Part 24: XXIV - Calling Dr. Grout

Now that we're at Grout's mansion, it should be easy enough to.... hey, is that Nines?



I might ask you the same thing.

No.

This is weird. Nines sounds a little spooked.

You feeling alright, man?

You should get out of here. This place is bad news. Uh... pardon me.

"Pardon me"!? When has Nines ever spoken like that?

Huh?



Nines leaves without saying another word. A leaf falls from the tree and hits the ground. I try to make something insignificant seem literary.



Anyway, Grout's mansion looks absolutely huge from the outside, so it might take a while to find him. We're just going to head straight through the unlocked front door.





Um, Grout? Is that you?



Apparently not.



Okay, here's the deal.



Grout's mansion is full of these weird insane people in gimp outfits and Hannibal Lecter masks.



It's possible to sneak up on some of them to get a stealth kill. Otherwise they're fairly easy to deal with.



Uh huh... Grout must be a very unique person.



To the right of the painting is a recorder.

It is quite peculiar the happenings I've been made to witness from my supernatural longevity. I'm thinking of one unfortunate phenomenon in particular of unique interest to my station, both as a professional and as a sufferer of this Vampiric condition. It seems the stream of time has begun to erode the moorings of my chosen course of study, for the methodologies that gave birth to psychology are slowly disappearing. I find myself in an era that overlooks the physical component of psychological pathology, time and again in favour of the sophistic practices of Freud. Phrenology, Dactopindalism, and the rest of the old guard is fallen by the wayside, its champions all silenced in death with my unique exception. Would that I could make my voice heard again, although it may be suspicious should I return to popular medical discourse fifty years after my apparent death.

No, better that I continue my studies into the psychosis in secret. One day I may hold up my own cure as validation of the methods. I am confident no cure for my condition, or that of my beloved wife, lies within our figurative minds, waiting to be unlocked by the correct combination of memories recovered from our childhoods. And I'm most certain that it has nothing to do with the relationship between myself, my parents, and my genitals. Sorry, Sigmund, but I choose to stay my course. In time, too, may your star fade and disappear.

I had a good laugh when I first heard this. I've actually read Freud, and a lot of what he had to say was pretty wacky. What I don't understand, however, is when this was recorded. Grout (who's speaking) says that it's been 50 years since his embrace. Does that mean he was embraced in 1954? If so, then already at that time it would have been behaviorism that was the dominant current in psychology, not psychoanalysis. Furthermore, if this was recorded in 2004, then, as it still is today, cognitivism was the dominant approach to psychology. Was this recorded in the early 20th century, when psychoanalysis was at its peak in popularity? That's the only way this would have made sense.



At any rate, we should continue searching for Grout. Maybe he can give us the answer when we find him, since he does seem to be one of the more intelligible Malkavians.



Soon enough, we come to this guy decked out in BDSM gear, pulling a candle on the wall. As a result, it and the two candles next to it turn on and off.



Before we deal with that there's another recorder.

Another unfortunate casualty to tide of time: Insane Asylums. I lament their loss not only as brokerage houses for the breadth and depth of human psychoses, but also I shall mourn the disappearance of that peculiar environment present only in an insane asylum. That palpable atmosphere of blistered brains and churning bowels, the odiferous melange of freely flowing bodily humours, that gently rolling cacophony of distant sobs and screams, the muttered cursing of perceived enemies and the blissful gurgling of the lobotomized. Like a new-born babe discovering the sky.

I shall still find test subjects as surely as I find bloody sustenance in the night but this climate, I fear, may never be replicated.

Apparently he turned his mansion into an insane asylum. I feel like Grout was already a little out of it before he was embraced Malkavian. Now onto this puzzle.



After dealing with the lone enemy in the area, we first find another occult powerup on a table:



Then we see a note which gives us a clue about the puzzle:



There are three positions for each light: off, slightly on, and on. It has to do with brightness. We want all of the lights to be on, but as you can tell, interacting with one also interacts with the others.



Whatever. I decided to play this like a Malkavian and just pull the lights down at random until I found the solution. I normally have patience, but these are the worst type of puzzles.



In a surprisingly small amount of time, we solve the puzzle, and a door that was previously closed is now open.



In here there are a handful of more enemies to take out.



But then we find that all of the other doors in the room are locked, and the giant staircase goes nowhere.



What we need to do is flip another candle switch in order to proceed.



That opens the top of the staircase.



Up here, after dispatching two enemies, we find another recorder.

Often I reflect with great regret on the missed opportunity that was my infector. Had I been conscious after the attack, I could have stopped the orderlies from locking her in the roaming pen. What I would give for just one interview, a few simple questions of the plague ridden woman who met her end that dawn.

Of course there is no guarantee she would have been any more helpful than my current crop of test subjects - Mewling wretches! Few could be called 'enthusiastic' - Given the nature of the tests, I cannot expect the same fervor from all, but a modicum of cooperation would be appreciated - Animals. The one called 'John' went so far as to gnaw off his arm and escape into the floorboards like some feral rodent. I still hear him scurrying about at night, he must be making an atrocious mess in there.

Grout was embraced accidentally embraced by one of his test subjects, it seems. I'm not sure if these enemies we've been fighting are ghouls or not. Certainly not vampires, but if they are ghouls, it would take a ton of Grout's blood to sustain them all. He hasn't even mentioned that he knows how to ghoul someone, anyway. Moving on...



That looks a little like Vandal. Just opposite of this is a picture.



Some developer maybe decided to put a picture of their daughter in Grout's mansion.



Anyway, there's another recorder in the same room.

My studies proceed at a languid pace. I'm mired in a foul ennui as my wife's illness advances. My subjects grow restless without proper supervision, but I cannot pull myself back from this black depression. How many nights I've wasted now, gazing from the tower walk, pondering the frailty of existence.

Could Grout's disappearance have something to do with his wife's illness?



Only one way to find out - we're continuing on, up the stairs and into the tower walk Grout's recording just spoke of.



Grout must have made a lot of money from his previous career as a psychologist. This place is huge. There's nothing to do in the walkway except to see the view. Now we're heading downwards on the other side.



After dealing with another group of enemies...





...we come to a room with another recorder.

After decades of solitary study into this affliction, I have learned that it is by no means mine alone. Indeed, this city is home to an entire society of similarly afflicted individuals with whom I've only recently made contact. They are an understandably standoffish sort, by and large, but I have been able to confirm with them that the condition is indeed vampirism, which apparently comes in a multitude of strains, each with a spectacular set of symptoms such as invisibility and even a sort of lycanthropy.

Through numerous official interactions with the governing body of this secret society, I have concluded that their fundamental understanding of the vampiric condition is woefully lacking and mired in suspicion and pseudo-religious dogma that would make a Turk balk for its strictures. Indeed, they seemed impressed with my studies and the eloquence with which I was able to present them. Apparently the typical sufferer of my particular strain of vampirism is far from the vanguard of the King's English. So impressed were they that they even offered me an office in their government, a rather high office, by the sound of things. I believe I shall accept. If nothing else, it should provide a lofty vantage point from which to observe the breadth and epidemiology of the affliction so that I may move more expeditiously toward a cure.

Somehow Grout made contact with what sounds like the Camarilla after decades of being alone in his mansion. What went wrong? And why has Grout's Malkavian-ness not manifest itself in a way we can tell?

Answers will probably come in time. In order to proceed, we have to touch a hidden switch on the fireplace. That opens it up for us to go through.



Soon enough we're taken back to the room with the previous candle puzzle, just one floor above. As you can see, there's bother another recorder and another puzzle here. The recorder comes first.



I have accepted the role of 'Primogen' for clan 'Malkavian', the dreadfully winsome label applied to the particular strain of vampirism I suffer. So named for some supposed vampire father figure of old. More poppycock grown from a backwood culture that seems interminably drawn to childrens' tales and the fiction of Victorian romance when it should concern itself with the science behind their suffering. No matter, for I have taken this office for no greater reason than the advancement of my research.

I must make mention however that even among my would-be peers in this governing body of vampires, the level of paranoia and superstition is frightening! Their intelligence is not the question, no, indeed, as they courted me for this appointment, I had to suspect that their overtures were hand-tailored for what must be my obvious infatuation with reason, for the devil would do well to have such honey-tongued tempters. Even so, I could not help but notice the dressing of language these vampire leaders chose for their siren song. Whether it is born of habit, from addressing their unwashed, ill-educated subjects or from their own deep-seated beliefs, their linguistic flourishes belie a faith in superstition over the providence of empirical reason that must be an all-pervasive theme in this society of darkest night. Damn it all now, I'm doing it, too!

Way to go, Grout! Primogen of Clan Malkavian. Such a prestigious position to be the vanguard of a clan that can't even properly communicate with the rest of the Camarilla.

Now about this puzzle.



Whatever. Like I said, I don't have patience for these.



Soon enough...



The old secret door behind the bookcase. Clever girl, Grout.



We head down there by ladder, and enter the passage. That leads us to...



Woah. Solving this puzzle is simple, though it may look intimidating. There are levers on the wall to pull, and that shuts off the electricity for each respective coil that the lever corresponds to.



We also find another occult powerup on the ground.



After swithcing off the electricity, we can progress a little further and flip a switch.



That opens up one of those locked doors in the room with the staircase.



This is the entrance to Grout's inner sanctum.



It looks just as you imagined it, doesn't it?



After dealing with yet more enemies, there's a recorder to listen to.

As I expand my dealings with the vampire government, I have encountered a disturbing new symptom of this affliction. Frequently, in conversation, I will hear voices emanating from other vampires. Voices that are not their own but which seem to have insight into their lives beyond what I could gather from simple conversation. These voices seem to echo from deep within my fellow vampires and I cannot be certain if this symptom belongs to my strain of illness or theirs, for the voices are various and inconsistent. I dare not mention this symptom to my vampiric peers, for they have proven themselves true predators to whom I could be loathe to reveal any sign of weakness. Indeed, these voices have counciled me against confessing their presence and until I can confirm their source, I will listen. The information the voices have given me ranges from curious to frightening. The latter is especially true of one powerful vampire whose name I shall not commit to recording in the interests of self preservation.

Ah, here we finally see that Grout's Malkavian tendencies are manifesting themselves. Who could this "one powerful vampire", though? A Camarilla vampire, certainly, but which one? Strauss? LaCroix?



Near here, there's a locked freezer.



Behind it are a handful of blood packs, which we'll take. No doubt that Grout had to buy a great supply of blood in order to sustain himself. Some of these are 'elder vitae', which means he had some connections. You might think that he might have fed off of his test subjects, but if he's doing experiments on them, it's probably not wise to subject them to that. Who knows what effects feeding on someone could have on other tests.



Continuing forward, I found this telephone behind a locked door. Apparently, WESP decided to restore some hidden room which is unlocked by interacting with this telephone, but I couldn't get it to work properly. :WESP:



This part of Grout's mansion looks genuinely like an old insane asylum.



You can look in the side rooms, but they're mostly barren.



In one of them, we can see Grout's viewing platform above. I think the phone was supposed to unlock a path up there, but like I said, :WESP:



No matter how many times I interacted with that phone, I couldn't get the entrance to open.



Moving forward, we take this passageway up, using that grating-thing as a platform up to wooden beams.



This takes us to another recorder.

The voices have increased in frequency and direction of late. They have begun to stay with me long after conversation has ceased and are serving as quite a distraction. I fear others are beginning to notice my preoccupation at the vampire gatherings. I am thinking again of the particular vampire of whom I spoke of previously, who I dare not name for my growing fear. If the voices are to be believed, then my caution is warranted, for they speak of his blackest crimes both past and future. More than once I have seen the suspicion in his eyes and heard the distrust in his voice when speaking with me! The fear must register on my face for it is all I can do in these moments to keep from crying out in chorus with the voices!

We then take a set of stairs upwards, which leads us to a final recorder



I am no longer safe - I know it! The voices have proven themselves authentic, and I have withdrawn from the vampire society entirely. My absence will no doubt draw attention, but I could no longer hold my fragile composure around the ravenous eyes of my vampire peers, especially not around him! The voices compelled me to make what I fear is a Faustian bargain. But I had to, for their demands are constant and merciless. I have secluded myself within the mansion. I know he will strike out at me. He will go to any length to achieve his ambitions, and he knows that I know!
I have taken precautions to protect my beloved wife. A cure will have to wait until our immediate safety is guaranteed. The mansion was constructed with security in mind, but at that time I was not privy to the full range of vampire capabilities! The voices echo in the twisted corridors of my psyche, dark whisperings of a macabre and formless menace, the approach of which portends an end, an end to all of this!

We know that the powerful vampire Grout was speak of is male, but what could this "Faustian bargain" be? What did his wife need to be cured from?

Moving forward, we come to another doorway, and upon opening it...





I understand now. Grout was looking for a cure for his wife's death. He became a vampire, an immortal, and his wife remained mortal, thus she had an expiration date. Grout didn't embrace her, likely he didn't want to subject her to a condition that he didn't fully understand. Instead, he preserved her...



...and other items...



...with the hope of being able to find a cure for death. He was committed to doing what seems utterly impossible. Only love could be so cruel.

But, on the other hand, only though striving to do the impossible can man recognize and realize what is possible. Those who have sensibly limited themselves to only what they believed to be possible have never taken a single step forward.



The door forward is locked, but we can interact with this gramophone...

Watch:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UCYv0HyK9NQ



Brass music from happier times plays softly in the background.



Grout's wife turns, as if dancing, towards the gramophone.



The door unlocks. We move on.



This must be Grout's bedroom, and it looks like Grout was staked, chained, and killed. Who could have done this? Was it Nines? Maybe, but we don't know for sure. We ran into Nines just as we entered. Maybe that's why he was spooked, he saw that Grout was already dead. Why couldn't he tell us about it, though? Maybe it's because he did do it.

Before examining Grout's remains, there are three paintings of interest in his bedroom.







I don't know who these paintings are of, nor do I know why their eyes are damaged.



Examining Grout's remains, the mansion is suddenly shocked by a massive explosion!



The whole place is on fire! Who's that across the way?



Grout's dead. Who the hell are you?



This must be a hunter. He could be dangerous -- we should try to trick him.

Wait, wait, wait... let's discuss this.

Babble your native tongue in the pits of the abyss! I will not hear it any more!

But...



[Listen] Let this righteous display serve as a promise to all who serve the archfiend LaCroix! I'm coming for you, LaCroix! By the power of the Lord, I will cleanse your black soul!

Yeah, whatever.



Bach runs away. We should do the same and get out of here. The problem is that the door back is locked.



So we have to jump down the balcony and find another way out.



The whole place is on fire! We better get out of here fast, before the flames engulf the entire mansion.



Soon enough we come to a window. Time to jump!







What the fuck happened in there? Who killed Grout? How does Bach come into play? Was it just a coincidence that he showed up as we were in the mansion? Were we set up? Was it LaCroix?

So many questions, but we'll have to wait until next time to get any answers.