Good evening. I'm Brenda Rolon, head storyteller of Night Harbor. By day I pull espresso shots in the Mission and take art classes when I can afford them. Every other Friday night, for about thirty of us, I run the city of San Francisco for the dead.

Night Harbor is a live-action chronicle using White Wolf's Mind's Eye Theatre rules for Vampire: The Masquerade. We've been running since October 1997, in the same rented community hall, with the same folding chairs, the same coffee urn and a cast that has grown from nine players to thirty-one. Some of us have played since the first night. Some of us started last month. All of us were new once.

And so it's said plainly, right up front: gay and lesbian players are welcome here. Bi players, too, and anyone else who's ever felt like they had to check at the door who they are. I'm out. My girlfriend, Camille, plays a Toreador who is entirely too charming for everyone's good. Night Harbor is a game about monsters, and nobody at this game gets treated like one for who they love. If anyone gives you trouble about it, they'll be talking to me, and then they'll be leaving.

If you've played a tabletop roleplaying game, you sat around a table with dice and character sheets and described what your character did. In live action, you get up from the table and do it. You dress as your character. You speak as your character. You walk around a room full of other characters and talk, scheme, flirt, bargain, threaten and lie, all in real time, for four hours.

In Vampire, everyone plays one of the Kindred, the vampires who live hidden among the living. Your character has been dead for ten years or two hundred. They have a clan, a sire, a past, and a great many secrets. The city's vampires keep an uneasy peace under a Prince and an old set of laws, the Traditions, and the first and greatest of those laws is the Masquerade: never let the living know we exist.

There are no dice. When two characters come into conflict, the players resolve it quietly with a hand of rock-paper-scissors, as the Mind's Eye Theatre rules lay out. Storytellers keep the plot moving, play the city's other residents, and make rulings when things get complicated, which is every game.

† No touching. Not to fight, not to bite, not to feed, not to grab someone's arm for drama. Everything physical is described and resolved with a challenge. You can stand close and speak low. You keep your hands to yourself.

† No props as weapons. No swords, knives, guns, stakes or letter openers, real or toy, on your person or in your bag. If your character carries a weapon, you carry an item card for it. A storyteller will make you one.

† Challenges are rock-paper-scissors. Say "challenge," state what you're doing, throw on the count of three. Win, lose or tie, you accept it and play it out. No arguing in the middle of the room. Bring disputes to a storyteller.

† The out-of-character sign. A hand held flat on top of your head means you are out of character: you're not there, nobody can see you, you're going to the restroom or getting coffee or looking for a storyteller. Respect it. Don't use it to eavesdrop.

† The word "Hold." If a storyteller calls hold, everyone in earshot stops and freezes until they call it off. If anyone, anywhere, is actually hurt or upset, call hold yourself.

† No alcohol, no drugs. Not at game, not in the parking lot before game. You will be sent home.

† It's only a game. Your character can hate my character. You and I are still getting burritos after.

Dress the part. You don't need to spend money: black clothes and a little thought go a long way, and the thrift stores on Valencia have outfitted half the court. Think about your character. A Ventrue wears a good suit. A Brujah wears whatever they were wearing when they got thrown out of the last bar. A Toreador wears something you'll remember. A Nosferatu wears a hood and a great deal of makeup, or a sign around the neck that says "you see a hideous creature," which is a time-honored tradition when the makeup budget runs out.

Fangs are welcome if you can still talk clearly in them. Capes are fine above the knee and a tripping hazard below it. No masks that cover your whole face, because people need to be able to hear you.

On the second Friday of every month, come at 7:00, an hour before game, for new player night. One of the storytellers will sit down with you, explain the rules, and help you build your first character. We'll suggest a clan that's easy to step into, give you a reason to be in the city, and introduce you to a couple of players whose characters have a use for someone like you. You will not be thrown into the deep end. Well. Not the first night.

You don't need to own any books. We have loaners. You don't need to have played tabletop Vampire. You need to be eighteen or older, because the game runs late and deals with grown-up themes, and you need to be willing to follow the safety rules above.

Game nights run 8:00 to midnight. The hall costs us money, so we ask $5 a night at the door. If that's a problem for you, talk to me privately. Nobody gets turned away for five dollars.

The fall calendar has the dates. The hall is in the Mission. E-mail me and I'll send directions.