Game: The Hunters Hunted (White Wolf, 1992)
My Experience: This is a different game only by the thinnest of technicalities, as the first mortal hunters sourcebook for the World of Darkness was marketed (and product numbered, at WW2205 as a Vampire: The Masquerade supplement. It’s also a core book only in the sense of establishing ground for mortals chronicles, as it’s written with the need for the VtM core. But I’m seizing those technicalities and thwacking them for all the candy that’ll come out. I couldn’t tell you when I first ran or played in a mortals game, but I know several were going at various points in the Louisville Gaming Mafia’s glory days, and mortals have been an evolving fixture of the WoD since this book released.
Neville Grimes – Eighteen Wheels, Both Barrels, and Exodus 22:18
Neville met, staked, and ashed his first vampire at the Pilot truck stop at Moriarty, New Mexico, east of Albuquerque on I-40. He was headed to Barstow with a load of Tennessee whiskey and was about to time out on his duty hours, so he pulled in for his DOT-mandated downtime. After fueling his rig with diesel, and fueling himself on a Denny’s Grand Slam (this was back before the Pilot-Flying J merger put a fuckin’ Subway in the place), he called his wife to check in, then went back to his rig and settled in with the newest John Sandford paperback. Lucas Davenport had just been in another gunfight and looked like he was about to get laid when someone knocked on Neville’s driver’s-side window.
Now, this was back when Neville was still happily married to his high-school sweetheart, so he had no particular interest in whatever the lot lizards were selling (not that he does now, but back in the day, he had extra sexy motivation to stay on the straight and narrow waiting for him at home). But it might be someone in actual need of something other than a quick buck in exchange for a quick tumble, so Neville grumbled, dog-eared the page, and ducked up front.
The girl standing on his running board looked about fifteen, and wasn’t tarted up in the lot lizard way. Looked more like a runaway. Neville knew the smart thing to do was to call the cops, but that would involve getting out of the rig and walking past her, so some kind of interaction was inevitable. He doesn’t remember exactly what she said, but somehow she sweet-talked him into opening up and letting her in. The next thing he knew, she was trying to give him the full Waffle House – scattered, smothered, and covered. Worse yet, although he was fully conscious that this was highly inappropriate for a married man, let alone for a girl of her apparent age, he couldn’t seem to muster much in the way of protest.
She’d just gotten him back into the sleeper and pulled the curtain closed when her eye happened to alight on the embroidered visage of Jesus that Neville’s wife had put on that same curtain. It was a bit ostentatious for Neville’s taste, but he’d certainly never tell his loving wife that opinion. More importantly, though, was how the girl reacted – recoiling, hissing, and baring fangs.
While Neville had not (knowingly) met a vampire before this night, he’d listened to a trucker’s fair share (which is about thrice the share of any other mortal man) of Coast to Coast AM, so he knew exactly how a big a problem he had on his hands. There was no hesitation to be had. Neville knew he only had one chance. He seized his tire-thumper and proceeded to lay into the hellspawn as if his life depended on it – which, of course, it did. What happened next was a knife fight in a phone booth, as it were. The vampire bit and clawed with inhuman strength, and when Neville drew back an arm for a decisive stoke, she blocked his tire-thumper and shattered that trustworthy hickory into a jagged stump. But that was her downfall, for Neville knew his folklore, and he plunged said jagged stump straight into her heart. Once he’d caught his breath, he started rummaging in his toolchest for something that would take a head clean off.
Dawn the next day found Neville at the wash stand, vacuuming a fifteen-year-old runaway vampire’s worth of dust out of his cab.
Since that fateful night, Neville has built himself a tidy little network of other men (and the occasional sturdy woman) who make their living on the highways and have seen things they weren’t meant to see. Occasionally, they’ll arrange to meet up at a truck stop, grab coffee, and go take care of a problem. He knows most creatures of the night are territorial and not real migratory, so he tries to adhere to the adage don’t slay where you stay, but since his wife left him, he’s gotten a mite less cautious. He might just feel like he’s got less to lose these nights.
Traits
Nature: Plotter
Demeanor: Traditionalist
Attributes
Physical: Strength •••, Dexterity •••, Stamina •••
Social: Charisma ••, Manipulation ••, Appearance ••
Mental: Perception ••, Intelligence ••, Wits •••
Abilities
Talents: Alertness ••, Brawl ••, Dodge ••, Empathy ••, Intimidation •, Streetwise •
Skills: Drive (tractor-trailer) ••••, Firearms ••, Melee •••, Repair (mechanic) ••••, Security ••, Stealth, •
Knowledges: Finance •, Investigation •, Occult •, Politics •
Advantages
Backgrounds: Allies ••, Contacts ••, Resources •••
Virtues: Conscience ••••, Self-Control ••, Courage ••••
Willpower: ••••
Humanity: ••••• •
Merits: Clear Sighted
Equipment
1990 Kenworth T600 semi-tractor, gloss black, with enough custom light bars to illuminate a MLB stadium
Saint Christopher medal
Teamsters union card
Grimes family heirloom King James Bible
’80s glam rock CDs
various cargo rigging equipment suitable for also restraining creatures of the night
toolkit
well-annotated highway atlas
million-candlepower as-seen-on-TV handheld spotlight
sawed-off pistol-grip 12-gauge shotgun
replacement tire thumper
stakes
Notes and Afterthoughts
Unlike yesterday’s character, who was an absolute struggle, Neville popped into my head fully-fledged before I even cracked open The Hunters Hunted. I may have been heavily influenced by Jack Burton and I make no apologies.