Project Vanguard

A world where videos of the supernatural go viral every day.

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Silas Rhodes made a Move (Author GMed) 2 weeks, 6 days ago. View Move

"I saw a real weird guy in town today."

The clink of a fork against a plate broke the silence. An older man in khakis and a dress shirt leaned back in his chair, wiping garlic butter off his fingers. Across from him, a younger man sat slouched in his seat, his jeans slightly frayed at the knees, boots planted firmly on the floor. His plate of spaghetti remained untouched.

"I saw a real weird guy in town today," the younger man said, breaking the silence.

"Oh yeah?" The older man raised a brow, taking another bite of garlic bread.

"Yeah," the younger man replied, turning his fork idly in his hand. "He was talking about, like, takin’ back from the government. Said we shouldn’t play their stupid games of hate and division."

The older man chewed slowly, his expression neutral. "Sounds like a wackjob."

"Maybe," the younger man replied, his voice laced with doubt. "But…is he wrong?"

The older man set his plate down with a soft clatter, his gaze sharpening. "Do you think he’s wrong?"

The younger man hesitated, his fingers tightening around his fork. "I mean…what he’s saying doesn’t sound wrong. Not completely, anyway."

The older man rubbed his jaw, exhaling deeply. "He’s right and wrong, son."

"What do you mean?"

The older man’s voice grew low, his tone carrying a certain weight. "He’s right about one thing. The government’s outta control. Always takin’ what it wants, never givin’ back. But he’s wrong if he thinks fightin’ it will fix anything. You’ll get chewed up, son. Everyone who’s tried before? They’ve been crushed. Ain’t no way to win that fight."

The younger man sat still, his plate forgotten. "So you don’t think anything can change?"

The older man’s jaw tightened. "I’m sayin’ it ain’t worth it. The people who try to fix things…they’re the ones who lose the most. It’s just not worth the price. Now finish your food."

The man stood, scraping his plate into the sink, the sound of water running filling the quiet room. The younger man stayed seated, staring at his untouched meal.

A long pause passed before he reached into his pocket, his fingers brushing against a crumpled scrap of paper before unfolding it.

1224 Old Creek Trail, 6PM

Latest Journals

2 weeks, 6 days ago: Silas Rhodes wrote a Downtime Journal for Sugar & Spice

New Beginnings: The Militia

I had a wild hair today and decided to go out and recruit. Recruit for the Militia. The militia that will -mark my words- end this horrible, oppressive, no-good government regime. I got in my truck and rode to the gun range, where I met my newest recruit, Richie. He’s a bit of a loose cannon but I can work with that. At least he knows how to shoot. His friend Mike would have been a good candidate. I got inspired to preach in the town square to find like minded folks to join, and I’ll be damned if it worked. I hosted a barbecue and made the best stakes I ever did make. Ian, Sam, and… uh… what’s his name? I forget but he’s part of it too. Humble beginnings for sure but we’ll be one hell of a militia by the time I’m done with them! Aaaaaa aaaa as aaaaaa aaaa

Latest Completed Contracts

1 Contracts have been run in this Playgroup

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Illuminated Earth

Illuminated Earth is a twisted reflection of the modern world where the advent of smartphones and the internet confirmed the existence of the supernatural instead of disproving it. Here, witch hunts have merit. Billionaires and Senators employ paranormal advisors and bodyguards, and everyone knows. Charlatans become pop culture icons, and each revelation inspires a new cult. The world is changing. The secret societies that pull humanity's strings scramble to adapt.

Now's a good time to move up.

House Rules

Contractors from Project Vanguard Are NOT portable, and may NOT visit other Playgroups to participate in Contracts.
Project Vanguard grants 6 Experience points to GMs who achieve the Golden Ratio.

 

  • Supernatural Powers: All non-mastery, non-concealed Powers must be obviously supernatural when activated or grant a mutation that marks the wielder as supernatural or bizarre if discovered.

Full Setting Description

They named that time The Illumination, and it was by the flash of a camera phone.

 

The year was 2004. Until that point the Earth was as we had always known her. We filled her cruel vastness with legends, superstitions, and rumors. Warlocks, monsters, and gods lurked on the edge of the collective consciousness, always a possibility but never more. We lacked evidence. That evidence came as humanity filled its pockets with technology equipped to capture and transmit.

 

An iPhone found on High School senior Nate Klienman’s mangled corpse held a video of his girlfriend’s bone-snapping transformation into a monstrous wolf creature. A Brazilian widow documented a series of conversations with the misty figure of her late husband. A Chinese fishing boat caught a mermaid in a net and put it on display in the Beijing aquarium.

 

Each week brought a new revelation that we were not alone. Superstitions reversed their slow death overnight. Salem held their first witch trial in a century. The jury rendered a verdict of “guilty on all charges” and sentenced Maxibelle Horux to death. A week after her lethal injection, half the jury died from a tainted batch of flu vaccine. A fearful, populist movement arose to rid humanity of the creatures lurking in its ranks. Suspects are forcibly subjected to bizarre tests of their humanity, and the results are often open to interpretation. A mob’s justice is swift.

 

Yet the paranormal is not merely relegated to a persecuted class. Where some see monsters, some see sentience, and others see opportunity. If a vampire can sustain themselves on cloned blood and work the graveyard shift, why not legalize and tax? Politicians and Aristocrats employ odd-looking individuals as "advisors" or "protection." Entertainment magazines publish revelations every week about which celebrities shed their human skins at home. Charlatans of all stripes, from palmistry mediums to televangelists, have flourished despite the risks. The treatment of the paranormal varies from place to place, person to person.

 

Long have cabals, cults, and secret societies thrived in the shadows. Their roots run deeply through humanity’s oldest systems of power. Machinations are challenged, and sleeping dangers awaken. The world is changing, forcing long-dormant powers into desperate action. And it is in the midst of this great period of change that The Powers That Be have once again turned their attention to the blue marble. For the first time in two hundred years, Harbingers approach worthy individuals with an offer they won't refuse.

The Games have returned, and a new generation of Contractors are being forged.

World Events

Silas Rhodes made a Move (Author GMed) 2 weeks, 6 days ago. View Move

"I saw a real weird guy in town today."

The clink of a fork against a plate broke the silence. An older man in khakis and a dress shirt leaned back in his chair, wiping garlic butter off his fingers. Across from him, a younger man sat slouched in his seat, his jeans slightly frayed at the knees, boots planted firmly on the floor. His plate of spaghetti remained untouched.

"I saw a real weird guy in town today," the younger man said, breaking the silence.

"Oh yeah?" The older man raised a brow, taking another bite of garlic bread.

"Yeah," the younger man replied, turning his fork idly in his hand. "He was talking about, like, takin’ back from the government. Said we shouldn’t play their stupid games of hate and division."

The older man chewed slowly, his expression neutral. "Sounds like a wackjob."

"Maybe," the younger man replied, his voice laced with doubt. "But…is he wrong?"

The older man set his plate down with a soft clatter, his gaze sharpening. "Do you think he’s wrong?"

The younger man hesitated, his fingers tightening around his fork. "I mean…what he’s saying doesn’t sound wrong. Not completely, anyway."

The older man rubbed his jaw, exhaling deeply. "He’s right and wrong, son."

"What do you mean?"

The older man’s voice grew low, his tone carrying a certain weight. "He’s right about one thing. The government’s outta control. Always takin’ what it wants, never givin’ back. But he’s wrong if he thinks fightin’ it will fix anything. You’ll get chewed up, son. Everyone who’s tried before? They’ve been crushed. Ain’t no way to win that fight."

The younger man sat still, his plate forgotten. "So you don’t think anything can change?"

The older man’s jaw tightened. "I’m sayin’ it ain’t worth it. The people who try to fix things…they’re the ones who lose the most. It’s just not worth the price. Now finish your food."

The man stood, scraping his plate into the sink, the sound of water running filling the quiet room. The younger man stayed seated, staring at his untouched meal.

A long pause passed before he reached into his pocket, his fingers brushing against a crumpled scrap of paper before unfolding it.

1224 Old Creek Trail, 6PM

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