Tripflare & Torch: Chronicle of the Lightbearer pt. 1

Hello my ghoulies and ghosties and long-legged beasties and things that go “bump” in the night! It’s uh, still Sunday night, right? No… well, never mind then. This week, I’m starting my creative playthrough/AAR of Tales of Maj’Eyal as a Writhing One. TW for body horror in roughly the same vein as Mary Shelly, David Cronenberg, H.P. Lovecraft (of course), and my nightmares as I entered adolescence. We’re not getting into Human Centipede territory because even I have limits. It’s my intention to stay as close as possible to the official lore of ToME and to the key in-game events without being pedantic about either one. We’re not doing this is chess notation.

Before we get on with the playthrough, I want to personally congratulate everyone at Kitfox Games for breaking US $200,000 and getting all their stretch goals funded with the Kickstarter for Boyfriend Dungeon. I’m especially glad that the surfer formerly  That’s me and games in a nutshell: I want games with beautiful queers and games that let me play as hideous monsters. And games where the hideous monsters are all beautiful queers on the inside. <3

I intend to write up one quest a week, but first, the establishing shot:

Chronicle of the Lightbearer: Overture

Unhappy is the one whose natal hour brings only fear and sadness. Born conjoined, I was not twin children to be cherished but a single monstrosity a sign of corruption, and so my mother, by choice or compulsion, abandoned me on a hilltop to die of exposure. I was fortunate: some nameless drem found me and brought me below, where the Sightless Acolyte named me Lightbearer, for the suncast light of the world above still clung to my skin, dappled with the many lights of the deep. Or at least that is what they tell me: none in Kroshkurr are so simple as to trust what they are told.

I must have been two people then, but I cannot recall either of them. My first memories are of pain as I wrenched my bodies into a new configuration, then of eavesdropping on That Which Teaches History as it whispered dire secrets into the ears of desperate seekers. To this day, the sound of tiny bees swarming and grey teeth soothes me. The Teacher must have taken a shine to me, as I have since learned that not a single buzz escapes their liplessness without intention, and not so much as a single spore falls without their knowing it.

Now Kroshkurr is imperiled. One of the great white worms, titanic and everchanging, is burrowing this way, and my sanctuary shall soon be devoured and digested. It has been declared that, unless one of the younglings should stop it, the worm will be allowed to consume the city. I hate to destroy such a great and majestic creature, but I know what happens to those who allow what they love to be destroyed, and I love my home.

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