It's the fall of 2004, and LA is a miserable shitheap. You've come here searching for someone after your life burned down, and you doubt you'll even find them.
Then you meet a stranger in a dark bar on a Hollywood backstreet, and come next evening, you're the latest member of whole new world you never even knew existed.
Not just in this rundown room. Not just in this shitty motel.
In LA.
Twenty-eight hundred miles from anything resembling home. No money, no food, no prospects, no plan. You got nothing.
Nothing at all.
A rat crawls across the room. It knows you're there. It sees you watching it. But it still doesn't hurry.
You get the feeling it can tell you're just too tired to chase it. Too tired to react to it. Too tired to do anything but sit on the bed and listen to the rain.
You've been tired a lot lately. And by lately, you mean 'the past five years'.
Cause every day since high school graduation?
Has been shit.
Everything you ever built has crumbled to ash before your very eyes. Every endeavor you ever attempted, failed miserably. Every dream you ever had is dead.
The house is gone. College threw you out without a reason or a word. Friends are missing, or dead, or hate you beyond all rational thought. Family's cracked itself in half. Dad's drinking. Cousins are fighting in court, again. Grandpa's seething at the thought you might inherit anything at all, whatsoever, and most of the family agrees.
You tried to fix it. Everyone knows you did. You aren't stupid or incompetent. You've always been special.
But nothing worked. Nothing got better. In fact, everything only got worse.
Eventually, inevitably, you snapped. You couldn't take it. The pressure, the problems.
The constant failure.
You walked. Just…walked.
Left New York behind, slipped from the city in a haze. You dropped The Big Apple and all the trappings of your life like a rut sack full of weights, and wandered west, towards the setting sun.
You've bounced from place to place, town to town. Doing odd jobs, begging when you needed to. You've slept on bus stop benches and in roadside ditches. You've gone hungry more than once and been broke far more times than that.
You had nothing to your name but the clothes on your back and your trusty…
A horn blares outside, startling you from your thoughts for a moment. You can't bring yourself to actually look outside, however, and you sink deeper into the bed.
It's been months of travel. You left in early January. It's Fall now, several seasons later. But you're finally here.
Living in the City of Angels.
But…Why?
Why did you come all the way out here?
It's not to find a new beginning. You've been burned on that one too many times.
Neither was all of this one big vacation, or attempt at finding yourself.
The reason you came out here is…
It's…
Well…
It's stupid.
It's vague.
It's bound to result in failure.
But you're trying to find someone.
Specifically, you're trying to find her.
You've got no leads. She hasn't dropped a note in all this time. Hell, you don't even know if you want to find her so you can hug her, punch her, or bury her long-dead corpse.
All you know is that you burned out like a lightbulb, and left town in her footsteps, seeking her out all this way on the other side of the country.
But who is she?
[ ] Your Twin Sister. She was a smart cookie, sharp as a whip and curious as a cat. You were thick as thieves, all the years of your life. Then she got sent out to LA by Grandad in order to work on some computer technical thing for a mystery client, and promptly dropped of the face of the earth. Grandad blamed you, of course, despite the fact you weren't even in North America at the time. It didn't make sense, but then, by this point, so many things had gone inexplicably wrong in your life that blaming you for tragedy was simply second nature. In any event, you aren't going to go to your almost-certainly-early grave without even bothering to look for her, so here you are, walking the streets of this smoggy, crime riddled, overly sprawling mess that pretends to hold a candle to NYC. Oh, the joys of having a sibling.
[ ] Your Mother. She dropped you out at much the same age you are now, then left for California with a pocket full of dreams. She was a booming and boisterous woman who wanted to change the world, make it a better place. Think 'Loud, cheerfully violent hippie' and you're in the right ballpark. Dad got a few postcards over the next few months, with the last one coming straight from downtown LA. Then, nothing. Mom and Dad were never married, and were never going to be, but you'd still like to know something about the deadbeat bitch who left your life a mere week after you were both discharged from the maternity ward. Even if it takes the rest of your days to find a single hint of her existence, you're still willing to look. After all, what else were you going to do with your wreck of a life?
[ ] Your Best Friend. She wanted to be an actress. She wanted to be a star. Given how you've heard nothing about her for the past forever and a half, it's safe to say she failed. No letters, no writing, no news. Nothing. Twenty plus years of having each other's backs, of secrets shared and schemes hatched, of tender tears and laughter filled moments, and nothing. You've lost all your other friends but this one, well, losing it stung the most. You need to know how you lost her, how this pillar of your life completely fell away. And if it turns out she hates you too, well. It might well be what causes you to just finally collapse in full.
[ ] Your Crush. Isn't that such a silly reason, to cross the length of a continent? It's not like she liked you back. Hell, she didn't even really know you. You lived in the same area, went to the same school. You were you, of course, and she? She was a cunning and smart and sharp-tonged. Quiet and introverted and more learned than the library of Alexandria; whenever you talked, her inner beauty shone like the sun. (And her outer beauty was nothing to sneeze at either.) But then she fell in with some loonie crowd or something, a group that promised to teach her about occult nonsense that made everyone else roll their eyes. She bought it though, and, after a rigorous vetting process, got accepted into their ranks. Then they sent her off to LA, and nobody, not her friends, not her parents, nobody has heard from her since. Maybe you want to be the knight in shining armor, save the damsel from the evil cult so you can live happily ever after. Maybe you think she's onto something, and you want in on that magic, or, more likely, that sense of fulfillment. Or maybe it's just that you've just lost so much that a one-sided high school crush is the only vaguely positive 'relationship' that you have left. Whatever the reason, she came out here, and you, eventually, followed.
Hello and Welcome to Don't Open It, a VTMB quest.
First off, if this looks familiar, its because i tried to run it a while back on Spacebattles, but life got in the way. So this is a redo.
Second, this quest will be narrative first, mechanics second. So. Keep that in mind.
And lastly, I have never fully run a quest before, so don't blow up if I wind up making mistakes.
[x] Your Twin Sister. She was a smart cookie, sharp as a whip and curious as a cat. You were thick as thieves, all the years of your life. Then she got sent out to LA by Grandad in order to work on some computer technical thing for a mystery client, and promptly dropped of the face of the earth. Grandad blamed you, of course, despite the fact you weren't even in North America at the time. It didn't make sense, but then, by this point, so many things had gone inexplicably wrong in your life that blaming you for tragedy was simply second nature. In any event, you aren't going to go to your almost-certainly-early grave without even bothering to look for her, so here you are, walking the streets of this smoggy, crime riddled, overly sprawling mess that pretends to hold a candle to NYC. Oh, the joys having a sibling.
[] Your Mother. She dropped you out at much the same age you are now, then left for California with a pocket full of dreams. She was a booming and boisterous woman who wanted to change the world, make it a better place. Think 'Loud, cheerfully violent hippie' and you're in the right ballpark. Dad got a few postcards over the next few months, with the last one coming straight from downtown LA. Then, nothing. Mom and Dad were never married, and were never going to be, but you'd still like to know something about the deadbeat bitch who left your life a mere week after you were both discharged from the maternity ward. Even if it takes the rest of your days to find a single hint of her existence, you're still willing to look. After all, what else were you going to do with your wreck of a life?
Your sister. God, she was the bright one. And in your life, the brightest spot.
It didn't matter. It didn't matter how badly things went wrong. How many friends turned on you. How many family members began to hate your guts. How big of a failure you became. She was always there, always by your side, always in your corner.
Now was…is, she perfect? No, not by any means. Her love of computers led her to spend nights up and alone, typing and typing all the way until it was time to go to school. It got so bad, it's why grandpa finally gave up his upstairs secondary office so the two of you could sleep in different rooms. You had to cover for her more than once when all that 'learning' got in the way of, you know, schoolwork. And she'd talk your head off about this or that, some fantastical computer development that was far beyond your understanding.
She was also nosy. Worse, she was sneaky. She knew everybody's secrets, sometimes before they did. She'd always have the latest gossip, and the name of the person responsible for said gossip, along with their motivation for spreading it. She could have broken the school's social structure in two, if she ever bothered to care.
Once you graduated, and everything fell apart, she was your lifeline. She helped you parry attacks in the family, she helped you find work. On more than on occasion, she helped to avert horrific failure, at least for a little while. She was your biggest asset, and your closest connection.
So of course, it couldn't last. Grandad got some job offer on her behalf, one which promised him a small fortune, and sent her off with nary a thought. She argued and yelled and screamed at the top of her lungs, said she didn't want to go, said she couldn't go. Not there. Not LA.
But, well.
Grandad.
Is Grandad.
His word is law.
She went struggling and fighting, but she went. She arrived at the airport, checked into the accommodations, called you up.
A week later, she was declared missing by the LAPD, and that was the last you heard.
History may not repeat itself, but by God does it sure as hell rhyme.
Granddad blamed you, of course, not himself. Never himself. And the rest of the family followed Granddad's orders. Given how badly things had gone wrong around you, it was easy to do so.
Without her at your side, things escalated more and more. Your life went from slipping away to burning before your very eyes, until you snapped and cracked until you did what your mother did, all those years ago. You went west, towards the setting sun. Away from your family, and everything you knew.
Except unlike your mom, you weren't doing this because you were a 'freedom fighter' who 'refused to be tied down' (read: couldn't handle the responsibility of motherhood). She ditched everyone and everything because of some 'goals' and shit. Sent a few postcards. Stopped after few months. with the last one coming from LA.
No, you weren't her. You were doing this because...
Because...
Because you need to know.
You need to know what happened to your sister. You need to find her, Or whats left of her. If you don't, you'll never sleep again.
You've failed alot in this life, but you damn sure won't be failing in this.
A brief moment of will surges through you, and when it passes, you feel emptier than before.
You…
You don't know where to start.
Well, that's a lie. But only a small one.
You get up off the bed with a grunt and make your way to the bathroom.
Her phone call mentioned that the client was having her look into various websites on the 'dark web'. She wouldn't give you details, but she did give you a name. Just one
Something called 'Schreck-Net'.
You enter the bathroom and lean over the sink.
She was apparently living in Hollywood, around the Sunset Strip. That's where you'll have to start this mad and probably pointless quest.
And it is mad and probably pointless, because you have next to nothing to go on. Only the name 'Schreck-Net' and the location of where she was living.
And her appearance, of course.
You look in the mirror.
Her face. Identical in every way.
All you have to do is ask someone if they've seen a person identical to y-
You look closer and take notice of all the damage months of little food and living rough have done to you.
Seen a person identical to your driver's license photo, and then you have a place to start.
It's…not a great place. But it is a place!
…Right?
…No. No it isn't.
But what else can you do?
You need to know.
And you have nothing else left. Nothing but her.
You sigh and go back out into the room to gather your meager things.
Coat. Shoes. Hat.
And of course, your most valuable possession.
[] Your Gun. It's puny, it's pathetic, it's just about the cheapest gun on the market. It's also a loaded .38 special with live ammunition, and, well. It don't matter how small the gun it, Mack, it's not like you or anybody you know can shrug off bullets. You may or may not know how to use it, but in either case, it's saved your life on more than one occasion, and, like any gun, it can kill whatever you point it at. + 1 .38 Police Special and 12 rounds of ammo.
[] Your Cellphone. It's not the cellphone aspect that make it valuable. The service on that has long since expired. No, what makes it so valuable to you is the simple fact that it has a functioning camera. The threat of cellphone footage has made creeps back off and cops pause. It's literally been a lifesaver. And if you've used pictures taken to blackmail people into giving you money or ride to the next town over, well. They shouldn't have been doing that thing with the goat anyways. + 1 Cellphone with Camera and Charger.
[] Your Knife. Yeah, it's a knife. Not a switchblade, no. This is a proper knife, long, lean, and very mean. And also very, very useful. Yeah, you can slit up somebody, big whoop. You know what else you can do with it. Cut cloth, cook hunks of food over a fire, open cans, cleave branches, slash tires and clean your nails. What a wonderful, multipurpose device this little thingie is. + 1 Bowie Knife with Sheath.
[] Your Ancestral Pocket Watch. Hey, you said your most valuable, not your most useful. Really the little thing doesn't even tell time. You could have hawked ages ago for a good few meals and the bus fare here. But, well. You couldn't bring yourself to. It's been yours for ages. It was made for your great-great grandpa after he won a watchmaker's services in a card game, and you got it as a graduation present all those years ago. It's been a source of comfort. Not as an object itself, but for what it represents. Great-great grandpa never gave up, and no matter how desperate he got, he never pawned it for cash. It was a point of pride that he didn't, and now, it's a point of pride for you too. A symbol for you both. No matter how hungry, no matter how desperate, you never crossed your personal moral lines. And you never will. + One Nonfunctional Antique Pocket Watch, +1 Humanity.
Sorry about the wait. Life happens, and all you can do is live it.