Blood Borg: Session 0- Campaign & Character Creation. NSFW. 18+ Readers.

Content Guidance: Abduction, Blood Consumption, Drug Use, General Gore, Homelessness, Mental Illness, Murder, Police Brutality, Power Dynamics, Profanity, Religious Trauma, Sexual Situations, Violence.


Game: Blood Borg written by Adam Vass of World Champ Game Co. & illustrated by Mitchell Van Dyke.

Supplements:

1. LOSER – Blood Borg Solo Zine also by Adam Vass.

2. Flint: A Cairn 2e Solo Handbook by Man Alone.

3. A NPC Trust Tracker by Soloist Venture.

4. Tarot of Vampyres & guidebook Phantasmagoria (Out Of Print) by Ian Daniels.

5. Phases of the Moon d6 Die by Steve Jackson Games.

Playlist: Spotify Blood Borg Playlist


Brief Game Overview: Direct from the creator, Adam Vass, “Blood Borg is a gutter punk vampiric tabletop rpg for 2+ players including a gamemaster. Run through the sewers, copy your magic zines, and drain all the human sheep around you in the decrepit city of Scab.


Main Quest: To find the members of the pack who are scattered around the city.

Where the fuck are they?

  • Cordelia- in deep shit needing help in Crofton
  • Dominique- hanging with a clique Iris hates in Crimson Hills
  • Screech- pissed off at Iris skulking around somewhere in Sextonville

Starting Time & Date: 11:11 pm, 198Xish

Weather & Moon Phase: Heavy rain continues, the wet amplifies the stink of the gutters. Waxing Crescent Moon.

Starting Location: City of Scab, Sextonville, The All Seeing Eye Metaphysical Shop.

Squat Inventory: 4 coffins, single twin bed, boombox & cassette tape collection, first aid kit, fire extinguisher, wind up alarm clock, batteries, mini fridge with 2 human meals, locked community stash box & smoking accessories, Grim’s cage, & special bird seed mix. Part of the squat is used as storage for The All Seeing Eye which consists of a few shelves of inventory and cleaning supplies.


Session 0 Tarot Reading: Interpretation will be recorded in Session 1.

  • Who – Queen of Grails
  • What – Six of Skulls
  • When – Ace of Scepters
  • Why – The Empress

Short Term Goal(s):

  • Retrieve all missing pack members in one piece if possible.
  • Make it through one fucking concert without incident!

Long Term Goal(s):

  • To expose, murder & successfully evade the hunter.
  • Fortify The All Seeing Eye.

Main PC Details: Iris XO

  • STATS: Vamp Type – Black Heart, HP=9, Strength +1, Agility -1, Presence +2, Toughness 0, Armor– Studded Leather Jacket d3, Weapon– Brass Knuckles d4, Powers & Abilities – Personal Space & Familiar
  • Physical Description – Iris is 5’7” with a voluptuous figure, milk chocolate colored skin, deep brown almond shaped eyes, pouty lips, and a natural afro she often dyes jet black or a rich shade of purple. She appears to be in her late 30s to early 40s.
  • Familiar – Grim, a rotting corvid, mocks her sadness, quotes poetry and song lyrics, and hovers just above Iris’s shoulder at all times unless commanded otherwise.
    • HP=8, Weapon– Talon d4
    • Specialty– Sound mimicry d4.
  • Inventory: Punishment & Pause Spell Zines, deck of Tarot cards wrapped in a silk scarf, keys on a rabbit foot keychain, Zippo engraved with her name, 3 joints, $45 cash, tube of MAC’s Russian Red lipstick, bag of bird treats, & small black leather sling bag.
  • Owns The All Seeing Eye Metaphysical Shop. The pack squat is located in the back storage room.
  • Iris was turned by an artist she posed for to make quick cash. He attempted to make her his eternal muse.
  • Iris misses the soft kiss of her beloved Thomas (deceased) more than anything.
  • She was institutionalized as a danger to herself when she refused to marry the man picked by her domineering father.
  • Iris is devoutly faithful to those she considers kin which are few and far between.

Pack Details: (Using provided pregens with slight modifications)

  • Cordelia Samson (Vamp Type – Blood Bath), black widow serial killer, expert with blades (worked circus sideshows), first member invited to live with Iris. Their relationship is like that of siblings where Cordy is the little sister.
    • STATS: HP=9, Strength +1, Agility 0, Presence –1, Toughness +1, Armor Metal Corset d4, Weapon– Fire Axe d12, Powers & Abilities- Masochism & Blood Brother
    • Physical Description: Cordy is 5’9” with an athletic build and permanently suntanned skin. She has blonde shoulder length hair, ocean blue eyes, is heavily tattooed, and appears to be in her mid to late twenties.
    • Inventory: Flask of gasoline, lighter, Tattoo gun, travel tattoo kit (inks, hygiene products, sketchbook, pen, pencil & eraser), keys on a bangle bracelet, $17 cash, pill bottle- contents unknown, & denim backpack.
  • Dominique Trudeau (Vamp Type – Bottom Feeder), a sex worker with a trail of broken hearts following behind her, the vamp got into trouble with a sick freak Pig. She was getting the shit kicked out of her as Cordy happened upon the scene. Cordelia saved her ass and brought home the bacon for breakfast. The pair quickly became an item. Iris let her into the pack out of respect for Cordelia. She doesn’t trust Dominique, but tolerates her for now. *I Will be using Soloist Venture’s NPC Trust Tracker for Iris & Dominique’s relationship.
    • STATS: HP=7, Strength -1, Agility 0, Presence +1, Toughness +1, Armor Patched Denim Vest d2, Weapon Leather Strap d4, Powers & Abilities – Face Warp & Scrying
    • Physical Description: Dominique is a 5’5”, petite, porcelain skinned beauty with eyes the color of a shifting grey sky. Her auburn hair flows past her shoulders to her waist in loose curls. She appears to be in her early 20s and is very waif like – fragile, delicate in appearance as if a strong wind could blow her away.
    • Inventory: Pet (Death Scream in a mason jar), Urn with Relative’s ashes, deck of Oracle Cards, $11 cash, key on a necklace worn round her neck, pink shoulder bag full of drug store cosmetics, condoms, & gum.
  • Screech Beckinsale (Vamp Type – Junk Lord), an ecoterrorist no stranger to surviving under cover of darkness, he was turned by a houseless person in exchange for assistance. He uses his powers to deal out justice to rich fucks who cheat the system. Screech is Iris’s on and off lover. He wants a committed relationship, but she ain’t down with that shit. He makes the fourth in the pack.
    • STATS: HP=9, Strength -1, Agility +1, Presence 0, Toughness +1, Armor-Thick Skin d2, Weapon– Bolt Cutters d8, Powers & Abilities– Scavenger & Tinkerer
    • Physical Description: Screech is 6’1”, muscular with a bit of meat on his bones, but very agile for a larger guy. His eyes are an ebony shade that appears to have deep greens and browns shimmering in them. Screech flashes his bright white teeth, which sets off his olive skin beautifully, at every opportunity he gets. He keeps his beard and goatee neatly trimmed and black hair is styled in a short mohawk. Screech also has multiple piercings in his ears and face and several tattoos. His largest and most intricate tat is a portrait of Ivy squeezing a heart in her palm across his back. Screech appears to be in his mid 30s.
    • Inventory: 4 batteries, unidentified bones for osteomancy (bone casting/divination), a can of spray paint, wallet on chain with $90 cash & keys, Hippie Crystals in a pouch, & book of waterproof matches all hidden in one of the many pockets of his black trench coat.

Thrall Details:

  • Zero (Manager of The All Seeing Eye) pledged fealty to Iris XO, is a soft spoken, baby faced, 24 year old male. He is 6’3” with a wiry frame. Zero has flaming red hair, emerald eyes with flecks of amber, and a splattering of freckles across his cheeks.
    • He is a lonely outcast that keeps a standing therapy appointment on Thursday evenings.
    • Iris felt a strange unexplainable pull towards Zero when she bumped into him at a local club event. Curious, she followed Zero home watching him from a distance. She left without turning or draining him, though unsure why. One evening a few days later, he opened the door to The All Seeing Eye and shyly asked for a tarot reading. Iris happily complied taking his appearance as a good omen. She invited him to return. And he did never leaving.
      • STATS: HP=7, Strength -1, Agility 0, Toughness +1, Presence +1, Armor– None, Weapon– Machete d8, Powers & Abilities- Commune with Master, Blood Curious
      • Inventory: Skateboard, busted handheld video game, Instill Fear Spell Zine, wallet with $160 cash, keys, & 1 joint.

Hunter Details: Their hunter is a desperate feral freak who is obsessed with collecting their heads as trophies to complete an unholy ritual.

Hunter Tracker: d20

Faction Standings:

  • 4th St Coven in Croften +3
  • River Boys in Black Grove +1
  • Chameleon in Down Town -2
  • Holy Riders in Greenfaire +3
  • Shrine Keepers in Greenfaire +1
  • Cold Hands in Crimson Hills -3

Homebrew Rules:

Tarot Reading: Iris will be doing a reading at the start of each game session either for herself or another character. I will use this for creative writing inspiration.

Stats: Borg games are notoriously deadly and though Blood Borg seems to be more forgiving, I want to have fun with these characters for a longer campaign. I’ve adjusted stats to give them a better chance of survival and reserve the right to rebalance them as I see fit. There will still be plenty of blood, guts, and death.

Hunters: To simplify my game play and reduce things to track, instead of each vampire having their own Hunter, all pack members will be sharing one.

I will roll as per the rules each session to see how close the Hunter is to finding our squat. I am still mulling over how I will approach final confrontations. Hopefully, that is a ways off.

Factions: I’ll update faction standings at the end of each session depending on interactions during any encounters between characters.


Avē Imperātor, moritūrī tē salūtant

A fistful of trust issues
and brain stained
purple by midnight blooms
makes for an interesting partner
in the coliseum.

How does trident and net
fare against the gladius?
Shall we see
after Praeco departs?
When Trumpeter horn announces
impending doom or victory?
While being reborn
veiled in vernix caseosa,
dripping amniotic fluid
before a raving mad crowd?

Demand for blood geysers
drowns all reason.
Instinct, adrenaline, fear
fuels our choreography.
We are dancing the dance
for Lady Death
yet,
hesitating
attempting to avoid
the finality of her grasp.

She erases lines drawn in sand
as if to say,
“Hey you,
look to me

one last time and
let us entertain them.”

My Body Is A Temple

Throat chewed out
displayed in light of day 
sugar crystals ground
into split lip 
from the beating
I’ve been blessed with.

Always the favorite,
I’m punished as reward  
because sweetness drips
from my wounded heart
acting as insulation
to comfort a cold body.

My bruised arms cover
the little boy’s pain
hidden in plain sight.
It lurks behind
his grown man eyes. 
It bores black holes
straight through the wreck of me.

Damn bloody work
being sacrificial lamb.
Over playing victim, 
I tire of being served
as a God’s offering.
Oh, my Goddess,
won’t the slayer be surprised
upon returning
to the scene of the crime  
finding me transformed
into the altar?

A Writing Ritual

Ward ignites via candle flame
to protect the sanctuary
of my habitat bedroom.
Heady jasmine incense curls
around invisible barriers.
I scry.
Nothing appears
in the obsidian mirror.

I shed skin
as the sun goes down
on me.
Warmth radiates
from brain stem,
along snaking spine,
to end at my rattler tail.

Sticky with humidity,
tonight’s July air
hugs my curves
as sweat glistens on flesh.
Petrichor arrives- an omen.
Late night summer rain
threatens to spill
across the threshold
of an open window.

Pen in hand,
blank paper beneath.
Blood thickens,
serves as ink.
Hisses.
Puffs.
Rumbles.
Growls.
A spell compels
falling away of scales.

Suddenly,
you appear in my mirror.
I knew I’d find you.
You’re always near.
Now I write.

So it is and shall always be.

Someone’s In The Kitchen And It Ain’t Me

Sitting at the kitchen table
fingering grocery store flowers
three days old,
weeping over a mason jar glass
while your seat’s gone cold
again.

Head hanging low,
I am an angry bitter being.
Tongue rebelling,
stomach curdling
from the aftertaste-
a spoonful of overdone heart.

There’s more than one cook
stirring this dinner pot.
She’s licking pink lips
while dipping painted fingertips
into the brew.

My fraying dirty apron
hanging crooked on the hook
is sauce splattered,
stained by our reincarnations
each ending badly.

Yet, here I go again,
thumbing through
grandma’s recipe box.
Scrawling handwriting noting,
“the secret to a man’s heart
is pleasing him,
filling up his gut.”
But, I’m finished going hungry
choking on crumbs,
snatching stolen bites
as he dines on wildflower honey
spread thick across
warm homemade bread.

She can fucking feed him.

VI. The Lovers

I’d soften my body,
mind, and behavior
to melt into you.
I’ll comb out the knots
to let down my hair
from this tower room,
then blossom
as you climb the length to me.
I want to be your soft girl,
perfumed pillow,
secret heart lover.
I want you to be my only man,
sacred space,
sun and moon lover.
Carve your mark
into my bones
with your antlers to set me free.
Photo by Natalie Goodwin on Pexels.com

Euterpe Visited Me Last Night


Everything I scrawl
across the page is a soundtrack
bass bumping in my head.
I wish I could sketch
each note onto your chest
for safekeeping.
Our song plays behind my eyelids.
It’s the flipping of comic book
pages in the hands of a child.

This is the chorus.
I’ll passive aggressively hint
this poem is about you.
You and Me.
Repeat times three.

I can’t compose music
or hold a tune,
but I can string words together
by the handful to make jewelry
from diamonds and pearls
to remember you by.

This is the chorus.
I’ll passive aggressively hint
this poem is about you.
You and Me.
Repeat times three.

Are you okay with pebbles
and sand I will inevitably shake
onto your rug?
Can’t promise I’ll clean
the mess up because
I’m already whistling
a brand new song.

This is the chorus.
I’ll passive aggressively hint
this poem is about you.
You and Me.
Repeat times three.

verse-chorus-verse
chorus-verse-chorus-end.

Live To Eat

One day my teeth will betray me.
I’ll bite clean through
meat, gristle, fat.
Vegetarianism falls flat
when your demon is splayed out
on the kitchen table.

I’m a liar. I’m a truth teller.
Know this about me.
I do not crave veg, fruit, bread.
I’m no honeybee.
It’s always been about flesh
with little desire
for the flower.
The more my palms manipulate
between these two warm lips
the better.

I want an overfilled larder,
an organized walk-in pantry,
lined with rows of specimens.
I am a greedy needy girl.
Ignore me lover at your peril.
I will stage a hunger strike
requiring a forced feeding.

Oh, my unending appetite!
I can’t be bothered to tame it.
The devil is always ready.
It’ll claw itself up and out
my pitted heart and esophagus,
tickle the epiglottis
until
I spew stew
onto
the dinner plate.

I want to slip a knife
through its rolls
and fucking end me.

Pass the butter.

Tea Leaves

Gravity leaves us
swimming in the weeds
Queen Anne’s lace
floral refuse left behind
reveals an alternative
state of being
in my divination tea.

Would you chase me
if I was a bun bun?
We could nibble wild carrots
root, leaf, all.
Would you catch me?
Steal my lucky paw?
So many questions,
so few answers emerge
at the bottom of my teacup.

I’d be an astronaut
on another planet
in a different timeline
with you Comrade.
As I close my eyes,
we meet in a myriad
of multiverses
orbiting each other
time
after
time.

Juice

She bathes in alkaline washes
knotted to a float
awaiting mechanical sorting
before extraction.

Coffin nail punctures wound
peels back to bruise the black
blood orange red pulp drips
betwixt and between them.

She’s lost inside.
Prefrontal cortex broken.
Don’t try to find
or fix her.

Squeezes

citric acid
sucrose
fructose
glucose
sweetest of sweet.

Splashes

lips
chin
neck
breasts
whose cup’s overflowing?

Compulsion blooms wet
activation countdown initiates
in the amygdala
as he crushes the hypothalamus.

Please!
She begs one last time
for him to keep the saliva.