Children of the 80s
Little Five Points
Concept: “We don’t care who you are, let your freak flag fly” (Redemption)
The area that is now known as the center of Atlanta’s counter-culture started off as a more traditional sort of shopping district, dating back to the 1890s. For more than half a century, it was little more than that, but in the 1960s something strange happened.
According to mortal historians the population packed up and moved because of a proposed freeway, one that eventually got built elsewhere. For some reason, they never mention that the kids growing up there in the years following WWII got weird. The families tried to keep it quiet, sure, and they hired the best psychologists money could buy to “fix” their troubled youths. When that didn’t work, well, there was no choice but to pack up and move to the country, where people were still decent and wholesome, and hope the fresh air and isolation would do what shock therapy couldn’t.
Maybe it was just because there weren’t enough locals left, or maybe the influence was growing somehow, but after a decade or so of quiescence, the weirdness escalated. There weren’t a whole lot of residents left to strangify, so maybe that’s why all the oddballs from the rest of the city started converging there. New Agers, punk rockers, stoners, and wanna-be mystics all found a haven for themselves inside the borders.
As the major Occult gathering area for Atlanta, it’s pretty easy to find theories for why this might be among the locals. The most common supposes that the growing city and realignment of the roads was having a major impact on ley lines. Creating a potential but never implemented freeway moved a line that should have been along the road into the air right down Euclid, its energy out of tune due to its accidental nature but calling out to individuals that are a little off-key themselves.
What really weirds people in the area out is that around ‘88 the squares started coming back. Ever since, the neighborhood has been fighting corporatization. Maybe the tourist money in safely packaged counter culture finally overwhelmed the strange vibes enough to draw in the suits. But locals worry that their “exposed wire” finally settled back down and there’s no longer a mystical tune that keeps the normals out and the cool people in. Some worry that whatever happened to their vibe was deliberate.
Attempts to follow up on this information result in the city elders pointing out that, if true, it sounds a lot like something involving elves or sorcerers, and maybe it’s better left alone for now. Kindred aren’t banned from the area, but it’s suggested they should take the situation as an opportunity to get in on the ground floor of what’s apparently on the way to becoming a popular and profitable night spot rather than interfering with the mystic power sources of other supernaturals.