The Atrocity Exhibition is a quickplay scenario for Kult: Divinity Lost, available from the Kult Resources page. We did a narrative character creation for this game, establishing stats and traits as we went along. You know you're playing Kult when you've only done Session 0 and you've already lost two stability...
Can't find my old journals. Time to start a new one, I guess.
There's an exhibition at BAMPFA with some student work, reinterpretations of noir film or something, so I thought I'd check it out and make sure I'm keeping up in case this turns out to be the new big thing. I was going to take the BART but then I got accosted by an aggressive crowd who started out just wanting a buck but then escalated to trying to get my purse and phone off me. I tried to talk them out of it but they weren't interested until I threw a handful of bills at them. Just enough of a distraction for me to make a run for it.
No way I could get on the BART after that. I was standing on the sidewalk, trying to get my breath back and thinking about getting an Uber when a car pulled up next to me. I was all ready to run again when I got a look at the driver and realised it was Ezra. He offered me a lift, and it turned out he was going to the same place as me. We had a nice chat about work in the car. It's too long since we last talked.
We picked up another passenger along the way. Jared, some old friend of Ezra's and an aspiring actor. Easy on the eye, less so on the ears. I was glad of an extra person in the parking garage though. That place gave me the creeps. He says he's done some modelling as well. He certainly knows how to pose, and I got some good photos of the entrance until he started attracting fans. After the earlier incident I was just glad it was him getting the attention and not someone yelling at me to go back where I came from. I wasn't feeling up to my usual "What, England?" response.
Stepping inside is where things got weird. I felt a fine mist blow out of the air conditioners when we went inside, and when I looked down at myself I could see blood - fake blood, it must have been - all over me. Nobody else seemed to notice though, except maybe Ezra. Then I looked around at the other guests. I saw corpses. Flayed, organs hanging out of them. And that wasn't the worst part. One of them had Spencer's face.
I lost the old journals, so I guess I need to write this again. Spencer Reid was my best friend, my lover and my business partner. We were going to run the gallery together. Then he went away to meet with some potential investors and I never saw him again.
That's not true. I see him a lot. Mostly when I'm stressed, or scared. Dates are the worst. Were the worst. I've given up trying. Therapy with Doctor Lana helped me figure out the pattern, but it hasn't made it stop. Lana can't tell me what I really want to know though. Is he alive, and messing with me? Am I being haunted by the ghost of my dead lover? Or am I crazy and hallucinating this shit?
After what I saw at BAMPFA, sure sounds like the last one, doesn't it?
I must have drunk the complimentary prosecco a bit too fast. Jared got me another drink - some kind of artisinal craft gin - and Ezra introduced us to Meri Janson, the person in charge. I knew the name but we'd not met before. I'd remember. I'm used to art types being touchy-feely but she was taking it uncomfortably far. Jared was into it though.
The exhibition was fine, I guess. A few names worth watching, but nothing to get overly excited about. Jared wanted to hit some bar afterwards and I thought that sounded good, so long as he was keeping Meri's hands occupied.
I forget the name of the place, but it was nice. Vintage jazz and vintage cocktails at thoroughly modern prices. The kind of place where you can kick back and relax, and I was having a great time catching up with Ezra and watching Jared's antics when I got a call from Dad. Texted to ask what's up, he replied saying to call him.
No point putting it off. Might as well get the argument over with while I was still drunk, I thought. But for once Dad didn't give me an earful about being at a bar. He needs me home. Mum's dead.
I went back inside and told Ezra I'd had some bad news and had to leave. He offered to call me a car. That's when the tears started, and he ended up driving me home instead. I was a mess when we got there. I couldn't even tell him what was wrong. But we swapped numbers so at least we might keep in touch this time. I'm going to need a friend.
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