Spindlewheel Stories

How is your loyalty earned? It is of course demanded often, a coveted and valuable thing to many. And it can be lent, or faked, or retracted, a temporary boost or slight in a long line of alliances. But when you offer it for keeps, when its strength outweighs the memory and obligation of any other, what price has been paid for it? Stability, perhaps? Perhaps it is something you expect in return, tit for tat, giving as good as you get. Perhaps you draw it to you like a light in the darkness, like a blade, perhaps you coax it with blood and bone. Maybe the reward for your loyalty is just the impulse to reach out when you hear your wavering name cried out in the dark; maybe, when you are faced with the terrible and inevitable, your loyalty is paid for by the name that leaps from your throat. Find MEET ME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR AT DAWN and the other Spindlewheel Microgames on itch.io here. Follow Kavita on twitter @yrgirlkv, find Songs for the Dusk at https://yrgirlkv.itch.io/songsforthedusk, and on twitter @songsforthedusk. Follow Sasha on twitter @sasha_reneau. Follow Spindlewheel's development @teacabbage. Check out the open beta at https://teacabbage.com/spindlewheel.

What makes a legend? The iconic Jolly Roger long outlasts its captain. The history books cherry pick the notorious and the bombastic to remember from a vast trade of mercenary sailors. But the kraken and her sisters still haunt the waters below, still weave their bodies around the edges of the map. The pirates of the golden age inspire story and song, and are kept alive as long as their names are uttered and flags flown. Long after, there will still be creatures feasting among their shipwrecks whose slow heartbeats are unbothered by siren's silence. Which, then, has the true heft of legend: the heroes of tangled shanties, or the wordless reign of primordial tooth and coil? Find MEET ME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR AT DAWN and the other Spindlewheel Microgames on itch.io here. Follow Frizz on twitter @Frizzoid, find fen art at https://raycarterillustration.co.uk, and listen to Duneiversity here. Follow Sasha on twitter @sasha_reneau. Follow Spindlewheel's development @teacabbage. Check out the open beta at https://teacabbage.com/spindlewheel.

Where do you place your faith? When hard numbers err and machine gods falter, when their prophecies speak to the untenable, you might put your trust in the knowable fallacies of the human heart. When legacy and traditions are tried and found oppressive, hegemonic, poisonous down to the roots, you might hesitate to bear any coat of arms but your own hide. But a thin skin can barely protect its owner, much less their friends; and a mortal moral compass won't guide you through the long dark. When a body becomes more than a metaphor; when theory becomes material; When someone tells you who they are, will you listen, or will you place your faith in them, nonetheless? Find MEET ME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR AT DAWN and the other Spindlewheel Microgames on itch.io here. Follow Riley on twitter @RevRyeBread; find Interstitial on https://linksmithgames.com; find RPG Design Friends here or on your podcatcher of choice. Follow Sasha on twitter @sasha_reneau. Follow Spindlewheel's development @teacabbage. Check out the open beta at https://teacabbage.com/spindlewheel.

How is power measured? If you bring down the moon, can you call yourself stronger than someone who quells a generational fear? If the magic in your heart commands the sea with a gesture, are you worthy of more respect than someone with nothing but luck and guile on their side to pull the tides ashore? Who is the source of influence: the face all eyes watch and the voice all ears hear, or the hands wrangling pullies and favors in the shadow cast by the spotlight? If all the world is a stage, then whose word will you trust: the actor, with their hand raised, or the voice in the crowd, screaming "Fire"? Find MEET ME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR AT DAWN and the other Spindlewheel Microgames on itch.io here. Follow Paul on twitter @pauly3_d. Follow Sasha on twitter @sasha_reneau. Follow Spindlewheel's development @teacabbage. Check out the open beta at https://teacabbage.com/spindlewheel.

What has more value: companionship, or clout? All things being equal, or ceteris paribus as they'd say, far above the worries of hunger and war, when your biggest concern is impressing your contemporaries and grading undergrads, and you find yourself with either the esteem of your institution at your back or the steady presence of a friend at your side, but not both: is it worth throwing away what you have, just for the chance to grasp at what you need? Perhaps instead, you could merely dismantle that good faith, carving piece by piece until you've fleeced your reputation so thoroughly there's nothing to return to and nowhere to go but forward--onward and upward--to your prize. So, what'll it be: a title, or a friend? Find MEET ME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR AT DAWN and the other Spindlewheel Microgames on itch.io here. Follow Takuma on twitter @Takuma_Okada_. Follow Sasha on twitter @sasha_reneau. Follow Spindlewheel's development @teacabbage. Check out the open beta at https://teacabbage.com/spindlewheel.

When you die, what hand will guide you from your body? Let's make the assumption that there is something beyond this flimsy world. Let's assume whatever life or afterlife awaits you, you will meet it fully deserved. Now, the psychopomp who leads you there: what are they owed? A gold coin for the trip across the river of course, prayers and well-wishes granted to you by whoever saw fit to have you buried with honor and rites. But let's say you weren't buried; that you didn't die with honor; that there is no one to pray for you or to speak your name. What road remains if nothing follows you but your terror, and when your guide stretches out their bony hand it's all you have to give? Find MEET ME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR AT DAWN and the other Spindlewheel Microgames on itch.io here. Follow Ruby on twitter @IronSparkSyris. Follow Sasha on twitter @sasha_reneau. Follow Spindlewheel's development @teacabbage. Check out the open beta at https://tinyurl.com/spindlewheel-openbeta. Sound production by Evan Swamy.

What does a town need? Why raise a mansion no one lives in? Why fit a jail door with a lock that shines? What landed gentry goes to seed that does not rot the roots? Speak as soft as you want, but if you carry a gun, people expect you to use it. The same goes for wealth, and reputation, and fear. Why push for a future that no one wants? Why fight for a nostalgia that has left you dry? There's enough of both to warrant a stampede and a gut wound. What does a town need? Not roads, or street lights, or train stations. Just a pair of fools scared enough to build walls while it burns. (Content warning: gun violence, body horror) Find MEET ME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR AT DAWN and the other Spindlewheel Microgames on itch.io here. Yadelah exists, but not where you can find him. Follow Sasha on twitter @sasha_reneau. Follow Spindlewheel's development @teacabbage. Check out the open beta at https://tinyurl.com/spindlewheel-openbeta.

Did I know THIS was going to happen? Not in so many words, no. But did I see this coming? I’ll put it this way: unlike some people, I know where the right place, and when the right time, will be. So, yes, when the two of them found me, I was right where I needed to be. They threw around earnest promises of a brighter day, and there wasn't a single tell, not a note out of place that said Bartholomew Lacks was lying to me. Well, except that their mouth was open. Something about her, though. She didn't say a word the entire time. Didn't need to. Some people fill a room just by standing in it. So, I gave her what she wanted. And I got the hell out of the way. The track "Golden Threads in Mist" is by Michael Boykin. Find him on twitter @MeAndAmpersand. Find the track "Kimaera" here. Follow Kavi on twitter @yrgirlkv. Find Songs for the Dusk on itch.io here. Follow Sasha on twitter @sasha_reneau. Follow Spindlewheel's development @teacabbage. Check out the open beta at https://tinyurl.com/spindlewheel-openbeta.

Previously... Osedax Roseus, pirate-without-a-ship, enlists the help of old friend Somniosidae and sea-witch And the Queen Bore Upon Her Shoulders Thousands of Chittering Insects, Vindictive Servants of Light and Life (or [Vindication]) to free their friend Village Crumbled Under Leviathan's Weight, Serpentine and [Victorious] from the hivemind trance of the prison guards at the edge of the oceanic trench. Part 2 of 2. The track "Golden Threads in Mist" is by Michael Boykin. Find him on twitter @MeAndAmpersand. Beam Saber: https://beamsaber.libsyn.com/ and https://www.twitch.tv/you_dont_meet_in_an_inn Follow Ray on twitter @rayraythegaygay. Follow Sasha on twitter @sasha_reneau. Follow Spindlewheel's development @teacabbage. Check out the open beta at https://tinyurl.com/spindlewheel-openbeta.

On a clear day you can see it from the city limits: a silhouette through the sea snow, perched on the very edge of an oceanic trench. But... that’s all you can see, really. The maelstrom between here and there keeps curious minds from confirming their theories, and there are lots of those to go around. From mer-kind gone feral and acidic to a secret technology kept at safe distance in case it malfunctions and erupts, to the idea that the worst criminals in the ocean thrive in that shadow, far from the sensibilities of society. That last one might have some merit; the only thing we know for sure about that place is that no one goes there with a willing heart and a cogent mind. But on a clear day... you really can’t help but wonder. What sort of things happen in the shadow of the Diver? Part 1 of 2. The track "Golden Threads in Mist" is by Michael Boykin. Find him on twitter @MeAndAmpersand. Pyura Chilensis: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pyura_chilensis Solo Spindlewheel game: https://twitter.com/teacabbage/status/910785529418887168 Follow Ray on twitter @rayraythegaygay. Follow Sasha on twitter @sasha_reneau. Follow Spindlewheel's development @teacabbage. Check out the open beta at https://tinyurl.com/spindlewheel-openbeta.

It's my birthday! Happy birthday, me. It's also the two-year anniversary of the production of Spindlewheel. This time in 2017, I was crunching through the first two weeks of february to make a twine game for my birthday. I've linked a thread in the description talking more about that if you're interested. This episode isn't about that, though. See, it's my birthday today. I'm not doing a lot to celebrate, but I am putting this episode out, because this was a treat for me, from start to finish. I hope you enjoy it, and that you can grab yourself some discount valentine's day candy if that's something you're into. Next week we'll be back with regular Spindlewheel episodes, but, y'know, sometimes... ...sometimes it's good to celebrate. I hope this intro isn't too self-indulgent. I'm very tired and old now. Find the Fallen on Caleb's itch.io. Follow Caleb on twitter @spadeandspear. Follow Sasha on twitter @sasha_reneau. Follow Spindlewheel's development @teacabbage. Check out the open beta at https://tinyurl.com/spindlewheel-openbeta.

Previously... Kudzu, Namer and keeper of secrets among the lawless shadow organization the Goose Down, finds herself frustrated and fascinated by her neighbor Justice Jacinthe, a recently divorced cellarer who infests their shared garden with rot and ashen fertilizer. In preparation for the upcoming Festival of the Gilded Lily, where grievances are aired and grudges put to rest, Justice assigns her talented-but-shy apprentice Ferriman to a big project as their first solo gig, and Kudzu applies her Goose Down contacts to mislead and distract the town from allowing the festival to take place at all. Misunderstanding the rumors she hears, Justice offers to help Kudzu organize the festival, but in even basic preparation they both realize the Gilded Lily will not end in reconciliation, but in fire. Is there still time to save this town? Part 2 of 2. Follow Erika on twitter @fadingroots, and find her game Exodus on itch.io. Follow Sasha on twitter @sasha_reneau. Follow Spindlewheel's development @teacabbage. Check out the open beta at https://tinyurl.com/spindlewheel-openbeta.

First, you will need a fire with which to burn. Then, you will need a garden in which to bury. List the items as you toss them into the flames. An old watch, returned to you with a new face. Several books, nonfiction, whose margins are filled with notes that alternate handwriting, a conversation orbiting the text until it is irrelevant entirely. A necklace, not a style you would have chosen, but worn nonetheless, the pendant warped and worried beyond recognition. A ring, untarnished. Various receipts. A forgotten coat. A goodbye letter, unread. When you are out of items, toss the list in as well. burn to ashes. Allow to cool. Use your shirt as a basket to carry the ashes out to the garden. Collect any seeds, sprouts, cuttings, spores, and molds you find along the way. Spread the ashes and rot evenly across the garden to the best of your ability. Then, start over. Part 1 of 2. Follow Erika on twitter @fadingroots, and find her game Exodus on itch.io. Follow Sasha on twitter @sasha_reneau. Follow Spindlewheel's development @teacabbage. Check out the open beta at https://tinyurl.com/spindlewheel-openbeta.

Previously... The Reader has spent their entire life studying among the first fully sapient AI, Deep Sleep, who has opened their arms to Ion, a perfect machine in contention with an errant branch of themself. Jinx, a mischievous diagnostics program turned agent of chaos, is trailed by a former grift named Airlock, in service of the corporate giant known as First Mornings. Part 2 of 2. (Content Warning: sexual language) Follow James on twitter @babydeathclaw. Follow Sasha on twitter @sasha_reneau. Follow Spindlewheel's development @teacabbage. Check out the open beta at https://tinyurl.com/spindlewheel-openbeta.

The singularity occurred within living memory, and my entire career since has been spent talking to an inch of its existence. Digital sentience was a miracle the way penicillin was a miracle; with the divine guiding hand of evolution throwing every possible combination at the wall and hoping something will stick, a hundred million monkey paws slapping keyboards for a hundred years to finally type: I AM. My sponsors believe there is a turnkey somewhere here, a clean explanation that will fit in a satisfying soundbyte for the board of directors. It’s among the few reasons I’m able to continue my work, and afforded access to this churning sea of information. I’m a reader, you see, and very few can parse this code. I can hardly do it myself, and I worry that the work of my long life will still only be a blip in a body that has already eclipsed me. Part 1 of 2. The track "Golden Threads in Mist" is by Michael Boykin. Find him on twitter @MeAndAmpersand. [Content Warning: sexual language] Follow James on twitter @babydeathclaw. Follow Sasha on twitter @sasha_reneau. Follow Spindlewheel's development @teacabbage. Check out the open beta at https://tinyurl.com/spindlewheel-openbeta.

Previously... Tamarind, scientist and unwitting leader, creates a new mold from which to make things. Vinnie the Vigor, ghost of a broken and forgotten time; Demerit Delour, pillar of the strange force known only as the Witch; and the many sharp blades of Aledoth at guerrilla fighter Veth's hip, follow Tamarind's developments with bright and frightening interest. Part 2 of 2. The track "Golden Threads in Mist" is by Michael Boykin. Find him on twitter @MeAndAmpersand. Follow Amp on twitter @MeAndAmpersand. Follow Sasha on twitter @sasha_reneau. Yadelah exists, but not where you can find him. Follow Spindlewheel's development @teacabbage. Check out the open beta at https://tinyurl.com/spindlewheel-openbeta.

They are always watching us, there, behind the veil. I’ve only met their gaze a few times, only by necessity--a gift of the Witch demands to be used once it’s given--and it’s always me who flinches first. But, I don’t need to see them to feel their gaze upon me. They vibrate in the dark occlusions, thrum in the cold-edged blade, hiss in the burning dross. What they want, doesn’t matter. Who they serve seems to shift from moment to moment. Who they were… they are always begging me, pleading me, to remember. You can use their power, if you want. Many do. Just know that it is not your ambitions they pursue. Part 1 of 2. The track "Golden Threads in Mist" is by Michael Boykin. Find him on twitter @MeAndAmpersand. Follow Amp on twitter @MeAndAmpersand. Follow Sasha on twitter @sasha_reneau. Yadelah exists, but not where you can find him. Follow Spindlewheel's development @teacabbage. Check out the open beta at https://tinyurl.com/spindlewheel-openbeta.

Previously... Trapped below the Marlen House with antiquities enthusiast Virgil France and actor out of work Terrace Mavelle in a bizarre labyrinth of gothic hallways lined with occultist runes, Reggie Marlen, assistant and understudy of business tychoon Leonid Mavelle, and Solomon Ash, spouse of Leonid's daughter Dr. Q Mavelle, try to make sense of the late Leonid's strange video messages before the Vultures repossess the property. Will they understand Leonid's desires in the shape of a will in time to preserve his estate? Or, indeed, is there anything to his legacy that is worth preserving? Apologies for audio quality, this was taken from the Nonbinary Tabletop RPG Month stream. Find out more at https://twitter.com/nonbinaryttrpgm! Follow Jen on twitter @streetoverjen. Follow Sasha on twitter @sasha_reneau. Follow Spindlewheel's development @teacabbage. Check out the open beta at https://tinyurl.com/spindlewheel-openbeta.

A woman with a broad hat and a dark thin coat stood on my doorstep and told me, with condolences, that a man I'd never met had died. She told me this, having seen my name written as one of his next-of-kin on a less-important document they had found while looking for a more-important document in the shape of a last will and testament. I'd already known where his house was, and which aisle to find his company's products at my local grocery store, but I'd never visited, or bought, his property, before today. I'd never had occasion to. He was not a holiday, or weekend, or birthday kind of man, and given the rumors about his shady business practices I doubt he'd have been any joy at a party. To be perfectly honest, whatever guilt-ridden pittance he might have left for me in his will isn't worth the price of staying in this horrible mansion with a bunch of strangers I suppose I must be related to. But we can't leave until we reach a consensus, which means: until that will is found, I've got to make the best of it. The track "Golden Threads in Mist" is by Michael Boykin. Find him on twitter @MeAndAmpersand. Apologies for audio quality, this was taken from the Nonbinary Tabletop RPG Month stream. Find out more at https://twitter.com/nonbinaryttrpgm! Follow Jen on twitter @streetoverjen. Follow Sasha on twitter @sasha_reneau. Follow Spindlewheel's development @teacabbage. Check out the open beta at https://tinyurl.com/spindlewheel-openbeta.

There are people at this very bar who remember when the Heights Casino was a half-rate pit stop on the way to the real gambling dens on the coast, but that was back when we had a coast. Ask any of ‘em and they’ll ramble on about how prepared and sustainable everyone was, until the tide came in and swept away their best-laid plans. Now, the Heights Casino’s saving grace is the hill it was built on. That’s it. The only thing to do here is for the old fogies: sit on a barstools and make bets on the young bastards who dredge for treasure while the tide is out. Does that sound sustainable to you? [Content Warning: mention of nuclear weapons] The track "Golden Threads in Mist" is by Michael Boykin. Find him on twitter @MeAndAmpersand. Apologies for audio quality, this was taken from the Nonbinary Tabletop RPG Month stream. Find out more at https://twitter.com/nonbinaryttrpgm! Follow Ell on twitter @occasionalell. Follow Jen on twitter @streetoverjen. Follow Sasha on twitter @sasha_reneau. Follow Spindlewheel's development @teacabbage. Check out the open beta at https://tinyurl.com/spindlewheel-openbeta.

The ship hurtled away from the molten light, leaving me terrified and alone as my chassis cooled and contracted down into a single state for the first time in decades. my optics took their time adjusting to the relative dark of space, scraping together meager reflections of color instead of the torrential starlight I’d become accustomed to. For the first time in decades, I shivered. Coordinates locked, engine humming, I allowed myself one last look at the star. There it was. Under the solar flares and pressing up beneath the roiling surface, the machine. its coiling body candled, silhouetted by starlight, too big to be real, a bad joke, but twitching like an embryo, stretching the membrane. Testing the shell for weak points. I-- we-- should have left years ago. We are long past the point of no return. It’s not a question of if: it’s when. I pray for the gilded lily that I return in time. [Content Warning: robot cannibalism, death threats, zealotry] The track "Golden Threads in Mist" is by Michael Boykin. Find him on twitter @MeAndAmpersand. Apologies for audio quality, this was taken from the Nonbinary Tabletop RPG Month stream. Find out more at https://twitter.com/nonbinaryttrpgm! Also apologies to Austin Walker and the Twilight Mirage season of Friends at the Table, which we reference with love and frequency in this episode. Follow Riley on twitter @RevRyeBread. Follow Em on twitter @risky_standard. Follow Sasha on twitter @sasha_reneau. Follow Spindlewheel's development @teacabbage. Check out the open beta at https://tinyurl.com/spindlewheel-openbeta.

Previously.... Venn, a retired monster hunter and newly adopted parent of several hundred freshly awoken automata, attempts to reckon with the Vampire up in its castle for its heinous crimes against the thieves-town below. Fragile Flesh Dressed In Stone, once the only waking automaton in the town, is delighted by the resurgence of automata, the tonal spaces between words filled once again by their old language; a wide-smiling Fool automaton buys out the town's private libraries; a Scholar automaton stares up at the sky and promises omens to Venn and Fragile Flesh Dressed In Stone. The Vampire, impatient, issues an invitation. Part 2 of 2. Follow Kales on twitter @citadelofswords. Follow Sasha on twitter @sasha_reneau. Follow Spindlewheel's development @teacabbage. Check out the open beta at https://tinyurl.com/spindlewheel-openbeta.

No one remembers what these structures were for in their heyday; but today, they serve a nobler cause supporting our lean-to’s and clotheslines. The inscriptions that once covered them have been chipped off and now circulate as a kind of currency, traded or pick-pocketed from each other’s coats, as needed. When you’re rich, you can rest easy within that circle of glyphs, breath unstolen and throat unpunctured. But no one here stays rich for long, and soon you’ll be just like the rest of us sorry bastards: ears straining for the comforting sound of automaton whirrs and clicks as it passes by, counting breaths in the silence that follows, and wishing on all of your good-luck charms that it won’t be you that’s missing in the morning. Follow Kales on twitter @citadelofswords. Follow Sasha on twitter @sasha_reneau. Follow Spindlewheel's development @teacabbage. Check out the open beta at https://tinyurl.com/spindlewheel-openbeta.

To Holy Armiger, ey of starfire and sand, defiant captive, root and blossom of all life: I drank Rowena's potions, as your priests require. It sits heavy on my bones, but the flower of my eye buds without a bloom; a promise I fear won't deliver in my time. There is enough light in the afternoon to make a few moments out of bed worthwhile. Though uncoiling the vines wrapped vicelike around my legs takes some doing. Every day, the distance between desk and bed extends by a small mile. Today, as every day, I devote myself to the arrangements that must be made for your return. Your garden must be verdant, your voice amplified above all, your city faithful without exception. When you return, you will look upon my efforts, and though I may not live to see your renaissance, my children will gaze into your eternal fire and forget the fear of death. For this, there is no cost too great. [Content Warning: body horror, eye horror, mob violence, surgery, existential dread, dubious bodily autonomy] The tracks "Old Stone, New Ice" are by Takuma Okada. Find their music at https://soundcloud.com/noroadhome. Apologies for audio quality, this was taken from the Nonbinary Tabletop RPG Month stream. Find out more at https://twitter.com/nonbinaryttrpgm! Follow Takuma on twitter @Takuma_Okada. Follow Hunter on twitter @twistedironpaw. Follow Sasha on twitter @sasha_reneau. Follow Spindlewheel's development @teacabbage. Check out the open beta at https://tinyurl.com/spindlewheel-openbeta.

The belltower of that dreadful church is the first landmark to break the horizon on the return trip across the river. He spends every waking minute straining his ears to hear its bell over the choppy waves, the groaning wood, and the whining passengers. But even that is not a comfort, but the promise of even more dull-eyed figures desperately waiting to rush his boat and shriek if he so much as pauses to stretch his aching back. Just imagine if he could take a break. That crooked spine pulled straight and tall, those straining muscles at rest, a peaceful smile on his face. I really think he deserves it, y'know? He works too hard. I think I could help him. I mean, there are only two shores to a river, right? How hard could it be? Apologies for the hiccups in audio quality, this was edited down from a livestream on https://twitch.tv/pnelmatirian. Follow Sasha on twitter @sasha_reneau. Follow Ruby on twitter @IronSparkSyris. Follow Spindlewheel's development @teacabbage. Check out the open beta at https://tinyurl.com/spindlewheel-openbeta.

The final part to the story. Strain of Solstice by Mike. Follow Sasha on twitter @sasha_reneau. Follow Mike on twitter @MeAndAmpersand. Follow Spindlewheel's development @teacabbage. Check out the open beta at https://tinyurl.com/spindlewheel-openbeta.

I worked the stone in a dull haze, my ears still ringing as I shaped the frieze depicting my grand appointment to divine artisan, following the treachery and swift execution of my predecessor. The tools were still warm from his hands. I remember it rained hard that night, flooding the stone gutters and hissing steam off the bronze pipes that lined the halls of the labyrinth god. His vast face watched us all. Without thinking, I'd carved it into my own figure on the tableau. And then, a flash of lightning--and by chance I looked up to see her racing on the top walls. Hide flecked with ichor, dark silhouette at once wolf and deer, and that long vicious horn piercing the fog. As sharp as the chisel in my hand. As she ran, the god's face followed her, and the weight of his gaze lifted off my shoulders for just a moment--long enough to bolt--long enough find my brothers--long enough to drive the chisel, still warm from his hands, into the labyrinth god's neck. From his dying body, I see the dawn filtering through the storm, and in the bleak morning light i catch a glimpse of her, just once, disappearing into the trees. You see, I'd been given more than just hope. With the rain washing blood from my hands, I had proof. Follow Sasha on twitter @sasha_reneau. Follow Mike on twitter @MeAndAmpersand. Follow Spindlewheel's development @teacabbage. Check out the open beta at https://tinyurl.com/spindlewheel-openbeta.

You look out on the western sea and it's hard to imagine, thousands of years ago, that broad horizon was broken up by mountains and jungle. The library's inscriptions speak of this and more of the old world, full of wonders and technologies that would be pointless in our stilt-legged city. But, for all the floral language about their alien passions and anxieties, we still can't find the words that describe how they kept the sea at bay for so long, or what crack finally split the walls of their great civilization. The answer, of course, is below us, in the sunken ruins. But it's a one-way ticket, and we're already too busy with the devils we know to go looking for trouble in the dark and deep. Maybe that's why it took an outsider, a blood-soaked old whaler, to put together this expedition. Maybe it's the wine talking, but something in the way he spoke made me believe it could be done. But I wonder, too, if we'd been more zealous and shoved him back into the sea rather than let fortune decide his fate, if we could have been spared the calamity that followed him. Rules edition: v1.0 Longform with Acts and Intermissions. This was recorded before Festival even existed, which is fun. Follow Sasha on twitter @sasha_reneau. Follow Calix on twitter @reaverboar. Follow Spindlewheel's development @teacabbage. Check out the open beta at https://tinyurl.com/spindlewheel-openbeta.

When we talk about magic--and we're not just telling fairy tales or parlor tricks--we don't usually talk about it like puberty. But when it returned to the world, it returned in fits and spurts, horrifying and impulsive and stupid, and there really isn't a word more apt. Alas, some of us are still hoping against hope for a graceful transition, a slow ease of the public into the idea of holding fire in your hands, or negotiating the opinions of a river. We still believe we can instill safety precautions so that fewer homes are demolished by botched cantrips, and old gods still bleary from centuries in slumber aren't hailed immediately by gunfire. Our organization has long maintained that lasting, positive change takes time, and must be introduced gradually. But the public is not patient, magic is not graceful, and time is not on our side. Rules edition: v1.0 Longform with Acts and Intermissions. This was recorded before Festival even existed, which is fun. Follow Sasha on twitter @sasha_reneau. Follow Calix on twitter @reaverboar. Follow Spindlewheel's development @teacabbage. Check out the open beta at https://tinyurl.com/spindlewheel-openbeta.