[UA] [LONG] Unknown Glitterati - A New School

[Brant Casavant]

Hullo. This was inspired by too much Bret Easton Ellis, whose book,
_Glamorama_, absolutely reeks of Unknown Armies. Let me know what you
think.

- Brant
Divi Filius

UNKNOWN GLITTERATI


the occult underground
ain't never been so hip.

It's so diabolically crowded outside Bowery Bar that I have to climb over
a stalled limo parked crookedly at the curb to even start pushing through
the crowd while paparazzi who couldn't get in try desperately to snap my
photo, calling out my name as I follow Liam Neeson, Carol Alt and Spike
Lee up to Chad and Anton, who help pull us inside, where the opening
riffs of Matthew Street's "Sick of Myself" start booming. The bar is
mobbed, white boys with dreadlocks, black girls wearing Nirvana t-shirts,
grungy homeboys, gym queens with buzz cuts, mohair, neon, Janice
Dickerson, bodyguards and their models from the shows today looking hot
but exhausted, fleece and neoprene and pigtails and silicone and Brent
Fraser as well as Brandon Fraser and pom-poms and chenille sleeves and
falconer glovers and everyone's smoochy. I wave over at Pell and Vivien,
who are drinking Cosmopolitans with Marcus — who is wearing an English
barrister's wig — and this really cool lesbian, Egg, who's wearing an
Imperial margarine crown, and she's sitting next to two people dressed
like two of the Banana Splits, which two I couldn't possibly tell. It's a
kitsch-is-cool kind of night and there are tons of chic admirers.
— Bret Easton Ellis, Glamorama
We've all seen them, those beautiful people, strolling into bars and
clubs and restaurants while two dozen others stand outside waiting. On
television their lifestyles are marketed as the ideal: confident,
attractive men and women converse over the latest, most fashionable drink
in the latest, most fashionable cocktail lounge. Some of them we know,
like that friend-of-a-friend who can always get a reservation for the
best restaurant in town. Or that person who knows where all the best DJs
are spinning this month. Or that agent who knows where to go if one wants
to socialize with runway models and actresses, fashion designers and
directors. 

We've all felt the jealousy inherent in being on this side of the velvet
rope, as opposed to that side, with the privileged few. We've all heard
how they've fast-talked their way into the most restrictive
establishments; how they got into that invitation-only New Years Party at
the ritziest hotel in town. We wonder how they do it, and many of us,
denials aside, wish we were that glamorous — always recognized, always on
some list, always someone to meet at some place that recently opened to
rave reviews. Always, every night, hitting up the hotspots.


--
Oh, Angel probably was dead, all right. No big deal. Or maybe he was in
the hospital. Who cared? They had probably been partying too hard and
Angel overdosed. Happens all the time. People die around us all the time.
Drop like flies. Overdose. AIDS. Sometimes they kill themselves. People
come. They go. Dying is the same as rehab or moving back to Missouri. It
just means I won't be seeing them again. New people were already in line
to take their place.
— James St. James, Disco Bloodbath
These people are the scenesters. They are the in crowd. They are cool. In
urban mythology they are envisioned as the archetypal cocaine-snorting,
Gucci-wearing, rich-bitch snobs. In reality they are ladder-climbers and
sycophants; sleazy management and "aspiring" models; list-girls,
coat-checkers, drug dealers, eurotrash, addicts, bartenders, drag queens.
On the whole we call them hipsters, urbanites and social butterflies —
sometimes derogatorily, but always with a tinge of jealousy.

They, too, know us, although they do not envy us. Indeed, their
cognizance of our existence extends only to the point that they can
ensure none of us ever make them look bad by getting on the guest list,
or even getting inside. That we are to be disregarded and ignored is an
unquestioned absolute within the scenester mindset. To them we are simply
a featureless and indistinct mass of faces; a reservoir from which to
leech cash, sex, drugs and attention. We are all the same and all
inconsequential to the in crowd, merely an audience before which they can
strut.

But once one brushes aside this haughty, disdainful veener, one finds
that they need us far more than we could ever need them. Though they
scorn us, we are, in fact, intrinsic to their very existence — if there
wasn't anyone on the outside looking in, after all, the inside certainly
wouldn't be very hip. Thus, it is only through imbuing them with whatever
significance we feel — be it hatred or longing or apathy — that they are
able to ignore and sneer, ridicule and ostracize. The in crowd needs the
rejects and outsiders as much as they need new venues to frequent.
Lacking either, they would not be able to tap into the essence of being
cool, and thereby work their magic.


--

Magic? Yes, magic. For just as there are those who can summon demons
through drinking, and those who can control luck through suicidal
behavior, there are those who can weave reality by visiting places that
are too cool for just anyone to be permitted inside. In this sense they
are like cliomancers, feeding off of the energy of a specific site.
Except scenesters don't get off on historical significance, nor do they
even, like their cousins the couturomancers, derive power from the
fashionableness of a place or thing's name. Instead, they hang out at the
most illustriously selective of establishments, and it is from the
selectivity of these places, themselves called hotspots, that they draw
their power. 

Of course, in the same manner that not every alcoholic is a boozehound
and not every tightwad is a plutomancer, not every celebutante is a
scenester. But true scenesters — those with the ability to warp
perceptions and desires, affect peoples' emotions and motives — blend in
well among this society, and many consider themselves nothing more or
less than their equally fabulous, un-magical peers. Some don't even know
they work magic, such is the symbiosis between their arcane talents and
their lifestyles.

Whether they know it or not, however, all scenesters are still adepts,
and thus are part of the so-called "occult underground." Certain elements
of the underground have tried for decades to apply some sort of " –
mancy" title to this school of magic, but their oftentimes inventive
sobriquets never stick. In large part this is resultant of the fact that
the crowd itself does not want to have some geeky-sounding
classification, and so whenever word filters round of some new " –
mancy," or " – urgy," or " – ism" the scenester community collectively
raises an eyebrow and then resumes normal conversation. After all, to
many of them being a scenester is not about mysticism or the supernatural
— it's merely a lifestyle. Consequently, residents of the underground
typically use the generic term scenester to describe all members of the
in crowd, as the community on the whole is called. 

Yet when on the inside of the velvet rope, the in crowd uses its own,
more specific lingo to describe its members. To wit, a scenester is
actually a person who, while obsessing over their image and where they
are seen, must still work for a living. Those lucky ones who are
independently wealthy and therefore capable to flitting from hotspot to
hotspot, city to city, with a minimum of concern, are called A-listers
or, among themselves, VIPs.

Naturally, these two pseudo-factions are somewhat antagonistic towards
one another. Scenesters will oftentimes sneer at their moneyed kin, and
when referencing them terms like eurotrash and brats tend to get tossed
around. Likewise, the A-listers treat scenesters like they treat everyone
else — another face in an otherwise unremarkable crowd. When pressed for
insulting terminology, the A-listers will usually describe scenesters as
being hangers-on and wannabes. "Wannabes" as in "they wannabe like us."


--

The history of the in crowd is a muddled thing, riddled with rumor and
hearsay. Some claim that the origins of the school can be traced back to
New York City's infamous speakeasies of the 1920s, and that it grew and
matured along with such establishments as The Cotton Club, The Stork Club
and Copacabana. Others contend that the school had its start in Los
Angeles, at The Cocoanut Grove, The Brown Derby and the Plantation Cafe.
Many British scenesters, meanwhile, smugly believe that the school
existed even prior to the twentieth century, and they cite the
aristocratic social clubs of Victorian London as their proof. And of
course there are the Parisians, who argue that the very concept of
"nightlife" and "being seen" was imported to America from their famous
cabarets, like Moulin Rouge and the Cafe de Paris. 

On the other hand, academics and adepts outside these circles widely
believe that the in crowd is just a bizarre offshoot of either the
cliomancer or couturomancer schools. Or perhaps a merging of the two.
These same individuals would also argue that the school did not even
exist prior to the 1970s, since no one in the underground remembers
hearing anything of them before that time. Yet typically this argument is
countered by a simple reminder that scenesters always show up fashionably
late, wherever it is they go.


--
Nothing pleases me more
Than being on the dance-floor
Give me bass, give me smoke machines
Take me to the club.
— Mannequin, Take Me to the Club
At the very heart and soul of the in crowd is the hotspot. It is where
they meet others of their kind, get word of up-and-coming venues, and
most importantly collect their charges (referred to colloquially as
getting hip). But one must then ask: what are hotspots, exactly? 

Well, first of all, they are decidedly not just a prestigious and
expensive destination, and they are not just any old place with a
reservation list or a good dessert menu. Indeed, were this the case, then
every five-star restaurant and posh hotel bar in every major city would
be counted as a hotspot — which, obviously, they are not.

No, hotspots are something little known but widely celebrated; nothing
fresh and unique, but intimidating in their brash newness and almost
oligarchic admission policies. Hotspots always have lines outside the
door, and typically have guest or VIP lists. The biggest and most
prestigious will often find themselves swarming with paparazzi and other
media, given a particular event. All have bouncers or other security,
valet service and a dress policy (if only to keep the mundanes out).
People in the know laud them as being sleek, select, fashionable and a
host of other buzzwords, and indeed, so heavily are hotspots weighed down
with complimentary adjectives that even certain members of the in crowd
naively believe that these qualities are the ones which imbue them with
their power. 

But this is not the case. Superficialities like décor, clientele and
originality serve as only a minor part in the equation of creating a
hotspot, lending very little towards generating the energy that is
harvested by scenesters. Rather, hotspots are both fabricated from and
defined by the manner in which outsiders perceive them. Lacking the
significance attached to it by those disallowed entry, an establishment
is nothing more than a pricey, pretentious destination. Mundanes are not
kept from entering hotspots because of the locality's power, but because
it is in the act of keeping them out that power is generated. 

Exclusivity is everything. The line, the doormen, the beautiful girl with
the clipboard — all these are props designed to impress. The masses walk
by and see a secret, with people milling about outside and the dull beat
of music droning through closed doors. They wonder about this guarded,
private, privileged place. It becomes mysterious, an almost sacred space,
and one which they cannot enter. Their imaginations thus create rooms
replete with beautiful people that do not exist, things that they'll
never own and wealth they'll never possess, and these romantic fallacies
are absorbed by hotspots. They devour the significance fed to them by the
timid, and consume the vaunted wonders of passers-by. That is how they
become what they are, and that is also the primary paradox of scenester
magic — that it is the rejected who ultimately define who and what is
hip, and that there is nothing innately "cool" about a venue. 


--


Models still clogged the streets, but they were B-list and C-list girls,
not the Kates and Naomis who used to flock there. What was once the
sandbox of the stars...seemed more like a freak fest for drunken frat
boys.
— Frank Owen, Clubland
Significance is itself ephemeral and transitory, however. Hotspots, like
all secrets, live and die as their mystery deepens and then dissipates.
With time, even the most prohibitive hotspot will lose its mystique. The
velvet rope will unclick a bit more readily as its image fades among
outsiders, becoming, over the span of weeks or months, less intimidating,
less impressive and consequently less powerful. Scenesters are,
naturally, aware of this occurrence, and appropriately enough have
invented a lexicon of scale by which hotspots can be classified.

At the top of this social ladder are the newest, most prohibitive and
therefore most potent of venues: the latest hotspot. Of their kind, these
are the most famous and fabulous — publicly clandestine and considered
inviolable, the subject of media attention and rumor mongering. Tales of
celebrity sightings and shady political deals, mob presence and model
parties swirl around these establishments, serving to expand and distort
their already-bloated reputation. It matters little if actors or
producers, heiresses or fashionistas actually visit the venue itself, for
once the rumors have been spoken or printed, they become truth to the
masses. Their imaginations are further fed by sightings of a mysterious
limo, murmurings of VIP entrances and off-limits "guest" rooms, and these
stories serve to increase the apparent other-worldiness of the site.
Overawed by the thought of meeting the rich and famous (for surely, were
they to frequent any venue, they would frequent this venue; "I heard that
Lenny Kravitz was here last week...") infuse the latest hotspot with an
energy so heady that many scenesters can barely remain sober once inside
their august confines.

Yet hotspots of this variety are exceedingly rare, owing to the fact that
few cities have the cachet necessary to support them. For a latest
hotspot to flower, as it were, it requires decent soil — earth that is
itself rich enough with societal significance to bolster its outlandish
reputation and lend some credibility to its lies. It is hard, for
example, to imagine Uma Thurman or George Clooney being seen at a bar in
Oklahoma City, but it is not so hard to imagine them at a cocktail club
in Manhattan, Beverly Hills, San Francisco or Miami. And again, whether
they were ever even at that cocktail club makes no difference whatsoever,
because it only takes one or two reported sightings to make their past
visits a reality, and in so doing make the venue something greater than
even itself. A craze, a fad. The center of unwarranted attention.


Insider Tips

Bring a Book
On busy nights the wait can exceed an hour, with a line stretching down
Exeter. Don't bother calling ahead; it won't help.

Restricted Area
Be warned: Access to many tables and areas is reserved for members, who
pay $10,000 for the privilege.
— from a review of "Saint,"
(back in its glory days)
Still, the overwhelming majority of hotspots never attain such glory as
being the "latest thing." Most begin their brief lives as major hotspots
— more common but still highly exclusive, something of a public secret,
ever the impenetrable place that mundanes dare not enter. What they lack,
though, is the sheer Hollywood-esque imagery attached to them by the
media, rumor mills and boastful attendees. They are not glittering,
other-worldy sites supposedly (or sometimes truly) frequented by the
faces on television and on the big screen. Major hotspots are undeniably
posh, highly selective about those who are permitted inside, but they
make no pretense of being the "go-to place" of society's elite. Or maybe
they've tried and failed. But that's neither here nor there.


was definately non-exciting.. i felt like i was surrounded by a bunch of
21 year old geeks exploring the club scene.. definately not the type of
club you want to go to on a friday night and expect to enjoy
yourselves... you can expect to find the black geek boy with the fat
glasses.. to the cross dresser in some stilettos... to finding the poetic
dancer trying to find her spirituality...
— a review of "Float"
Scenesters have noted that hotspots remain in their majority for about
one season, and then they begin a sad decline into mediocrity. The veneer
wears thin, and the mundanes begin their first, tentative steps inside.
Yuppies meet there after work, suburbanites make reservations for
anniversary and birthday dinners. The hotspot grows increasingly
"common," the line outside grows longer but less acceptable to be seen
standing in, and the in crowd moves elsewhere.

While in their state of decline, hotspots can still provide some energy
for scenesters to reap. Yet this energy is usually stale and of poor
quality, so a scenester would have to be rather desperate to be caught
getting hip at a declining hotspot. No member of the in crowd wants to be
seen mingling with GAP-wearing 30somethings, after all — although some do
stick around. These individuals, called old regulars, are known to linger
for a variety of reasons, nostalgia being the most common, and they
quickly earn the derision of their fellows. Once branded an old regular,
friends soon slip into the shadows and contacts vanish. Re-establishing
oneself on the scene after the loss of so much status is a Herculean task
that few have ever accomplished.

But despite the condescension they receive, declining hotspots are not
necessarily "bad" places. Indeed, many venues — even ones which have
faded into complete obscurity — still have better food, better music or a
better atmosphere than even the latest of latest hotspots. But that is,
again, the paradox of the in crowd's magic. Quality takes a back seat to
novelty and exclusivity. Genuine distinction is not as consequential as
awing outsiders. Making them think that the new place is in every way
superior to that "old place" down the street is what really matters. The
site is insubstantial, what is important is the attention.



DETAILS


all you ever wanted to know
about, like, being cool

Scenesters can accumulate minor charges with little effort, providing
that they know what the local hotspots are. Significant charges, dubbed
the good stuff, typically require much in the way of networking, social
influence and raw charisma, plus the usual amounts of both luck and hard
work. The criteria for sparking a major charge — or, quality — is so
difficult and ephemeral that no scenesters are rumored have generated one
since the late-1970s.

Oh, and as a sidenote: unlike cliomancers, any number of scenesters can
work a hotspot, and all of them can get hip in the process. Just goes to
show you where the Western world's priorities are located these days.

Generate a minor charge: By merely entering the latest hotspot a
scenester gathers a minor charge, with another one being accumulated each
half hour thereafter. Major hotspots generate one minor charge for every
hour spent inside, while lounging about a hotspot in decline grants a
guestlister a meager one minor charge for the whole visit. In addition,
scenesters can spark one extra minor charge by talking their way into a
hotspot of any variety without using any of their powers beyond wit,
savvy and, perhaps, cash.

Generate a significant charge: Mojo of a higher quality can be obtained
through such a variety of means that individual practices tend to differ
from region to region. In Los Angeles, for example, A-listers are known
for sparking significant charges by being at the same hotspot on the same
night as a celebrity. Scenesters in New York, meanwhile, are supposedly
capable of picking up the good stuff by hitting as many hotspots in a
single night as possible. Oddly enough, when these same tactics were used
elsewhere, they failed to work, leading some members of the in crowd to
speculate that perhaps location is even more important to their
lifestyles than previously imagined.

Yet sometimes the best methods are those which remain tried-and-true, and
for scenesters the most reliable means of generating a significant charge
is by having their presence identified by the media at the latest
hotspot. Having your photograph taken by a local magazine, being
interviewed by a television reporter while heading inside, getting used
as an extra for the publicity shots — any and all of these will bestow a
scenester with one significant charge. And, since there's no such thing
as too much publicity, these charges are stackable, so getting a
photograph in the local nightlife magazine and also getting used for
publicity shots will generate two significant charges. 

Another popular means of generating the good stuff is by making a
previously unknown locale into a hotspot. Generally this can be
accomplished through networking and force of personality — getting the
establishment in question good press, showing up with all your hip
friends, "spreading the word" and so forth. But despite being more
strategic and therefore controllable, this tactic can be very risky.
Attempting to drag an obscure, unpopular destination into the limelight
is akin to putting all your eggs into one basket: should the place not
make it, the scenester responsible will obviously be in violation of the
in crowd taboo (see below), and consequently he and all his friends will
lose their accumulated charges. It is for this reason that scenesters
rarely "work together" to make a place hot. The rewards may be great, but
the thought of becoming an ostracized group, blamed for an outage of mojo
among scenesters city-wide, is a tough pill to swallow.

Should this tactic work, however, and locale actually become hot, then
the patrons responsible not only instantaneously receive one significant
charge, but they also receive one additional significant charge for every
week the venue stays a major hotspot. It is only upon going into decline
that the energy stops flowing, although by this point it hardly matters
given the amount of quality it was pumping out previously.

Generate a major charge: There is only one known method of generating
quality among scenesters, and that is through personally founding a
hotspot and keeping that hotspot hot for over a year. The venue most
never sink below its majority for the duration of that full year, and it
is only upon the completion of 365 nights of being hot that the
scenester-patron garners his major charge. 

Needless to say, this is a monumentally difficult task, and one that has
not been achieved since Steve Rubell and Ian Shrager founded Studio 54,
Michael Brody set up the Paradise Garage, and the Urgell brothers built
Pacha. All those accomplishments occurred during the glory days of disco
in the late-70s, and since then none have been able to establish a
hotspot with the staying power and glamorous reputation of the original
superclubs. For a time members of the in crowd were under the
misimpression that Mark Rodol, founder of London's Ministry of Sound, and
Peter Gatien, founder of The Limelight, were of their own, but sadly it
turned out they were just damn talented norms.

Blast Style: There is no blast style for scenesters.

Taboo: If they want to keep their charges, scenesters can never, ever
visit an establishment that is not a hotspot. They cannot meet friends at
Chili's for dinner before a movie; can never get drinks at the local
watering hole or neighborhood pub; can never attend a wedding reception
at some tackey convention hall out in the 'burbs, even if its family or a
close friend. In short, all social and entertainment activities, no
matter their nature and no matter the people with whom they are being
conducted, must take place at hotspots. 

But that's not all. 

Should a scenester be seen at some mundane or passé venue — that is to
say, spotted and recognized by another scenester, or some other member of
the smart set — than not only does he lose all of his charges, but so do
all of his in crowd friends. It is little wonder, therefore, that the in
crowd is so assiduously selective about those with whom they socialize.

Random Magic Domain: At its most basic, scenester magic revolves around
the ability to manipulate the way people think, act and feel — except
unlike with other adept schools, this is accomplished through exploiting
peoples' notions of status, prestige, popularity and human interaction,
not direct mental or emotional control. The in crowd's power stems from
playing upon perceptions and beliefs, the broad stereotypes held by
individuals and society at large. Thus, anything involving personal
interaction, popularity, reputation, working a crowd or influencing
through charisma or appearance is open game for members of the in crowd,
who use their magic to sway, infiltrate and build up their notoriety as
an untouchable, beatific elite.

In addition, since everything about scenester culture revolves around
specific localities, it should come as no surprise that their magic also
focuses on the understanding and controlling of space. Scenesters are
skilled at developing a sort of empathic relationship with a site, and
are widely known for their ability to know every exit, every entrance and
every hidden room at a particular venue. The truly skilled are capable of
finding doors that were previously not in existence, or instantly
becoming aware of person's presence the moment they enter a room.

Starting Charges: Newly-created scenesters begin with no charges. But
hey, all the bars open at 5 PM, right?


THE DRINK MENU


martinis $11, appetizers $14

I'm On The List
Cost: 1 minor charge
Through the use of this affect a scenester can gain access to a site
where admission is either extremely difficult to obtain or which is
lightly-guarded but generally off-limits. Hotspots, obviously enough, are
one such type of locality — but so are private office buildings, luxury
residences guarded by concierges, small-scale press conferences,
invitation-only social events and a host of other venues. 

In order to enact this spell, a scenester simply needs to stroll up to
whoever is in charge of admission and confidently state that they're
"expected," "on the list," or that they "just need to duck inside for a
minute."

That's So Nice of You!
Cost: 1 minor charge
The target suddenly feels compelled to treat the caster to whatever it is
they have purchased, whether it be a stack of new clothes, a bar tab, a
cab ride, or the check for a meal. Money in this situation is not a
factor; the unfortunate target will readily go to an ATM, use credit
cards or ask another friend for the necessary funds in order to satiate
this desire.

Where's the Bathroom?
Cost: 2 minor charges
Casting this spell allows a scenester to become immediately familiar with
a building's general layout. Not every specific architectural detail
becomes apparent, mind you, just basic information like the locations of
the restrooms, janitor's closets, security booths, arsenals and emergency
exits are located. If, naturally, they're present at all.

I'm With Them 
Cost: 2 minor charges 
If approached by someone who is asking all the wrong questions —
insisting upon seeing identification, an invitation, a written statement
of purpose — the scenester need only cast this spell, point to a group of
people and say "I'm with them." The affect usually ends up taking two
forms: either the interrogator heads off to ask the aforementioned group
what the deal is with their friend, or he nods knowingly, realizing he's
insulting the friends of people who actually do belong, and thereafter
leaves the caster alone.

Don't Mind Me
Cost: 3 minor charges
Of course, I'm On The List only gets one inside. What it doesn't do is
grant its caster any sort of obfuscation — something that's not
necessarily a problem in a busy bar or nightclub, but can be problematic
in smaller, more intimate locations like an office, country club or
reservation-only restaurant. There are ways around this problem, however,
most notably this spell, which allows the caster himself in an aura of
legitimacy and thereby avoid scrutiny. People just continue about their
business, oblivious to the gate crasher, unless he attempts to make his
presence known in some way. 

This power is a far cry from, say, invisibility, however. A scenester
under the affects of Don't Mind Me can still attract attention if, for
example, he is caught going through files to which only certain people
have access, or he walks into a conference room while there's a meeting
going on, or he knocks over a waiter's drink-tray. 

Don't You Recognize Me?
Cost: 4 minor charges
Sometimes merely mingling isn't the best way to appreciate a hotspot.
Sometimes, one needs to be treated with all the pomp and circumstance
that is normally reserved for the rich, famous and powerful. By casting
Don't You Recognize Me?, the scenester is able to convince a target that
he or she is a VERY IMPORTANT PERSON!, and should be served accordingly.
This an excellent way to persuade a venue's owner, by the bye, to get you
that private side-room, or to get that threatening "stalker" thrown out. 


--

Don't You Know Who I Am?
Cost: 1 significant charge
This is essentially a more powerful version of I'm On The List, in that
it gets a scenester into a site that would normally be off-limits. Yet
unlike I'm On The List, Don't You Know Who I Am? will allow a scenester
access to a place with considerably greater security than the usual
hotspot is prone to have. By acting annoyed at a security person's
inquiries, and then flippantly asking if the target is aware of who
they're meddling with, the caster is able to gain access to government
buildings, police stations, confidential archives and the like. Don't You
Know Who I Am? still won't legitimate the caster's presence once inside,
however.

You're Out of Your League
Cost: 1 significant charge
The target of this spell is suddenly seized with an almost paralyzing
social phobia, as if they were once again a teenager about to sing the
national anthem in front of the entire school. Palms and brows become
sweaty, memorized words are forgotten, speech becomes jumbled. All the
target wants to do is escape from the scene, and if prevented from doing
so, he or she may panic and have some sort of emotional breakdown.

I Think I Saw Him Over There
Cost: 1 significant charge
This effect grants the caster knowledge of any one person's location,
providing he has a.) seen the target enough times to be able to
accurately visualize him and b.) is within the same building as the
target.

Who Let You In?
Cost: 2 significant charges
Who Let You In? is vaguely similar to Don't You Recognize Me?, except
that is affects more than one target and is typically used as means of
protection. In brief, the scenester designates a target, casts the spell,
and then stands back as any and all security personnel within the
immediate area flock to their protection. Usually this results in the
target getting roughed up and tossed out onto the street.

This spell can only be used to influence individuals that are within the
caster's line of sight, and that has genuine authority to deal with
troublemakers. Thus, bouncers, bodyguards, bartenders, security guards,
police officers on duty and federal agents would all be justifiable
targets. A biker gang, on the other hand, would not. 

This Place is Packed
Cost: 2 significant charges
A scenester utilizing this spell can gain an instant understanding of a
room's social dynamics — who is with who, who is cheating on whom, what
people are feeling for one another, what they think of the venue, et
cetera. Though at first this effect may seem like telepathy, in fact it
is a far cry from that power. Rather, the crowd becomes like a group of
old friends or co-workers, in that the scenester knows how they all tend
to relate, interact and formulate their opinions.

You Don't Belong Here
Cost: 3 significant charges
Akin to Who Let You In?, but vastly more powerful. When cast, everyone in
the same room as the scenester suddenly turns against the target of the
spell, regardless of who the target is or how large the room may be.
Oddly enough, this affect only works indoors. 

Although slow to build, once You Don't Belong Here gets underway its
intensity quickly spirals out of control. Generally matters kick off with
cold stares and whispered, colorful commentary. Within a half-hour, this
scorn escalates into drunken insults, knocked shoulders and, say, drinks
"accidentally" spilt all over the front of the target's pants. After
about an hour, the masses turn physically violent against the target. At
this point he'll be lucky to get escorted outside, for if he isn't he'll
soon find himself the subject of an angry mob.

Right This Way
Cost: 5 significant charges
The scenester casts this on a door, and then visualizes where he or she
would like that door to bring them. When said door is opened, the caster
is able to step through and into their desired destination, providing
that it is either within or immediately outside the same building as the
door itself. This spell will not teleport the caster from country to
country, or even from building to building. It will only permit them to
move within the building itself, or to escape outside into a rear
alleyway or abutting sidestreet.

--


Major Charge

Make yourself into a celebrity almost overnight, the idol of millions and
the most sought-after person in the country. Turn a peaceful assembly
into a violent mob, cause protestors to assault the target of their ire,
or get a vast group of people — cops, mobsters, businessmen, soldiers —
to completely ignore the orders of their superiors. Erase a venue from
existence entirely, including from the minds and tongues of even its most
devoted regulars. Use passageways inside a hotspot to teleport great
distances (across town, across the country, across the Atlantic).
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