I've recently read Queen of Spies: Daphne Park, Britain's Cold War Spy Master by Paddy Hayes. I'll talk more about this on a YSDC Bookshelf, so look out for that, but today I'm going to borrow an anecdote from Park's experiences as a neophyte intelligence operative in Moscow, in the 1950s.
Park and a colleague decided to visit Kalinin, now known by its old name Tver, a medieval township not far from Moscow. The idea was to get a first-hand glimpse of the nearby air base, but they were out for whatever they could get. They arrived at the train station, wandered around and discovered
... what looked like an interesting building - interesting in that the dozen or so ground floor windows were barred. As they passed the entrance they glanced in. There was no one around but in the gloom they could make out a bank of telephones. Beside the phones were instructions telling people how to use them to denounce their neighbors. Citizens were to pick up the handset, wait for an official and then dictate their denunciation, remembering to provide full details of the guilty party. Park and Deverill stared at one another; telephones were unknown in ordinary Soviet households, so the solution was to provide a bank of phones to allow people to drop in and inform on their fellows. It must be the local KGB office, they decided ... There was no one guarding the entrance so they stepped in for a closer look ...
Things got a bit sticky from that point on.
It's relatively easy to get a Soviet-era telephone from the 1950s, but given the scarcity of such phones at the time it's likely any phone from that period comes either from a well-to-do household or from a situation like this. Banks of phones in a KGB office, with only one purpose: to help people inform on their neighbors. Whispering evil down the phone line, at any hour of the day or night.
Sympathetic magic is a process in which an otherwise inanimate object is imbued with power. It's based on the idea that one can influence something based on its relationship or resemblance to another thing, which is why so many herbal remedies involve plants that physically resemble a part of the human body. It's most often seen in fiction as the voodoo doll; stick a pin in it and watch the victim dance.
Scooby Doo, Where Are You?
However you don't need intent to create a powerful totem out of an inanimate object. The yokai entity tsukumogami, from Japanese folklore, is essentially an item of clothing or tool that, over time, has come to life, developing a spirit (if not a soul) of its own. Anything that has long associations with people can develop a personality all its own.
Here you have an antique telephone, a battered old bakelite, that's been around for who knows how long. It's something you might find in an antique shop or just some weird kitsch collectables store. Or maybe it's sitting in some abandoned offices, a government facility, or maybe stacked up in a warehouse somewhere. The example I'm using is inspired by Park's story, but it could as easily have come from, say, a prison, or a military bunker. Anywhere, really.
What happens if you pick up the phone and listen?
What happens if the phone starts to ring?
I'm going to use Night's Black Agents as a base for gamification, but this is an idea that can as easily be used in Esoterrorists, Delta Green - any horror game.
All you need is a phone with a nasty history.
Supernatural: vampires are the result of magical or other supernatural activities on Earth; spirits, ghosts, witchcraft and the like. Want to talk with the dead? This can help, but it's a party line so expect frequent interruptions from Heaven only knows who. Think of it as a medium's planchette, except you need a generous helping of blood to make it work. Sinner's blood, for preference. The blacker the sins, the better the result. Vampires sometimes use these phones to communicate with others in the network, since this is one telephone line mortal investigators can't tap. As vampires are effectively 'dead' as far as the telephone's concerned a vampire can easily talk to another vampire, but it's completely useless for talking with anyone else in the network - a Renfield, say.
Damned: Vampires are the work of Satan or other explicitly demonic creatures opposed to mankind and God. Those who know how can use these hideous reminders of times best forgotten as a means of enhanced interrogation. The remorseless voice on the other end of the line keeps probing, probing. It knows what you have done. You can't save yourself. The only way to earn mercy is to confess ... Treat this as +1 Maneuver in a Thrilling Interrogation challenge, boosted to +2 if the voice on the other end of the line is a dead friend. Agents can use this device if they know how, but doing so is a 5 Difficulty Stability check.
Alien: Vampires are alien beings, or earthly beings who nevertheless follow different laws of physics. It looks like a telephone. It acts like a telephone. It seems so normal. And yet ... and yet ... The chief advantage of a device like this is, if you know how, it can talk to the past. It can't talk to anyone before its creation date, so a phone made in 1952 can't talk to someone in 1951. Nor can it talk to anyone after its disconnection date, so a phone disconnected in 1978 can't talk to anyone from 1980. However, within those constraints it can talk to anyone you like - so long as you know what their phone number would have been. Of course, sometimes the past calls you, for reasons best not to think about.
Mutant: Vampires are earthly beings infected or changed by (or into) some freak of nature. It might look like a telephone but that's clearly organic material in there. It's some kind of hybrid, patchwork relic, and it might be capable of thought. Probably not any more intelligent than a baby, which does raise the unsettling question of where the vampires got that organic material from. Used by Nodes to talk to other Nodes, and is capable of interfacing with computer networks, though the results are unpredictable.
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