I remember the tears. I remember the screams. At the funeral Widow and I were embraced, united in grief, kindred spirits. What's worse than losing everything? I, I know very well: knowing that you could get it back, at a cost that you are not ready to bear. I thought I had become someone else that day, similar to the mask I sometimes wear for my Mutuwa; but I discovered that taking it off in front of the mirror there are only tears... Of joy?
Choom, those are the ones that give me the creeps when they walk by in their funereal masks. They have this thing about death. “It’s a level,” they say. “Memento mori,” they whisper. But I’ll tell you, it’s all bullshit, eventually they come back from the dead just like the rest of us do if someone blows their brains out, a bit hypocritical don’t you think? Life and death in a roll of the dice. Of course without their juggernaut you wouldn’t go into cyberspace – so wink at them, pretend to believe their bullshit, and everything will be fine. Kind of.
Experience: Introspective experience characterized by human relationship with death and its facets and the realization of a higher purpose. Suitable for those who want a strongly intimate game while maintaining a good dose of action. Remember, “a dangerous mission makes us feel alive.” The group has a strong component of ethnic inspiration drawn from vodoo and Aztec culture.
