Ludwig

Ludwig is one of the many passengers you can pick up in Night Call. He is one of the few passengers you cannot choose to pick up, as he instead appears in your cab randomly whilst you're driving.

Passidex entries

 * You have met Ludwig.
 * You saw Ludwig again.
 * You heard all his stories.
 * Ludwig helped you with your investigation. BUGGED - NOT OBTAINABLE
 * Now, you know who Guy Môquet is.
 * Now, you know that human zoos exist.
 * Now, you know who Little Louis is.
 * Now, you know a French president died at the Élysée Palace.
 * Now, you know what garum is.
 * Now, you know what happened in the rue des Rosiers.
 * Now, you know where this ghost comes from.
 * Listen to his story about horses and the gallows. (I thought this was related to the ghostbuster dude...)


 * Now, you know what happened in the rue des Marmousiers.
 * Listen to his story about the pastry shop . Starts with: The delicious scent of baking fills the cab. It smells like buttery crust and meat browning in the oven...


 * You thought back to when you met Ludwig.

Transcripts
Out of nowhere, you hear a voice whispering in your ear...

LUDWIG: "This is where I died."

You brake hard. There is no noise in the cab. No noise outside. A silhouette appears on the back seat of the cab; its features appear one by one as if drawn with a paintbrush.

LUDWIG: "So much suffering."

You squint. A little boy.

LUDWIG: "Would you be so kind as to drive me?"

« Where? »   « Get out... »   (Say nothing.)

See below...

TBA

LUDWIG: "Very well ... let us drive then."

The boys silhouette flutters for a moment, then disappears entirely. You hold your breath. On the back seat behind you, the boy slowly reappaears. You start driving.

A familiar smell tickles your nose. You turn around just in time to see a little ghost appear on the back seat of your taxi. He remains still as he watches you.

LUDWIG: "How nice to see you again. Let us not waste any time, if you'd be so kind."

An electric charge runs through your body. You start driving.



The Gallows
LUDWIG: "53 rue de la Grange-aux-Belles, my friend."

You pause, looking at him inquisitively in the rearview mirror.

HOUSSINE: "And... what is there in the rue de la Grange-aux-Belles?"

He smiles.

LUDWIG: "There is... Death. In its truest form. You see, at night, the streets fill with the spirits of horses. Before my time, they used to be cut to pieces there. They cut their heads right off. Swish!"

He seems quite pleased with his performance.

LUDWIG: "There was mud... like pudding, almost. The poorest coming to glean a piece of meat or a bone to chew on had to trudge through it. Sploch, squerch!"

His silhouette seems to flutter for a second, as if it were the sound wave for laughter.

LUDWIG: "People came from quite far to steal a chunk of meat, a bit of skin. The abandoned carcasses attracted flies. People gathered the larvae to go fishing in the Seine or in the Bondy. The flies drew swallows. Folks came on Sundays to shoot rifles at the flocks of birds."

A short pause.

LUDWIG: "My mother once took me there to show me the gallows... She told me this was where traitors were sent to die. I nodded and was shocked by the stench of the place. I miss my mother so, you know... Do you miss your mother too?"

"Yes." (Say nothing.)

See below...

TBA

LUDWIG: "Is she dead?"

"Yes." (Say nothing.)

See below...

TBA

LUDWIG: "Did she ever take you to see a gallows?"

He breaks into laughter.

LUDWIG: "I'm being a bother!"

The little ghost starts speaking in a joyful tone once again.

LUDWIG: "My mother loved taking me for strolls. She pulled me by the arm through all of Paris, stopping in front of a building, a market, a dump. She would say: "See now" -- I can still hear her voice! -- "See now, that's how you'll end up if you don't do all your chores!" "If you don't learn all your lessons at school!" "If you don't listen to your father!" And she usually gave me a perfunctory smack."

His silhouette flutters, as if he were receiving the blow.

LUDWIG: "Stop here... The horses are angry this evening. Something is getting on their nerves."

He sighs. His presence is making you feel particularly ill at ease.

LUDWIG: "My mother never understood why I joined the comrades. The Commune. The cherries."

His silhouette starts to flutter.

LUDWIG: "She thought I was being young and stupid."

The fluttering intensifies. You can barely make out the little ghost's silhouette.

LUDWIG: "Barricades. Dead horses. Hanged."

His silhouette freezes. He looks over at you.

LUDWIG: "I personally think I'm lucky to have died for something I believe in rather than to live for nothing."

A shiver runs up your spine.

LUDWIG: "Like you."

The next minute, the ghost has vanished... His voice still resonates in the cab.

LUDWIG: "Like you."

You turn the wheel and pull over to collect yourself. You breathe... This little ghost is going to do you in.



Little Louis
NOTE: This was my second encounter in the same playthrough.

LUDWIG: "Would you be so kind as to drive around the neighbourhood a bit?"

« No specific destination? »   (Say nothing.)

See below...

TBA

LUDWIG: "No... I'm not quite sure where he lives these days. He changes haunts frequently... never stays in the same place for very long... But it's somewhere around here."

The boy points outside.

LUDWIG: "Over there... the revolutionaries brought the little prince here on a cart... Over there... the crowd touched him, pushed him, made him change clothes... Over there... a woman he'd never seen before and who frightened him gave him something to eat. He was scared of course. Terrified. People spit insults any time he opened his mouth. Others... incited violence..."

His last sentence hangs in the air.

« Everything ok? »   (Say nothing.)

See below...

TBA

LUDWIG: "Fine, thanks. I was thinking about his mother. But it's of no matter. No matter at all. She had face powder ordered from Austria. Her little one liked the smell. As do you..."

At that very instant, your nose itches.

LUDWIG: "Let's no longer speak of it. He was the important one."

Your desire to sneeze disappears as quickly as it had appeared.

LUDWIG: "He lived in this street and suffered a great deal. He often coughed and was yelled at any time his small, frail body was shaken with a coughing fit. The woman taking care of him called him "Little Louis." He... barely spoke. He was not allowed to go outside..."

An odd smell fills the cab.

LUDWIG: "His life was reduced to a series of apartments, bedrooms, living rooms..."

More of a perfume than a smell...

LUDWIG: "His life was reduced to presentations, low bows, and strict rules that came out of nowhere."

Orange blossom. Your taxi suddenly smells of orange blossom.

LUDWIG: "His life was reduced to future promises, to "when you grow ups" and..."

You glance around, needlessly looking for the source of the smell.

LUDWIG: "I at least got to play in the dirt and the mud."

It's him. The little boy with a flickering frame smells of orange blossoms.

LUDWIG: "I don't pity him, but... no one deserves to be punished for their brother's crimes."

« What did you just say? »   (Say nothing.)

See below...

TBA

You stare at the little boy.

LUDWIG: "I said... no one deserves to be punished for their brother's crimes. And you know exactly what I mean."

He smirks.

LUDWIG: "Right here."

He points to a house down the street.

LUDWIG: "Stop. It's right here. This is where Louis XVII lives."

You pull over.

HOUSSINE: "Louis XVII lives here? Why the fuck should I care?"

You turn around and the back seat is empty. You sneeze. All the anger you were just feeling has vanished. You avoid your own reflection in the rearview mirror.



The Pastry Shop
NOTE: This was my third encounter in the same playthrough.

A familiar smell tickles your nose. You turn around just in time to see a little ghost appear on the back seat of your taxi. He remains still as he watches you.

LUDWIG: "Nice to see you again my friend..."

You sigh... Him again. His presence makes you ill at ease... but you've stopped trying to find an explanation for his apparitions. You start driving. The delicious scent of baking fills the cab. It smells like buttery crust and meat browning in the oven...

LUDWIG: "It smells good, doesn't it? I'm hungry too... I'm always hungry. Hôtel-Dieu, please."

« Hôtel-Dieu? »   (Say nothing.)

See below...

TBA

LUDWIG: "Yes, I'm afraid you might think I'm crazy... But I assure you, we'll find sustenance there."

The ghost lets out a cute little sigh.

LUDWIG: "There used to be an excellent pastry shop there. The best pâté en croûte in all of Paris. Everyone went there, that's for sure. They closed centuries ago, long before I was born. But they still sell their products... in the courtyard of the hospital. The ghosts who live there love to treat themselves to some nice, warm pâté before going to their rooms."

He giggles.

LUDWIG: "You should see the hospital some nights! The dead and the living mingling, walking past each other, conversing sometimes without even realising it. Many guess... Some areas are natural meeting places."

He raises his voice, excited.

LUDWIG: "I know! Let's play a game! It will help us forget how hungry we are... Alright then... you can ask me one question about myself. Only one!"

You pause for a few seconds. The little ghost is impatient.

LUDWIG: "Go ahead, I'm waiting!"

« How did you die? »   « Is there life after death? »   « I'm trying to find a murderer... »   « I have no questions. »

TBA

TBA

See below...

TBA

LUDWIG: "Not now. No, no. It's too early. Or too late. I'm not sure..."

He points to something outside.

LUDWIG: "We're not far now! The pastry shop I was telling you about was right behind this wall, on the corner of another street. Both streets have disappeared. They were razed and erased when they built the hospital. And I want to tell you something... oh, any two-bit historian pushing their books on you would know... But they never get the story right..."

The smell from the beginning of the trip returns to tickle your nose: the pâté en croûte the little ghost was talking about.

LUDWIG: "There once lived two men here: one, a barber, the other a pastry maker. One, who had a fancy for blood, killed his clients -- foreigners, people passing through, broke students. The other, who fancied the first, collected the bodies -- and chopped them up in the back room of his shop. He added strong spices to this fresh meat, as was typical at the time. He then prepared the pâté for baking. He cooked it in a richly buttered crust and sold it to everyone who was anyone in Paris."

The little ghost bursts out laughing.

LUDWIG: "Have no fear, the pastry chef and his lover have been dead for ages. Once in a while, you can catch a glimpse of them in one of the operating rooms at the hospital. They lean over the patient and grab a tender morsel for their pâté en croûte..."

He once again starts to laugh. This time, it's a bit darker.

LUDWIG: "No need to make such a face. Those are best left to ghosts... On that note... Bon appétit."

A second later, he vanishes. You pull over and take a second to clear your mind of the image of the barber and the pastry maker. And the delicious taste of meat, fresh from the oven, coating the inside of your mouth.



Montparnasse
NOTE: First in the playthrough. Some later dialogue may be different or maybe this chat is only possible upon the first time meeting.

LUDWIG: "Montparnasse."

His icy voice make you feel ill at ease. He leaves you no choice. You drive. You tell yourself, a passenger is a passenger. You must be overtired. Stressed.

LUDWIG: "Do you see the sidewalks?"

At this time of night, they're almost empty. Here and there, a few pedestrians hurry by, headphones on.

LUDWIG: "Right here... time sped up. A hundred years ago, Paris became the centre of the world. Right here... sidewalks sped up."

The ghost's features fade. His voice suddenly seems far away.

LUDWIG: "People came from all over to see the metal ziggurat, Indo-Chinese temples, West Indian huts."

A familiar smell tickles your nose...

LUDWIG: "People shot like bullets off the moving walkways. Once in a while, they lost their balance, wobbled, caught themselves just in time."

Engine grease. Lukewarm and slimy.

LUDWIG: "People had a great deal of fun. They also had fun with foreigners. Subjects. Slaves."

Hot engine grease dripping down black bodies.

LUDWIG: "My grand-niece came to see these people... she never made the connection..."

You slowly shake your head and collect your thoughts.

« Grand-niece? »   « I'm not sure I understand... »   (Say nothing.)

TBA

See below...

TBA

LUDWIG: "There's nothing more to understand. Don't you see that our time has come?"

The boy begins to fade. You pull over by the sidewalk. His voice resonates in the cab.

LUDWIG: "From all over the planet, folks gathered to make fun. To take a thrill ride. I do get it. In retrospect, it's easy for me to look down on them. Everything is easier when you don't exist... when you are but a ghost. We are our own executioners."

The back seat is empty. You are sweating.



Rue de Rosiers
LUDWIG: "Rue des Rosiers please!"

You stare at the rearview mirror.

« What for? »   (Start driving.)

See below...

TBA

LUDWIG: "We're going to the rue des Rosiers to eat... Falafel."

The delicious smell tickles your nose. The little ghost heaves a short sigh; he seems happy. Your stomach starts to growl. You're hungry. Strange... Usually you never fall victim to the night munchies. Your colleagues often gain wait when they work the night shift... nothing to do but snack. Tonight, however, you are famished.

LUDWIG: "We're going to the rue de Rosiers to eat the best falafel in Paris. I love walking around there... Drinking in the smells... Hearing the hiss of fried food... Seeing juices and sauces dripping off the sandwiches."

He's almost giddy.

LUDWIG: "Oglers who twist every which way to catch a piece of tomato about to fall."

His silhouette blurs.

LUDWIG: "I wish I could taste it all..."

The rear window lowers all by itself. A gust of icy cold wind fills the cab. You close the window as quickly as possible. Behind you the little ghost's voice starts to break up, scatter.

LUDWIG: "I can just imagine... but it's not the same... it's just no like the real thing. No, not at all. The same."

He seems far off, about to disappear.

« Everything alright? »   (Say nothing.)

See below...

TBA

He does not answer your question and becomes vague and hesitant.

LUDWIG: "They're screaming. Shouting. Throwing themselves to the ground. A bomb goes off. Another... Same..."

He catches his breath. Looks outside. Points at something in the distance.

LUDWIG: "There. Rue des Rosiers. Paris stopped here. The city wall on which so many children played hide and seek no longer exists. I never even climbed up there. Now, the stones are hidden in other buildings. And no one will ever find them again. Such is the life of a city."

He grows silent for a moment. A nauseating smell takes over the cab. It takes you a few seconds to recognise it: gunpowder.

LUDWIG: "Rue de Rosiers... Bitter Street. How many people thought they were at home there before leaving to grow old elsewhere? There was a terrorist attack. Right here. Six dead. Right in the middle of lunch. Plates were being passed, bottles being poured, forks falling on the floor."

The child in the back blurs, becomes distant.

LUDWIG: ''"I can imagine the last sentences they pronounced. Their last words. "No, no. Don't worry about it." "Yes, yes. I can give you something else instead. Two coffees." ...coffees..."''

When he starts to speak again, his voice has a broken quality. As if there were a far-off, threatening figure walking towards the car.

LUDWIG: "I'd like to drink coffee. I didn't even know it existed... before. When I was still alive. Breathing. Walking."

His figure flutters.

LUDWIG: "What about you... do you like coffee?"

You can tell this is not just a simple question. The child smiles at you.

LUDWIG: "Tell me about coffee... Its taste. Its texture. Its warmth. Tell me... everything."

(Talk about coffee.) (Say nothing.)

See below...

TBA

HOUSSINE: "Coffee is... a drug. A hard one. It screws with your stomach. Reminds you you're really just a machine inside: tubes, pockets, filters. It burns your throat and stomach."

LUDWIG: "Why do you drink it then?"

HOUSSINE: "I don't know. I think that sums up who we are, doesn't it?"

You glance back at the kid. He's listening in silence.

LUDWIG: "So... you don't like it?"

HOUSSINE: "On no, I do. But it's like cigarettes... a slow killer. No matter the quality of the beans or the tobacco. It's poison."

A memory floats through your head: a heavyset figure rolling a cigarette between his worn fingers.

LUDWIG: "We are complicated beasts."

HOUSSINE: "Yes, we like to mistreat ourselves."

LUDWIG: "Like what happened in the rue des Rosiers."

Suddenly, he is gone. You brake sharply, keeping an eye on the rearview mirror. You're now alone in the taxi. Alone, and craving falafel.

