Almost no one has ever heard of Willux but at one time it was the social media platform, Sami Villegas had beaten everyone to the punch and built a repository of personal information that wasn’t excessive by modern standards but set people’s teeth on edge in its day. As the tech entrepreneur was buoyed down the path of the Collector by humanity’s collective desire for recognition and vanity his own desires changed. Caught up in the influx of statospheric power his business venture became less something he hoped would get bought out by a tech billionaire than an end unto itself. Sure, the money was there but it seemed paltry in comparison to the sudden sensation of spiritual ascent he wasn’t just willing to put down to cocaine.
You can’t make those kinds of meteoric waves without drawing attention from both the mundane world and the occult demimonde. With business rivals, wizards and politicians gunning for him, it was a combination of the cabal of privacy obsessed adepts and cyberattacks on crucial systems that brought him down. On the cusp of ascension as he delivered the keynote address at a dinner, persuading California legislators to integrate Willux’s databases with public services they struck simultaneously by happenstance. He tasted the light of the Invisible Clergy for a moment, then came crashing back to Earth.
The stuttering of Sami’s momentary ascension destroyed his collection and his connection to the archetype, Willux has never existed. No one but him can remember it. Other platforms sprung out of the ether to fill the void in reality, spawned from the suppressed intentions and work of their creators. People unconsciously refocused as the industry shifted gears and he was all that remained, alone.
He still had money but no one knew him. He had a big empty house but no company and no job. His history was as tattered a patchwork as his statosphere-addled mind. Half remembering the things he dreams of the nights he can sleep, Sami collects. He collects magazines, books, stolen mail and voter registration lists. Any piece of print information he can get his hands on ends up in teetering piles filling his McMansion. Sami is convinced that his mistake was that his collection lacked tangibility and that he can build a monument that will buy his way back into heaven’s embrace. A Tower of Babel that will convince them to take him with them when they go.
The damage Sami sustained in his failed ascension has cut him off from the statosphere, however his overwhelming obsession and knowledge has yielded some magick. His collection contains just about any information you might want: names of the people responsible for your brother’s death, rituals, lost episodes of Doctor Who. The catch is that you have to convince him to look for it. He’ll be happy to do it, so long as you’re respectful and will pay tribute with something of comparable value first.
STATS
Personality: A bit fried but smart, smart enough to tell that there’s major things missing from inside his head and be pissed off about it. He’ll be imperious when he can get away with it and petulant when brought low.
Rage: Thieves. Sami hates it when people take things from him, not just pieces of his collection: housekeys, money, ideas.
Noble: Great works. Any undertaking that occupies a person’s entire life is worthy to Sami.
Fear: Losing himself. Sami obsessively collects all the pieces of himself we leave behind, toenail clippings, hair, skin flakes. You don’t want to know what’s in that painstakingly curated collection of jars in the basement.
Obsession: Tending his collection.
Wound Threshold: 50.
Magickal Hoarder 50%* (Specific Information, Casts Rituals, Use Gutter Magick.)
Failed Archetype 70% (Substitutes for Secrecy, Protects Unnatural, Protects Isolation.)
Shock Gauges
Disorder: Megalomania.
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