Carthian Atheism
"The passion of my disbelief is as strong as your faith, but with an added benefit: itäs true."
Kindred society is home to many faiths, and the patently unnatural effects of even simple Discipline use argue strongly for belief in the supernatural. The small clique of passionate atheists in The Carthian Movement, similar to those many vampire splinter sects, consider the existence of Kindred to be a powerful piece of religious evidence. These Atheists, however, see it as incontrovertible proof of the non-existence of God.
Most Kindred (particularly the Sanctified) argue that since Kindred have supernatural powers splendidly adapted to the drives of the Beast, there’s clearly a source of supernatural powers that bestowed both Beast and powers for a reason.
The Atheists don’t always deny this idea directly. (Some do, however. They pick at the notion that Kindred are really that well adapted to survive. The Atheists argue that, by such logic, humankind is designed by God to paint pictures because they have both eyes to see and hands to hold a brush.) More commonly, the Atheists attack the notion that these powers must come from a single, all-powerful creator. After all, if Kindred are such a great idea, why saddle them with both strengths and debilitating weaknesses? If such powers have to come from a source, why one source? Why not five, one per clan? Why must the progenitor of vampirism be omnipotent — given the squabbling to which his alleged creations are prone, he wasn’t clear-sighted enough to create them efficiently. Looking at the Hysteria and misery of the Danse Macabre, it’s hard to argue for intelligent design.
Those are the arguments the Atheists use against the Sanctified, but the Acolytes get just as much defiance. If a goddess or spirit is omnipotent, why is there more than one? Surely there isn’t room in the cosmos for two omnipotent beings. What if they came into conflict? But if they’re not omnipotent, just where do they get off calling themselves divine? Isn’t it a little more likely that what the Circle is dealing with are spirits — admittedly, spirits with a great deal of power — but limited spirits nonetheless? Sure, they look big from our pea-sized perspective, but a man looks smart to a dog. That doesn’t make the man a god.
The Deniers (as they’re often called) are an angry bunch. Many of them deny being angry, but almost without exception, deep down, they are. They are angry at the universe for not being the work of God, but, seeing their dilemma in the stone cold light of the Beast’s ugly urges, believing in any kind of All Father who is kind, decent or still marginally competent is viscerally impossible for them. An evil and vengeful deity would produce works that at least made sense and functioned. This world doesn’t even have that. Instead, it’s a host of contradictions, a muddling struggle of all against all, battling for an illdefined prize that ends up missing from the pedestal.
No good God would suffer the Kindred to exist. They’re parasites who do inevitable physical harm to others, and they’re saddled with a Beast who makes them do inevitable moral harm to themselves.
At the same time, no truly sane and evil Devil would tolerate the Kindred, either. For all the misery they instigate and endure, they are ultimately fleas on the human animal. Entirely mortal inventions such as race slavery and fascism have done more damage than the Kindred ever did or ever could. If vampires are supposed to be a punishing plague, they’re sleeping on the job compared to generations of religious fanatics.
That’s the Carthian Atheist position in a nutshell: the contradictions of Kindred position prove that the supernatural is as random and pointless as the blind clockwork of mutation-based evolution. The Atheists don’t believe there’s a rational, scientific explanation for the Requiem. Instead, they insist that the Requiem itself proves that the supernatural is as ignorant and chaotic as everything else.
There is no hell below for the Deniers. Above them, only sky. After them, only oblivion. Therefore, these ardent nihilists live night to night, in the only world they have or ever will have, striving to extend an existence they despise because there is nothing else for them.
The most visible Deniers are anti-theologians who actively antagonize The Lancea Sanctum and The Circle of the Crone when the Deniers feel they can get away with it. Far more often, they tackle weaker prey, attempting to disgrace and discredit mortal churches. Armed with Disciplines, Deniers can easily wreck a human congregation. But just as with roaches, there’s always a thousand more synagogues and temples and cathedrals and Christian Science reading rooms for every one they stomp.
Behind the shrill attackers, there lurks a much more covert layer. These Deniers keep their beliefs to themselves, but allow their disdain for religion to drive them in their pursuit of mortal political power, the most efficient large-scale, world-shaping tool. Often it suits them to cloak their organizations in religious garb. Being void of faith themselves, they are ideally positioned to rationally analyze cult structures purely as organizations, and articles of belief from an unadulterated marketing standpoint. They build fake cults and send them on crusades against real ones; they nurture martyrs and laugh when they blow themselves up for a Heaven that doesn’t exist.
The most elite of these hidden Deniers forge cults, not for mortals, but for their fellow Kindred. In some cases, these Deniers string along their eager followers for decades or even centuries, content that they have found the perfect opiate for intellectually immature undead. In other cases, the Deniers reveal their churches as the frauds they are, basking in the shock of the true believers and loudly connecting the dots for the Acolytes: “As they were fooled, somight you be.” These Deniers find hope again at last, wondering if others like them are pulling the strings of Belial’s Brood and that, one night, they will be invited to become Devil mentors beside them.
Most Kindred (particularly the Sanctified) argue that since Kindred have supernatural powers splendidly adapted to the drives of the Beast, there’s clearly a source of supernatural powers that bestowed both Beast and powers for a reason.
The Atheists don’t always deny this idea directly. (Some do, however. They pick at the notion that Kindred are really that well adapted to survive. The Atheists argue that, by such logic, humankind is designed by God to paint pictures because they have both eyes to see and hands to hold a brush.) More commonly, the Atheists attack the notion that these powers must come from a single, all-powerful creator. After all, if Kindred are such a great idea, why saddle them with both strengths and debilitating weaknesses? If such powers have to come from a source, why one source? Why not five, one per clan? Why must the progenitor of vampirism be omnipotent — given the squabbling to which his alleged creations are prone, he wasn’t clear-sighted enough to create them efficiently. Looking at the Hysteria and misery of the Danse Macabre, it’s hard to argue for intelligent design.
Those are the arguments the Atheists use against the Sanctified, but the Acolytes get just as much defiance. If a goddess or spirit is omnipotent, why is there more than one? Surely there isn’t room in the cosmos for two omnipotent beings. What if they came into conflict? But if they’re not omnipotent, just where do they get off calling themselves divine? Isn’t it a little more likely that what the Circle is dealing with are spirits — admittedly, spirits with a great deal of power — but limited spirits nonetheless? Sure, they look big from our pea-sized perspective, but a man looks smart to a dog. That doesn’t make the man a god.
The Deniers (as they’re often called) are an angry bunch. Many of them deny being angry, but almost without exception, deep down, they are. They are angry at the universe for not being the work of God, but, seeing their dilemma in the stone cold light of the Beast’s ugly urges, believing in any kind of All Father who is kind, decent or still marginally competent is viscerally impossible for them. An evil and vengeful deity would produce works that at least made sense and functioned. This world doesn’t even have that. Instead, it’s a host of contradictions, a muddling struggle of all against all, battling for an illdefined prize that ends up missing from the pedestal.
No good God would suffer the Kindred to exist. They’re parasites who do inevitable physical harm to others, and they’re saddled with a Beast who makes them do inevitable moral harm to themselves.
At the same time, no truly sane and evil Devil would tolerate the Kindred, either. For all the misery they instigate and endure, they are ultimately fleas on the human animal. Entirely mortal inventions such as race slavery and fascism have done more damage than the Kindred ever did or ever could. If vampires are supposed to be a punishing plague, they’re sleeping on the job compared to generations of religious fanatics.
That’s the Carthian Atheist position in a nutshell: the contradictions of Kindred position prove that the supernatural is as random and pointless as the blind clockwork of mutation-based evolution. The Atheists don’t believe there’s a rational, scientific explanation for the Requiem. Instead, they insist that the Requiem itself proves that the supernatural is as ignorant and chaotic as everything else.
There is no hell below for the Deniers. Above them, only sky. After them, only oblivion. Therefore, these ardent nihilists live night to night, in the only world they have or ever will have, striving to extend an existence they despise because there is nothing else for them.
The most visible Deniers are anti-theologians who actively antagonize The Lancea Sanctum and The Circle of the Crone when the Deniers feel they can get away with it. Far more often, they tackle weaker prey, attempting to disgrace and discredit mortal churches. Armed with Disciplines, Deniers can easily wreck a human congregation. But just as with roaches, there’s always a thousand more synagogues and temples and cathedrals and Christian Science reading rooms for every one they stomp.
Behind the shrill attackers, there lurks a much more covert layer. These Deniers keep their beliefs to themselves, but allow their disdain for religion to drive them in their pursuit of mortal political power, the most efficient large-scale, world-shaping tool. Often it suits them to cloak their organizations in religious garb. Being void of faith themselves, they are ideally positioned to rationally analyze cult structures purely as organizations, and articles of belief from an unadulterated marketing standpoint. They build fake cults and send them on crusades against real ones; they nurture martyrs and laugh when they blow themselves up for a Heaven that doesn’t exist.
The most elite of these hidden Deniers forge cults, not for mortals, but for their fellow Kindred. In some cases, these Deniers string along their eager followers for decades or even centuries, content that they have found the perfect opiate for intellectually immature undead. In other cases, the Deniers reveal their churches as the frauds they are, basking in the shock of the true believers and loudly connecting the dots for the Acolytes: “As they were fooled, somight you be.” These Deniers find hope again at last, wondering if others like them are pulling the strings of Belial’s Brood and that, one night, they will be invited to become Devil mentors beside them.
Structure
Covenant Relationship: Atheists are often Movement ideologues. They tend to have highly developed debate skills, or, if they don’t, they’re loud verbal bullies who press their opinions through the intellectual equivalent of a mugging. Their nihilistic creed bends them toward total pragmatism, which is a useful polestar for steering a group as diverse as the Carthians. They are, effectively, the lowest common denominator, and everyone agrees that it’s good to be able to accomplish the goals they set, no matter how varied those goals are. The hard-headed, materialist Deniers are very good at mutilating distractions and ridiculing away philosophical disagreements. Since the Deniers don’t believe in divine reward or punishment, they’re also good at justifying any sneaky, vicious or lazy means toward the Movement’s stated end.
Organization: The Deniers try to be well organized, but the very nature that leads them to atheism makes them hard to unify. Prickly, argumentative people who always need to have the last word are not team players. The most common organization for Carthian Atheists is a sort of one-vampire-one-vote direct democracy — or, at least that’s what they’ve got on paper. In practice, the most vicious arguer gets his way, with all the other Atheists as demagogues looking for a chance to humiliate the alpha.
Organization: The Deniers try to be well organized, but the very nature that leads them to atheism makes them hard to unify. Prickly, argumentative people who always need to have the last word are not team players. The most common organization for Carthian Atheists is a sort of one-vampire-one-vote direct democracy — or, at least that’s what they’ve got on paper. In practice, the most vicious arguer gets his way, with all the other Atheists as demagogues looking for a chance to humiliate the alpha.
Culture
Appearance: A memorably visible minority of the Deniers are violently punked-out — tattered leather jackets and rivet-studded brows between the Mohawk haircut and the glaring, raccoony eyes. These Atheists are usually also anarchists. Pretty much, they’re anti-everything.
Most Atheists, however, are almost stodgy. The men wear sportcoats and slacks and loafers over muted ties and button-down shirts. The women, sensible pantsuits and low-heeled mules, or an earth-tone skirt with a cardigan sweater. As a stereotype, they’re finicky about their look. There are sloppy exceptions, but Carthian Atheists tend to be as precise and fastidious in theirdress as they are in their arguments.
Most Atheists, however, are almost stodgy. The men wear sportcoats and slacks and loafers over muted ties and button-down shirts. The women, sensible pantsuits and low-heeled mules, or an earth-tone skirt with a cardigan sweater. As a stereotype, they’re finicky about their look. There are sloppy exceptions, but Carthian Atheists tend to be as precise and fastidious in theirdress as they are in their arguments.
Assets
Haven: While some can’t resist the irony of a deconsecrated church (especially if it’s been repurposed as something like a pizza parlor) most just look for a haven that’s hard to find and as unobtrusive as possible. If you spent your nights picking fights with the Sanctified, you’d want to be able to hide among the crowd, too.
History
Background: Carthian Atheists are smart or welleducated, and usually both. They’re people who value thought and reason above emotion or visceral experience. They’d rather be right than have fun. While this includes some smart autodidacts who never got a chance to go to college (and are therefore bitterly resentful) and some low-to-average minds who overcompensated with graduate degrees (and are therefore defensive about their ideas and qualifications), the most typical Denier was an academic in life. A surprisingly large number were priests, rabbis, nuns, imams or lay ministers.
Type
Political, Activist
Alternative Names
Deniers
Ruling Organization
Parent Organization