Genius The Transgression/Chapter Three:Systems and Foundations

"The fear of infinity is a form of myopia that destroys the possibility of seeing the actual infinite, even though it in its highest form has created and sustains us, and in its secondary transfinite forms occurs all around us and even inhabits our minds."

-Georg Cantor

A genius' Breakthrough is an amazing and hideous event, and a great accomplishment: those who survive the experience (somewhat) sane and whole should be commended merely for making it through in one piece. But catalyzing is only the beginning of a genius' journey. For weeks or even months, a genius might flail about with nothing but raw Mania and the effects it can engender. Some lonesomes might stay here indefinitely, with a touch of insanity separating them from mere mortals and a gift for understanding machines and pushing them to the limit.

But eventually, most geniuses, even isolated ones, start to recognize patterns and systems. They look past the apparently random shifts of Mania, the equations that dance on the page or behind the computer screen, and find tangles of predictability and repeatability, something they can hold on to: the Axioms of mad science. From there a genius can start to build up a system and a philosophy.

The Foundations:

A genius' first Axiom―and likewise her first wonders―are often based on her catalyst. These "core" Axioms―Apokalypsi, Epikrato, Exelixi, Katastrofi, and Metaptropi―are glimpsed more clearly than the others, as they seem tied to the natural conditions of a genius' Inspired soul. But many geniuses, after cobbling together their first wonders based almost purely on the intensity of the emotions they felt during their Breakthroughs, cast around for more. Curiosity is a companion to all geniuses, and "Are there more people like me?" is a natural question to ask.

Some geniuses find no one. Even for one of the Inspired, it's not easy to know the telltale signs of mad science, nor to separate Inspired ramblings from crazy ones, whether on the Internet or face-to-face. Many lonesomes, even ones living amidst dozens or hundreds of other geniuses, grow discouraged after a cursory search and retreat into the solitude of their work. Others, especially as they tilt toward madness and megalomania, are noticed by Lemuria, which indoctrinates them into the Lemurian worldview.

The foundations were created to stop this loss of brilliant minds to Lemuria or isolation. The Conclave of Troy was called in 1814 to organize the world's (or at least Europe's and Arabia's) free geniuses against the encroaching threat of Lemuria. (The conclave took place in the ruins of another lost city, not actually Troy, about 300 miles from the site of Schliemann's discovery; no one bothered to change the name because no one knows what that city was called and now no one can find it.)

There, free geniuses representing the Invisible College, the Brotherhood of Artifice and Mechanism, the Children of the Demiurge, and the Cartographic Order of St. Christopher the Undeceived, along with a dozen smaller groups, united to form the Peerage, an affiliation of "peculiar natural philosophers and savants" dedicated to rescuing their fellows from madness and the depredations of Lemuria. Over the years, the number, kinds, and names of the foundations have changed: the Cartographic Order was swallowed by the Invisible College, then re-emerged as the Navigators; the Brotherhood split violently into the Artificers and the Mechanists; the Fellowship for Manifest Direction appeared to confront Lemurian industrial hegemony; the Progenitors were destroyed and reborn; the New American Artisans flourished before dwindling into insignificance, and so on. But the Peerage remained and prospered, some groups seeking out mad scientists hidden in their midst, others searching distant parts of the world for lone geniuses, while still others organized the great libraries and philosophical roundtables that drew the respect and attention of geniuses all over the world.

Today the Peerage boasts five foundations, as well as numerous fellowships, splinter groups, and affiliated collaboratives. Most geniuses who are aware of the larger Inspired community and who do not immediately join Lemuria to fulfill their psychological needs (that is, most geniuses fit to be played in a game) end up as peers. There they are tutored by more experienced geniuses, given the foundation's organon―its core philosophical texts―and introduced to the rest of the Peerage. This is not a formal process, and the Peerage is not a formal organization: there is no official debut, no code of law, no system for "mad scientist duels," and no secret decoder rings or handshakes. The foundations are deliberately non-hierarchical and open, to encourage as many geniuses as possible to join.

This openness has not always been the rule. The Peerage goes through regular cycles of alternating openness and exclusiveness. Currently the foundations are approachable and accommodating, but in times of great stress or difficulty, such as during the last Invisible War or during the ideological struggles of the early 1990s, they can become rigid and dogmatic. For the foreseeable future, though, the Peerage has relaxed its standards and encourages as many geniuses to participate in it as possible.

Joining a foundation offers a genius more than a social network. Though the psychological cushion of the Peerage should not be underestimated, most geniuses join to get access to the organon and the mechanical benefits that accompany access to a regularly updated body of mad research. This flow of data toward the genius offers two benefits. First, a genius receives an additional favored Axiom, chosen from among the foundation's two Axioms of focus. Second, it offers a grant. The grant is a special technique that the foundation offers its members.

Keeping Up the Subscription:

In order to benefit from a foundation's favored Axiom and grant, the genius must stay in contact with other members of the foundation, contributing research data and keeping abreast of the latest developments. In game terms, the genius must bind one point of Mania to her foundation. This bound Mania doesn't just vanish into the ether: it turns into research, analysis, useful samples, or articles that are examined by other members of the foundation, who in turn absorb that data. That data, along with the mindset necessary to appreciate it, in turn "fuels" the favored Axiom and Grant of geniuses in that foundation.

A genius can leave a foundation at any time, but it takes one month for the subscriptions and services to run out. After a month she loses all foundation benefits and regains her point of bound Mania. She will also automatically lose access to her foundation if entirely out of touch with the Inspired world (no email, snail mail, rocket courier, or passenger pigeon) for a full month.

Leaving a foundation is not necessarily permanent and is not even very stigmatized. The situation can be rectified simply by re-binding a point of Mania, getting back in touch to renew one's subscriptions, and waiting one month to regain foundation status. The current loose organization of the Peerage frowns on holding grudges and understands that sometimes geniuses are incommunicado (or Mania-poor) for long periods of time.

Changing Foundations:

It is possible for a genius to change foundations, or even to change affiliations, moving from rogue status to part of the Peerage or Lemuria, or back, or to move from the Peerage to Lemuria. This requires two things. First, the foundation requests a donation of Mania equal to the genius' maximum Mania, paid off either all at once or over a period of time. Second, the genius must devote time to study and retraining. In mechanical terms, the genius must gain one dot in a specific Skill. (If at the maximum number of dots for his Inspiration, she may instead elect to gain a Specialization in that Skill.)

Foundation:	Skill:
Artificer	Computer or Crafts
Director	Persuasion or Socialize
Navigator	Athletics or Drive
Progenitor	Medicine or Occult
Scholastic	Academics or Investigation
Atomist	Politics
Etherite	Science
Mechanist	Crafts
Oracle	Occult
Phenomenologist	Academics

If looking to join a foundation, the genius must not be an unmada. Conversely, if looking to join a Lemurian baramin, the genius must be an unmada.

The genius joins the foundation after having bound a point of Mania to that foundation for a full month.

Becoming a rogue does not require any Skill training, and occurs automatically after a month if the genius stops keeping up her subscription.

The International Union of Artifice

Name: Artificers

Nicknames: Makers, Tinkers, Artisans

Currently the fastest-growing foundation, the Union of Artifice is undergoing growing pains as its influences reaches places not previously contacted, or even noticed, by the Yankee inventors who founded it three centuries ago. A seething cauldron of creativity, anger, and clashing cultural identities, the Artificers have changed, almost overnight, from the Peerage's eccentric hobbyists and harmless tinkers to a politically-charged nest of ideologues stumbling together into a new world.

The traditional image of the Artificers plays off mortals' fears of the irresponsible, disinterested inventor who cares nothing for what he creates or how it changes the world. Artificers were―sometimes still are―compulsive builders and designers who create because they need to create, indifferent to the needs and wants of the outside world, blithely unconcerned with the suffering they unleash. Artificers represent the proliferation of nuclear weaponry, the irresponsible use of pesticides, and―horrors imagined but not yet possible to mortal science―armies of robots taking lives or jobs with equal indifference. The shadow of the Artificer arises whenever people fear the Pandora's box of new technologies, and realize that they are being made to conform to a changing world, not that the world is changing to benefit them.

Now, though, this image of the Artificers has grown tangled with a new one that plays on different but perhaps more intense fears. Humanity, since its inception, has sinned greatly against its fellows, and many people in power today fear that technology will level the old playing fields, letting the poor and the oppressed lash out―or worse, compete―against the people who once held all the cards. The Artificers once built for the sake of building; now, just as many build to claim what they see is theirs. Both behaviors are equally horrifying to those who have a vested interest in the old order of the world.

Despite the fear the Artificers engender, no one better exemplifies the new spirit of creation that has swept the mortal world and now echoes in the society of the Inspired. Artificers literally create their own worlds: a Maker's laboratory, and even her home, takes on the forms and aesthetics she admires. Flowers grow to cover wrought iron when a floral Maker takes up residence. Art spreads across walls and ceilings wherever an artistic Artificer rests his head for the night. Charming electronic machines appear in the windows of a digital Artificer's office. This isn't magic, of course, but the byproduct of creation; Artificers are too full of life and passion to contain it all within their wonders, and it spreads out of them, in their work and free time, to transform the world.

Focus:

The Artificers are builders, designers, and engineers, and while their interest can turn to nearly any type of building material, they are typically considered the masters of mad engineering. The early days of the foundation saw a focus on metallurgy and clockwork, although now Artificers turn their hands to alloys and polymers, computer science and robotics, carpentry and masonry, even genetic engineering: if a material can be used to build things, there's an Artificer out there making stuff out of it, from acrylic oil to dead flesh.

Artificers are pathological builders; that's what defines them. Navigators are better at using a wonder, Progenitors at shaping it, Scholastics at explaining it, but no one creates like an Artificer creates. While the traditional focus on metal and gears remains, Artificers are increasingly diverse in their interests. The Union has also traditionally been poor, or at least humble, and the foundation's current focus on the makeshift, the found, and the reused, means there aren't as many aerospace engineers or architects as there are watchmakers, cut-rate robot-builders, and back-alley bladesmiths.

History:

Tinkers, builders, and smiths have existed since the dawn of human civilization, and taken thematically, the Artificers are probably the oldest foundation. Groups whose ideas went into the formation of the Artificers have been recorded in ancient Egypt, China, and Rome, all over Medieval Europe from Byzantium to the Iberian Peninsula, and in Japan, India, and the Polynesian islands. Any time geniuses have been more interested in building things than in understanding, using, exploiting, or even perfecting them, the spirit of the Artificers has appeared.

While legend holds that the Artificers appeared in North America in the mid-18th century (and ties them closely to the founding of the United States), the Artificers are actually the result of a great convocation of tinkers, smiths, and builders from all over the world, which took place in Philadelphia in 1752. These individuals―often poor, many foreign, usually eccentric, always ingenious―argued for nearly a month before rejecting Lemuria and founding the Brotherhood of Artifice and Mechanism. Over the next half-century, the Invisible College took interest in the rough-and-tumble group, referring to them as the "Little Brothers." The Artificers were one of the groups to join the Peerage when it was officially created early in the 19th century, after which they adopted their current name.

Always a loose-knit foundation, the Artificers took in geniuses that other peers didn't want to touch: Africans whose rootwork hoodoo medicine the aristocratic Demiurges scoffed at, Jewish watchmakers, tinkers of Rom or other unusual descent, Yankee gunsmiths, and early steam pioneers, none of whom fit in with the clean, reasonable Renaissance Man image of the Invisible College. As new foundations appeared and the Peerage developed and grew more inclusive, the Artificers refined their image, eschewing philosophy (those who would not accept that change became the latest iteration of the Mechanist baramin) and focusing entirely on the creation of wonders. Throughout the 20th century, while the Inspired wars raged, the Artificers were the poor, eccentric auxiliaries to the rest of the Peerage, building what they wanted for the sheer joy of creation, asking little in return, and not being much of a philosophical threat to anyone―though their wonders did occasionally get out of control.

It wasn't until the late 20th century that things started to change. With Lemuria in shambles, the simple "make stuff" philosophy of the Artificers spread to places previously strangled by the Lemurians or wrapped up in the war, such as southeast Asia and sub-Saharan Africa. The Artificers also found a following in the traditional territories of the Peerage―the cities of Europe and the Americas―but with a new audience, one that did not traditionally catalyze. The poor, the desperate, and the angry came to the Artificers from slums and barrios, war-torn hellholes and depopulated villages, and their coming transformed the foundation.

These new Artificers were angry, broken, frightened, and desperate. They weren't, as the peers like to believe of themselves, the world's intellectual aristocracy, but a new sort of creature, lean and hungry and very, very dangerous. Born into want and rage all over the world, they had been ignored and derided by the other foundations, enslaved and exterminated by the Lemurians. While the rest of the Peerage reorganized itself and purged its corrupt elements, the Artificers had no natural defense against these New Makers, the scions of the desperate and the disaffected. The Artificers had, since their inception, been the poor, patient cousins of the other foundations, too humble or obsessed to ask for much, and all that changed overnight. Today, the Council of Artifice is a disorganized medley of anarchists, cast-offs, failed scientists, and post-punk engineers, desperate for resources and respect.

Organization:

The Artificers are the least organized of all the foundations, and they've always been that way, despite occasional attempts to revive the Medieval guild system of Masters, Journeymen, and Apprentices. Currently, however, some Artificers take the "Union" part of their title seriously. In some cities where Artificers are numerous and times are hard, Artificers form into Unions, made up of workers and led by a figure referred to simply as Boss. Artificer Bosses keep in touch at an International level via email and Apokalypsi, but there's no head to the organization, at least not currently, though they do produce a newszine called Collaboration. A Union Hall provides a place to stay, protection, and equipment, forming a sort of extended collaborative that resembles a Lemurian zotheca in its sprawling extent. Most Union Halls don't mind members of other foundations using their facilities, as long as they give back in kind. A few of the more powerful Unions work to regulate Mania and technological supplies, and have begun to encounter harassment and attacks from Lemurians, who don't appreciate a disorganized mess of a foundation honing in on their turf.

Other than the Unions, the Artificers are mostly a bunch of harmless old tinkers and punk kids. The older generations of Artificers, those who haven't been radicalized by the influx of new blood, are almost entirely unaware of the younger generation's activities, or really of anything else. Though there are numerous short-lived zines, forums, and magazines, the newsletter Mechanical Experimenter is the best-regarded piece of print that Artificers reliably produce; everyone reads it, from the most clueless old kitbasher to the most aggressive revolutionary.

Members:

The Artificers learn by doing, by getting their hands dirty, and every Maker has an incredible, intuitive grasp of how things fit together. Members of the Union of Artifice are interested primarily in building: the theory behind what they do, and even useful applications for their wonders, come second to the joy of creation.

But the Artificers are about more than just factory-work: all geniuses build, and most build compulsively; they cannot help it. The Artificers are about building from whatever is at hand. The new Union is still young and poor, and so are its members. They are disaffected college students, third-world revolutionaries, first-world revolutionaries, punks, pranksters, and pissed-off super-smart gutter trash. The other foundations are old: they have money and philosophy, but the Union of Artifice has attitude. Anyone who joins the Artificers is expected to be self-sufficient, at least in theory, and to be able to make something wondrous from whatever is lying around, with whatever resources are available.

Aesthetics:

Style among the Artificers is eclectic. Older, more traditional members favor mechanical styles, whether spotless brass or dirty, oil-stained gears. Many are also fond of electricity and explosives, but their focus is typically on structure and design, rather than power. Whether elegantly-worked metal or crude plastic, Artificers' wonders look they were put together fast, hard, and with superhuman skill and precision.

The new Makers, drawn from an entirely different society, aim for a raw, authentic look, and in the worst parts of the world, that means building with (for lack of a better word) trash. Katastrofic weapons made of broken bottles and battery acid, wonders of Skafoi carved from the burned-out hulks of abandoned automobiles carried on the backs of metal centipedes, forbidden automata cobbled together from old Nintendos and stray dogs; whatever is in reach is a potential ingredient. More than that, many Artificers delight in deliberately making their wonders difficult to produce (and recreate): why build a wonder with the best biomedical waste when you can drag organic filth from sewers and poisoned wetlands? Of all the foundations, the Artificers are the most keenly aware of their own aesthetic sense. Young Artificers are a profoundly self-aware group; they preen, they strut, and they sneer at anything that doesn't meet their narrow definitions of "New Maker," and they spend their time trying to disgust and outrage their peers without themselves being shocked. Other foundations would worry if it weren't all so juvenile, little more than the super-scientist equivalent of kids sending one-another pictures of dead celebrities while complaining that they were sick of your favorite band (or in this case, engineer) before he sold out and got popular.

Character Creation:

Artificers are hands-down the poorest foundation, and with the exception of the Navigators, the most ethnically diverse. People who catalyze in the world's worst industrial hellholes, from Jakarta to Toledo (Ohio, the other one is pretty nice), often join the Artificers if they're not tempted by the wealth and prestige of other foundations, or have no way of accessing those luxuries. Artificers, in their disorganized way, have recruiting stations all over the world, and their ranks swell every day with the desperate, the disaffected, and the betrayed. Geniuses drawn from non-technical professions, however, are comparatively rare: a Maker must know how to make, and while many Artificers are less than glamorous, having once been car mechanics, refugee nurses, militia members, or unlicensed doctors, most begin their Inspired careers able to create something.

Catalysts of Grimm, Hoffnung, and Neid are common among the Artificers: there is a lot of rage and resentment there, but also a spark of hope. Staunens are comparatively rare: the Artificers want to grow a better world, not admire the detritus of the current one.

Most Artificers, with their interest in creation over theory, favor Craft over Science and Science over Academics. They put little stock in hypotheticals and abstract reasoning, but many are nonetheless gifted mathematicians and draftsmen. Those Artificers who think to record blueprints of their wonders take up Expression. Artificers are increasingly diverse today: hackers and roboticists bolster their Crafts Skills with Computer, while genetic engineers favor Medicine.

Many Artificers have a gift for bashing together an immediate solution, meaning that Wits is as important as traditional brainpower. Embracing the New Makers' gutter-punk ethos means good Survival, Streetwise, and Investigation, to find what they need, and often a bit of Stealth, Larceny, and Subterfuge to grab it. Artificers like their Katastrofi, too, which means that combat training is common, with a focus on unusual Firearms.

The Dumpster Diver Merit is popular among the younger set, though Social Merits are comparatively rare: the New Makers are rarely scions of the powerful. Most Artificers, in addition to their intense focus on whatever helps them build the next wonder, pick up an eclectic mix of Skills and Merits due to their haphazard lives.

Role:

Members of The Union of Artifice are often outsiders, loners, and weirdos, as close to rogues as proper members of the Peerage can get. But they still join collaboratives, and within one they make excellent urban scouts, investigators, and intrusion experts. Not every Artificer can double as a low-down dirty thief, but many have a knack for mundane machines, especially those centered around security. Many also have one foot in the world of the street and connections with the culture there, allowing them to get information from mundane sources that might escape even the most polished Director. In addition to this role, the sheer speed with which they can build wonders can make them important in emergencies as walking armories. Many a collaborative has been saved because their Artificer slapped together a weapon before the bad guys could kick in the door.

Axioms:

Artificers' favored Axioms are Automata and Prostasia. They are natural robot-makers, and often supplement their own creation with factories and duplicators. The Artificers' traditional focus on metallurgy and heavy construction also makes them the best armorers in the business.

Artificers are fond of Katastrofi and Skafoi, two Axioms where building is its own reward. Katastrofi is especially popular, since kitbashing a zipgun is an invaluable talent in the dangerous places many Artificers live. Apokalypsi, Epikrato, and Metaptropi are focused more on application than on the construction process itself, though many Artificers still incorporate those Axioms, putting their own rough spin on things. Artificers who build, then move on, neglect Exelixi, but others appreciate being able to fix the things when they break.

Grant:

No one builds faster than an Artificer. From a humble Czech doll-maker to the most revolutionary gunsmith, Artificers can stick the decals on a new wonder when other geniuses are still organizing their screwdrivers. Artificers reduce the time needed to build or fiddle with any wonder by one step (to a minimum of one day for non-kitbashed wonders), and suffer no penalty for doing this.

For kitbashed wonders, this time reduction does not make the wonder fall apart faster. A two-step kitbashing job falls apart after one day for Artificers, not one scene. (See Kitbashed Wonders, Page 138.)

Concepts: Back-alley machinist, caffeine-addled computer hacker, master bladesmith, automotive grease-monkey, pious golem-maker

Quote: "Good, fast, and cheap: you get all three. And if you talk like that to my people again, you're going to wake up as a collection of spare parts."

Stereotype:

Directors: Rich idiots in charge of other rich idiots. They don't own me.

Navigators: Someone needs to test this thing out. I bruise easy.

Progenitors: They make okay stuff, but this "Long live the new flesh" crap has to stop.

Scholastics: They actually believe that we've already figured everything out. Weird.

Rogues: A million wannabe punks all pulling in different directions, getting nothing done.

Lemurians: Oh no! That Lemurian went and built a Tandy-9000! And that other one just designed a steam locomotive! However can I compete?

The Illuminated: A polite reminder that metal and tools go in one category, and your fellow human beings go in another category.

Other Creatures: These monsters might last forever, but the things they make don't.

Mortals: There's no love in what they make. It just gets churned out, then forgotten. What a waste.

The Fellowship for Manifest Direction

Name: Directors

Nicknames: Overlords, Disputers, The Loud

Many of the Inspired shy away from interaction with others, but not the Directors. Instead they seek out other mad scientists, mundane scientists, and laymen and attempt to expound and expand upon their theories. They are often met with scorn, but that rarely slows a Director down. They know, deep down, that they are right, and they know that with just the right application of charm and rhetoric, they can bring anyone around to their side. They might even learn something along the way.

Directors are horrifying yet familiar. They don't seem interesting in ripping away the comforting veils of ignorance that keep mortals from scissoring out their eyes to escape the blasphemous truth. They don't spit out legions of unholy half-born things. Or when they do, at least it's not for it's own sake, it's for a purpose that regular people can understand: power. But this makes the Directors all the more scary. The Fellowship for Manifest Direction is the smoke-filled room, the penthouse boardroom where old men make decisions that ruin lives in order to gain tiny increases in their portfolios. Directors are the blank-faced advisors sitting beside presidents, kings, and prime ministers, subtly guiding policy for their own ends. They are the censors who decide what we watch and don't watch, think and don't think. To mortals, it's a group like the Fellowship for Manifest Direction that controls the media, the government, and the finances of the entire world.

Of course that's not entirely true. The Directors are powerful, but they aren't the Illuminati, they aren't the International Banking Conspiracy that manipulates the world economy from New York to Dubai. In fact, what the Directors really are can seem more terrifying than the shadow-government fears that course through many people's minds when they hear the Directors described. Each Director burns with ambition, with vision, with a terrible yearning for more: more power, more wealth, more control, more safety, more revenge. It doesn't matter what it is, but all Directors live lives of restless dissatisfaction. An individual Director might be afraid, or uneasy, or ambitious, or merely curious, but all want the same thing: to accumulate power, at nearly any cost. It's the naked ambition that shocks people, more than what the Director plans to do with all that power. A genius' catalyst often strips away certain subtleties in a person's nature, exposing something smooth and archetypal, and in the Directors is this tendency most strongly manifested. Some might climb the greased pole to escape the machinations of their underlings, to exercise control over the pitiful world of mortals, or merely to get laid every weekend, but all Directors possess a horrible, blank, all-consuming lust for power that exists outside of any concrete goal or desire. A Director is a scientist-aristocrat, a wealthy master of hypnotism, a would-be ruler of the world, who wouldn't even know what to do if at the end he sat alone and unchallenged on a throne of pure diamond and looked out over his dominion of the Earth.

Focus:

The Directors are masters of mad psychology. They specialize in mind control machines, splinter personalities, implanted behaviors, and drone servitors that do their bidding. Some are diabolical masterminds, pulling strings from the shadows, while others are out there mixing it up on the lab floor, beacons of Inspiration.

Psychology is an interesting and subtle science with many branches, some barely explored. Some Directors focus on traditional psychology, including hypnosis and psychological manipulation; these may only break out the wonders for real emergencies, instead relying on good Social Skills and an ability to read a situation. Wonders are obvious, but few people distrust a winning smile. Others focus on mind control machines, pheromone manipulation and biological impulses, or the implanting of hidden personalities. Many younger Directors (and not a few older ones, as the Fellowship for Manifest Direction does not reward the crotchety and out-of-touch) have begun studying the psychology of the artificial, creating machine intelligences.

Those Overlords who do not study psychology often study related fields, such as economics, sociology, ecology, and even agriculture. But the Directors are ultimately a pragmatic group, and will recruit intelligent, capable people from nearly any field―especially if that field looks like it won't disrupt the existing power structure.

History:

The Fellowship for Manifest Direction originated in the industrial age as an answer to Lemuria's superior organizational abilities. The Peerage's response was to appoint a council of "directors" able to mobilize the other foundations. (The Fellowship for Manifest Direction was, in fact, originally just a fellowship, not a foundation. They never bothered to change the name.) This organization quickly manifested some of the worst traits of 19th century Lemuria, becoming exclusionary, racist, intolerant, and paranoid. Reforms shortly before the Great War stripped the fellowship of many of those elements, replacing them, though, with something many in the Peerage considered even worse: a taste for the fruits of industry.

Throughout the 20th century, the Directors represented the excesses and triumphs of industrial civilization. They were ruthless capitalists, gifted entrepreneurs, and super-science economists, shaking the monetary foundations of the world with their transactions. Their ruthlessness was matched only by their usefulness to the Peerage: the Directors provided drive, focus, and political expertise. It was the Overlords' ability to organize the Peerage that led to Lemuria's downfall.

Without an enemy to fight, though, the Directors lost their focus during much of the latter half of the 20th century. They became decadent and sluggish, interested only in maintaining their own power. Old boy's networks and secret economic societies popped up, devoid of accountability or long-range ambition, apparently dedicated only to maintaining the status quo. In recent years this has begun to change, fast: the "smoke-filled room" has given way to loose groups of independent organizers and peripatetic contractors, as the Directors, like everyone in the Peerage, adapts to a smaller, more mobile world. This generation gap has produced tension in the Fellowship for Manifest Direction, as older members fail or refuse to adapt to the new changes in direction and philosophy. New Directors are truly new creatures: fast, mobile, stripped-down, not bound to the ponderous lairs and laboratories that kept their predecessors stationary. Their motto is "A Phone and a Gun," because that's all they need. Their beholden aren't waiting around in the Volcano Fortress; they're an Instant Message away from showing up armed and ready to go. Their destructive wrath isn't measured in mountain-sized ray guns, but instead whatever they can find, transformed with ruthless, elegant efficiency into instruments of death and destruction. This new breed terrifies the old guard, and tensions are growing worse as the years pass and the elders cling to power in a changing world.

Organization:

The Directors are more organized than other foundations. Every Director, whether she knows it or not, belongs to a Dominion, a geographic region that contains from ten to 30 million mortals. The United States contains twenty-three Dominions. Each Dominion is run by a Heterogeny, made up of three, five, seven, or eleven influential Directors called Dispensers, one of whom is appointed the Overlord and manages the regional finances. Many lesser ranks exist beneath the Dispensers. This group manages the affairs of the Directors in that area from some central location. Every ten years, the Heterogenies vote on a Clade, which consists of 44 Directors (currently; the population grows with the total number of Directors). The Clade, in turn, sets policy for all the Directors from a central location in one of the world's major skyscrapers. (The exact location varies from year to year.)

Directors technically have a single source for all Director-related scholarship, a monthly magazine called Control. However, that's the old way. The new Directors, the up-and-comers, favor an ever-shifting network of newsgroups and contacts squirting micro-assessments to their phones or laptops in a constant stream of evaluation and analysis.

Most rank-and-file Directors, whatever their style, interact only vaguely with the hierarchy of their Dominion, instead working on small-scale projects within their collaborative. Those that focus inward often serve simply by remaining loyal to those on top and fighting for scraps of power in predictable ways. Others, though, join some of the cultural groups within the Fellowship for Manifest Direction, organizations that exist not for the benefit of their individual members but to protect and enhance the foundation as a whole. The Jaguar People serve as the Directors' elite guards. The Mirror People handle counterintelligence and espionage. The Stochastic People deal with issues of raw material, transport, and extraction. The Sigil People monitor internal affairs and handle audits and personnel. The Tower People (whom everyone calls the People People) deal with the mundane population. These groups were once vitally important to the foundation's well-being and had intricate hierarchies and protocols; now, with the power structures of all the foundations flattened, most of these groups are little more than a news feed with jobs to be done and rewards to be offered.

Members:

Inspired who join the Manifest Fellowship are interested in power. Not all are interested in accruing it, however: while there are many sharks and ladder-climbers among the Overlords, others are interested in power as a concept: how it moves, how it flows, how it relates to money, to charisma, to talent. They want to know how power can be organized, and they want to explore the many subtle forms that control can take. Geniuses who join this foundation often hail from wealth and privilege: before their catalysts, they were power-brokers, high-profile lawyers, wealthy entrepreneurs, or political administrators. Others came from fields interested in the study, not the acquisition of power and prestige: sociologists, policy analysts, and stock forecasters. Still other members of the foundation started with nothing, catalyzed, and now see a bright, wealthy future for themselves in this foundation.

Though not all Directors are wealthy, all understand that wealth does not equate directly with authority, and authority is what interests a director. They dress and act to demonstrate their authority in whatever society they find themselves. Some are obsessive about being the center of attention, while others use their talents to blend in and control an organization from within. However they approach issues like power and authority, however, geniuses who become Directors possess an almost intuitive ability to gain and hold power.

Directors can catalyze in almost any way, though few are motivated by sorrow and loss. Those more interested in the process and theory of power are Staunens, while ambitious Hoffnungs, bitter Neids, and even righteous Grimms are common among those Directors who see power in more practical terms.

Aesthetics:

Directors are capable of flexibility in their style, changing the superficial appearance of themselves and even their wonders to match the expectations of clients, friends, or enemies. An Overlord in tailored suits and smooth plastic one day may be in tattered street clothes and worn cybernetics the next, if that's what the people around the Director need to see.

Members of the Manifest Fellowship who need to project a clean, professional image often favor smooth and elegant fashions. Others see their persona as "Director" as separate from their behavior as a genius and favor brutally functional styles for the wonders they create. Other Directors build to shock: though they may care nothing about the philosophies and cultures behind a style, they take on horrific or bizarre aesthetics to keep their enemies (and potential enemies) on-edge and uncertain.

Character Creation:

The Overlords focus on Social Attributes and Skills as much as Mental ones. They are orators and administrators, and they often view themselves as the "elite" of the Inspired, best able to command the efforts of other geniuses. Composure often trumps Resolve, as looking in control is more important in the Manifest Fellowship than actually having it together. Physical Attributes are sometimes neglected in favor of Intelligence and Presence, especially among Directors who prefer to act through proxies.

Social Skills are also prioritized, though Directors of different styles focus on different approaches: a scheming, manipulative genius may focus on Subterfuge, while an expert at raising money and giving presentations might emphasize Expression and Persuasion. This is not to imply that Directors neglect their scientific training: most are as technically competent as members of the other foundations, though they often seem reticent to emphasize that fact. Academics and Computer, to fit their favored Axioms, are common, though medical Directors, aeronautics Directors, and even occult research Directors all exist.

Many Directors define themselves by their Social Merits: Allies, Contacts, Status, and Resources are all common. Some even stay in the mortal limelight with Fame. Directors enjoy large numbers of beholden, and can always find work for them. They're rarely the Dumpster Diver sort.

Role:

Directors, unsurprisingly, serve as the "face" for a collaborative. The Director allows the group to interact with the mortal community without getting committed to a psychiatric institute. She is also first-in when interacting with other collaboratives or unfamiliar social situations. A collaborative's Director may or may not also be their leader. Some Overlords are natural organizers, making plans and finding tasks for everyone nearby (sometimes annoyingly so), while others use their super-secret powers of "making eye contact" and "smiling" only when they're needed to charm other people. Unless they are masters of Automata, Directors prefer to stick closer to the tougher members of the collaborative when things go wrong, and are rarely interested in direct confrontation.

Axioms:

A Director's favored Axioms are Automata or Epikrato. Directors have a gift for control, and they prefer to surround themselves with guards and allies rather than face challenges directly.

Directors in general prefer subtle uses for Axioms: few focus on fields such as Katastrofi or Prostasia, instead devoting their time to the more subtle applications of Exelixi (to enhance mental faculties) and Apokalypsi (to monitor friends and enemies). Directors who study Skafoi use their machines as launching-points for contacting different orders of intelligence, rather than mere ferries to move the collaborative from one locale to the next.

Grant:

Directors are more familiar with social mores than other geniuses, and receive the training and support to keep abreast of developments in sane science. They can spend Mania to enhance their Social Attributes (Presence, Manipulation, and Composure). When they do this, they do not suffer penalties for low Obligation, nor do they suffer Jabir penalties.

Concepts:

Lab director, wannabe Bond villain, professional debunker, millionaire industrialist, member of the Mad Ethics Board, unconventional psychologist, New Age techno-guru

Quote: "Like even the strongest iron bar, every man has a weak point, and it can be found."

Stereotypes:

Artificers: If only we could convince them to make something useful.

Navigators: Arrogant, insufferable hotshots! I like that. Besides, someone has to break heads when negotiations break down.

Progenitors: Busy swallowing their own tails. At least they won't take too many people with them this time.

Scholastics: Research and development, that's where it starts. It's just not where it ends.

Rogues: Usually poor and looking for work. But I'm glad to work outside the system...when it benefits me.

Lemurians: How sad it is, to watch gifted geniuses worshiping at the altar of their dead ancestors.

The Illuminated: No, I'm not like them. They don't pay their test subjects.

Other Creatures: Generally dangerous, horrible, and uncouth, with a frightening lack of manners.

Mortals: They never listen.

The Center for Circumferential Navigation

Name: Navigators

Nicknames: Daredevils, Guardians, Fire Bait

Navigators are the test pilots, the dangerous-environment explorers, and the people-who-make-power-suits-and-fight-crime of the Inspired, as comfortable using their equipment as they are designing it and promulgating the theories behind it. Rather than send minions or automata to confront obstacles, they go themselves, armed with death rays or transformed by the experiments that they have performed on their own bodies. Larger than life, heroic, and often terrifying, the Navigators take their work seriously, and they are as brilliant as any other genius, and even more eager than others to use their inventions.

Travelers and explorers, Navigators drift into town and disappear on the wind. Mortal stories that involve Navigators describe the sudden appearance of a stranger, a drifter, who heralds nightmares and chaos. Some are prophets, warning of the horrors to come. Others bring the wicked things with them: psychic demons pulled from inner-space, gibbering betentacled things from some far realm, or simply the evil creatures that the Navigator dug up in the last town. Navigators are nomads and vagabonds who live at the edge of survivability, and when their dangerous activities intersect with the mortal world, the results can be disastrous and bloody. These geniuses leap into the unknown, break apart the walls separating this reality from the next, and build wonders dedicated to taking them farther, faster, or deeper than ever before.

The life of a Navigator can be a terrifying and lonely one. Few settle in one place for long, and though they might have a place to rest their head, their home is always in the great unknown. It's hard to form mortal ties when soaring across space and time, and even those Navigators who stop to guard mortals from the horrible things beyond the horizon rarely stay long enough to receive their thanks. Navigators, simply, are ill-equipped for civilization. Many are recklessly irresponsible―with money, with safety, with other people―and the rest run the range from nihilistic thrillseekers to people who never quite fit in. Even in the Inspired community, few ever feel entirely comfortable, and sooner or later, wanderlust or madness takes hold and the Navigator leaps, blind and laughing, into some new world.

Focus:

The Navigators focus on mad physics. They were the scholars of heat and of lightning; today they are masters of radiation and of gravitation. Navigators are also, as their name implies, travelers, able to bend their knowledge to the creation of fantastic vehicles and dimensional gates. While the classic image of a Navigator puts one behind the seat of a Wondrous hot rod or stratospheric flying machine, powerful Navigators also explore the depths of space and time. Navigators are all over the board with how rough or refined their techniques are: some are fireburned blacksmiths or overall-wearing grease monkeys, while others are refined scholars of hidden energies and forces not yet understood, let alone explored, by mortal science.

Of all the foundations, Navigators are the most focused on their field of study. Mad physics serves as the springboard for nearly all Navigators. Exceptions include medical Navigators, who build bizarre vehicles of bone and sinew, dimension-hopping occultists who explore the half-real worlds of specters and phantoms, and cybernauts who plunge, body and mind, into the uncharted depths of the Internet. These alternate groups often appear in phases or fads: the heyday of Web-Navigation is past, for example, and no one's sure what the new direction will be.

Though many people figure Navigators are too reckless to keep careful notes, many Daredevils, especially as they get older, keep meticulous records, and many are gifted physicists and researchers who, if not for their manic wanderlust or other flaws of character, could be top-flight researchers, not just test pilots and explorers. Of course, just as many Navigators live up to their stereotype, taking just enough notes and doing just enough work to build that flying machine or open that gate, then leaping through.

History:

The Navigators joined the Peerage only recently, and many older peers do not yet consider them "proper" members. The term "Navigator" referred to those Lemurian geniuses who were considered Inspired enough that they were not beholden, but not worthy of attaining the higher secrets of mad science. They were "low-caste" geniuses, tasked with the transportation and maintenance of their self-styled betters. This low position was based on old Lemuria's strange race hierarchies, and the ethnic makeup of the Navigators is still slightly skewed toward Lemuria's "middle races," which includes most people of Asian and Middle Eastern descent.

The Navigators abandoned Lemuria between the World Wars, not just because Lemuria was full of evil racists who oppressed them, but because it was full of incompetent, bumbling idiots who couldn't even conduct Armageddon properly. They remained independent, a unified rogue program, until the 1960s, when they became part of the Peerage. The Navigators quickly gained a reputation not just for efficient movement of troops (and money―they are a rather wealthy organization, as a whole), but for a military veneer that at times bordered on the fascistic. This element has declined in recent years, but many Navigators possess a distinctly militaristic style. In recent years, after the collapse of the old Peer hierarchies, the Navigators have moved further from their martial traditions to embrace all kinds of wanderers, explorers, and adventurers, but in some places the old ways die hard.

Organization:

Today's navigators are a disorganized and solitary lot, and they like it that way. As the Navigators emerged from the shadows of Lemuria, they found dignity and honor in a military structure, complete with an archaic but rewarding rank system that resembled a cross between feudal Europe and the modern armed forces. Newly catalyzed Navigators, without anyone under their command, were just called Navigators. Command of an entire collaborative earned the rank of Captain, while administrating an entire zotheca (Navigators kept the Lemurian term) of at least ten geniuses earned the rank of Chevalier. Control of an entire metropolitan region fell on the shoulders of a Dux Bellorum, supported by a handful of Lieutenants. Above the Dukes were the Marshalls, nine of them, who elected from among their own number an Imperator every three years.

This hierarchy survived the reorganization the Peerage underwent in the nineties, but its influence did not. The quasi-military structure, coupled with the natural aggressiveness of many Navigators, resulted in a foundation reviled as a pack of thugs and would-be feudalists out for money and obeisance from their fellow geniuses. The new Navigator hierarchy is considerably looser and employs the honorific "Palatine," which previously signified a Navigator too mobile to make full use of his rank, as a default. Only in a handful of places where Navigators exert great influence, such as Los Angeles, are the old systems still enforced. Now, most Navigators are only dimly aware of their rank, if any, and social climbing is seen as somewhat vulgar and pointless by younger Daredevils.

Members:

Many Navigators come from military or quasi-military backgrounds, their ranks swelled by demolitions experts, military scientists, pilots, and members of elite police and rescue forces. Even a Navigator who comes from a different background will find herself bumping against so many ex-military sorts that some of that mindset rubs off. Geniuses from non-scientific backgrounds are common, and include test pilots, truckers, and merchant marines who saw too much or got too obsessed and so catalyzed; these tough, aggressive individuals fit naturally into the Navigator hierarchy. But most Navigators still come from some kind of technical field, though rarely is it too refined or sedentary. The grease monkey Navigator is a stereotype for a reason, but others lived lives as EMTs, elite assassins, or even occultists before Catalyzing.

Due to their propensity for travel, and for coming from economically disadvantaged regions of the Middle East and Asia, Navigators are more likely than other foundations to be foreigners and refugees, wherever they are. Many have strange or unusual tales from their homelands, whether they originally manned an oil derrick off the Alaskan coast or fled to Japan on a makeshift raft.

Members of the Circumference Center are as interested in using their wonders as building them. This is not the machine functionality of the Union of Artificers, who are often very interested in how their devices run, but a "use-it-first" approach to wonders: potential Navigators are interested in what their wonders do and how well they do it, and they see direct tests as the best way to figure that out. This means that Navigators are often direct and somewhat aggressive, with hard-nosed and well-grounded personalities that seem at odds with their wonder-working. But the Navigators are by no means stupid―very few geniuses are dumb; most are just crazy, and the Fire Bait are just crazy in a different way from their fellows.

Aesthetics:

Despite their rough-and-ready philosophy, not every Navigator favors a brutally functional style. Though hard-edged military designs are indeed popular, many Navigators look to the explorers and soldiers of the past for their inspiration. One of the classic images of the Navigator is the jet pack, and this item can lend itself to a slick art-deco style, all fins and swept-back chrome. Other Navigators draw their imagery from the last great age of exploration, focusing on polished wood, gleaming brass, and a beautiful hand-crafted look that belies their wonders' toughness and functionality.

Character Creation:

The Circumference Center encourages high Physical Attributes in its members. Many favor Dexterity to become gifted pilots, while those who expect long periods of exposure in the wild focus on Stamina. Wits is often as high as Intelligence, since a quick fix is often better than a perfect fit while in the field.

Navigators possess an array of real-world skills in addition to their Axioms, and are the most likely to focus on unInspired abilities, trusting Skills like Brawl, Survival, Stealth, and Streetwise to keep them alive. Many are world travelers and learn a number of languages. Militaristic Navigators focus on Physical Merits like Fast Reflexes and Quick Draw to give them a fighting edge.

A Navigator's catalyst is often recognizable from her behavior. Many are Grimms and wear that rage openly, becoming rooftop avengers and enemies of injustice. Klagens often behave similarly, though for different and often more personal reasons. Navigators who catalyze through Staunen are infected with a kind of wanderlust and frantic curiosity that never lets them rest for long. Far-planning Hoffnungs and vindictive Neids are comparatively rarer.

Role:

Navigators are, first and foremost, scouts and explorers, and not just "gentleman-adventurers" drifting leisurely above the jungles in their dirigibles. Most Navigators are capable survivalists and able to help their collaborative survive in harsh and alien environments due to training, diligence, and a fierce will to survive. Those Navigators that are not wilderness travelers instead possess knowledge of the weird and horrific places that their wonders can take the collaborative. Their fellow geniuses also recognize a Navigators' usefulness when the ray guns come out, and a collaborative often expects its Navigator to take the lead in violent confrontations.

Earlier ages saw geniuses from the Circumference Center reduced to "second-class" status in collaboratives―hence the euphemistic and humble name "Navigator", which the foundation has kept as a badge of defiant pride. Navigators were seen as expendable scouts, transport specialists, and grunt soldiers, but not "real" geniuses. This attitude has died out almost entirely; younger geniuses often don't even know the stereotype in the first place and would react to it much like regular mortals react to "Irish Need Not Apply" signs.

Axioms:

The Navigators' favored Axioms are Katastrofi or Skafoi. The Navigators delight in seeing new places, preferably at very high speeds. Both their role as the Peerage's foot soldiers and their interest in high-energy physics make them naturals for the Axiom of Katastrofi.

Navigators who focus on exploration instead look to Apokalypsi to give them a view of the wonders and horrors coming their way. The Daredevils have a tradition of building and employing armor suits, and they are also experts in high-energy shielding, making Prostasia a popular choice, especially for crime-fighting Navigators. The foundation tends to shy away from subtle and indirect Axioms like Automata: it doesn't discount those techniques for others' use, by many means, but not many Navigators possess the sorts of personalities that contribute to a study of those fields. Epikrato sees little use, as Navigators would rather see than control, but Exelixi is very popular. Navigators are most likely to make use of both Crafts and Medicine when studying Exelixi, to repair and enhance both themselves and their vehicles.

Grant:

A Navigator's Mania is as physical as it is mental, like lightning coursing through muscle and bone. Navigators can spend Mania to enhance their Physical attributes (Strength, Dexterity, or Stamina).

Concepts:

Deep sea or deep space colonist, jet pack flyboy, trailblazer, guardian of the city streets, spatiotemporal researcher, cynical scout

Quote: "I've seen things you wouldn't believe. Hell, I've seen things I don't believe."

Stereotypes:

Artificers: Reliable, quality construction and professional design. I can't say anything bad about that.

Directors: Someone has to provide organization and funding. Shame it's these assholes.

Progenitors: Their desire for bettering themselves is commendable, but change for change's sake is pointless.

Scholastics: Evenly divided between useless antiquarians and people who know that real knowledge is farther away than the bookshelf.

Rogues: Unpredictable when the shit starts. Don't trust 'em and don't turn your back.

Lemurians: They're not pathetic or harmless. They're dangerous killers, and they need to be respected for that, if nothing else.

The Illuminated: You can go out into the Void, but you always need to come back.

Other Creatures: Good in a fight, and usually a lot more reasonable than people make them out to be.

Mortals: A bit too obsessed with creature comforts, but in a pinch, it's nice to have some ex-special forces to point their guns at the problem.