is government by the spiritually enlightened. For Kindred, that means someone who has found Golconda.

Bodhisatcrats, then, are a small group of Carthians who would like to be governed by a mentor in Golconda. If the ideal is a group of loyal followers being led by a Christ-like dispenser of wisdom, the actual practice is necessarily different. Some Bodhisatcrats (sometimes known as “monks”) recognize that no one’s stepping up to the throne of peace, so they attempt to find Golconda on their own. In the finest Carthian tradition, Bodhisatcrats support one another in their mutual, practical quest to save their souls. They study, they keep one another pure, they even travel when they uncover a promising lead. They understand, on either a tacit or explicit level, that if one of them succeeds, that one becomes the Master and the rest will obey. It’s equally understood that once one of them completes the quest, he will guide the others to Enlightenment as well.

The Movement generally respects those monk cadres for their actions, if not necessarily their idealistic beliefs. If nothing else, monk cadres tend to be trustworthy, though maybe a little dour and predictable. Their efforts to retain or achieve spiritual purity give them a lot of potential as “mortal handlers” — high Humanity lets them interact more smoothly with the living. Unfortunately, their ethics often prevent them from leading mortals into anything to perilous, which, to many Kindred means “useful.” On the other hand, the Bodhisatcrats’ idealism sometimes arises from naïveté, which makes it easy to trick them into luring mortals to whatever doom the manipulator desires. It’s a trick that usually works only once, however.

On the other end of the spectrum are monk cadres who have found a master. No vampire has ever proven himself to be transformed by Golconda, but in the history of the Kindred, many have claimed it. Often powerful and always charismatic, these claimants may be genuine, or they may be delusional, megalomaniacal or simply cynics who see a chance to hook some gullible optimists. These leaders range from benevolent, ascetic recluses who lightly guide their followers through riddles and tests, to overpowering preachers who control every aspect of their followers’ Requiems similar to Jim Jones or David

cause they’re already built to facilitate spiritual exercise). Leaderless seekers are no more or less likely to cohabitate than other Carthian Kindred. Leaderless seekers are, however, prone to lair near seminaries, medieval research libraries or in ethnic neighborhoods relating to the tradition they’re pursuing. (That is, if they think Kabbalah is the answer, look for them in a Jewish neighborhood. If they’re Buddhists, they’re more likely to be comfortable in Chinatown.)

Background: The pursuit of Golconda is an enterprise for the optimistic or the desperate. Some Kindred start off on the quest as neonates, latching on to the idea of transformation as a way to avoid the drain-cir- cling decay they see in the elders around them. Others come to it after murdering their own families, or losing their coterie, or confronting something so alien and evil that the idea “vampires could become decent people” seems reasonable in comparison. The optimists are determined, and they structure their Requiems to avoid distractions and stay on track. Those who seek because of crisis are driven. Ironically, their desperation inclines them to lash out at those who impede their progress in ways that definitely aren’t enlightened.

Organization: Cadres with a master are typically strict hierarchies. They may be simple, with the Shining One at the top and everyone else as supplicants jockeying for the master’s favor. Or the cadres may be heavily stratified, with tests bestowing ranks and privileges as measures of progress.

Unmastered groups are usually loose confederations of individuals, often on different paths, helping one another to the best extent of their abilities and expecting the same in turn. There are rarely official leaders, though some large coteries elect a figurehead leader. Others just meet once a week for direct-democracy votes. While they’re seeking spiritual perfection, it should be noted that the infighting and cliquing that occur in every group are present in these cadres as well, though often pleasantly muted.

Concepts: Brainwashing victim, chewed-up- spat-out political operative, disbelieving opportunist, inspired prophet, mad-eyed zealot, neonate naïf, remorseful diablerist, skeptic-turned-believer, spiritual Lancea Sanctum convert, the screw-up no one else wanted

Kindred society is home to many faiths, and the patently unnatural effects of even simple Discipline use argue strongly for belief in the supernatural. The small clique of passionate atheists in the Carthian Movement, similar to those many vampire splinter sects, consider the existence of Kindred to be a powerful piece of religious evidence. These Atheists, however, see it as incontrovertible proof of the non-existence of God.

Most Kindred (particularly the Sanctified) argue that since Kindred have supernatural powers splendidly adapted to the drives of the Beast, there’s clearly a source of supernatural powers that bestowed both Beast and powers for a reason.

The Atheists don’t always deny this idea directly. (Some do, however. They pick at the notion that Kindred are really that well adapted to survive. The Atheists argue that, by such logic, humankind is designed by God to paint pictures because they have both eyes to see and hands to hold a brush.) More commonly, the Atheists attack the notion that these powers must

Carthian Atheism

come from a single, all-powerful creator. After all, if Kindred are such a great idea, why saddle them with both strengths and debilitating weaknesses? If such powers have to come from a source, why one source? Why not five, one per clan? Why must the progenitor of vampirism be omnipotent — given the squabbling to which his alleged creations are prone, he wasn’t clear-sighted enough to create them efficiently. Looking at the hysteria and misery of the Danse Macabre, it’s hard to argue for intelligent design.

Those are the arguments the Atheists use against the Sanctified, but the Acolytes get just as much defiance. If a goddess or spirit is omnipotent, why is there more than one? Surely there isn’t room in the cosmos for two omnipotent beings. What if they came into conflict? But if they’re not omnipotent, just where do they get off calling themselves divine? Isn’t it a little more likely that what the Circle is dealing with are spirits — admittedly, spirits with a great deal of power

— but limited spirits nonetheless? Sure, they look big

prey, attempting to disgrace and discredit mortal churches. Armed with Disciplines, Deniers can easily wreck a human congregation. But just as with roaches, there’s always a thousand more synagogues and temples and cathedrals and Christian Science reading rooms for every one they stomp.

Behind the shrill attackers, there lurks a much more covert layer. These Deniers keep their beliefs to themselves, but allow their disdain for religion to drive them in their pursuit of mortal political power, the most efficient large-scale, world-shaping tool. Often it suits them to cloak their organizations in religious garb. Being void of faith themselves, they are ideally positioned to rationally analyze cult structures purely as organizations, and articles of belief from an unadulterated marketing standpoint. They build fake cults and send them on crusades against real ones; they nurture martyrs and laugh when they blow themselves up for a Heaven that doesn’t exist.

The most elite of these hidden Deniers forge cults, not for mortals, but for their fellow Kindred. In some cases, these Deniers string along their eager followers for decades or even centuries, content that they have found the perfect opiate for intellectually immature undead. In other cases, the Deniers reveal their churches as the frauds they are, basking in the shock of the true believers and loudly connecting the dots for the Acolytes: “As they were fooled, so might you be.” These Deniers find hope again at last, wondering if others like them are pulling the strings of Belial’s Brood and that, one night, they will be invited to become Devil mentors beside them.

Nickname: Deniers

Covenant Relationship: Atheists are often Movement ideologues. They tend to have highly developed debate skills, or, if they don’t, they’re loud verbal bullies who press their opinions through the intellectual equivalent of a mugging. Their nihilistic creed bends them toward total pragmatism, which is a useful polestar for steering a group as diverse as the Carthians. They are, effectively, the lowest common denominator, and everyone agrees that it’s good to be able to accomplish the goals they set, no matter how varied those goals are. The hard-headed, materialist Deniers are very good at mutilating distractions and ridiculing away philosophical disagreements. Since the Deniers don’t believe in divine reward or punishment, they’re also good at justifying

any sneaky, vicious or lazy means toward the Movement’s stated end.

Appearance: A memorably visible minority of the Deniers are violently punked-out — tattered leather jackets and rivet-studded brows between the Mohawk haircut and the glaring, raccoony eyes. These Atheists are usually also anarchists. Pretty much, they’re anti-everything.

Most Atheists, however, are almost stodgy. The men wear sportcoats and slacks and loafers over muted ties and button-down shirts. The women, sensible pantsuits and low-heeled mules, or an earth-tone skirt with a cardigan sweater. As a stereotype, they’re finicky about their look. There are sloppy exceptions, but Carthian Atheists tend to be as precise and fastidious in their dress as they are in their arguments.

Haven: While some can’t resist the irony of a deconsecrated church (especially if it’s been repurposed as something like a pizza parlor) most just look for a haven that’s hard to find and as unobtrusive as possible. If you spent your nights picking fights with the Sanctified, you’d want to be able to hide among the crowd, too.

Background: Carthian Atheists are smart or welleducated, and usually both. They’re people who value thought and reason above emotion or visceral experience. They’d rather be right than have fun. While this includes some smart autodidacts who never got a chance to go to college (and are therefore bitterly resentful) and some low-to-average minds who overcompensated with graduate degrees (and are therefore defensive about their ideas and qualifications), the most typical Denier was an academic in life. A surprisingly large number were priests, rabbis, nuns, imams or lay ministers.

Organization: The Deniers try to be well organized, but the very nature that leads them to atheism makes them hard to unify. Prickly, argumentative people who always need to have the last word are not team players. The most common organization for Carthian Atheists is a sort of one-vampire-one-vote direct democracy — or, at least that’s what they’ve got on paper. In practice, the most vicious arguer gets his way, with all the other Atheists as demagogues looking for a chance to humiliate the alpha.

Concepts: College student, diablerist looking for an excuse, disgusted ex–Bodhisatcrat, disinterested politician, eerily persuasive madwoman, Embraced teenager, false Kindred prophet, logic addict, loud punk, undercover Acolyte