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One White Eye Solo Play


Did a write up of a session of the solo game One White Eye from earlier today and enjoyed it enough that I hoped you all might as well.

The Eye watches you.

Day after day, moment by moment, you feel it staring

and waiting. You feel the pressure on your skin, your

bones, your soul. Can it truly see?

You do not know.

You note the scribbles of the cell’s previous inhabitant. What did they write that chills you to your core?
I have been imprisoned. In order to survive, I must keep my wits about me, as I have done for these many years before. Though the light is dim, I have done my best to examine my surroundings. The cell is narrow, of rough-cut stone, which is cool yet dry to the touch. All, what I would expect for the dungeons beneath the palace. I find two discoveries most curious, however.

The first of which, is that the floor slants somewhat down, running toward the back wall of the cell. I say wall, but that is only an assumption on my part, for in my explorations, I discovered that the floor crumbles away into dust and darkness. There is a Pit there, the depths of which, I do not know and cannot see.

The second of my curious discoveries is the journal on which I now write. The journal and a stub of pencil were hidden in a crack near the Pit, obscured by the darkness. I may never have found it if my foot had not pressed upon it in my search By the dim and wavering light that filters through the cracks in the door, I am able now to write and pass the time. I have also been able to begin studying the entries already in the journal.

They are, frankly, the ravings of a madman and I can scarce trace a coherent thought from the latter entries. Nonetheless, they are quite evocative with descriptions of dragons, and Eyes, and waiting blubbery things in the deep, which I shudder to read

Still, I have nothing else to occupy me, so I will add to the entries of this journal.

(Dread – 0)

You gaze back at the eye and lose yourself in its milky
expanse. What future plans do you dream of?
Today I was joined for a time by my own watcher. I suspect that it was my gaolor, but I was not able to illicit a response to my questions. The pale, milky white Eye paused for a time and appeared to stare at me through a viewport in the ponderous door. I could see nothing else of the face that bore such a remarkable Eye, but I found myself transfixed by its presence and my mind wandered as I plumbed its milky depths.

I know not, how long it stayed, nor how long I stared, but while it was here, I found myself pondering the plots that I had put into motion and the endpoints of the complicated schemes, which only I could see.

The Crown would fall, I was certain of it. And mine would be the hand that brought it about.

(Dread – 0)

You sigh with longing. Does your lover know you are here?
What was the last thing you said to them?
This has been a difficult day. My heart longs for my sweet Ambrosia. My body aches for her embrace. We parted on such delightful terms, my body soaked in the indulgence of her presence, my heart lost to the beat of her own, and my mind drunk with the possibilities brought on by Lord Durand’s demise. I told her that I would return.

The Eye watches and mocks me.

(Dread – 0)

You note the scribbles of the cell’s previous inhabitant. What did they write that chills you to your core?
I found myself examining the other contents of this journal once again. What I had taken for the ravings of a madman in latter entries did not begin as such. While I am unsurprised that weaker mind than my own succumbed to the wretchedness of their imprisonment, I must admit that their descent has made for a fascinating read. As well, they appear to have been something of an artist and I am captivated by small sketches I find scattered here and there in the pages.

In particular, I find myself turning again and again to one sketch which fills an entire page. It is a grossly detailed depiction of the Eye in all its pale, veined glory. The malevolence that I feel when looking upon it is palpable.

(Dread – 1, Rolled a 6, Success)

You implore the eye for release. What do you offer in trade?
The Eye returned today. When it returned to its vantage point, I was ready and sprung the plan that I had been calculating now for some time. Surely there is something it wants, something I can provide. When the Crown falls, I can offer places of power and prestige. And I do so.

The Eye is dismissive. I have not yet found the right track.

(Dread – 1)

Why do you think you are here? Revolution, revenge, murder, or something else?
They have found out my schemes. Somehow. Someone. They have talked. All my careful planning, all my secret plotting, gone to waste. I would only, I can only be imprisoned here if they know. But who and how? The Crown knows of my revolution because there as a chink in my artfully crafted armor. Can I still repair it?

(Dread – 1)

You consider the Pit and can almost hear the eye urging you
on. What does it say?
I made the decision today to explore my cell once again in order to make the best measurements that I can and notate them here. Perhaps I will also uncover a detail that may aid in my escape or release.

It is a bare three paces across the narrowest portion fronted by the massive door, but as I noted before, surprisingly long for the narrow space, measuring at ten paces back before I reach the beginnings of the unsettling and crumbling Pit and dare walk no further.

While there at the edge peering into the depths and desperately trying to pierce the veil of inky blackness to glimpse any hint of edges or bottom, the Eye returned. I could feel the weight of its gaze settle on my back like a pressure between the blades of my shoulders. I glanced behind to confirm my suspicions and beheld that blanched organ once again at its watchpost.

I faced the Pit again, determined to turn my back to it and block out the ghastly feature. As I turned my focus back to the black, it seemed to me that the darkness of the Pit began to churn and writhe, with long shadowy tendrils slowly and cautiously exploring up toward me. How I was able to discern this motion, I know not, but as I watched, I could have sworn that I heard a sound like a paper thin voice but within my own head and emanating from that terrible Eye. “Give in” it said, “ Submit.”

I whirled back toward the door, only to find that the Eye had passed. I retreated far from the Pit and pressed myself tightly to the stone until exhaustion took me.

(Dread – 1)

You note the scribbles of the cell’s previous inhabitant. What did they write that chills you to your core?
Unable to steel myself to face the Pit again today, I have restrained myself to the best patch of wavering light that I am able to find near the heavy wooden door, and have begun once more to pore over the entries of this cell’s previous occupant.

I had taken these for the ravings of one who had lost all touch with reality, but I now believe that I was mistaken. After what I saw moving in the Pit, another entry has grasped my attention.

The prior chronicler has also had encounters with something that resides in the Pit. They too saw the undulations of ink on shadow as tendrils rose and fell within the depths. They too heard the dry, paper thin rustle of a voice in their mind urging them to fling themselves into the abyss. What chilled my veins, however, was an entry describing a phenomenon that I have yet to encounter. The chronicler describes the slow and methodical manner in which those tendrils began to snake slowly out of the Pit and tentatively weave themselves across the room as if they were the ones exploring.

(Dread – 2, Rolled a 2, Failure)

The susurrus of whispered voice fills the back of my head once again and I glance up to see that the Eye has returned. It waits and watches. I cannot quite make out what the voice is saying this time, but I can feel the cruel implication of the bearer weigh down upon me.

But there is something else with it this time. A hope. A promise.

The rebellion is not over. The Crown may still fall.

Great power could be mine.

All I must do is step over that edge.

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