Eternal Nights (VtM in Las Vegas, Nevada)

[Hades]

Besides, having more Caitiff around means more meatshields when the Sabbat come knocking.....

Crap, I said that in my out-loud voice again....

Move along people, nothing to see here.  Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain!

[Kolbrandr]

Alright, so, posting this with permission. I've been talking out expectations for older characters of whatever stripe with the GM, and outside of no lower gen than 9th and not especially older than the prince (350 years), it's less a particular block amount of xp or extra points and more talking out a character sheet that would feel appropriate to the character's overall concept/backstory/shtick.

So for instance, this is the character I hashed out, backstory wise, after some talking with the GM thereby (the 'seneschal lite' thing was off of their suggestion for instance)

Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide

Don Rafael Andres de Velasco

Born into the beginning of the decline of the Spanish Empire, the first misfortune of Rafael’s life would be to be raised as though he lived at its height, instilled with virtues and a sense of aspiration the motherland couldn’t bear out anymore for truth, if it ever could have. But his lineage was old, respected and moneyed, and nothing less than a caballero of old would suit it. There were gilded trappings enough yet all the same to dazzle and inspire him, and a family who coupled stern expectations with loving reward when those expectations were met. It was enough to draw out inner potential to heady and well remarked upon heights. And so with rigor he took to the seeming endless and demanding learning of managing his family’s estates, of history, cosmopolitan culture and language, of sword and pistol and horse, of high court manner, even carrying an exquisite tune in tones rich and resonant.

He came into his own just in time to be plunged into the morass that was the War of the Spanish succession. It wasn’t that he lacked for earning distinction. It wasn’t that the test of blood and fire, mud and mire only honed his sense of resolve (after all, he was fighting for the sake of his family, who he loved). By the end of things he had even held a measure of command and been effective by it, remarkable for one so young. But all of that was so much ash before a fire of the war’s misfortunes, and by its end, much of his family’s fortune had been either appropriated or outright destroyed, leaving them hovering on the edge of poverty and dissolution.

And what kind of caballero would he be to fail them now? Spain itself might have been shown to have been an increasingly hollow caricature of older strength, but his family had still given him everything, and what little glory he had found and lived, was because of them. There was nothing for it, he would continue to fight for them, however he might.

That desperate conviction saw him travelling to the Californias, to seek to rebuild their dwindling fortune in colonial settlement and development on the expanding edge of the frontier. To his credit, within a few short years he again made his quality plain, organizing and leading, training up proper defenses and militia. To his detriment, the frantic urgency that motivated him made him less than mindful to his successes helping along the ongoing suffering of the natives of that land. This brought about the next of his misfortunes, deservedly perhaps, in the form of the attention it garnered from his sire.

There was a decently old tradition amongst the Gangrel, to embrace the lordly of their mortal enemies and plunge them into the life of the clan, stealing a resource away by the action, and in so doing also deny an embrace to any interested, also opposing clans (Rafael would later come to understand he was being more than a bit scouted by the Ventrue and Lasombra alike at that time). His sire, an ancient native warrior driven to fury, resistance and revenge, added to that tradition an outright enslavement of the young Spaniard, proclaiming that his talents would now be put to use for the sake of an oppressed people.

Young and with the blood bond fully bearing down on him, there was little Rafael could do otherwise. There might have been a certain virtue in the ideals his sire claimed him for, but they were hard to see through the manner his sire expressed them, through unceasing brutal guerilla conflict to the knife, twisted and excessive against mortal governments and their undead backers alike. At times it seemed as if the idea was not even some victory or ease for the people they fought for, instead blood just for the sake of it, war just for the sake of it, with the idea of it being for another as little more than a thin veneer of rationalization. And if his sire harshly claimed blood and service from the peoples he supposedly fought for? It was nothing more than his absolute right as their champion, he would state.

It was a pity, for one of the few ways Rafael held onto sanity and some piece of his soul was to find a way to appreciate those he supposedly now warred on behalf of. Of their traditions and lives, of the stark beauty of the land around him. Otherwise there was only solace to be found with such of his sire’s other childer that were shackled to his will, even those that shared in native blood. There were brief, furtive romances that were really nothing more than people clinging to each other to stave off the worst of their agonies. Briefer besides for that his sire sent most of his childer up and down the territory on one task or another, but took a particular glee in keeping the Spaniard by his side for “education”. Most of his sire’s instruction was literally punishing, for all that surviving it and the strife that happened around him managed to hone Rafael simply for not killing him. The old warrior did all the same have the occasional fit of stranger pique where he would teach Rafael older and more occulted knowledge, of the ways of the wise, of subtle nuance to spirit. There were hints, here and there, that underneath the rage, pain and vendetta there had once been a greater man, of greater purpose.

But standing amidst the ash of another burned out mission, there was no consolation to be found at all from the memory of such glimpses. Rafael had lived out nearly a century of ongoing warfare by this time, with no seeming end in sight. His sire had taken to mocking him by it in fouler moods, that he was too good a warrior and instinctual survivor now for even death to grant a respite to his slavery. All the rigor and conviction living for his family had given Rafael felt well and fully perverted now to serve his sire’s purposes.

It was holding onto the rage and hateful anguish of that change, of every scrap of will refined over the years, that allowed him the moment’s clarity in the heat of battle to outright hurl his unsuspecting sire into the assault of their then opponents. He had hoped for some sense of satisfaction with his death and the shattering of the bond. Or at least a brief vicious glee. But in the end he felt nothing from the change, only hollow.

He knew why of course. It had been nigh on a century. His family were long dead, and their descendants, such as might be, long destitute, their name faded, and inaccessible across an ocean in any event. What was the point of his freedom now? What was there left to live for? Yet his sire’s old mockery rang in his ears like a curse. He had fought too long, survived too long. He couldn’t find it within himself to give himself over to the sun.

It was no great shock then that he took the first real offer floated his way that would let him feel some sense of purpose. The Camarilla had found his sire to be a considerable thorn in their side as they endeavoured to expand their touch through the western Americas. That the old gangrel’s childe seemed of a different bent was an opportunity (and there was some mild gratitude for the part Rafael played in finally resolving the situation). They needed someone to represent their interests in Alta California as it opened up to settlement, and how appropriate would this Gangrel be! And look, he’s practically civilized for one of the animals! (It was the early 19th century. A time where one could speak this way without even pretense) It wasn’t that Rafael didn’t find the offer somewhat nauseating by this point, but on sheer numb inertia, he accepted all the same. It helped, to an extent, that the face of that offer was an old friend from his better days of mortal aristocracy, to play on ideas of tradition (desperate young Spanish aristos of quality had apparently been fertile grounds for the embrace indeed). Nursing a mix of guilt and empathy from the actions of his mortal and undead lives, he also held a quiet and moderately delusional hope of being able to use his station to ease the woes of the natives in the face of settlement expansion.

He failed in that, quite thoroughly. But a pact was a pact, and some part of him held yet to a sense of duty, however frayed and tattered, held to some quiet yearning to be the cabarello he and his family had fancied him to be. So he maintained and defended the presence of the Camarilla against threats mundane, bizarre, and somewhere inbetween, and a reputation grew around him for his efficacy in doing so as he ranged over wide territories. If nothing else, he was there for the growth of ranching and mining alike. Being on the ground floor of all that, and still having some understanding of management and investment, made him fantastically wealthy as he accrued land and income. There was a bleak irony to this that sent him into darker moods now and then.

It allowed him at least to establish a level of remove from his fellow kindred as he attempted to salve his soul in yet more chasing of altruism, seeing to work as a benefactor to those whom such prosperity was leaving behind. The more usual collapse of these projects finally brought him into an understanding that he was simply trying to save his family again and again and again to redeem past failures. He was just finding new ways to define that sense of family. The natives, the rare actually well-meaning priests who would end up killed by the locals or simply have their property seized by the government, the natives again, the poor idiots that came to the territory in hope of fortune only to end up utterly destitute and exploited. The uncaring cruelty of economics and politics left little room to improve their situations in meaningful ways.

He came into the 20th century much embittered from a life that was already feeling overly long, one of his few distractions an ongoing knack for learning that in their own ways his family, sire, sect and long dead former empire had exploited. Still, by the century’s midway point there was a development that managed to genuinely surprise him. It came to his hearing that younger Gangrel in the west had been invoking his name for security. That came to him because others of his clan were travelling outright to try and find him for aid or counsel or tutelage. The idea that he had any such things to offer goaded a sonorous laugh, but from their perspective, they maintained with such an earnestness, he was a centuries old survivor who had fought and prevailed through tumult and incomprehensibly harsh conditions. He was even one of those rare sorts of the clan who had garnered no small of station and influence to himself.

He has even seen some of his old broodmates now and then, tentatively. They’re grateful for his having obtained all their freedoms of course, but some have made sectarian choices he finds thoroughly exasperating. The Anarch Movement from his view is little better than his sire for instance. A bunch of maybe salutary ideals painted over excuses for the usual games of bloodshed and dominance.


Truth be told, given the circumstances of his embrace, of the brutality that defined his first century of unlife, he hadn’t found much positive meaning in the idea of his clan. But at this point, after everything, if this was as close as he was ever going to get to a family, even if one warped, broken and blood drinking, frankly he would take what he could get. And so he has done for the young what he could, in the ways that he could. It is simply the heart of who he is, for all that he might have moods where he wishes he could kill that part of himself after all.


It is how he has come to sit as one of Las Vegas’ primogen. He largely hates the city, if you must know. It’s a monstrosity. But he owns some land around it (and in it), and more importantly, his clan were getting a shit end of things in the place otherwise as it grew. The shield of his influence reaches statewide after all, and somewhat beyond (gubernatorial, congressional and even sheriff campaigns alike cost rather astounding amounts of money, as it so happens, and his holdings include some lobbying firms and super pacs by these nights as much as they do whatever philanthropic effort or other). The Sinner himself was not overly inclined to deny the Caballero’s claim to station and domain, for if nothing else, a figure of his reputation and experience would be useful for discouraging more egregious shenanigans. Still, Rafael prefers to hold meetings, clan or otherwise, on a ranch an hour away from the city. He comes in more properly for court, or to eyeball a problem, or to meet with someone about some issue or project involving his holdings, or offer counsel, or, just sometimes, to catch a show or showing that finds a way to appeal to his sensibilities despite the surroundings.


Otherwise, Rafael's longest uninterrupted stays in the central districts of the city come when he serves as something best described as authority pro tem, for having previously agreed to hold the title of seneschal as something of what is usually an honorific, with exceptions. The Sinner is both prince and regent, and the occulted business of the latter can intervene with the former. In such times Rafael has agreed to stand as something of his proxy to the wider kindred community. The arrangement has worked well enough, down the decades of the city's growth, for the two men to this point, given Rafael's dutiful mindfulness, coupled with a deep and utter disinterest in ever truly holding the city for his own. That the Gangrel clan are able to eke out something considerably better than a marginalized existence in the city is, from the prince's perspective, a small price to pay for not having to worry about being stabbed in the back and overthrown (well, not worry about it any more than usual for a Camarilla prince) whenever busied with however research, rituals, or some damn demand from Vienna requires.

He is still, down these centuries, an archetypal semblance of a dynamic young nobleman of finely featured quality to gaze upon, and his manners are as old world smooth as they come. But he has been through a primal, centuries long crucible, and there is something more elemental now in his force of personality, and in his gaze is the windswept expanse of a thousand miles of badlands, in his laugh a knowing bitterness that has seen the worst of man. There are some that find it a jarring contrast, the sense of the man who can move in the highest circles of refinement, and amidst the grittiest, most hardscrabble of survivors, of Spanish imperial polish and fierce, ornery frontier stubbornness force welded together.

In the few, every so often, more mean spirited moments Rafael allows himself to have, he takes a fleeting amusement in putting people off balance that way.

On his own time, such as it is, he attends to the old wounds in his spirit as best he might. In riding over plain and desert, in the exquisite performance of music for no audience at all, in the trappings of culture or of the dizzying modern age itself (for were not the very beginnings of his troubles how very attentive he could be to trappings?), in the meditations his old broodmates taught him. He even follows the history and vicissitudes of his old homeland with something between grim amusement and despair. He even still chases his altruistic projects just sometimes, and the domains he claims in Vegas’ more hard pressed areas are slightly eased in suffering for it. But ultimately he readies for it all to be crushed again, to be brought to ruin again, for him to fail and people to suffer and die, and still again to survive it all, to walk off into endless horizon, the last broken knight of all his families. 

and I used mythweavers for a rough character sheet in the meantime

https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=1432357

[Imogen]

Holy cow... protean, celerity, potence AND fortitude? AND maxed out willpower?

[Kolbrandr]

It's a 330 some odd year old gangrel elder that spent huge chunks of their life fighting? There's a spread of canon npcs both younger and not much older with stats as equivalent or better that I took for a guideline?

edit: it's something I ran by the GM first.

[Thorne]

There's some precedence; the more active someone is, the more skills they tend to build up over time.
I'm debating interest; I don't know much about V20, and I'm not sure if I actually have a concept that would fit, but.. I'm interested.

[SithLordOfSnark]

There's some precedence; the more active someone is, the more skills they tend to build up over time.
I'm debating interest; I don't know much about V20, and I'm not sure if I actually have a concept that would fit, but.. I'm interested.

Interest is always good. :)

[Kolbrandr]

There's some precedence; the more active someone is, the more skills they tend to build up over time.
I'm debating interest; I don't know much about V20, and I'm not sure if I actually have a concept that would fit, but.. I'm interested.

It's not really drastically different than 3rd ed/revised VtM, or just the general notion people have of Vampire the Masquerade, if that's any help.

[Caeli]

Is there any material I should buy/borrow/get my hands on to catch myself up on setting/environment/character types/etc.?  I honestly have no idea where to start.

[Kolbrandr]

There's actually a wiki:

http://whitewolf.wikia.com/wiki/Main_Page

http://whitewolf.wikia.com/wiki/Vampire_(cWOD)

As long as you don't get lost falling down the wiki abyss, it's a good place for useful shorthands of stuff without having to necessarily read whole rulebooks from the get go.

[Orange Marmalade]

It's a 330 some odd year old gangrel elder that spent huge chunks of their life fighting? There's a spread of canon npcs both younger and not much older with stats as equivalent or better that I took for a guideline?

edit: it's something I ran by the GM first.

I don't think it is so much that, just that it is, well, lightyears ahead of any normal starting PC. The surprise is probably due to the fact that we don't know anything about character creation for the game yet, and I think most people were thinking it'd be basic characters as opposed to one with many hundreds of XP :)

[SithLordOfSnark]

I don't think it is so much that, just that it is, well, lightyears ahead of any normal starting PC. The surprise is probably due to the fact that we don't know anything about character creation for the game yet, and I think most people were thinking it'd be basic characters as opposed to one with many hundreds of XP :)

I am not opposed to people bringing character's they've played for years over. My only limitation is that they cannot be older then the Prince of the city, who is 350 years old.

[Thorne]

Well, that's handy; the one I was thinking has only been wandering around avoiding sunlight for a couple of decades ...
She has other things she prefers to avoid as well, but that's on another sheet.

[Imogen]

I don't think it is so much that, just that it is, well, lightyears ahead of any normal starting PC. The surprise is probably due to the fact that we don't know anything about character creation for the game yet, and I think most people were thinking it'd be basic characters as opposed to one with many hundreds of XP :)

Pretty much this.

If the other players create neonates, the shown character might as well be labeled as 'God'.

[Kolbrandr]

For my part when it was noted that older characters were possible in thread, I pitched a rough concept that was this:

Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide

A really rough idea would be a gangrel that was once a young Spanish Don of quality and all courtly as you please (could carry a tune even) who had fought and commanded with some distinction in the War of Spanish Succession, but also to the ruination of their family lands and wealth, travelling to the Californias in a desperate effort to restore the fortunes of a sprawling family now verging on poverty. Ended up forcibly embraced not long after by a local native autarkis gangrel elder doing a mix of co-opting/enslaving his now childe's skillset for resistance against colonialism/the old gangrel tradition of embracing the mortal lords of your enemies as punishment and to deny other interested parties the chance (to the ventrue or lasombra that had been otherwise eyeing him for instance). Nearly a century of brutal strife up and down the Californias ensues before he can manage to get out from under his sire's thumb, but by that point his family are long impoverished/dead/basically unreachable across an ocean in any event. He's fought and survived too long to find himself able to just wait for the sunrise, and a Camarilla mildly thankful for the part he played in ending his sire offers him to represent their interests in Alta California as nascent settlements expanded there. After all, given his heritage and personal education, why, for a gangrel he's positively civilized! (it's the early 19th century, they totally phrase it that way) Still, despite his sire's personal monstrosity, he'd come to sympathize some with the natives and develop some appreciating for the stark beauty of the territory. But while the offer mildly nauseates him as a result, he still accepts half out of sheer numb inertia, and some idly delusional belief he can use such influence to make mortal settlement expansion easier on the natives (he fails).

On the plus side, he is there on the ground floor for the growth of ranching and mining, as it were, allowing him to accrue a sizable amount of wealth and land after all (in darker moments he finds this bleakly ironic), which also allows him to be more standoffish as his more benign projects fail time and again. He realizes a touch bitterly that really he's just been trying to save his family over and over and over each time he finds a new way to define the term and thereby redeem his past failures (his mortal family, the locals, the rare actually well meaning priests who end up either killed by the locals or divested of all their property by the government anyway, the locals again, the poor idiots that come to the state seeking their fortunes and near completely wind up destitute and exploited, take your pick). He otherwise does, out of a lingering, frayed sense of tattered duty and being the caballero he once fancied himself to be all those years ago, maintain the sect's presence in the area and help defend it from threat. He finds to his slight surprise that by the mid 20th century there are younger area Gangrel that invoke his name for security or seek him out despite himself for aid or counsel or tutelage. By their perspective, he's centuries old survivor in rough circumstances, and one of those rare Gangrel who have achieved not inconsiderable station and influence ontop of that. Given the nature of his embrace and first century as a vampire, he'd never been especially positive on the notion of his clan as anything meaningful at all, but after everything, at this point, this was as close as he was ever going to get to another family, even if in a warped and broken way. He'd take what he could get, so he does for them what he feels he can.

He wasn't happy about the growth of Las Vegas, seeing the city as a grotesque, gaudy atrocity. But he happened to own some of the land it was being built around, and his clan were otherwise getting a shit end of things there, so he advanced himself in it as their primogen, which no one particularly contested (if nothing else, someone with a rep for preserving the sect and having lived through several centuries of tumult was useful to have around to help discourage shenanigans). His influences take shape on a larger, statewide level and slightly beyond (congressional runs take a whole lot of money after all). He prefers to stay on a ranch about an hour away from the city (which he also prefers to use for clan gatherings as needs be), but comes in for court, or to eyeball a problem, or to meet with someone who wants to lease some damn thing of something he owns for some damn thing or other, or offer counsel, or just very occasionally to catch a show or showing that finds a way to appeal to his sensibilities despite the larger surroundings. His life has made him capable of moving amongst the highest of refinement and the lowest, grittiest hardscrabble survivors, though some find it makes him a bit of a jarring contrast of smooth old world manners and fierce, stubborn, frontier orneriness to deal with at times (and that the contrast comes out from the still fine features and resonant voice of the seeming cabarello of old doesn't help the confusion). In the just every so often more mean spirited moment he allows himself to have, he takes a fleeting amusement in putting people off balance that way.

After which I was given the go ahead to create a more fleshed out backstory and sheet to go with it, which after that was looked over, I put it above.

[Imogen]

It's not the background. It is the points and where they were put. I am not even sure there can be any challenge that would not instantly annihilate all other characters where your character can sit through smoking cigars and then swiping one claw to skewer an enemy on each talon like picking up olives.


edit: to clarify: assuming most make neonates.

[Blythe]

Does this mean I could have a starting 50 EXP for my neonate, maybe? ^^

[Kolbrandr]

It's not the background. It is the points and where they were put. I am not even sure there can be any challenge that would not instantly annihilate all other characters where your character can sit through smoking cigars and then swiping one claw to skewer an enemy on each talon like picking up olives.


edit: to clarify: assuming most make neonates.

*shrug* I was figuring that other people would make older characters, it was why I asked earlier in the thread if the idea was that some titled positions would be filled by such sorts given that they were open otherwise. At that, I left an old flame flaw open on my sheet with a note of "it would be cool if this was filled by a pc, if that happens to be possible, rather than make it an npc". I figured there would at least be a few.

[Imogen]

*shrug* I was figuring that other people would make older characters. I left an old flame flaw open on my sheet with a note of "it would be cool if this was filled by a pc, if that happens to be possible, rather than make it an npc"

I understand where you are coming from. No worries!

I just misunderstood the nature of the game and assumed most PCs would start at more or less the same level. I'll have a think if I'm interested in playing a setting where PCs have this huge power differences.

[Lockepick]

I think it's imperative that we get character rules hammered out if people are trying to work on characters.

If the intent is for people to just make whatever they want -- I admit that I'll withdraw interest and wish you all the best. No judgements, of course; I just like a clear line between Free-Form and Systems games.

[Kolbrandr]

T'was why I asked the guy on page 1 what the idea was for the characters that would be filling out the city hierarchy.

When the reply were this:

Yes. Though with approval, I would allow someone to make an older character, likely, since it makes no sense for the city to just be full of neonates.

I figured "okay, some people will be making older characters to fill out the city's hierarchical positions, I think I'd like to try for one."

Not "muhuhahahaha! I will now lord over everyone else in this game!"

If everyone else makes neonates, I wouldn't bother with the character.

[Hades]

I think it's just the sheer wall of stats and the ability to defeat half the west coast sabbat alone that gives people pause, but if the ST allows it then that's that.

Personally, I'm like others in once I see the creation rules and a bit more of the setting, then I'll start worrying about things like this.  For now, I'm just happy that I may get to have a second VtM game going on, to feed my addiction indulge in one of my favorite game systems.

[Orange Marmalade]

I figured "okay, some people will be making older characters to fill out the city's hierarchical positions, I think I'd like to try for one."

Not "muhuhahahaha! I will now lord over everyone else in this game!"

If everyone else makes neonates, I wouldn't bother with the character.

I think the amount of dots used is just kind of staggering. Did you add up the amount of XP/Freebies used?

To put things into perspective, here's some character sheets:

Ventrue Justicar: http://whitewolf.wikia.com/wiki/Lucinde
5th generation 2300 year old Assamite: http://whitewolf.wikia.com/wiki/Lucinde
Gangrel Justicar: http://whitewolf.wikia.com/wiki/Lucinde
Brujah Justicar: http://whitewolf.wikia.com/wiki/Jaroslav_Pascek
Sabbat Cardinal: http://whitewolf.wikia.com/wiki/Kyle_Strathcona

I mean, if we want a high power level game and to go more freeform with character generation, it can be fun. But I suppose that's why we need to hear about character creation rules from said GM. But even then, characters shouldn't be mini gods unto themselves and 100% self sufficient.

[Blythe]

Some character creation rules might be helpful, if only to let people know what's okay and what isn't. Mostly giving us an idea of what the max EXP value is, generation limitations, or any restricted Disciplines. ^^

For now, I'm just happy that I may get to have a second VtM game going on, to feed my addiction indulge in one of my favorite game systems.

This is also me. I normally ST, so I am v. excited at any chance to be a player. ^^

Edit: (Though I will try to be patient; I can imagine that it's the holiday season and Sith's getting an awful lot of interest, so it could take a little bit, maybe. Will try to curb my enthusiasm a little so as to not be pushy. I know I can get a little carried away on these things. ^^;  )

[Lockepick]

So first, I don't want this to come off as any sort of attack or 'pig piling' on Kolbrandr. I think we were all a little shocked because the character sets a tone for the game that was not clear before. There's nothing you did wrong -- if the GM is approving it, then you're doing what both you and the GM want to do/have happen. Absolutely no judgments.

For what it's worth: It's not even the level of 'power' that made me a little blindsided -- it's how self-sufficient the person was. I don't see this person needing to interact with any other Vampires; especially if they're already Seneshal. That's just my first take though. If that's what you want to play, again -- you're not doing anything wrong!

I will reiterate (not that the GM has had a chance to respond) -- I would ultimately prefer a flat experience number over a "place dots at will". I would love a confirmation on how we're doing character creation.

[Hades]

Some character creation rules might be helpful, if only to let people know what's okay and what isn't. Mostly giving us an idea of what the max EXP value is, generation limitations, or any restricted Disciplines. ^^

This is also me. I normally ST, so I am v. excited at any chance to be a player. ^^

Edit: (Though I will try to be patient; I can imagine that it's the holiday season and Sith's getting an awful lot of interest, so it could take a little bit, maybe. Will try to curb my enthusiasm a little so as to not be pushy. I know I can get a little carried away on these things. ^^;  )

Much thirst to be contained.   

>.> 
<.<

But at least you have tumblr and pintrest to keep you occupied in the meantime, right?