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Economy of Bought Blood In the Freezer THIS IS THE SITUATION that greets the elegant Sydney Macintosh and her bodyguard, Manuel Tiger Rojas, when they arrive at the entrance of Bookshop Santa Cruz, the designated meeting place, on a cool Friday evening in September. "I'm the Harpy of the city," explains the regally dressed Sydney, whipping open a black case and producing a pink business card. "I dish out status and take it away by gossiping. I'm a status monger." While she speaks, Manuel stands by with his arms folded, a vaguely disdainful expression on his face. The card says Import/Export Consultant, and I learn that Sydney, a member of the Ventrue clan and a shrewd businesswoman, froze all incoming Kindred shipments into Santa Cruz last week. She also owns a yacht and, because she finds traditional feeding methods repulsive and she can afford it, she buys blood and keeps it in the freezer. While she talks, Sydney holds her hand in a position that lets surrounding players know she's not in character. She prefers to remain anonymous and not share her real-world name, ruefully remarking that "there are a lot of narrow-minded people in the world." A 34-year-old professional who lives in Gilroy with her husband and three children, she's been driving an hour each way every Friday night since March to play Masquerade. She's hooked. "It's really difficult to talk about the game to people who don't play, because they just think you're whacked!" she laughs. "But it's a chance to be someone whom I'm not, a chance to use my imagination instead of sitting in front of the TV." The real person is friendly and approachable--a far cry from the aloof Sydney, who's mastered the art of the withering look. She describes playing Sydney's aggressive, impatient character as a way to experience power without the risks. "I'm a lot more insecure than my character," she confesses. "This way, I'm not risking anything. There are a lot of risks involved in getting power in real life." Sydney is new to her--only about six weeks old. Her previous character, the seductive Angelique, was killed in August. Angelique was an opera singer, a siren, and playing her on Fridays was a little like inviting Aphrodite in for tea. "Since I stopped playing her, I interact with all people, but especially with guys, in a different way," she reflects, then gives a little shrug. "My husband likes it. I think for a lot of the younger people here, [role-playing] is a real way to get their feet wet in a safe environment and then take what they learn into the real world." After a short time she excuses herself and strolls off, assuming Sydney's essence like a cloak. Within minutes she's gossiping intently with other Kindred. Animal House: Mouse (top), Prince Ursa (center) and Fidelis, members of the animistic Gangrel clan, bring an earthy element to Kindred society. Photo by Jana Marcus Bazookas Aimed Down Pacific Avenue A BEAUTIFUL DARK MAN, Manuel explains that he is half black, half Puerto Rican, and only recently Embraced, or made into a Kindred. He is also Caitiff, which means he claims no clan. With his help, I identify the Prince of the city, a member of the shape shifting Gangrel, or feral, clan. He points to a big man well over six feet tall, standing a little apart from the group with one or two clan members identifiable by their rustic dress. In heavy black boots, torn jeans and leather jacket, with a dense beard and magnificent flowing hair, the Prince looks the part. He is the oldest and most powerful Kindred in the area, able to create Progeny--new vampires--in great numbers. Named Bear in real life, he goes by the synonym Ursa in game. He exudes an air of calm authority. "I've been playing for four years, since the game began," Ursa says. "Over time, it's developed its own history, its own legendary characters. I'm one of the few left from the original game." Ursa began as a bodyguard to other princes. With luck and cunning, he advanced to his present position. He's seen martial law called in Santa Cruz and witnessed bazookas aimed down Pacific Avenue. It's a testament to the power of persuasive speaking that when he describes these things, I humbly ask, "In game, right?" A self-described "techie" who repairs game systems and belongs to the Society for Creative Anachronism, best known for its Renaissance Fairs, Bear appears to be older than the average Masquerade player by several years. "There are high and low points of maturity," he concedes with a grin when asked if emotions run high. "You try to remember, 'It's a game,' and when you get to the end of a game," he shrugs, "you smile." As we speak, a pale, ornately dressed man with a bright green feather in his hat drifts by, hands clasped behind his back in the classic diplomat's pose. He surveys the area with satisfaction, confers on us a slight nod, and continues. "That's Emperor Norton," Bear tells me when he's gone. I watch the back of his hat with its bobbing green feather and excuse myself from the Prince's gracious company to follow this guy. Emperor Norton listens gravely to my introduction, then reveals that he is indeed the great Norton, Emperor of the United States. To prove his identity, he produces a five-dollar bill printed in 1871 bearing the stamp, "The Imperial Government of Norton I." Emperor Norton is an actual historical figure who came to California as a Forty-Niner. After making a fortune in the Gold Rush and then losing it all along with his sanity, he declared himself Emperor of the United States and, yes, printed his own currency. The five-dollar bill I am holding is a photocopy. "People think Emperor Norton died," asserts one-year veteran player Craig Jackson, a 28-year-old software engineer. "But he didn't. He was embraced by a Malkavian." Malkavians are a loopy, relatively harmless clan of Kindred, just right for Emperor Norton. I inquire about the Emperor's role in the game. "I have no official status," he sniffs. "The Prince dislikes me, although everyone else likes me." The Look of Love: Mephistion (left) and Camilla, who runs a Parisian brothel in the game, share tastes in fashion. Photo by Jana Marcus BACK/ NEXT