Exiled on Couch Street

A Micro-Setting for Paint the Town Red

“Every necropolis is a party that ends in fire. The trick is to own the matches. And to start organizing the next party before you strike the first match. But remember: You're not organizing with equals—you're shepherding a flock you both protect and feed from.”
– Anonymous “Type A” Dead, overheard in a Coffin Club booth, reflecting centuries of resigned predation.

Section I: Welcome to Couch Street

Portland, Oregon – or PDX, as the locals call it – is a necropolis that never admits it's one. It's a city "so over everything," including its own undead. Gentrification turns neighborhoods into undead husks: old haunts vanish, replaced by luxury condos that feel as cold as a vampire's touch. But the dead persist, hiding in plain sight amid artisanal coffee shops, bike lanes, and ironic street art.

Couch Street (pronounced "Cooch" by IYKYK folks) is the heart of this exile. It's a liminal strip where addresses glitch: 130½ Couch St. exists only after midnight, basements lead to non-existent sub-levels, and coffee shops are perpetually "closed for renovations" unless you're cursed. Here, the undead – vampires, liches, werewolves, zombies – flatshare in crumbling Alberta Arts District pads, chasing Passions amid food carts and Voodoo Doughnuts.

This zine hacks Paint the Town Red (PtTR) rules for a modern Portland chronicle. Use PtTR's core mechanics: Pulse (how human you feel), Chaos (how monstrous you act), Stats (Savagery, Allure, Duplicity), and the cycle of indulgence and collapse. Sessions follow PtTR's structure: "It’s All Happening Tonight…" montages, "Paint The Town Red" open play, and Downtime crashes.

Themes: Ironic tragedy of immortals "building community" in a gentrifying hellscape. Bonds with houseless neighbors as "Sandwich Man" anchors—but with a darker twist. The core book nods to collective action only in its final paragraph, focusing instead on individual entropy and fleeting Bonds. Here, we explore the ethical tension of undead "organizing": After centuries witnessing mortal cycles, vampires become shepherds—affectionate toward their flock, yet feeding from it.

The power disparity makes true equality impossible; care exists within exploitation. Is there a "good" bloodsucker? Like Forever Knight, players navigate vigilante ethics, consent models, or resignation, but PtTR's social compulsion for blood-drinking ensures messiness. Community efforts gain Chaos not just from indulgence, but from the hypocrisy of protecting those you prey upon.

GM Note: Lean into PtTR's metaphor of undeath as trauma/change, amplified by immortality's erosion of morals. Portland's vibe—jaded hedonism meets fleeting resilience—highlights this. Use safety tools (X Card, Lines & Veils) – themes include addiction, alienation, gentrification's violence, and predatory power dynamics. Encourage players to roleplay the shepherd's resignation: Moral anguish fades into cosmic shrugs, where harm is a "rounding error" against historical atrocities.

Section II: The Domiciles of the Dead

The dead don't hide in crypts; they squat in address anomalies – places that glitch the city's grid. Roll 1D6 on the table below for a random domicile when players need a lair, safe house, or crash site. These are "Hollows" (low-Pulse despair spots) or "Lurks" (high-Pulse indulgence zones) per PtTR rules. In PDX, domiciles often border mortal communities, heightening the shepherd-flock tension—feed too close, and Bonds fray from exploitation.

What’s Behind the Wrong Door? (1D6 Table)

1. Laundromat Basement with Six Dryers and No Venting System: A steamy, eternal wash cycle. Low Chaos: Blend in as a mortal doing laundry. High Chaos: Machines overflow with bloody suds, exposing your mess. (Upper Hand on Duplicity Checks to hide; Against The Odds on Allure if Pulse is low – you reek of rot. Ethical twist: Nearby houseless use it for warmth; feeding here risks turning "shepherd" into poacher.)
2. Stairwell That Descends Forever, Ending at the Burnside Bridge Camp: Leads to houseless allies under the bridge. Bonds form here via shared fires and sandwiches. (Gain 1 Pulse from a Bond interaction; but gain 1 Chaos if Factions spot you "slumming it." Dilemma: Protect the camp as a shepherd, but centuries of perspective make their struggles feel transient—do you feed "ethically" on outsiders, or accept the flock's utility?)
3. Powell’s Annex Where Every Book is Stamped WITHDRAWN: A lich's library of forgotten grimoires and VHS tapes. Observation Checks here reveal undead lore (Upper Hand). Fail: Stumble into a zoning trap from City Bureaucracy. (Power disparity: Mortals browse upstairs; downstairs, you hoard knowledge they'll never access, mirroring immortality's unequal wisdom.)
4. Unlit Flat Where the Water Runs Red at Dusk: Vampire crash pad with artisanal blood taps. Indulge Passions safely (+1 Pulse), but high Chaos risks a developer raid (Flatline if exposed to a Bane like "artisanal sunlight filters"). (Shepherd's care: Host Bonds here for protection, but the red water reminds you of the exploitation sustaining your "help.")
5. Glassed-In Condo Showroom with No Exit: Gentrifier's trap – luxury undead co-op. Against The Odds on escape Checks; success builds resentment toward Big-Money Developers. (Ethical complication: Displace mortals to claim it? Or organize against devs while secretly benefiting from the asymmetry.)
6. The Couch Street “Half-Number” (130½), Always Occupied, Never Leased: Phantom flatshare. Trivial Savagery Check to force entry; host a Party Hard for +D3 Pulse, but +D3 Chaos from neighbor complaints. (Flock dynamics: Invite houseless Bonds for shelter, but your eternal presence makes their transience poignant—and your feeding inevitable.)

Vignette: The flatshare awakens in 130½'s moldy living room. The vampire sighs over a $9 blood cocktail, pondering if tonight's "community patrol" is protection or scouting prey; the werewolf howls at claw-marked upholstery, affectionate toward the houseless "pack" yet hungry; the lich gripes about 5G disrupting spells, hoarding knowledge from mortals; the zombie drops a thumb in the sink, its simple care for the flock unburdened by ethics. Outside, gentrification looms – time to Paint The Town Red, shepherding with one hand while feeding with the other.

Section III: Factions of Exile

Factions are conservative undead hegemonies. They resent newcomers rocking the boat. In PDX, they're a mix of old entropy and modern predation, often exploiting mortals while decrying chaos. Piss them off: Gain Chaos, trigger Consequences. Ally: Get Jobs for rewards—but alliances highlight power disparities, as Factions view mortals as resources, not equals.

1. The Old Guard Undead: Bitter Nosferatu in abandoned theaters, "We knew Portland when it was properly weird." Want secrecy and quiet indulgence. Flatshare antics? A menace. (Leader: Victorian-coated elder; Schemes: Enforce Masquerade, exile chaotic upstarts. They embody resignation—mortals are fleeting flocks, not partners.)
2. Big-Money Developers: Vampire VCs, lich real estate trusts, werewolf flippers treating the Pearl District as hunting grounds. Condos are coffins for culture. (Leader: Slick mogul; Schemes: Gentrify Lurks, displace Bonds. Ethical hypocrisy: "Develop" communities while feeding on displaced mortals.)
3. The Fentanyl Syndicate: Corrosive dealers/chemists/ghouls exploiting vulnerables. Brush against them protecting houseless Bonds. (Leader: Predatory ghoul; Schemes: Flood streets with poison, spike Chaos via addictions. Darkest shepherds: Addict the flock for control.)
4. The Anarcho-Punks of Lower Burnside: Undead/mortal squatters, bands, zinesters despising developers and old guard. Allies or headaches. (Leader: Molotov-wielding punk; Schemes: Sabotage condos, host underground raves. Rare equality attempt—but undead punks' immortality undermines mortal comrades.)
5. The Church of Eternal Sunrise: New-age cult spinning undeath as "energy alignment." Hunters in disguise? (Leader: Wellness guru; Schemes: Expose Banes via "radical fasting," purge "negative vibes." Paternalistic "care": "Save" mortals from undead, ignoring their own predatory recruitment.)
6. The City Bureaucracy (Zoning, Parking, Permits): Mortal eldritch entity wielding paperwork. Running joke until it tows your 1929 Packard. (Leader: Faceless inspector; Schemes: Citation undead lairs, zone out Lurks. Asymmetry amplified: Immortal vampires vs. bureaucratic "shepherds" of urban order.)

Faction Map Sketch: Old Guard allies Developers (shared entropy); opposes Anarcho-Punks (chaos). Fent Syndicate preys on all; Church hunts everyone; Bureaucracy foils randomly. Flatshare sits at the messy intersection – "shepherds" drawing fire while navigating flock exploitation.

Section IV: Bonds in the Burnside Fog

Bonds ground you, but in PDX, they're asymmetrical: Immortals form "shepherd" relationships with mortal flocks—affectionate, protective, yet predatory. The core book's fleeting, individual Bonds become systemic here, heightening ethical dilemmas. Do you feed on your "flock"? Segregate predation? Accept exploitation as negligible against history's atrocities? Spending Time With A Bond: +D3 Pulse, -D3 Chaos (or vice versa if toxic)—but high Chaos risks revealing the disparity, turning Bonds hostile.

Shepherd's Dilemmas (New Mechanic): When Indulging a Passion near a Bond, roll 1D6. On 1-3, gain +1 Chaos from ethical fallout (e.g., flock senses predation). On 4-6, gain +1 Pulse from resigned care.

Who Owes You a Favor? (1D6)

1. Houseless vet sharing bridge camp intel—grateful for "protection," unaware of your hunger.
2. Punk zinester printing undead manifestos—sees you as ally, not eternal overlord.
3. Drag wrestler bodyguarding your lair—muscle for your "flock," but what if they learn the truth?
4. Burrito-cart operator slipping free "blood burritos"—consent model attempt, fragile against centuries' resignation.
5. Artist squatting a condemned gallery—creative spark you "shepherd," yet envy their mortality.
6. Lyft driver (werewolf contact) for free rides—pack bond, but mortals are always the prey.

Who Saw Too Much? (1D6)

1. Teen who witnessed a Power of Undeath—innocent flock, now a liability.
2. Barista spotting your cold touch—everyday mortal, highlighting your separation.
3. Neighbor hearing howls—community echo of your monstrous shepherding.
4. Powell’s clerk finding a dropped thumb—knowledge asymmetry exposed.
5. Cult member sensing your "aura"—rival "shepherd" challenging your flock.
6. Developer spying on your flatshare—capitalist predator mirroring your own.

Who Keeps You Human? (1D6)

1. "Sandwich Man" feeding the camp—mutual care, but your immortality makes it paternalistic.
2. Houseless elder sharing stories—historical perspective reminds you of flocks past.
3. Punk bandmate jamming chaos away—brief equality before entropy claims them.
4. Drag queen teaching self-expression—identity exploration you "guide," yet outlive.
5. Burrito vendor grounding with normalcy—consent donor? Or resigned exploitation.
6. Artist collaborator sparking Passions—creative flock you protect... and potentially drain.

Section V: Passions on Couch Street

Passions are inadvisable highs. Indulge: +D3 Pulse, +1 Chaos. PDX twists: Tie to local vibes, but frame as shepherd's indulgences—chasing "aliveness" while managing flock ethics. Blood-drinking? Social compulsion, not need—but in community, it's predatory. Options: Vigilante feeding (on "bad" devs), consent donors (Bonds?), abstinence (self-denial, lose Pulse).

New Passions Tied to Portland (1D6 Roll for Random)

1. All-Night Karaoke at the Baby Ketten: Belt goth anthems; +Upper Hand on Allure, but Chaos spikes if mic feedback reveals your echo. (Dilemma: Invite flock for fun, risk exposure.)
2. Dumpster-Diving Powell’s Remainders: Hunt withdrawn tomes; Observation Check for lore, fail: City Bureaucracy ticket. (Shepherd knowledge hoarding—share with mortals?)
3. Bike Jousting on Alberta: Charge with lances; Savagery Check, success: +Pulse from thrill, fail: Flatline crash. (Flock entertainment, but injury reveals disparity.)
4. Drinking PBR Under the St. Johns Bridge: Commune with fog; -Chaos if with Bond, but Fent Syndicate ambush risk. (Resigned care: Bond time, yet feeding lurks.)
5. Haunting Lovecraft Film Fest: Submit "student films"; Duplicity to sneak in, Chaos from eldritch reveals. (Cultural "guidance" for flock, paternalistic at core.)
6. Voodoo Doughnut Binge: Indulge "Maple Fang" knockoffs; Trivial if low Chaos, but high: Developer IP theft scheme. (Sweet "care" for flock, masking predation.)

Section VI: Consequences & Collapse

PDX accelerates PtTR's gravity well. If highest Chaos at Downtime, roll on this Burnout Table instead of standard Consequences. Reset Pulse/Chaos after. Add ethical fallout: Exploitation erodes Bonds, turning shepherds into wolves.

Couch Street Burnout Table (1D6)

1. Rent Doubled: Developer hikes; Against The Odds on lair Checks. (Flock displaced—your "protection" fails.)
2. Your Lair Gets “Remodeled”: Gentrified; lose a Bond, +2 Chaos. (Ethical reveal: Flock sees your complicity.)
3. Bond Harassed by Code Enforcement: Bureaucracy targets allies; -D3 Pulse. (Shepherd's guilt: Your chaos harms those you "care" for.)
4. Coffin Club Closes (Again): Lurk gone; Indulge elsewhere at +1 Chaos. (Flock scattered—resignation sets in.)
5. City Declares Your Block an “Arts District”: Priced out; forced exile, start new necropolis arc. (Historical cycle: Another flock abandoned.)
6. Fent Overdose Wave: Syndicate spikes camp; hostile Bond, trigger Fight. (Predation mirror: Your feeding pales against systemic harm?)

Playlist

The Rolling Stones’ Exile on Main St. crossfaded with NIN’s The Downward Spiral, plus Liz Phair’s Exile in Guyville to offset the Yang. Add Yankovic polka twists for madcap sessions: "Mr. Self Destruct" as accordion farce—lightening the shepherd's bleak resignation.

Credits

Thanks to the original PtTR team (Zachary Cox et al.) for the rules backbone. Inspired by 4chan tales, NIN arcs, Forever Knight, and Portland's undead underbelly—now darkened by shepherd-flock dynamics.