The Octopus
Invictus attempts to rig elections go back as far as the covenant itself. Elders say factions in the First Estate promoted different noble candidates for Holy Roman Emperor and tried to control the minds of the aristocratic electors. In England, The Invictus placed its first pawn in Parliament the year after that body held its first election. Centuries later, Invictus agents helped place Britain’s first prime minister in power. (Other Invictus agents worked against him.)
Many Kindred in the First Estate believe, however, that the golden age of vampiric political manipulation came in the cities of 19th-century America. Millions of immigrants flooded into the cities. They knew little of politics, but they wanted to vote. The result was the growth of political machines. Poor immigrants and their children voted for the candidate who gave them a turkey at Christmas, helped them out of jail when they were drunk and attended their marriages, christenings and funerals. These politicians found jobs for the immigrants’ sons. Tammany Hall was the most famous of these machines, but it was hardly the only one.
Every city in the United States had its own machine — or two, one for each major party — buying votes for small favors and skimming off government money for its cronies. Politicians called this the spoils system: as in “to the victor go the spoils” of assigning cushy government jobs, construction contracts and other favors to supporters.
Naturally, The Invictus could not Ignore such a rich source of political power. The Carthians had a head start in infiltrating the political machines, but the First Estate slowly placed its own agents in the parties. Members of the First Estate had the money the political machines needed and powerful influence over the vast new corporations that government had to work with. The political machines were fundamentally practical organizations, run by practical men who didn’t care about ideology. The Invictus subverted the machines one by one. Quite a few Carthians switched sides and joined The Invictus.
Reform movements of the early 20th century weakened many of the political machines. Politicians couldn’t hand out jobs so freely. New Deal entitlements meant that poor people didn’t have to beg the ward boss for an extra bucket of coal in the winter. In some cities, however, the machines never completely died — and The Invictus still exploits them. As electoral democracy spreads from Western Europe and North America to Latin America, Eastern Europe and other parts of the world, machine politics come too, and unabashed cronyism remains very strong in much of the world.
The Invictus calls its experts in machine politics “the Octopus.” The name comes from an image much older than Tammany Hall. An early edition of Thomas Hobbes’ Leviathan, Or the Matter, Form and Power of a Commonwealth was graced with an illustration of an octopus wearing a crown and bearing in its tentacles an orb, scepter and other symbols of royal power. The Invictus loved Hobbes’ arguments for royal absolutism, seeing in them justification for the covenant’s own power over Kindred and kine. Some of the covenant’s political masterminds took to calling themselves “Leviathans.” As street-level politics assumed greater importance, The Invictus gained new generations of political manipulators who kept the image of the royal Leviathan but didn’t care to vex their street-smart mortal minions with booklearning analogies. These Invictus members simply called themselves “the Octopus” and said the eight arms represented how busy they were.
The Octopus still has chapters in many cities around the world. In each city, the Octopus works through a different front organization of mortals. In one city, the Octopus calls itself the Progressive Democratic Caucus. In another, it’s the Conservative Leadership Committee. In a third, it’s the Worker’s Socialist Union. Democrat, Republican, Labour, Tory, Socialist — it’s all the same to the Octopus. No matter what national party platforms say, every Octopus chapter has the same goals: bring in the votes, pay out with favors and keep the city government obedient to The Invictus.
Many Kindred in the First Estate believe, however, that the golden age of vampiric political manipulation came in the cities of 19th-century America. Millions of immigrants flooded into the cities. They knew little of politics, but they wanted to vote. The result was the growth of political machines. Poor immigrants and their children voted for the candidate who gave them a turkey at Christmas, helped them out of jail when they were drunk and attended their marriages, christenings and funerals. These politicians found jobs for the immigrants’ sons. Tammany Hall was the most famous of these machines, but it was hardly the only one.
Every city in the United States had its own machine — or two, one for each major party — buying votes for small favors and skimming off government money for its cronies. Politicians called this the spoils system: as in “to the victor go the spoils” of assigning cushy government jobs, construction contracts and other favors to supporters.
Naturally, The Invictus could not Ignore such a rich source of political power. The Carthians had a head start in infiltrating the political machines, but the First Estate slowly placed its own agents in the parties. Members of the First Estate had the money the political machines needed and powerful influence over the vast new corporations that government had to work with. The political machines were fundamentally practical organizations, run by practical men who didn’t care about ideology. The Invictus subverted the machines one by one. Quite a few Carthians switched sides and joined The Invictus.
Reform movements of the early 20th century weakened many of the political machines. Politicians couldn’t hand out jobs so freely. New Deal entitlements meant that poor people didn’t have to beg the ward boss for an extra bucket of coal in the winter. In some cities, however, the machines never completely died — and The Invictus still exploits them. As electoral democracy spreads from Western Europe and North America to Latin America, Eastern Europe and other parts of the world, machine politics come too, and unabashed cronyism remains very strong in much of the world.
The Invictus calls its experts in machine politics “the Octopus.” The name comes from an image much older than Tammany Hall. An early edition of Thomas Hobbes’ Leviathan, Or the Matter, Form and Power of a Commonwealth was graced with an illustration of an octopus wearing a crown and bearing in its tentacles an orb, scepter and other symbols of royal power. The Invictus loved Hobbes’ arguments for royal absolutism, seeing in them justification for the covenant’s own power over Kindred and kine. Some of the covenant’s political masterminds took to calling themselves “Leviathans.” As street-level politics assumed greater importance, The Invictus gained new generations of political manipulators who kept the image of the royal Leviathan but didn’t care to vex their street-smart mortal minions with booklearning analogies. These Invictus members simply called themselves “the Octopus” and said the eight arms represented how busy they were.
The Octopus still has chapters in many cities around the world. In each city, the Octopus works through a different front organization of mortals. In one city, the Octopus calls itself the Progressive Democratic Caucus. In another, it’s the Conservative Leadership Committee. In a third, it’s the Worker’s Socialist Union. Democrat, Republican, Labour, Tory, Socialist — it’s all the same to the Octopus. No matter what national party platforms say, every Octopus chapter has the same goals: bring in the votes, pay out with favors and keep the city government obedient to The Invictus.
Structure
To become an Octopus member, a Kindred needs at least Allies •• or Contacts •, plus Politics ••. That gets a character into the Organization. A character needs at least Politics •••, Allies •••• (including at least one elected official or important bureaucrat), Contacts ••• and Resources •••• before the Committee invites her to join.
Membership in the Organization does not give a vampire any Status in The Invictus, but it’s a good start. Unless a character makes a powerful enemy in the covenant, she can buy her first dot of Status with no impediment. Members of the Committee can have Covenant Status • or •• but seldom much more than that. The Octopus is not popular with the First Estate’s elders, who block members’ further advancement.
Covenant: Ever since the 19th century, the Octopus has been an important faction within The Invictus. The golden age of machine politics has passed, but the faction retains control of the political process in many cities. That gives the Octopus great influence in the covenant as a whole.
In fact, some elders think the Octopus has too much influence. The faction’s particular brand of street-level politics offends some elders who prefer a more remote and classically aristocratic power elite such as, say, themselves. Especially hidebound elders say the Octopus is still part of The Carthian Movement and should be purged from The Invictus. The Octopus has powerful enemies who want to see it fail, so power can pass to their hands instead. However, enough other Invictus members find the Octopus useful enough that no city has seen open attacks on the faction — yet.
Organization: The Octopus works chiefly on the scale of city governments. The faction’s chapters never coordinate on a statewide or provincial level, let alone nationally or internationally. Octopus chapters routinely rig elections for state or national offices, such as congressional representatives or members of Parliament — to bring tax-money pork to their city, not for any wider purpose. The Octopus has no conception that it could, or should, attempt any political action beyond its separate municipalities.
Each chapter is led by a group of Kindred called the Committee. (The Octopus takes a practical approach to naming.) The Committee decides who to support for public office and divvies up neighborhoods among Octopus members. A single chapter of the Octopus seldom includes more than a dozen Kindred, with four or five of them on the Committee, and another dozen or so Retainers who know they work for vampires. The chapter’s political front is called the Organization. The front group consists of up to 100 mortals who are in the dark and any remaining Kindred. The mortals do most of the street-level work, of course, but every vampire in the Octopus has intensive contact with the public as well.
The Octopus engages in many activities to rig elections and keep its pawns in power. First and foremost, members of the Organization called “runners” stay in close contact with voters. In some cities, junior members of the Organization take responsibility for a single block or housing project. The mortals spend their days attending weddings, christenings, funerals, bar mitzvahs and other family festivities, passing on the best wishes of the Organization and the party it claims to represent. As mentioned, they also bail out drunks, pay speeding tickets, persuade landlords to put the rent off just a few days until payday and help kids fill out their first job applications — and make sure everyone they help becomes registered voters. When election day comes, the rank-and-file members of the Organization visit everyone they’ve helped during the year and make sure they get to the polls (or, in some regions, mail their absentee ballots). The Organization kindly supplies proxy voters for loyal party members who unfortunately cannot reach the polls because they are shut-ins, passed out from drink or drugs, out of state, in jail or dead.
Other members of the chapter work with local businesses, churches and community groups. Octopus members talk to business owners and managers to find out what they want from government and promise them they’ll get what they want. Octopus members visit preachers, priests and rabbis — any religion, any denomination — to tell them how the Organization’s favored party appreciates their work and their place in the community and how much they’d like to help. Ditto for secular community groups. Kindred generally handle the important meetings with people who can supply endorsements and mobilize voters.
Of course, a political party could not legally buy votes by promising specific favors to businesses, churches and other groups — but the Organization is not actually a party. It’s just a group of private citizens who happen to support a particular party. As private citizens, they can pay to fix a community center’s leaking roof, help a church re-pave its parking lot or ask a city selectman to help a particular local businessman. Or they can ask their wife’s best friend’s brother to do it for them. Nothing illegal here . . . . And there’s nothing illegal if a businessman should just happen to make a large donation to the party recommended by the nice fella who introduced him to the city councilman. And there’s nothing illegal if the church’s preacher gives a sermon in favor of a certain policy the party advocates, without mentioning the party by name. And there’s nothing illegal if the workers at the community center tell people who fixed the roof and who they think would make a fine mayor, county councilman or planning commissioner.
Sometimes, the candidates backed by the Organization are members themselves. In the great old days of Tammany, this was often the case. (Tammany boss George Washington Plunkitt held four elected offices in a single year.) Now, the Octopus can’t be so obvious. Nobody pays much attention to low-ranking, obscure officials like water district commissioners or school board members, but mayors, county auditors and state representatives can’t show such obvious connections. The local party leaders, however, are strongly encouraged to join the Organization, and the Organization uses its masses of registered party members to place its candidates at the heads of party organizations, too. An Octopus chapter can usually gain such a grip over a local party’s chapter that the two institutions become one and the same. The Committee decides who the party should support; the Organization lines up the campaign funding, endorsements and a lot of voters, and the party goes along.
Politicians elected by the Organization do favors for it. Members who are in business get tips about upcoming government contracts and projects. For instance, the city might decide to knock down some rotting old slums and build a park; it turns out that several members of the Organization recently bought the buildings and are willing to sell them to the city (for a lot more than they paid). The city needs to fix potholes; a company owned by an Organization member submits the low bid. More precisely, members of the Committee own the property or submit the low bid.
The Committee members supply most of the funding for the Organization’s efforts, and they reap most of the spoils in return. Committee members may also pass tips to other Invictus members so they too can profit from government contracts and sweetheart deals — and no one can prove collusion or graft, because the connections between the Organization and the contractor are invisible. Most importantly, Committee members sell other Invictus members access to the politicians the Committee places in office. It’s not that other Invictus members can’t cultivate politicians of their own; it’s just so much easier to ask the Octopus for favors, since Octopus members work with politics full-time.
Octopus chapters offer patronage to everyone connected to them, though, not just Kindred. Octopus members know a lot of people and look for ways these mortals can help each other. For instance, city and county governments cannot disburse make-work jobs as freely as they did in Tammany’s heyday, but Committee members can recommend that one supporter give a job to another supporter’s relative. A community leader with Organization ties has better access to Organization-backed politicians, and so his neighborhood gets more police and the potholes are filled sooner. Once an Octopus chapter establishes itself, the Committee members don’t have to rely on their own money to buy favors; they act as middlemen between people allied to the Organization and buy favors with other people’s Resources.
Unlike some Invictus factions, the Octopus has no Kindred-specific ceremonies of its own and no formal procedures for membership. A Kindred who wants to join an Octopus chapter simply approaches a Committee member and says she wants in. The Committee member asks what this Kindred can do for the Organization. The applicant says what votes she can line up or which useful mortals she can influence — and she’s in the Organization. If, after several years, she shows she’s a skilled political operator, the other committee members might invite her to join their ranks.
On national holidays, though, the front organization meets at its headquarters for a day and evening of speeches, eating and drinking, flags, bunting and patriotic displays. The Committee members arrive after dark and speak last, of course. Octopus members do not attend Kindred functions that happen on the night of an election day; they’re too busy analyzing election results and planning what to do with the winners.
Membership in the Organization does not give a vampire any Status in The Invictus, but it’s a good start. Unless a character makes a powerful enemy in the covenant, she can buy her first dot of Status with no impediment. Members of the Committee can have Covenant Status • or •• but seldom much more than that. The Octopus is not popular with the First Estate’s elders, who block members’ further advancement.
Covenant: Ever since the 19th century, the Octopus has been an important faction within The Invictus. The golden age of machine politics has passed, but the faction retains control of the political process in many cities. That gives the Octopus great influence in the covenant as a whole.
In fact, some elders think the Octopus has too much influence. The faction’s particular brand of street-level politics offends some elders who prefer a more remote and classically aristocratic power elite such as, say, themselves. Especially hidebound elders say the Octopus is still part of The Carthian Movement and should be purged from The Invictus. The Octopus has powerful enemies who want to see it fail, so power can pass to their hands instead. However, enough other Invictus members find the Octopus useful enough that no city has seen open attacks on the faction — yet.
Organization: The Octopus works chiefly on the scale of city governments. The faction’s chapters never coordinate on a statewide or provincial level, let alone nationally or internationally. Octopus chapters routinely rig elections for state or national offices, such as congressional representatives or members of Parliament — to bring tax-money pork to their city, not for any wider purpose. The Octopus has no conception that it could, or should, attempt any political action beyond its separate municipalities.
Each chapter is led by a group of Kindred called the Committee. (The Octopus takes a practical approach to naming.) The Committee decides who to support for public office and divvies up neighborhoods among Octopus members. A single chapter of the Octopus seldom includes more than a dozen Kindred, with four or five of them on the Committee, and another dozen or so Retainers who know they work for vampires. The chapter’s political front is called the Organization. The front group consists of up to 100 mortals who are in the dark and any remaining Kindred. The mortals do most of the street-level work, of course, but every vampire in the Octopus has intensive contact with the public as well.
The Octopus engages in many activities to rig elections and keep its pawns in power. First and foremost, members of the Organization called “runners” stay in close contact with voters. In some cities, junior members of the Organization take responsibility for a single block or housing project. The mortals spend their days attending weddings, christenings, funerals, bar mitzvahs and other family festivities, passing on the best wishes of the Organization and the party it claims to represent. As mentioned, they also bail out drunks, pay speeding tickets, persuade landlords to put the rent off just a few days until payday and help kids fill out their first job applications — and make sure everyone they help becomes registered voters. When election day comes, the rank-and-file members of the Organization visit everyone they’ve helped during the year and make sure they get to the polls (or, in some regions, mail their absentee ballots). The Organization kindly supplies proxy voters for loyal party members who unfortunately cannot reach the polls because they are shut-ins, passed out from drink or drugs, out of state, in jail or dead.
Other members of the chapter work with local businesses, churches and community groups. Octopus members talk to business owners and managers to find out what they want from government and promise them they’ll get what they want. Octopus members visit preachers, priests and rabbis — any religion, any denomination — to tell them how the Organization’s favored party appreciates their work and their place in the community and how much they’d like to help. Ditto for secular community groups. Kindred generally handle the important meetings with people who can supply endorsements and mobilize voters.
Of course, a political party could not legally buy votes by promising specific favors to businesses, churches and other groups — but the Organization is not actually a party. It’s just a group of private citizens who happen to support a particular party. As private citizens, they can pay to fix a community center’s leaking roof, help a church re-pave its parking lot or ask a city selectman to help a particular local businessman. Or they can ask their wife’s best friend’s brother to do it for them. Nothing illegal here . . . . And there’s nothing illegal if a businessman should just happen to make a large donation to the party recommended by the nice fella who introduced him to the city councilman. And there’s nothing illegal if the church’s preacher gives a sermon in favor of a certain policy the party advocates, without mentioning the party by name. And there’s nothing illegal if the workers at the community center tell people who fixed the roof and who they think would make a fine mayor, county councilman or planning commissioner.
Sometimes, the candidates backed by the Organization are members themselves. In the great old days of Tammany, this was often the case. (Tammany boss George Washington Plunkitt held four elected offices in a single year.) Now, the Octopus can’t be so obvious. Nobody pays much attention to low-ranking, obscure officials like water district commissioners or school board members, but mayors, county auditors and state representatives can’t show such obvious connections. The local party leaders, however, are strongly encouraged to join the Organization, and the Organization uses its masses of registered party members to place its candidates at the heads of party organizations, too. An Octopus chapter can usually gain such a grip over a local party’s chapter that the two institutions become one and the same. The Committee decides who the party should support; the Organization lines up the campaign funding, endorsements and a lot of voters, and the party goes along.
Politicians elected by the Organization do favors for it. Members who are in business get tips about upcoming government contracts and projects. For instance, the city might decide to knock down some rotting old slums and build a park; it turns out that several members of the Organization recently bought the buildings and are willing to sell them to the city (for a lot more than they paid). The city needs to fix potholes; a company owned by an Organization member submits the low bid. More precisely, members of the Committee own the property or submit the low bid.
The Committee members supply most of the funding for the Organization’s efforts, and they reap most of the spoils in return. Committee members may also pass tips to other Invictus members so they too can profit from government contracts and sweetheart deals — and no one can prove collusion or graft, because the connections between the Organization and the contractor are invisible. Most importantly, Committee members sell other Invictus members access to the politicians the Committee places in office. It’s not that other Invictus members can’t cultivate politicians of their own; it’s just so much easier to ask the Octopus for favors, since Octopus members work with politics full-time.
Octopus chapters offer patronage to everyone connected to them, though, not just Kindred. Octopus members know a lot of people and look for ways these mortals can help each other. For instance, city and county governments cannot disburse make-work jobs as freely as they did in Tammany’s heyday, but Committee members can recommend that one supporter give a job to another supporter’s relative. A community leader with Organization ties has better access to Organization-backed politicians, and so his neighborhood gets more police and the potholes are filled sooner. Once an Octopus chapter establishes itself, the Committee members don’t have to rely on their own money to buy favors; they act as middlemen between people allied to the Organization and buy favors with other people’s Resources.
Unlike some Invictus factions, the Octopus has no Kindred-specific ceremonies of its own and no formal procedures for membership. A Kindred who wants to join an Octopus chapter simply approaches a Committee member and says she wants in. The Committee member asks what this Kindred can do for the Organization. The applicant says what votes she can line up or which useful mortals she can influence — and she’s in the Organization. If, after several years, she shows she’s a skilled political operator, the other committee members might invite her to join their ranks.
On national holidays, though, the front organization meets at its headquarters for a day and evening of speeches, eating and drinking, flags, bunting and patriotic displays. The Committee members arrive after dark and speak last, of course. Octopus members do not attend Kindred functions that happen on the night of an election day; they’re too busy analyzing election results and planning what to do with the winners.
Culture
Appearance: Members of the Octopus dress down. One of the faction’s cardinal rules is never to give voters an impression of putting on airs. No member of the Octopus wears anything fancier than a polyester-blend sport coat and slacks from Kmart; the faction’s leaders tell new recruits they’d better learn to feel comfortable in blue jeans and T-shirts, if they aren’t already. Octopus members play a double Masquerade: they pretend to be living, instead of undead, and they pretend to be men and women of the people, instead of a ruthlessly exploitative elite.
Public Agenda
Haven: Octopus members need to stay in close contact with their constituents. That means no fancy houses or luxury condos in the good part of town. A small bungalow in the suburbs, or a townhouse in the inner city, is good enough for the Octopus — a home like their constituents live in or can reasonably aspire to. Octopus members cannot allow any hint of their undead nature to show in their havens, because they have to invite the neighbors in for party caucuses and other political meetings. A lightproof basement with a locking door, however, does not stand out as anything unusual.
Each Octopus chapter also has a headquarters used by its front organization. Some chapters own a whole building, though not a very large one. Other chapters rent space in the sort of elderly, down-at-the-heels office block found in most modern cities. The building might have been a Masonic hall several decades ago, but now it holds a dance studio, a publisher of religious tracts, a coffee shop and several small businesses with “Enterprises” in their names. The building has a small auditorium, though, which the Octopus can use for its meetings.
Each Octopus chapter also has a headquarters used by its front organization. Some chapters own a whole building, though not a very large one. Other chapters rent space in the sort of elderly, down-at-the-heels office block found in most modern cities. The building might have been a Masonic hall several decades ago, but now it holds a dance studio, a publisher of religious tracts, a coffee shop and several small businesses with “Enterprises” in their names. The building has a small auditorium, though, which the Octopus can use for its meetings.
History
Background: Most Octopus members come from lowerto-middle-class families and neighborhoods. They learned their politics by doing. Many began by doing volunteer work for an election campaign or through an activist group, and became good at hustling for votes, money and access to people already in power. If the members went to college, they were more likely to get degrees in law or business than political science (though the Octopus does recruit the occasional policy wonk). By the time the Octopus notices a potential childe, she’s already an experienced campaigner. The Octopus never Embraces people who actually hold political office: an elected official has to work during the day. Instead, the Octopus chooses campaign strategists, media experts, activists and other people who make it possible for candidates to run and win. Other Kindred can join the Octopus if they love politics and are willing to work like dogs to see that the faction’s chosen candidates reach office.
Octopus members favor high Social and Mental Attributes. The most important Skill is, of course, Politics; but members also frequently excel at Investigation (to find what potential allies and enemies want), Empathy (ditto), Persuasion (to convince people), Streetwise (to know who has influence) and Subterfuge (to lie convincingly, know when they are lied to and for dirty tricks in general). The faction does not scorn Expression or Socialize, but members usually leave the public speaking to candidates.
Octopus members favor high Social and Mental Attributes. The most important Skill is, of course, Politics; but members also frequently excel at Investigation (to find what potential allies and enemies want), Empathy (ditto), Persuasion (to convince people), Streetwise (to know who has influence) and Subterfuge (to lie convincingly, know when they are lied to and for dirty tricks in general). The faction does not scorn Expression or Socialize, but members usually leave the public speaking to candidates.
“Mister Mayor, remember who put you into office. Haha, the voters, right, you made a
funny. No, seriously, bubbeleh, Chlor-Chem funneled a lot of money into your campaign and
it’s only fair they receive something in return. They want a re-zoning in Belltown so they can
build a new factory. I know, the NIMBYs would go nuts. But I also know the folks in Clover
Heights would love to have a factory or anything that could bring in a few jobs. I think we can
work something out that makes everybody happy.”
Type
Political, Faction / Party
Alternative Names
The Hands
Ruling Organization
Parent Organization
Disciplines: Dominate and Majesty obviously have the greatest use for molding minds. With a little creativity, though, most Disciplines can be used to aid in political scheming. The Animalism power to possess animals, for example, enables Octopus members to spy on opponents (or potential allies). Auspex reveals mortals’ true opinions and emotions, and may reveal past events useful for blackmail or dissimulation (for instance, pretending you have a personal history resembling that of a community leader who could give a useful endorsement). Nightmare can frighten an opponent’s supporters. Obfuscate lets an Octopus member attend an opponent’s strategy meeting and hear the plans; a Kindred especially skilled in the Discipline’s use can even impersonate an opposing candidate to create scandals to order. Protean is only useful at the highest level of mastery: a vampire can enter the opposition’s headquarters in mist-form to rummage through their files, looking for damaging information and people counted on for support.
Celerity, Resilience and Vigor find the least use of all, unless something has gone very wrong and the campaigns have begun attacking each other’s operatives physically. In the developed world, this hardly ever happens. In cities of the developing and Third World, however, beatings and outright assassination attempts still take place in attempts to influence elections (far more so in the World of Darkness than the real world).
Weakness: If the Octopus has one weakness, it’s that the faction underestimates the force of ideology. Time and again, voters have blindsided the Octopus over issues these technicians of power didn’t think could interest anyone but a few cranks. Octopus members were slow to latch onto the civil rights movement and the environmental movement; by the time they understood the opposition to the Vietnam War, the war was over. Currently, they ignore the backlash against globalization and Christian conservatives’ outrage at gay rights, abortion and other cultural issues. Intellectually, Octopus members may know that people care about transcendent values; but even the members who came from activist groups tend to be out of touch about the latest issues.
On a deeper level, the Octopus isn’t very good at solving anything. A little help with the rent doesn’t lift the working poor out of poverty. Helping a church get a new roof doesn’t improve public morals. All too often, the Octopus trades one problem for another: for instance, the Octopus might attract a new factory to a city for the sake of jobs, but offer so many tax concessions and environmental waivers that the city government becomes poorer and the pollution worsens.
Concepts: Neighborhood spokeswoman, business lawyer, old-time ward boss, political gangster, opposition researcher, campaign consultant, legitimate businessman, secretive kingmaker, pavement-pounding party activist
Other Political Mechanics
The Octopus is not the only faction of political mechanics and operatives in the covenant — but the Octopus is quite large. Most groups of political mechanics are much smaller, however. Some are private collections of like-minded monsters working to change their domain to suit their needs; others are carefully assembled coteries designed to maintain the Status quo or quietly, gently influence mortal laws and attention. The single most important issue for virtually every faction of political operatives and strategists in The Invictus, however, is the Masquerade.As might be expected, most “influential coteries” are highly specialized, focused on just one or two local goals. It’s not uncommon for a coterie — or even a faction — of political mechanics to work together only when projects arise; some assemble for a few years of work every decade or so. Some work toward a single goal (the disgrace of an enemy Prince, the ascent of a Society Primogen member, the acquisition of a coveted estate) and then never work together again. Ultimately, what makes a faction of political mechanics different from any other politically savvy, self-serving collection of Kindred is the focus on the philosophy in action, the politics, rather than the success of any one participating Kindred. Political mechanics work for the success of the covenant and the domain, rather than the coterie alone.