Ultimate New York By Night
En Vogue Artist in the City of Lights
Strength 2; Dexterity 3; Stamina 3; Charisma 4; Manipulation 3; Appearance 3; Perception 3; Intelligence 5; Wits 4
Talents: Dodge 1; Empathy 1, Expression 2, Leadership 1
Skills: Crafts 4, Drive 1; Firearms 2; Stealth 1; Survival 3
Knowledges: Academics 3; Computer 1; Finance 2; Investigation 3; Linguistics 2;
Medicine 1; Occult 2
Backgrounds: Generation – 11th ; Resources – 3; Fame – 1; Vampire Status – 2
Disciplines: Auspex 1; Celerity 3; Presence 2
Virtues: Conscience 3, Self-Control 3; Courage 2
Merits: Common Sense
Blood Pool (1/turn): 12
EXPERIENCE SPENDS: New – Alertness (3), New – Athletics (3), Firearms-2 (5), Courage-2 (2)
FREEBIE SPENDS: Willpower+5 (5), Perception+1 (5), Craft+1 (2), Humanity+2 (2), Investigation+1 (2), Expression+1 (3), Celerity+1 (7)
London in the 1960’s was a magnificent place booming with fashion and culture, but underneath the lure of extravagant rebellion and super-skinny models lied the depths of true evil – narcissism. History categorizes the 60’s as the era for change and an implosion of tradition, but in reality nothing changed. The humans still relied on family and placed an unhealthy emphasis on beauty and status. In that world, nothing mattered more than the shape of a person’s face or the curve of their hip.
That world of superficiality is the world I was born in. 1968 was a year of wonder, and with it came my birth. My mother was very young when she had me, so the hippie ideals were strong in her. My dad was a one night stand that I never knew, and I honestly don’t know if my mother knew him at all either. I grew up listening to the Beatles and hearing about Twiggy, but in the end I despised that world. It only noticed the beautiful even though the people constantly spouted out beliefs regarding inner beauty and living off the grid. For people who placed so much value on bad hygiene, they expected every person to remain beautiful with greasy hair, unshaven legs, and no bra. It was a hypocritical world, and not so much has changed on that front.
I was made vampire in 1997 when I was just 28 years old. My maker was a painter during the Renaissance era that has since faced the final death. I remember seeing him at one of my art exhibits. He stood out among all the fluorescent pieces with bright colors and seemed to scream dark and danger. He also glowed with wit and pulchritude. I admired him from a distance, but then he came to ask about a piece. He wanted to know what the circle symbolized, I realized soon after my turning that he had known all along, and when I told him eternity he indulged in a secret smile. That night, as I was leaving the exhibit, he corned me and the next night I arose to find myself as one of the undead.
Art remains a close confidant and paintings full of circles and bright colors still crop up in the same studio in London, but after my death I needed a change. My art was not famous, but my name was well known in the city, and my face was recognizable. My maker convinced me to move to New York in 2001 and I’ve been here ever since. I’ve moved onto dance and sculpture, so as to not arouse suspicion, and through it all I’ve maintained skepticism about beauty. Are models beautiful? Are skinny women and broader men the ideal of every society? Are Nosferatu beautiful?
Art challenges popular opinion. It has done so since the early years of the craft when painting evolved from stick figures on the walls of caves to a form of tremendous expression. I want to express my views on beauty, and if time has taught me anything, it is that beauty can be ugly. Ugly can be beautiful. In the end, beauty is meaningless, and the only reason people, animals, and everything else is on this earth is to live – not to be beautiful.