Axelgear
General Wontwit
The God-Machine update is here, o' frabjous day! Callooh! Callay! Yet it's going to be a long time before we see any of the new Chronicles books for any line besides Vampire. Werewoofs are next and, while Idigan is looking quite neat, they're not my favourite line. Mage doesn't look like it'll be out until the end of the year, which, I admit, I actually appreciate on a thematic level but am annoyed about in that greedy "Gimme gimme gimme, I want my toys NOW!" kind of way.
So, in honour of Spring and my recent writing spree, I've decided to say fuck it and toss out some stuff for Changeling: The Lost.
Now, before I start, I feel I should note that this is actually something I'm writing on a whim to calm myself down before an exam, so it's going to be general details. I might come back and do more later. I'm also not going to waste time posting things like XP costs, those should be easy; same as they are in the God-Machine update, plus 3 XP for favoured contracts, 4 for unfavoured, and 5 for a dot of Glamour. Simple.
So, that said, let's start looking at what I've got for you.
---
Changelings are broken. Thoroughly, atrociously broken. Now, it's up to all the King's horses and all the king's men to put Humpty Dumpty together again before he goes off the rails and starts killing the king's horses and making marionettes with their bones. Thus I bring you an update on Clarity and how Changelings hold it all together.
Changelings aren't certain of reality. That's quintessentially the problem of the bizarre world they came from and the potentially more bizarre world they live in. Consider for a moment if you knew it was possible for a creature with no eyes and lots of teeth to reach through a wall and drag someone to their doom. Even if that creature was utterly unique and you only ever saw it once, you might never trust walls again. Sure, if you wanted to live a normal life, you'd have to work to overcome it, but that's never easy.
It might sound strange or fantastical, but this is something people deal with daily; it's a part of what it is to live with an obsessive disorder. Mysophobes must wash their hands extensively or they don't feel safe. Hoarders must gather things and never throw anything away or bad things will happen. Often, these delusions even have some justification; some small basis in reality. A mysophobe's fear of germs is an understandable fear extended to the point of paranoia; someone who must compulsively keep their house neat and in order might feel perpetually prepared in the event of guests (in the case of extreme social anxiety), assailants, or even just feel like they don't need to worry about their house because everything is exactly as it should be... Or it will be as soon as they check this one little thing.
This is the anxiety a Changeling feels. They're so used to a reality that is infinitely more mutable than everyone says it is; that runs according to laws they simply cannot fathom. How do they know what's going to be the same tomorrow and what isn't? How do they know what's real and what's not a trick of Arcadia?
Feeling. Depth. Breaking the rules. These are how a Changeling knows.
Arcadia is ultimately a lie, but it's a great lie. A really wonderful lie. We all know the sort of lie; we call them stories. To paraphrase Wilde, they're reality but with all the boring bits cut out. When the story of the Ring Cycle opens, we don't need to see the days before the wedding announcement that Sigmund spends chopping wood and going to town to buy thread to repair his clothes because that's boring. Unless they're indebted to a dangerous and cruel loan shark, no-one in stories is ever really seen paying bills. Similarly, no-one really cares that the battles of the ancient world were often hours-long affairs in which warriors fought until exhaustion in presses, then fled to rest while others took over. We want to see the hero swinging his sword and tearing through hordes of foes that seem to lack the common sense to gang up on him instead of attacking one at a time.
That's Arcadia. It's reality, except when reality would be less interesting, distorted to a ludicrous extent. It's shallow, but oh is it interesting. It's not necessarily nice or kind or fun, but, damn, if it isn't a good story.
Reality isn't these things. That's how a Changeling knows it; by it having more depth than a shallow drama; by it having more complications than simply serve to enhance the story; by it being, quite often, dull. A Changeling who works a job after-hours sweeping up at a store might expect a monster to be lurking in the dark basement. Every time there isn't a monster there is a confirmation that this is reality.
The Way to Break the Rules
In addition to their Aspirations, every Changeling gets a Fixation. In fact, they get a lot of Fixations.
A Fixation is a thing that keeps the Changeling locked firmly into this reality. It's the house they need to maintain; it's the job they work at; it's the psychiatrist they visit every weekend; it's the bar they drink at if they can't afford the psychiatrist. It's something utterly and totally mundane. No magic. No special powers. No nothing. It's mortal and it reminds them of that.
As long as a Changeling maintains their Fixations - visits them regularly, maintains them, keeps them from magical entanglement, etc. - they get a +2 on all detachment rolls.
Oh, but it's never that easy, is it?
As Changelings indulge their Wyrd, as they embrace their fae sides, it gets harder and harder to keep telling themselves "Yes, this is real". They need more. They need much more. Oh, how much more they need!
A Changeling can have one Fixation for every dot of Wyrd. They can choose to have less, but for every one less than their maximum that they possess, they take a -1 penalty to all detachment rolls. This means that a Changeling who doesn't carefully maintain their Fixations is going to quickly risk losing the ability to hold onto reality and face a swift slide into lunacy. Glamour is addictive and, like an addict going for their fix, a Changeling can afford to skip a few meals and necessities if they want to indulge more, but there's only so far you can go before the damned souls of a thousand smiling sinners come to drag you giddily back to Hell.
In addition, losing one's Fixation suddenly is jarring. Having that thing that gave you a sense of reality destroyed is going to hurt you badly. It is always a detachment roll to permanently lose a Fixation. Changelings can change Fixations with time, but this should be represented by significant roleplaying to bond the new Fixation to the Changeling's psyche and replace the old one. If the cause of the loss of the previous Fixation is magical in nature, the Changeling suffers an additional -1 penalty on the detachment roll.
It's not all bad, though. Changelings gain strength through holding onto their attachments. Any time a Changeling eschews magical obligations for mundane ones related to their Fixations in a way that puts them at risk in some way, the Changeling may take a Beat. If the King of Summer wants to take over that dive bar you love and turn it into a fortress, and you tell him hell to the fuck no in public, that's going to earn you a Beat (and probably another when your last health box is filled in by the ensuing apocalyptic beat-down).
Finally, a Changeling's Fixations should be kept relatively free of magic. A part of why they function at all in protecting the Changeling's fragile psyche is that they're utterly mundane. While a little magic here and there is okay - a Changeling who denies his fae side entirely is almost as delusional as one who utterly embraces it - extensive use is utterly verboten. An Ogre who uses Contracts of Stone to win a bar fight is probably okay, but one who gets in fights all the time and uses them to become the renowned champion of ass-kicking at his local pub is right out. If their use of glamour becomes a regular part of their existence in regards to their Fixation, it's going to suddenly just become another part of their fae existence.
Once that happens, their Clarity is going to snap like an elastic band.
So, in honour of Spring and my recent writing spree, I've decided to say fuck it and toss out some stuff for Changeling: The Lost.
Now, before I start, I feel I should note that this is actually something I'm writing on a whim to calm myself down before an exam, so it's going to be general details. I might come back and do more later. I'm also not going to waste time posting things like XP costs, those should be easy; same as they are in the God-Machine update, plus 3 XP for favoured contracts, 4 for unfavoured, and 5 for a dot of Glamour. Simple.
So, that said, let's start looking at what I've got for you.
---
Changelings are broken. Thoroughly, atrociously broken. Now, it's up to all the King's horses and all the king's men to put Humpty Dumpty together again before he goes off the rails and starts killing the king's horses and making marionettes with their bones. Thus I bring you an update on Clarity and how Changelings hold it all together.
Changelings aren't certain of reality. That's quintessentially the problem of the bizarre world they came from and the potentially more bizarre world they live in. Consider for a moment if you knew it was possible for a creature with no eyes and lots of teeth to reach through a wall and drag someone to their doom. Even if that creature was utterly unique and you only ever saw it once, you might never trust walls again. Sure, if you wanted to live a normal life, you'd have to work to overcome it, but that's never easy.
It might sound strange or fantastical, but this is something people deal with daily; it's a part of what it is to live with an obsessive disorder. Mysophobes must wash their hands extensively or they don't feel safe. Hoarders must gather things and never throw anything away or bad things will happen. Often, these delusions even have some justification; some small basis in reality. A mysophobe's fear of germs is an understandable fear extended to the point of paranoia; someone who must compulsively keep their house neat and in order might feel perpetually prepared in the event of guests (in the case of extreme social anxiety), assailants, or even just feel like they don't need to worry about their house because everything is exactly as it should be... Or it will be as soon as they check this one little thing.
This is the anxiety a Changeling feels. They're so used to a reality that is infinitely more mutable than everyone says it is; that runs according to laws they simply cannot fathom. How do they know what's going to be the same tomorrow and what isn't? How do they know what's real and what's not a trick of Arcadia?
Feeling. Depth. Breaking the rules. These are how a Changeling knows.
Arcadia is ultimately a lie, but it's a great lie. A really wonderful lie. We all know the sort of lie; we call them stories. To paraphrase Wilde, they're reality but with all the boring bits cut out. When the story of the Ring Cycle opens, we don't need to see the days before the wedding announcement that Sigmund spends chopping wood and going to town to buy thread to repair his clothes because that's boring. Unless they're indebted to a dangerous and cruel loan shark, no-one in stories is ever really seen paying bills. Similarly, no-one really cares that the battles of the ancient world were often hours-long affairs in which warriors fought until exhaustion in presses, then fled to rest while others took over. We want to see the hero swinging his sword and tearing through hordes of foes that seem to lack the common sense to gang up on him instead of attacking one at a time.
That's Arcadia. It's reality, except when reality would be less interesting, distorted to a ludicrous extent. It's shallow, but oh is it interesting. It's not necessarily nice or kind or fun, but, damn, if it isn't a good story.
Reality isn't these things. That's how a Changeling knows it; by it having more depth than a shallow drama; by it having more complications than simply serve to enhance the story; by it being, quite often, dull. A Changeling who works a job after-hours sweeping up at a store might expect a monster to be lurking in the dark basement. Every time there isn't a monster there is a confirmation that this is reality.
The Way to Break the Rules
In addition to their Aspirations, every Changeling gets a Fixation. In fact, they get a lot of Fixations.
A Fixation is a thing that keeps the Changeling locked firmly into this reality. It's the house they need to maintain; it's the job they work at; it's the psychiatrist they visit every weekend; it's the bar they drink at if they can't afford the psychiatrist. It's something utterly and totally mundane. No magic. No special powers. No nothing. It's mortal and it reminds them of that.
As long as a Changeling maintains their Fixations - visits them regularly, maintains them, keeps them from magical entanglement, etc. - they get a +2 on all detachment rolls.
Oh, but it's never that easy, is it?
As Changelings indulge their Wyrd, as they embrace their fae sides, it gets harder and harder to keep telling themselves "Yes, this is real". They need more. They need much more. Oh, how much more they need!
A Changeling can have one Fixation for every dot of Wyrd. They can choose to have less, but for every one less than their maximum that they possess, they take a -1 penalty to all detachment rolls. This means that a Changeling who doesn't carefully maintain their Fixations is going to quickly risk losing the ability to hold onto reality and face a swift slide into lunacy. Glamour is addictive and, like an addict going for their fix, a Changeling can afford to skip a few meals and necessities if they want to indulge more, but there's only so far you can go before the damned souls of a thousand smiling sinners come to drag you giddily back to Hell.
In addition, losing one's Fixation suddenly is jarring. Having that thing that gave you a sense of reality destroyed is going to hurt you badly. It is always a detachment roll to permanently lose a Fixation. Changelings can change Fixations with time, but this should be represented by significant roleplaying to bond the new Fixation to the Changeling's psyche and replace the old one. If the cause of the loss of the previous Fixation is magical in nature, the Changeling suffers an additional -1 penalty on the detachment roll.
It's not all bad, though. Changelings gain strength through holding onto their attachments. Any time a Changeling eschews magical obligations for mundane ones related to their Fixations in a way that puts them at risk in some way, the Changeling may take a Beat. If the King of Summer wants to take over that dive bar you love and turn it into a fortress, and you tell him hell to the fuck no in public, that's going to earn you a Beat (and probably another when your last health box is filled in by the ensuing apocalyptic beat-down).
Finally, a Changeling's Fixations should be kept relatively free of magic. A part of why they function at all in protecting the Changeling's fragile psyche is that they're utterly mundane. While a little magic here and there is okay - a Changeling who denies his fae side entirely is almost as delusional as one who utterly embraces it - extensive use is utterly verboten. An Ogre who uses Contracts of Stone to win a bar fight is probably okay, but one who gets in fights all the time and uses them to become the renowned champion of ass-kicking at his local pub is right out. If their use of glamour becomes a regular part of their existence in regards to their Fixation, it's going to suddenly just become another part of their fae existence.
Once that happens, their Clarity is going to snap like an elastic band.
