FC Drive Aspects
nothing gets you going like the promise of action, combat, and strange new experiences. You’re an adrenaline junkie and if ichor is the cure, then so be it! Turning down an adventure to “play it safe” is like admitting that your whole life was meaningless before.
The dead past is the only place you feel truly alive. Discovering some truth about it, or simply experiencing old and beautiful houses or items, is the purpose for living at all. Neglecting the past merely because it seems unsavory is for brutish, mayfly moderns.
Your ultimate success will be its own justification, and it is sure to come to you, since only you have the will to grasp it. The rules of petty people don’t apply to you, and neither do their shrinking, timorous fears.
You are already aware of the numinous and supernatural quality of the world – it is what you seek to capture in your art, of course. You must follow your Muse wherever she leads, clay in her hands for molding. Nothing, especially not mundane concerns, can stanch your need for inspiration.
These things just seem to happen to you, this is your life. Your luck might sour after you dig up a statuette, sleep in the wrong boarding house, or decide to rob a terrible old man. Bad Luck is essentially the same as being cursed.
When confronted by a mystery, you can’t help but Investigate. Damn the risks, there’s something going on here and you’re going to figure it out! If you don’t, it will just drive you crazy worrying about it.
You know it’s dangerous and ill-advised, but somebody’s got to go down those steps or bust up that cult. And you’re elected, because if you don’t take care of things now, they’re just going to get worse. If you don’t, who is? Some time-serving goldbrick just counting down the days until their pension? Don’t be ridiculous.
Perhaps you had one experience that you’ll never get again, or perhaps you’ve just read about such things in decadent yellow-backed novels. You’ve tried everything else, and nothing else matters. So what if it might kill you? At least that would be different. At least your’re finally living.
This wasn’t actually your idea, and you’d like that put in the report somewhere. But someone else – someone who’s important to you for whatever reason — went down into that tunnel, and you’d better go after them to make sure they’re safe. Or to make sure they don’t pick someone else to hold the field telephone next time.
In the Blood
Quite frankly, you’re not sure why you keep coming back to the moldering graveyard, or poring over those antique texts. But queer behavior runs in the family, apparently. Outsiders wouldn’t understand.
Something out there hurt you, or hurt someone you care about. Therefore, it must be destroyed, burned out, taken down, exposed … whatever it takes, and whatever it costs. Any trail that might lead to your vengeance is a trail you have to follow to the bitter end.
Uncovering the truth about the world is what true scholars do. It’s certainly why you spend all that time in those libraries; why you track down sole survivors of isolated backwoods cults; why you learn languages not meant for human throats. Whether you’re seeking tenure, the acclaim of your fellows, or just the satisfaction of expanding human knowledge, you Investigate in order to find the underlying pattern of things.
Something has ripped the scrim off the world, and you can’t go back to believing in Baby Jesus and FDR anymore. Whether it’s your long-dead great-grandfather holding cannibal feasts in your basement, the things you saw on the Innsmouth Raid, or just a chance encounter with the outside, you might as well go further in, because there is no
Thirst for Knowledge
You must – you must! — learn the secret lore of the cosmos. This is not footling, footnoted scholarship. It is the quest for truth. You don’t want to advance human knowledge – the herd don’t desire, or deserve, to know what lies behind the walls of the world. only you (and perhaps a few fellow initiates) truly burn to possess such secrets, and only you are willing to do what it takes to get them.