The Dead are recruiting

The graveyard was silent except for the sound of rain tapping against marble. Not the comforting kind of rain either. This was the cold, patient sort that seeps through coats and makes mortals question every life decision that brought them outside at midnight. A circle of candles burned around the crypt entrance, their flames bending unnaturally whenever the wind carried whispers through the cemetery. Three figures stood there unmoving, dressed in black so immaculate it almost looked ceremonial. One of them held an ancient silver bowl. Another carried a shovel stained with fresh earth. The third simply watched. 

The ritual began without words. Blood dripped slowly into the bowl, dark and thick like spilled wine beneath moonlight. The eldest among them drew symbols into the mud with a bone-white finger while the youngest nervously glanced toward the mausoleum doors, clearly wondering whether the dead appreciated being disturbed this late at night. Somewhere beneath them came a dull knock. Then another. Slow. Deliberate. Like someone politely asking to be let out. 

 

"Good," the elder finally whispered. "That means it's working." 

The stone doors creaked open. The smell arrived first: wet soil, old wood, and the kind of ancient decay that no amount of expensive perfume could truly hide. A pale hand emerged from the darkness below, followed by another. The youngest member of the ritual instinctively stepped back while the elder smiled proudly, like a Ventrue presenting a successful quarterly report. Around them the cemetery remained silent, but the atmosphere had changed completely. Something had answered. Something always answers when vampires start treating death like administration paperwork.

Recently I started looking into two decks that pulled me in immediately: the Path of Death Sabbat deck and the Hecata deck. Apparently my VTES journey has now entered what I can only describe as the "necromancy phase". Some players enjoy stealth-bleed. Others love combat. Meanwhile I seem increasingly fascinated by vampires conducting suspicious rituals in abandoned crypts while recruiting assistants who absolutely should not still be moving. 

The first thing that attracted me to the Path of Death deck was the atmosphere. Sabbat decks already carry this energy of "we are probably the villains here and we are perfectly fine with that", but Path of Death takes it further. There is something wonderfully unsettling about the combination of Oblivion powers, death rituals and zombies shambling around doing your administrative tasks. It feels less like a political organization and more like a midnight cult that accidentally gained voting rights. And, naturally, the deck contains Tremere antitribu. Which immediately activated the part of my brain that has spent twenty years making questionable decisions involving blood sorcery. I know they are Sabbat. I know they are technically heretics from the perspective of proper Tremere hierarchy. But they are still Tremere wielding dark rituals while looking mysterious, so my loyalty wavered immediately. Again. 

Mechanically, I also find the deck fascinating. The ability to recruit expendable allies creates this constant pressure at the table. Your opponents can destroy your vampires, sure, but suddenly there are zombies everywhere like some kind of undead customer support department. Every time I saw the deck played, it felt relentless. You remove one threat and two more emerge from the shadows carrying sharp objects and deeply unresolved issues. What I particularly enjoy is how the deck weaponizes inevitability. Some decks explode quickly. Path of Death feels slower, heavier, like a funeral procession steadily approaching the table while everyone pretends not to notice. Then suddenly your prey realizes they are surrounded by corpses and terrible decisions. 

The interesting thing is that neither the Path of Death nor the Hecata have truly great tournament results yet. They appear here and there, certainly capable of winning games, but they are not exactly dominating the competitive landscape. Part of me actually likes that. There is something charming about archetypes that still feel unexplored, slightly mysterious, perhaps waiting for the right pieces to truly come together. And I suspect those pieces may arrive later this year. The upcoming New Blood decks could be exactly what these archetypes need. A few efficient crypt additions, some stronger support cards, maybe a bit more consistency and suddenly these dark little death cults might become genuinely frightening. VTES history has shown many times that a handful of good additions can completely reshape how a clan or archetype performs. I would not be surprised at all if both Hecata and Path of Death receive a significant boost. 

The Hecata, on the other hand, fascinate me for entirely different reasons. If the Sabbat Path of Death feels like a death cult operating in abandoned catacombs, the Hecata feel like death became a family business generations ago and is now managed through careful bookkeeping and passive-aggressive dinners. I absolutely love their theme. Necromancy in Vampire always had this wonderfully uncomfortable atmosphere. Tremere blood magic feels academic and controlled. Hecata rituals feel personal. Intimate. The kind of thing performed in candlelit rooms where everyone speaks quietly because the dead might overhear. Their connection to ghosts and corpses gives the clan this constant sense of existing slightly sideways from the rest of vampire society. And naturally, this translates into VTES beautifully. The ally recruitment aspect pulled me in almost immediately. I love the idea of slowly building a board full of horrifying associates while my actual vampires calmly orchestrate events from behind the scenes. There is something deeply amusing about ancient undead monsters outsourcing their problems to ghosts, shambling corpses and suspiciously loyal retainers. It feels incredibly thematic. What surprised me most while researching both decks is how differently they approach "death". The Path of Death deck feels aggressive, oppressive, almost religious in its brutality. The Hecata feel patient. Calculated. Like they already know everyone at the table eventually belongs to them anyway. 

 

Now, there is one thing that both decks lack compared to my beloved Ventrue and Lasombra experiments: politics. There are fewer dramatic referendums, fewer moments of elegant betrayal, fewer opportunities to smile politely while redistributing someone else's pool. As someone who genuinely enjoys political decks, this initially made me hesitant. I like table talk. I like negotiations. I like the subtle tension of votes hanging in the balance. But perhaps these decks offer a different kind of excitement. Instead of controlling the table through titles and influence, they slowly build inevitability through rituals, recursion, allies, and death itself. Less "senate debate", more "forbidden ceremony in a crypt while something scratches at the walls". Over the next few weeks, I suspect I will end up building one of these decks. I genuinely do not know yet whether the Path of Death or the Hecata will win me over first. Both whisper temptations in different ways. One offers Sabbat brutality mixed with Tremere heresy. The other promises elegant necromancy and patient inevitability. Whichever path I choose, I already know one thing for certain: once the deck is built and tested, I will absolutely write about the experience here. Assuming, of course, the ritual succeeds. 

The game never ends, only pauses. I'll see you at the next move. 

Custodian Hargrave

Princes among predators: Blood in Bedford

The Bedford tournament happened yesterday and, dear reader, what a glorious mess it was.

In my previous post I mentioned that I had finally chosen my deck for the tournament. Since Tremere and Ventrue are my two favourite clans and the Tremere carried me through my first tournament in Cambridge, I felt it was only proper to give the blue-blooded aristocrats their chance. After all, one cannot spend this much time talking about influence, politics and refined superiority without eventually showing up with a Ventrue deck.

Now, there was one small issue with this master plan: Ventrue are not exactly dominating the competitive scene at the moment. Their recent tournament results could best be described as "historically significant". Still, I convinced myself there was logic behind my decision. The meta is currently filled with combat rush decks, and fewer political decks usually means fewer titled vampires at the table. Fewer titled vampires should mean easier votes for me. On paper, this sounded brilliant. Unfortunately, VTES is not played on paper, it is played by other people, who have the deeply inconvenient habit of interfering with your plans.

I also decided against running a star vampire. As much as I love the idea of one mighty elder carrying the deck on their elegant shoulders, I had already seen enough combat decks to know what would happen. You spend half the game influencing out your superstar, they immediately get punched into torpor by something with claws and anger management issues, and suddenly your grand strategy resembles a luxury yacht taking on water. So instead, I opted for lower-cap G6 and G7 princes. More bodies, more flexibility, fewer emotional catastrophes.

The library reflected the usual Ventrue lifestyle choices: Freak Drives for efficiency, Governs for tasteful aggression and influence acceleration, Enchant Kindred for subtle networking opportunities and political actions like Kine Resources Contested, Camarilla's Iron Fist and Parity Shift. Thanks to James, I also acquired staples like Giant's Blood and Jake Washington, which made me feel like I was slowly being accepted into polite vampire society.

Aaron and I drove to Bedford together. I brought my Ventrue; he took the Salubri deck, which (if I am completely honest) was probably the stronger deck in almost every imaginable way. Better combat. Better intercept. Same Freak Drives. Same Governs. Same Deflects. My only real advantage was politics and the stubborn belief that well-dressed vampires deserve respect. This did not discourage me in the slightest. The Ventrue aesthetic is simply too powerful. If I am going to lose, I at least want to lose while looking like I own the building.

Before the tournament started, we made the wise decision to eat something first. Experience has taught me that making strategic decisions while hungry leads to mistakes. This applies equally to Methuselahs and software engineers.

My first table was an absolute delight. We had Ian, myself, Hugh, Aaron, and Pedro. Ian, my predator, played Lasombra, while Hugh, my prey, brought Tzimisce. The game developed smoothly. Pedro pressured Ian heavily, giving me room to establish what I can only describe as a corporate board meeting with fangs. Hugh also pressured Aaron's Salubri, which enabled Pedro to continue setting up his combos.

Midway through the game, I was ready to start leaning harder on my prey, but I desperately needed to cycle cards. When Pedro played KRCG News Radio, I used Sudden Reversal to cancel it, partly because I genuinely needed to get rid of the Sudden, partly because I was desperately fishing for political actions. What I did not realize was that casually interfering cross-table with someone's master card creates tension remarkably quickly. In hindsight, I probably could have waited. After the game, we discussed it and Pedro kindly pointed out that it didn't actually hurt his game much, but the move was still considered somewhat impolite. A valuable Ventrue lesson was learned that day: if you are going to interfere with people's business, at least do it elegantly. After two hours, we were all still alive. Half a victory point each. No blood feuds formed. Success.

Table 1

My second table was terrifying from the very beginning. Manuel brought rush Matasuntha Gangrel, the kind of deck that looks at your carefully dressed prince and immediately asks, "What if we removed his face?" Hugh sat there with Tzimisce, Niki brought ancient Ventrue and Ventrue antitribu crypt cards I had never even seen before and my prey Matt was playing Path of Caine. My first vampire was Lodin, Prince of Chicago. Niki's first vampire? Horatio, who can call a referendum to become Prince of Chicago. The chances of this happening felt astronomically low, yet somehow perfectly appropriate for VTES. This game was brutal. Alice Chen spent more time in torpor than upright. At one point Hugh kindly rescued her from torpor after Manuel and I forgot our deal to do so. Naturally, I repaid this kindness by later allocating one point of Kine Resources damage to Hugh instead of someone else. The revenge was immediate. Apparently Tzimisce do not hold grudges. They sculpt them carefully and return them with interest. Alice went right back into torpor. I learned an important lesson there: if someone saves your vampire, perhaps do not immediately punish them politically. It sends mixed signals. Around the 90-minute mark, I thought I saw an opening to oust Matt. I committed everything. Every bleed, every action, every ounce of pressure. It almost worked. Almost. Then Niki casually hit me for 9 pool in one turn while all my vampires were tapped. No wakes. No deflections. Just the sudden realization that I had overextended spectacularly. No VP this round. At that point, I was convinced my Ventrue had failed.

Table 2

And then came the third table. This was THE game.

James sat as my prey with a horrifying Nosferatu antitribu deck capable of casually throwing stealth six bleeds or direct pool damage that cannot be deflected. Antonio fell first. Then Ian. Then Aaron. Soon it was just me and the monster. At this point James had devoured three players and gained eighteen extra pool, which made the situation feel less like a duel and more like trying to politically negotiate with a freight train. But the Ventrue stood firm. I survived the first terrifying turn and then unleashed everything. Political actions. Conditioned bleeds. Freak Drives. Governs. Multi-actions carried the game heavily. James had a thirteen-card hand size by then, but no library remaining. For the first time all tournament, I saw a path to victory. One more turn survived. One more wave of political pressure. One more carefully timed bleed. And suddenly… it was over. I had ousted the predator that consumed three entire players. I genuinely stood there for a moment trying to process what had happened. The Ventrue had done it (I better not mention the mistakes and misplays that happened due to my excitement, luckily Antonio remained at the table to help with the rules).

At that point, I was ready to pack up and head home. Then Antonio casually informed me that with 2.5 VP I had actually made the finals. Reader, I was ecstatic.

Finals

This feeling lasted approximately until I saw my opening crypt and hand in the finals. All seven-cap princes. Mostly Governs, Enchant Kindreds and a Daring the Dawn. It was catastrophic. I could not Govern down. I could not aggressively accelerate. I could barely pretend this hand was functional. I swallowed my pride and slowly influenced out one prince, already feeling behind. Antonio, meanwhile, announced he "needed to recycle cards", which in practical terms meant my vampire got repeatedly grappled and punched down to one blood before I had even properly settled into the game. Apparently this could have gone worse. Or so I was told. The finals were played brilliantly by much stronger and more experienced players and I was ousted second.

And yet…

What a tournament! I met wonderful people, received gifted cards from the community(thanks to James, Niki and Hugh), made the finals in only my second tournament and most importantly, we had an incredible amount of fun. My Ventrue elders would probably approve. Though they would almost certainly tell me not to antagonize Tzimisce who just saved my vampire (right?).

The game never ends, only pauses. I'll see you at the next move.

Custodian Hargrave

A matter of taste

The Bedford tournament is next week, which means I have officially entered the phase of the hobby where I spend more time thinking about VTES than actually playing it. Unfortunately, recent weeks did not offer many opportunities for games, so unlike proper, disciplined Methuselahs, I cannot rely on a carefully tested tournament deck refined through dozens of brutal practice sessions.

No, my preparation has been far more sophisticated.

I have been staring at deck lists, reorganizing cards, overthinking ratios and occasionally looking out the window dramatically while pretending this somehow improves my strategic understanding. Still, the closer the tournament gets, the more certain things become. When choosing a deck, I realized I care about two things above all else.

First, I want to play a clan I genuinely enjoy. My Tremere performed admirably in Cambridge and I had an excellent time with them, but part of the fun of VTES is exploring different corners of the World of Darkness. Playing the same thing repeatedly feels a bit too practical and practicality has never really been the reason I fell in love with Vampire.

Second, I want a deck with a playstyle that actually captures what I enjoy about the setting itself. Not just winning, but how you win. The tension. The politics. The subtle manipulation. The quiet moment where someone realizes three turns too late that agreeing with you was a terrible idea.

Those two criteria narrowed my options considerably.

The truth is, I am not a competitive player. Not really. My goals for Bedford are fairly simple. I want to have fun, make sure the people at my table also have fun and hopefully play slightly better than I did at my first tournament. If I leave Bedford with a few clever plays, a memorable story and perhaps more than half a victory point this time, I will consider the evening a success. And so, after much consideration, I made my choice. I decided to bring a deck that is neither flashy nor particularly feared. An clan that rarely dominates tournament reports and certainly does not inspire panic when revealed at the table. In fact, I have never actually won a game with this deck. Not once. And yet, I keep coming back to it. Because when I think about what I truly enjoy in VTES, this deck captures it perfectly. The influence. The power plays. The feeling that every action at the table should look civilized right until the moment it becomes personal.

A quick search on VDB tells me that not many people play this clan competitively these days. That is perfectly fine. I am not going to Bedford expecting to conquer the tournament scene. I am going because I enjoy the game, the atmosphere and the stories that emerge from a good table. And if all goes well, I shall return from Bedford with another story worth telling. Preferably one not involving torpor.

The game never ends, only pauses. I'll see you at the next move.

Custodian Hargrave

The night beauty died

I was there the night beauty died.

Diana Iadanza, radiant, untouchable, a Justicar among artists stood beneath invisible chandeliers, ready to host a Grand Ball that would never be remembered. The music should have risen. The dancers should have gathered. Instead, the night was torn apart by blades and blood. The Assamites came like a storm, silent, precise, inevitable. There was no elegance, no negotiation, only violence. The Ball never began. The Toreador dream burned before the first note could be played.

This Saturday I finally had a chance to play VTES with friends again, and what better setting than a pub in Cambridge, because nothing says "eternal struggle" like ordering drinks between turns and trying to remember your pool count over background chatter.

David brought his Lasombra, Manuel arrived with his ever-reliable Assamites, Aaron gave the Salubri a spin, and I, of course, brought the Toreadors. Someone had to represent culture at the table.

The seating ended up as: Salubri > Lasombra > Assamite > Toreador. A perfectly reasonable arrangement, if your definition of reasonable includes being hunted by professional assassins.

The game began slowly, as it often does when everyone pretends not to be dangerous yet. Karif, Gnaeus, Opikun and Diana all made their appearances, and we spent the early turns setting up, quiet, cautious and slightly suspicious of one another. My starting crypt was kind, with two additional princes waiting, so I felt optimistic.

That optimism didn't last long. The Salubri escalated things first when Opikun equipped a weapon dealing aggravated damage, effectively announcing that close combat was now a terrible idea. Aaron was immediately promoted to "problem" and David had to tread carefully as his prey. Meanwhile, the Assamites started handing out Contracts like invitations nobody wanted. Manuel made several attempts on me, but I managed to deflect those attacks toward the Salubri, slowly draining his pool. David joined in on the redirection game as well, occasionally passing pressure back to the Assamites. It was one of those tables where no one wanted attention, but everyone kept receiving it anyway.

By the late game, all of us had three vampires out. My Toreador trio (Diana, Catalina and Flavio) were finally ready, but my hand had other ideas. For what felt like ages, I drew no political actions at all. A Toreador deck without politics feels like hosting a gala with no music. technically impressive, but deeply disappointing. Eventually, though, I drew Kine Resources Contested and things started moving. With a clear vote advantage, I pushed it through, dropping the Salubri to 3 pool and the Assamites to 10, while I remained comfortably at 9.

Then came Camarilla’s Iron Fist, the perfect follow-up. Elegant. Devastating. The finishing move. The encore after the performance. The action succeeded. I counted the votes. I had five. David had four. Everything aligned. And then, like a perfectly timed heckle from the shadows, David played Ominous Chorus. Suddenly, my carefully orchestrated masterpiece lost its rhythm. The numbers shifted. The vote failed. The Salubri lived. And just like that, the Toreador dream collapsed.

The aftermath was swift. Over the next two rounds, the Assamites dismantled my board, burning some of my vampires and leaving the rest too drained to do anything meaningful. It turns out that missing your big moment in VTES often leads to someone else having theirs. In the end, the timer saved me and we all walked away with half a victory point.

I never got to play Grand Ball, which felt almost poetic. Even funnier, the pub had live music that night and a band started playing halfway through our game. So while my Toreadors failed to host their own grand event, the background music ensured the atmosphere was still appropriately dramatic, though communication became slightly more challenging.

The game itself was fantastic. The Salubri performed impressively, the Assamites were relentless and I even had a brief alliance with the Lasombra: we each saved one of the other's vampires from torpor, which in VTES terms is practically a lifelong friendship. We laughed, we bled and we would absolutely do it again.

The game never ends, only pauses. I'll see you at the next move.

Custodian Hargrave

Choosing my weapon for Bedford

It has happened again. I have looked at the calendar, nodded thoughtfully like a Ventrue reviewing quarterly results and made a decision that will almost certainly lead to questionable life choices: I am going to the next VTES tournament in Bedford in May. And I am excited. Properly excited. The kind of excitement that makes you mentally replay previous games, rethink deck choices and suddenly believe that this time you will definitely make better decisions. Probably.

My first tournament in Cambridge was an incredible experience. I brought my Tremere deck, which felt like the safe, scholarly choice. It was reliable, defensive, and allowed me to pretend I knew exactly what I was doing while quietly reacting to everything happening around me. It served me well and I had a lot of fun with it. But now… now I feel the pull of something different. The dangerous kind of confidence that whispers, "What if you tried something new?"

The problem is not the lack of options. The problem is that I have too many. Each deck sits there, metaphorically raising its hand, promising glory, victory points and definitely not embarrassing me in front of experienced players. I do not believe them. But I want to.

First, there's the Lasombra voting deck. This one is very tempting. It has everything I enjoy: politics, pressure and the subtle implication that if you disagree, something unpleasant might happen to your vampires. Lasombra feel powerful when things go right. You pass votes, control the table and occasionally remind people that blocking you is a life decision they may regret. Of course, this also means the table might decide that you are the problem. Which is fair. But still inconvenient.

Then there's the Banu Haqim combat deck. The elegant solution to most problems: violence. There is something deeply satisfying about playing Banu Haqim. You don't negotiate, you don't debate, you identify a threat and remove it with professional efficiency. It's clean, direct and occasionally terrifying for everyone involved. The downside is that sometimes you clear the board so efficiently that you forget to actually win the game. It's a bit like perfectly cleaning your house and then realizing you forgot to cook dinner. 

Then we have the Path of Power Sabbat deck. This one is ambitious. It combines politics with that delightful Sabbat energy of "we are in charge now, whether you like it or not." With Aaradhya and Dark Selina in the mix, the deck feels like it could do something truly impressive. Or completely collapse because I didn't draw the right pieces at the right time. It's a bit like preparing a complicated ritual: you're fairly sure it will work, but there is always that small voice asking what happens if it doesn't.

And finally, the wildcard: the Salubri deck. Untested, unproven, and slightly mysterious. This is the deck equivalent of showing up to a formal gathering with someone no one has met before and confidently saying, "Trust me, this will work." It might be brilliant. It might be a disaster. It will definitely be memorable. There is a certain appeal in that.

So here I am, standing at the crossroads. Do I go with something familiar and reliable? Do I embrace raw power and aggression? Do I attempt something ambitious and political? Or do I trust in the unknown and hope for the best? At the moment, I genuinely have no idea. What I do know is this: I am looking forward to Bedford. Another chance to play, to learn and to make new mistakes (hopefully more refined ones this time). To sit at the table with experienced players and try to keep up, one decision at a time. And whichever deck I end up choosing, I'm sure it will teach me something. Possibly humility. But hopefully… also how to get more than half a victory point this time.

The game never ends, only pauses. I'll see you at the next move.

Custodian Hargrave

The Art of Losing (and why I keep coming back)

Let me start with a confession: I lose. Quite a lot, actually. Not in a dramatic, table-flipping, "this game is clearly broken" kind of way, but in a much more subtle, almost educational fashion. The kind where you confidently execute a plan, lean back slightly, and then (over the course of the next two turns) watch that plan quietly fall apart while everyone else carries on as if this was always going to happen.

The funny thing is, I haven't even had the chance to play much recently. Life has been busy, schedules misaligned and my decks have mostly been sitting idle. But that hasn't stopped me from thinking about the game. Quite the opposite. I find myself replaying past games in my head, analyzing decisions, wondering what I could have done differently. It's like a Tremere apprentice leaning over dusty notes, trying to understand which part of the ritual went wrong, except in my case, the ritual is "why did I get ousted in turn five."

When I first started playing VTES, I had a fairly straightforward expectation: build something cool, play it and eventually win a few games. That seemed reasonable enough. Instead, what I got was a steady stream of lessons disguised as defeats. My early games followed a familiar pattern. I would feel confident, execute "the plan" and then slowly realize that everyone else at the table also had a plan... and theirs actually worked.

At first, I didn't fully understand what was happening. Why was my action blocked? Why did that combat go so badly? Why did my predator suddenly decide that I was the most interesting person at the table? Over time, though, things started to make more sense. Not because I suddenly became good, but because I began to see the patterns. Timing matters. Table perception matters. And perhaps most importantly, people matter.

There was a moment in one of my games where I felt particularly proud of a political action I was about to play. I had what I thought was a solid argument, enough votes and a clear outcome in mind. I presented my case with all the confidence of a Ventrue who has already decided how the meeting will end. And then, quite calmly, the table dismantled my plan, redistributed the damage and left me wondering how I had managed to negotiate myself into a worse position than when I started. That was the moment it truly clicked: this game isn't just about playing cards, it's about navigating people.

What keeps me engaged, even when I'm not actively playing, is how differently each clan feels. When I think about my Tremere games, I remember trying to carefully manage resources and timing, only to be dragged into situations I wasn't fully prepared for. With Ventrue, there's always that expectation of control (of being the one setting the pace) until something slips, and suddenly you're negotiating for survival instead of dominance. Lasombra feel like they're always on the edge of something powerful, one good turn away from taking over the table. And Gangrel, well, Gangrel feel like they're playing a different game entirely: patient, reactive and quietly effective.

Despite all this, the outcome is often the same: someone else plays better. But instead of being discouraging, that's what makes the game interesting. Every loss carries something with it. A better understanding of when to act. A clearer sense of who the real threat is. A growing awareness that sometimes the best move is simply to do nothing and wait.

Progress in VTES doesn't feel like a sudden breakthrough (although it is entirely possible, that I am just a bad player and others improve faster). It feels more like gradually becoming less confused. You start to recognize patterns, anticipate reactions and occasionally avoid making the same mistake twice. And every now and then, something works. A well-timed action goes through. A deal holds. A plan comes together just enough to make a difference.

That's why I keep coming back to it, even when I'm not actively playing. It's not just about winning. It's about understanding. About slowly piecing together how this strange, social, strategic puzzle works. Every game leaves behind questions and for some reason, I find that incredibly satisfying. So yes, I lose. But I also think, reflect and occasionally improve. And I have a feeling that when the next game finally happens, I'll make entirely new mistakes... just slightly better ones than before.

The game never ends, only pauses. I'll see you at the next move.

Custodian Hargrave

Intercept, vanish, repeat: A Gangrel story

The Gangrel in the tabletop RPG are wild survivors: nomadic, instinctive, and fiercely independent Kindred who feel closer to beasts and wilderness than to courts and etiquette. Known for their shapeshifting powers, feral resilience and tendency to outlast enemies through grit rather than intrigue, they embody the raw, predatory side of vampirism. Yet beneath that savage reputation lies a clan defined by freedom, adaptability and a deep suspicion of authority, making them as likely to disappear into the countryside as to haunt a city's forgotten edges. Over the years, I met many Gangrel in tabletop games. Some of those encounters were distant, others genuinely unnerving, but all of them were memorable. One of my best friends was a dedicated Gangrel player, so my Tremere characters often ended up face to face with his wildlings.

During the early 2000s (when I spent many nights playing VTM) the Gangrels were dedicated members of the Camarilla. However as the metaplot progressed, they left the Camarilla because, in the end, the clan grew tired of being treated as the sect's expendable hunters and watchdogs; after Xaviar's return and his rupture with the Inner Circle, their resentment toward Camarilla authority finally turned into open departure.  

I'll admit it: I never fully bought into that decision. One day they're loyal(ish) watchdogs of the Camarilla, the next they collectively grab their coats, mutter something about "freedom" and vanish into the night. It always felt a bit like a group chat where one person says "I'm leaving" and suddenly everyone else replies "same" and disappears. The Brujah leaving? That made perfect sense: rage, rebellion, dramatic exits. The Gangrel? I expected at least a bit more… growling beforehand.

From a VTES perspective though, this created a rather fun situation. You can either go full nostalgia with G1–2 Camarilla Gangrel, or embrace the modern, slightly more feral lifestyle with G6 Anarch Gangrel. And if the tournament results are anything to go by, the latter clearly packed their bags better: 32 wins for Anarchs in 2025 versus 3 for their Camarilla cousins. Turns out freedom, claws, and a disregard for authority are a winning combination. Who knew?

When I first got into VTES, I followed the Codex of the Damned buying advice like a disciplined Tremere apprentice. I already had the V5 Gangrel precon, so naturally I added the Stanislava 25th Anniversary deck to my collection. And while I was at it, I grabbed a Gangrel New Blood as well. You know… for "options".

Those options then sat quietly in their boxes for quite some time.

Every now and then I would look at them, consider building something… and then get distracted by shinier toys. Banu Haqim with their precision. Lasombra with their shadowy politics. Path of Power whispering promises of influence. Meanwhile, the Gangrel decks just sat there, patiently, like wolves watching from the tree line. Not complaining. Not asking. Just waiting.

Eventually, curiosity (or perhaps instinct) won.

My plan was simple: go low-cap, go wide, and let the pack do the work.

The first vampire that caught my attention was Kuyen. Superior Animalism and Protean? Yes please. In my head, I immediately imagined her surrounded by Raven Spies, turning her into a feathery surveillance system. Less "vampire aristocrat", more "Hitchcock documentary gone wrong". Intercept everything, see everything, and when something actually does happen, just vanish. Because that’s the beauty of Gangrel. Someone blocks you? Fine. Combat starts? Also fine. Things look dangerous? Earth Meld, goodbye.

From the opponent's perspective, it must feel like trying to argue with someone who just walks into the woods mid-sentence. One moment you're mid-conflict, the next you're alone, confused and slightly embarrassed. And if Earth Meld isn't enough, there's Form of Mist, which is even better. Not only do you escape combat, you just… keep going. It's the VTES equivalent of stepping out of a bar fight, dusting off your coat and continuing your errands like nothing happened. Peak Gangrel energy.

Of course, not everything is perfect in the wilderness.

One thing I'm still adjusting to is the lack of explosive bleed. Coming from Dominate-heavy decks, I'm used to bleeding for 5 like it's a casual Monday morning. With Gangrel, it's different. You don't overwhelm your prey with a single decisive strike. You wear them down. Slowly. Patiently. Like nature itself. It's less "political assassination" and more "you wandered into the wrong forest and now something is following you". A thousand small cuts instead of one grand gesture. I'm not saying it's worse, it's just a different mindset. One that requires patience, positioning and a certain appreciation for inevitability.

As for the deck itself, I'm still very much in the planning phase. No polished list to share yet, just ideas, instincts, and a growing appreciation for life outside the ivory tower.

Also, real life has been a bit intrusive lately. The past couple of months haven't offered many opportunities to play, which is also why things have been a bit quieter on the blog since Cambridge. But the pack is forming. And sooner or later, it will hunt.

The game never ends, only pauses. I'll see you at the next move.

Custodian Hargrave