Exchange of Realities

We all know you don’t want to fall in love with the protagonists. That’s a given. And being in love with your lieutenants is awkward, and the henchman are pretty much all doomed, so there’s no point in that. Sure, we can sleep our way through the countryside, but sometimes you need something more. Someone special, someone with whom you can spend long evenings plotting world domination; who understands the trials and tribulations of villainy; who can tell when you need a massage, a bowl of chocolates, or a minor nuisance’s head on a silver platter. Is it that strange? Spell love backwards, and you only need to change one word to make it evil.

Of course, our narrative roles lead us to suppress softer emotions, so we may need to identify it differently. That megalomaniac across the ridge comes across as someone we want to completely overwhelm and make into our head minion. And then the fun begins.

Often, the courtship ritual of the evil mastermind begins by showing off. To the uninformed, a death ray is a death ray, nothing more. (Unless it’s pointed at them, in which case it’s an irrefutable argument for shutting up and doing what we say.) But in our organization, it’s a chance to show skill and better qualities. Large death ray? Lots of resources. Small but powerful? Fond of efficiency. Doubles as a number of things? Must be flexible. Wasn’t even started last week? My, this one’s fast.

Crafts aren’t for everyone, though. Sometimes, it’s best to show that you’ve got plans and known how to implement them. A few well-chosen schemes, particularly in the style your person of interest approves of, can attract a lot of attention. If you’re sufficiently inventive, you may even be able to enact plans on that one’s behalf—capture an infiltrating protagonist and leave the little meddler tied up on the doorstep, disrupt a potential uprising before it happens, assassinate someone in a spot on the social ladder your object of desire wants to reach—in short, random acts of evil cooperation. Just remember to be careful; every now and then, these things are permitted to exist as part of a greater plan, and attempting to help only messes it up. Make sure you understand the situation before you “help out”!

Of course, it’s not just good that we fight. Sometimes, it’s each other. For a number of reasons, this is actually an integral part of the courtship process. It fits our trying to convert our feelings to a “defeat and make into minion” urge. The competition allows us to keep in practice and learn from each other’s styles. Moreover, we wouldn’t be in this business if we didn’t in some way enjoy the give and take of maneuvering against powerful opponents. For us, working against each other can be like a high-stakes game of chance, and the natural pseudo-camaraderie that comes from having a clever opponent to practice against helps to strengthen the relationship.

Now, there are certain rules we follow when courting through hostile takeover. Most of these should be common sense, but they bear repeating. One, keep your doomsday devices to yourself. It’s better not to reveal them until you’re surprising the protagonists, and use of doomsday devices makes it clear that you’re playing to win and not for the game’s own sake. Two, avoid scorched earth tactics. It spoils both sides’ fun—who wants to squabble over a burnt-out area?—and, again, establishes belligerence rather than rivalry. On the other hand, inordinately complex plans are generally encouraged when courting, as they allow you to show off your strategy and give the opponent a chance to engage and come up with counters. And most importantly, if protagonists should happen to interfere, arrange a truce to squash them.

I myself am in the middle of a lovely rivalry with the necromancer on the next hilltop. We’ve mostly been picking at each other’s border holdings and doing catch-and-release on infiltrating minions (at least his people refill the graves they dig up). He has an interesting approach to the doomsday device rule, probably because he’s very good with the things and wants to show them off—he makes a big show of activating the thing so that my people can come in, marvel at its workmanship, then prevent its activation. (25 and 47 know the thing almost as well as they know their own quarters, and you can count on them to talk about it for an hour if prodded.) And last week a group of heroes happened into the scuffle on my side of the border; he let me know they were there, and we kept it going as a diversion, let them try to play our forces against each other, and then crushed them over wine and dinner. It was beautiful. I think soon we’ll be able to take the next step: pooling our forces for a joint invasion of that obnoxious kingdom on the plains. Lilith likes him; that’s always a good sign.

So if you, too, are looking longingly at another Hand of Darkness, try putting your best foot forward. Sure, they might actually be hostile and land-grabby, but matters of the heart are full of risks, and you’ll learn something no matter what happens. Good luck!

(Note: Aywren, your question is being processed right now.  I should have an answer next week… and possibly the week after as well… and maybe the week after that if it keeps complicating itself at the rate that it’s been going.)