Drowned Kingdom (Night's Black Agents)

Beyond the Poseidon Adventure

This week’s post is inspired by the Jumbo Floating Restaurant of Hong Kong, AKA Jumbo Kingdom. First floated back in 1976, she’s capsized under what can best be described as uncertain circumstances near the Paracel Islands, while on her way to … actually, nobody seems to know. 

Jumbo Kingdom was launched by billionaire businessman Stanley Ho Hung-sun, AKA the King of Gambling, back when he was a sprightly 50-year-old in search of new worlds to conquer. Stanley Ho was a significant investor in real estate and casinos across the Pacific, but he’s best known for his enterprises in Hong Kong and Macau. Along with Hong Kong tycoon Henry Fok, Macau gambler Yip Hon and his brother-in-law Teddy Yip, Ho was one of the consortium that made Macau the gambling empire it is today. In 1976 he’d have been on top of the world having seen off all rivals to become the leading light of the Sociedade de Turismo e Diversões de Macau which meant that in terms of financial pull and influence he was the de facto boss of Macau. 

Jumbo Kingdom was meant to be a floating Imperial Palace, and in its heyday it looked the part. Beautiful alfresco banquet hall up on the top deck, Dragon Court fine dining on the first deck, a culinary school where eager students learned from the best, exhibition halls, outdoor gardens – it had everything you could wish for, smack in the middle of Hong Kong’s famous Aberdeen harbor. You couldn’t dream up a more iconic Hong Kong landmark, floating in the middle of another iconic Hong Kong landmark. 

COVID definitely played its part in Jumbo Kingdom’s downfall but there’s probably another factor: the decline and death of Stanley Ho. By the end he did his best to distribute his assets among his family, but what with familial disputes, a stroke and other issues the Floating Kingdom’s boss wasn’t around to look after her. Ho died in 2020.  

By that point the Floating Kingdom was on a downward slide. It went through a renovation in 2003, sold off some of its assets, but by the end Jumbo Kingdom’s owners couldn’t even give her away for free. 

Nobody’s said why she was towed out to wherever it was she was being towed – a shipyard in Cambodia is the latest tidbit, which sounds awfully like ‘the knacker’s yard’ to me – but she capsized in deep water and while in theory she can be salvaged in practice it’s probably more than the Kingdom’s worth to refloat her.  

Presumably at least some of her fittings were still aboard as well as all of her fixtures, which means there’s a lot of cutlery, chairs and whatnot undergoing the Shakespearian full fathom five right about now. They’d have cleaned out most of the fittings and whatever was in the freezers, and no doubt the departing staff nicked a set of spoons or two, but a floating restaurant of that size – she could seat over 2,300 diners - would have had a ton of stuff aboard. It seems unlikely it was all offloaded before she was shipped off to Cambodia. 

However, one man’s disaster – gosh, I sure do hope she was insured – is another man’s interesting RPG location.  

There’s a lot of adventuring meat to be had in upending a ship, as The Poseidon Adventure (in its various incarnations) demonstrates all too well. You have all the glitter and glitz of, say, a luxurious superyacht, except it’s upside down and smashed to hell and gone. Anything could be aboard her.  

Absolutely anything.  

Kismet  

A super yacht known to belong to a Conspiracy asset has, through some mysterious set of circumstances, capsized somewhere in the Pacific. Details are sketchy. Location is uncertain. However, this is potentially the heist of the century if the agents can get there before anyone else does and make off with the prize. 

It doesn't have to be a super yacht, of course. It can as easily be a gigantic floating restaurant like Jumbo Kingdom, or a cruise liner. However, a super yacht has the advantage of being a contained location, which may be helpful to the Director. A floating restaurant gives the Director more rooms to play with but that might be more hindrance than help, depending on the story you want to tell.

This is, broadly, the plot of Beyond the Poseidon Adventure, novelist Paul Gallico’s sequel to the original Poseidon Adventure. In the sequel seagoing bandits show up to loot the capsized ship. Gallico died before he could finish the novel. The book’s a turkey, and the film adaptation is also a turkey. Mind you, even a turkey has its merits, when properly roasted and served with mashed potatoes and gravy. 

A Thrilling Infiltration scene follows, complicated by the Kismet’s capsizing and deteriorating weather conditions. Can the agents make it before the Conspiracy’s rescue team arrives? What’s aboard the Kismet? 

• Option One: loot, glorious loot. Enough cash and art can be salvaged to make the agents very rich bandits. Of course, before they can loot the Kismet they’ll need to deal with the strange and hideous entities in the summoning pool. They weren’t expecting the Kismet to go belly-up, and they’re not happy about it. 
• Option Two: banes. The Kismet was collecting special (possibly antique) anti-vampire equipment for study and secure disposal. If your campaign has a particular anti-vampire McGuffin, then this is where it is. The crew and stews are all drowned and gone, but wouldn’t you know it, that zombie serum is kicking in …  
• Option Three: Coffins. The Kismet was transporting a Conspiracy bigwig, and that bigwig is particularly annoyed at this debacle. Also, hungry, Very hungry. There’s only so many survivors aboard, after all. Fortunately it looks as if someone ordered takeout … enter the agents, looking all tasty and full of vitamins.  

That's it for this week! Enjoy.

The Legend (Night's Black Agents)

This week’s post is based on a recent article about a Russian spy who attempted to infiltrate the international criminal court (ICC) in the Netherlands, using the false identity of a Brazilian citizen that he had built up over more than a decade. 

A legend is basically exactly that. It’s the backstory, the plotline, the history that anyone who encounters the spy is meant to believe. The more elaborate the legend, the more believable it’s going to be – in theory, anyway. Sergey Vladimirovich Cherkasov, the spy at the heart of this particular narrative, had a fairly elaborate backstory that covers everything from his dislike of fish to the crush he had on his high school teacher. Unfortunately, he wrote it all down. 

In a physical document. 

Which is now in the hands of the authorities.  

Oops. 

Probably the most famous legend of them all is the one used in 1943’s Operation Mincemeat. There the British went to great lengths to make it look as if the corpse they carefully planted for the Germans to find was in fact Captain (Acting Major) William Martin of the Royal Marines, assigned to Combined Operations Headquarters. They even went so far as to have someone else wear Martin’s uniform for several weeks, to give it that lived-in look, and made sure that love letters, a receipt for an engagement ring, and irate letters from his bank manager were all found on the corpse in addition to the fake military documents intended to foozle the Germans. 

There the intent was to make one man appear, in all ways, to be another. The most useful thing about this version of a legend is the subject doesn’t have to be alive to pull it off, though Operation Mincemeat’s planners were concerned that the body they used didn’t quite look fit enough to be a Marine nor did they have the luxury of time; they had to keep the body on ice but not frozen, and if they waited too long then decomposition would have given the game away. In the absolute ideal the stomach contents would also have matched the legend; the actual Martin died after eating bread crusts laced with rat poison. 

In Night’s Black Agents a legend is represented by the Cover ability. While this is usually shorthand for passports and driver’s licenses, in practice it’s everything from the subject’s pocket trash to their social media profile. Everything has to match and be plausible. Gone are the days when a prospective Jackal could steal a few passports and fake an identity using a dead man’s birth certificate. Now you have to really get creative, if you’re going to get close enough to take a shot at the head of state. 

I can spot an obvious use for Cover: an Achievement, as described in Double Tap. If you need reminding, an Achievement Refresh works like this:

1. when an agent meets the criteria for an achievement
2. and the player provides a colorful bit of roleplaying or hot-dogging
3. the agent gets a 3-point refresh of whichever General ability seems most appropriate.

In this instance:

Mincemeat. The agent makes it look as if their current Cover identity died, and the corpse stands up under forensic investigation.

Of course, it’s a little different for the Conspiracy. If the vampires have access to mesmerism, necromancy or similar then they don’t have to fake being, say, ASM Gordon of the Green Jackets; they can actually be ASM Gordon, assuming such a person exists.   

However, any advantage gained through supernatural means can be countered by supernatural means. If the agents can deploy a block or blow someone’s cover by seeing what they look like in a mirror’s reflection, that’s a problem. 

So for the Conspiracy attempting to penetrate an enemy agency or some neutral organization with useful intel hidden away, it may be better to fake it with a legend than try to brute force it with a zombie.  

With all that in mind: 

Dead Man Walking 

The agents are alerted by a Network contact that an agent of [a foreign power – pick the one you like] has been caught trying to infiltrate the International Criminal Court. Though the authorities are convinced this is a relatively ordinary espionage attempt, there is evidence to suggest that the infiltrator is a Conspiracy operative.  

There are two questions to answer. First, is this person really a spy (time for a Thrilling Interrogation scene), and second, if they are, does this mean they work for the Conspiracy or someone else? Of course, there’s the added challenge of trying to find all this out while at the same time keeping out of a Dutch jail; after all, the agents are spies themselves and it wouldn’t do to get caught. 

• Option One: yes, they are a spy, but no, they aren’t a Conspiracy asset. In fact, the whole point behind getting into the ICC is to make a play for a Conspiracy asset already embedded with the ICC. This asset knows what’s going on but is reluctant to make any overt play, since this might reveal their identity. From the Conspiracy asset’s perspective, the best outcome would be if the spy died and the agents were blamed for it. 
• Option Two: yes, they are a spy, and yes, they are a Conspiracy asset. The Conspiracy realizes it’s all gone a bit Pete Tong and want to tie up loose ends. That means a heavy squad is on their way to deal with the situation. The spy thinks the heavy squad is there for a rescue attempt; there’s a chance to flip the spy once it becomes obvious that the heavy squad is there to kill them. 
• Option Three: no, they aren’t a spy. They’re a corpse. The intent is to lure the agents out of hiding and feed them false intel, and it's up to the Director who's behind it. It could be the Conspiracy or another anti-vampire agency. Funny thing about that corpse; everything up to and including the pocket trash and stomach contents indicate the deceased is a Dutch journalist living in London. Except, if the agents dig a little deeper and check Forensic Pathology, they notice that judging by some background radiation information he spent his early years in Russia, probably Novosibirsk. How does a Dutch journalist manage that?

That’s it for this week. Enjoy!  

On A Liar's Orders (Night's Black Agents)

This week’s post is inspired by a news article floating round the net recently about a pair of German ex-soldiers who tried to form a paramilitary outfit on the urging of a psychic. 

Achim Allweyer, 52, and Arend-Adolf Graess, 60, tried to set up a group of 100-150 ex-special forces to fight in Yemen. Their stated goal was to bring peace to the region, but they accepted there would have to be bloodshed and civilian deaths. All this because of ‘messages from a fortune teller that they understood as binding instructions for action.’ 

Which …  

I mean … 

Even accepting people are weird, how does this come up in any kind of conversation, polite or otherwise? 

You should have the benefit of remarkable energy; learn how to concentrate your efforts on a specified objective and pursue it through to the end. Be cooperative but not too easy-going with your family circle. Don't let anyone meddle in your private life, oh, and by the way, Yemen. 

They tried to peddle this scheme to the Saudis, thinking that if they had the Saudi bankroll they could afford to pay the troopers 40000 Euro a month. The Saudi government did not respond. 

The plan didn’t get very far and the two were arrested last year. This is hitting the news now because they’re going on trial.  

Which brings me round to Night’s Black Agents. 

If ever there was a setting where a psychic could somehow persuade ex-soldiers to form a paramilitary outfit, and be in any way successful, it’s Night’s Black Agents. If this were Dracula Dossier there’s even a handy-dandy candidate: Singleton, the Psychic. 

Imagine if you will a situation in which Singleton persuades former members of Edom’s E-Squadron that now’s the time to form a paramilitary squad ostensibly to help out in [insert war-torn hellhole here] but actually to hunt vampires. If you figure these ex-members are in their 60s now, then they were active in the 1980s, which is a good excuse to use some of the Edom Files scenarios as a kind of flashback moment. 

Edom must keep at least one eye on its former associates, not least because they might be going coo-coo for Coco-Puffs thanks to not getting regular supplies of serum any more. However, Edom’s alertness level probably depends on how powerful Edom is right now. If it’s just a handful of ageing spooks operating out of a decayed Ring, then maybe Edom’s eagle eye is just some geezer watching the obit columns. On the other hand if Edom is a power player then there’s probably a section of an office somewhere with half-a-dozen luckless saps watching every news feed they can get their hands on, praying for the day when the Boffin finally pops his clogs so they’ll have something interesting to report. 

In fact, it might be cool plot action if this was a punishment detail for spooks who got a bit too hands-on with the subject material. Like your player characters, for instance. ‘Until you learn how to conduct yourself in the field, you’re on the graveyard shift.’ 

Then the graveyard shift gets interesting … 

The Eagle has Landed And Is A Gooney Bird 

Through diligent Data Recovery/Human Terrain/Military Science/Research/something else, your agents discover that a pair of holdovers from Edom’s past are putting together a mercenary company. These two were among Edom’s finest back in the day; they’re Edom’s creakiest warriors now. Yet they’re not alone; someone’s giving them marching orders, but who? Does this new player have a supply of serum, and is that how this mysterious Mr. X is persuading these two soldiers back into the field? To which government are they appealing for funds, and why? 

Options: 

• It’s the Psychic, working on his own. He thinks he has solid intel on a new, dangerous Conspiracy threat which nobody’s paying attention to. He’s managed to persuade the ex-soldiers to follow his lead by posing as a genuine psychic – or perhaps he really is a genuine psychic. Who can say? 
• It’s the Conspiracy, working through a handy go-between. It might be the Psychic or it might be someone else, but the point from the Conspiracy’s perspective is to set up a bunch of useful throwaways that the Conspiracy can send on a one-time-only job. Perhaps the idea is to embarrass Edom, or the British Government, or whichever Government the mercs are reaching out to for funding. Or perhaps there’s a more specific target in mind. In this version the mercs have access to serum; no prizes for guessing how. 
• It’s a rogue faction of Edom, or one of the other vampire-hunting organizations out there. They have intel on a specific and very real threat, and they want Government assistance to deal with it. However they can’t afford to be seen to be involved themselves, as it would embarrass their own Government. As luck would have it there are two useful stooges willing to suit up for one last rodeo if it means plunging a stake in Dracula’s heart. If this is rogue faction of Edom then whoever it is doesn’t agree with the direction mainstream Edom is taking, and want to throw a monkey-wrench in the works before things get out of hand. In this version the two ex-soldiers may become mentors for the PC agents, assuming the PCs are the sort who like derring-do, adventure, and things that go off bang! in the night. After all, who doesn’t love explosions?

That's it for this week. Enjoy!

Slains Tours (Night's Black Agents Dracula Dossier)

Footage from 714 Aberdeen

The ruined fortress of New Slains Castle overlooks the small village of Cruden Bay, on the northeast coast of Scotland. The castle was built in 1597, and extensively reconstructed in 1836. For most of its existence, it was the seat of the powerful earls of Erroll. The 20th earl sold the castle to the secretive shipping magnate Sir John Ellerman in 1913; he never lived there, but leased the property for a few years before allowing it to fall into ruin.

Bram Stoker visited Cruden Bay many times. One of his novels, The Mystery of the Sea, is set there, and there is a distinct resemblance between the ruined castle and Stoker’s description of Castle Dracula in the novel ... Dracula Dossier Director's Handbook p176

Silhouetted against an expanse of fields that were once the scene of a bloody slaughter of the Danes by the Scots, the ruins of Slains Castle casts an eerie shadow over a rocky coastline where, legend has it, the ghosts of shipwrecked sailors emerge from their watery graves once a year.

Now the dramatic fortress, which fired the imagination of horror writer Bram Stoker and is credited with being the true inspiration for Dracula's castle, is itself about to rise from the dead - to become a holiday home for tourists ... Guardian, 'Dracula's ruin' comes back from the dead

In 2004 it was reported that the Slains Partnership was preparing plans for the restoration of the building and conversion into 35 holiday apartments. In August 2007 the scheme was granted outline planning permission by Aberdeenshire Council, but the plans were put on hold in 2009 due to the Great Recession ... Wikipedia

What if it wasn't?

Alternatively, what if it wasn't the Great Recession that killed the conversion plan?

The architect behind the rebuild is extensively quoted in the article, and claims to intend to rebuild Slains much as it was in Stoker's day. The exterior would be meticulously preserved. The interior would be something else again of course, but you can't have everything.

If you're wondering why this comes to my mind now, it's because of another Guardian article, this one much more recent, talking about the author's walking tour around Cruden Bay.  It took him about five hours more or less, and he saw barely a soul. He ends up at the Kilmarnock Arms, a very pleasant hotel by all accounts. It's all part of the recent anniversary of the novel, which saw a record number of Draculas turn up at Whitby - but that's a whole 'nother story unto itself.

The Cool and Warm versions of Slains in the Handbook both suggest Edom involvement, but the Cool version presumes Edom abandoned ship some time past. The recent planned rebuild is discussed in a throwaway line, but not seriously explored.

Cruden Bay is much like Whitby, without the cliffs or Abbey. A small-ish seaside town, once known for fishing, now not much to look at. It survives largely on tourism and some runoff from North Sea Oil, and a significant portion of its current population are actually commuters from larger towns wanting somewhere a bit more rural and pleasant for the kiddies to grow up in. 

Its big landmark is the castle, and if that rebuild had taken off it would probably be the significant employer in Cruden Bay. Slains was meant to have 35 luxury holiday flats, after all; Kilmarnock only has 19 en-suite rooms, and while they look perfectly nice it'd be difficult to call them luxury. 

The castle's described as ruined, and while that's true the word ruin conjures up a desolate and picturesque crumbling monument, which isn't quite what Slains is. Slains lacks a roof and the interior's basically gone, but unlike Whitby Abbey the Germans didn't try to shell it flat back in the Great War. Visually Slains looks in relatively good condition. Like a house that's been abandoned for less than a century, which (broadly speaking) what Slains is. 

Incidentally I tried to find out more about the drowned sailors mentioned in the article, but came up short. The closest I could get was this piece from Lippincott's Monthly which talks about smugglers and a peculiar Monsieur saved from a wreck, but nothing about a ghostly crew that emerges from the depths at a particular time of year.

Let's take two suppositions.

In the first, Slains was rebuilt shortly before the recession. That meant its grand reopening fell flat and the investors lost their shirts, but the building's basically luxury residential with all the mod cons. It's just a little ... neglected. The roof leaks, housekeeping isn't all it could be, and the on-site restaurant wouldn't know a health and safety inspector if one bit the chef on the leg. Thirty-five luxury flats built to the highest standards, struggling to make a go of it as a glorified Air B&B. 

Meanwhile the locals that work there - of which there aren't as many as you'd think - are very unhappy but remarkably close-mouthed. It's as if they were terrified of something, but can't afford to leave.

In the second, the Slains rebuild was killed off but not by Edom. At least, not the current Edom. Elements within Edom influenced by the 1970s mole or whatever network that person left behind killed off the project, because the Conspiracy had plans for Slains and a rebuild didn't factor in. This is a one-hand-doesn't-know situation, where Edom proper has no idea what happened but Edom (Conspiracy influenced) did the deed.

Slains Rebuilt is nominally owned by a consortium of which the largest shareholder is a Trust based in Gibraltar. The Cruden Bay Trust is, through various cutouts, ultimately owned by Edom. Edom wanted to resurrect its vampire holding plan and thought that the most convenient front was a working hotel. There would be one set of rooms for the public and a hidden set for 'special guests'. This was largely influenced by Edom holdovers from the 1970s with one eye on Edom's history; after all, most of the anti-vampire blocks were already in place. Shame to waste them. Except the plan rather depended on the hotel being a working hotel, and it really isn't. 

For some, like Hound, this is actually a bonus. This faction of Edom uses Slains as a kind of stopover before you get to Proserpine, a secure location for the ones who need interrogating but don't need to have E-Squadron step on their neck a few times before they'll answer questions. The soft-spoken drug reliant interrogators operate from Slains. Dr. Sykes (Field Manual p84-5) is often here, as is the archivist Henry Poole (Field Manual p.90-91) as Slains makes an excellent backup archive. Edom has collected a ton of research material over the years, and it can't all fit in the Ring/Exeter/Carfax/Asylum.

Slains In Ruins is, like its rebuilt version, ultimately owned by The Cruden Bay Trust, which in turn is an Edom front. The difference is, the faction of Edom that runs Cruden Bay is heavily influenced (if not outright owned) by a section of Edom that was tainted by the 1970s mole. This agency within an agency knew that Edom wanted to resurrect Slains as an anti-vampire prison, and they weren't having it. Instead they wrecked the project and did everything they could to put a Red Room in Slains. Whether or not they succeeded is a matter for conjecture. 

What is certain is the ruins of Slains are a desolate, horrible place. Every so often a bloated pale victim of the sea is found floating near the ruins, and the people of Cruden Bay shake their heads. It's not the first time and won't be the last. All they can do is bury the poor soul discreetly, in the traditional manner, and hope they don't find their way out of the grave again. 

These drowned victims coincide with a visit from 'the Londoners.' It's a different set of Londoners each time but they always stay at the Kilmarnock and their rooms are always booked by the Cruden Bay Trust. After a few days they vanish, never to be seen again - but their bills are paid, their absence unremarked on. 

That's it for this week. Enjoy!