Everything

Triplet brother of Amaterasu and Susanoo, Tsukuyomi rules as the kami of the moon. Even harder to contact than his sister-wife, he spends most of his days in the moon’s Penumbra, only holding court during the full moon. For those without teleportation or space craft (e.g. most people), the full moon opens up a bridge that can be walked across, although running across it is even better. It does disappear during the day, you know, and dying in the vacuum of space hurts.

While not technically a mad god, Tsukuyomi-no-Mikoto has lost a staggering amount of his marbles during his lunar exile, making him the most eccentric kami anyone will encounter, by far. To put this in context, he was originally credited with killing Uke Mochi, a kami of food, for the crime of grossing him out. He didn’t just kill Uke Mochi, either; he flayed a horse and threw it at Amaterasu’s loom, then killed Uke Mochi. He may also be responsible for placing rabbits on the moon, with orders to pound rice into mochi cakes. The fact that Uke Mochi and mochi cakes sound similar is a coincidence. Probably.

Fortunately, Tsukuyomi’s isolation makes him unusually receptive of guests, happy for any interruption to his solitude. Unlike his sister, he enjoys conversation much more than he enjoys rules and regulations. And so, while his court generally resembles an ancient palace, it feels informal and lived in. As long as his visitors play along with his meandering conversa­ tions and don’t mind abrupt shifts in topic, everyone should get along just fine. Do note, though, that he has subsisted on basically just mochi since his exile, so maybe don’t talk about food unless he does.

If you can get him to talk much, you’ll likely learn much more than you bargained for. Looking toward the Earth from the moon (from both sides of the Gauntlet) has given Tsukuyomi a rather unique perspective of events. Tsukuyomi sees strange coincidences and connections everywhere, most of which are surprisingly real. Talking with him can be a massive headache, but such conversations reveal conspiracies within conspiracies. Just keep track of time. Learning the truth does no one any good if you’re stranded on the moon for a month.

For those who understand the sacred ways of vodou — a much-maligned family of creeds also known collectively as voodoo, Vaudou, Vaudoux, and other variations — Creation is a vibrant world of spirits, not a simple dance of matter or the discarded toy of distant gods. Named for a Haitian Creole word based upon the Ayizo language, vodou refers to the enigmatic forces that animate and guide our world, and to the various spiritual and often artistic practices that allow a human being to commune with them. The word “voodoo,” of course, has centuries of racist, sinister, and generally inaccurate baggage attached to it, so the creed is often (as in Mage 20th Anniversary Edition) referred to as “Voudoun” even though that word actually refers to a specific strain of the larger group of faiths. (For details, see the “Voudoun” entry in Mage 20, p. 583.) Some folks capitalize “vodou” out of respect, while others consider such European conventions to be pretentious, simply going a lowercase spelling. Minus the trappings of pop-culture fiction, vodou represents a celebration of life and a transcendence of its mortal limitations; unlike many transcendentalist religions, though, vodou remains honest about the carnal and often cruel nature of life, and it remains rooted in the practical realities of the people — often oppressed and poor — who comprehend its ways.

At the center of vodou beliefs, we find the Loa: god-form spirits who intercede on behalf of the living world. Intermediaries between Bondye, the Most High, and the principles, elements, and people of our mortal realm, the Loa are imminent divinities: entities that dwell within the material here-and-now, not in some distant plane removed from our world. According to some tales, many (if not all) of the Loa were once human beings who assumed godhood through their connections with Bondye and the prodigious deeds and charisma of their mortal lives. Other stories, though, insist that the Loa always were, have always been, and always will be who they are. The personalities we recognize in them are slivers of their true divine nature, and many Loa have different aspects and different names for the same essential entity.

Though the name Loa is common in American under­ standings of vodou, it derives from the Haitian adaptations of the Yoruban orishas: gods from Western Africa whose worship (and, some say, whose spiritual essence) was brought over to the Americas during the slave trade. Many American practitioners, therefore, refer to the Loa as orishas, and commonly recognized American Loa like Chango are more properly known by their orisha names, such as Shango.

In vodou cosmology, Bondye is the name of the creator, the supreme god, the Most High above all. Bondye has existed since before there was an existence to have. A person can call them God if that makes them more comfortable, but labels are

inadequate in defining the ethereal context. Bondye created the concept of “life” itself… and with life, the Loa.

The Loa, then, are arbiters, liaisons, or facilitators for the will of Bondye, since the Most High is otherwise unreachable. Bondye gave each of the Loa power and responsibility over an aspect of life. The Loa Yemaja, for example, was given responsibility over motherhood; without nurturing, nursing, and the pain that spills out from childbirth, life itself could not flourish. Thus, motherhood is part of Bondye’s will, and Yemaja is in charge of facilitating it. Human beings, however, have a responsibility to recognize the Loa — to aid and nurture and respect them — espe­ cially if they want to receive what the Loa have to offer. Without that recognition and the deeds that go with it, the divine essence of the Loa falters. If, for instance, Yemaja is not properly taken care of by her human followers, her abilities will diminish, and mothers can become barren or lose their children during birth. Therefore, it’s up to the human worshippers of the Loa to supply Yemaja with what she needs to continue her work.

The American version of voodoo is a mix of West African traditions, remembered through the cruel Middle Passage between Africa and the Americas and then reassembled by Christian European slave owners (which is why Bondye is called Bon Dieu, or “Good God,” in Louisiana voodoo circles), and often combined with Native American practices as well. This fusion of belief systems, however, can lead to misunderstandings of the true nature of the Loa.

For example, the common comparison of the Loa to European Christian “saints” is inaccurate. In Christianity, saints are people who were empowered by God to help humankind. Saints don’t require food or sleep or sex; they just carry out God’s will. The Loa are more mortal. They need sustenance (like rest and food), and have preferences (like long naps, or favorite foods like coconuts, chicken, yams, and especially liquor). Mortal worshippers, therefore, must ensure that the shrines and altars dedicated to each of the Loa are stocked with plenty of what the Loa enjoy, so that each Loa wants for nothing and can focus on their work. The Loa also need affection; unlike Christian saints — who exist in a celibate communion with their god — the Loa are often married or share sexual relationships with each other. As with mortal relationships, though, things can get messy be­ tween the Loa; when a domestic issue comes between them, the emotional turmoil can spill out into the human realm.