Solo Short: A Halloween Horror Game

A Light, Reflected

Surprise! Instead of your usual dose of Sanguine Dust this week, I decided to do something different, something a little more…spooky, since, after all, it’s spooky season.

I’m playing through a short solo horror game!

I found this game through a substack I subscribe to: Las Quisicosas.

Adria Prat sends out multiple posts weekly detailing different solo and general rpg resources and games. You can subscribe for free to get one post per week but you can also become a paid subscriber for more. I always find interesting games and resources from his newsletter.

A Light, Reflected

“A LIGHT, REFLECTED is a solo micro game about the horrors found at a lighthouse. “

I’ve always found lighthouses to be interesting. Structures that exist on the coasts or islands, beaming out light in a pattern, meant to signal passing ships of the dangers they can’t see at night.

The movie, “Annihilation” (along with the fantastic novel/inspiration for the movie, Jeff Vandermeer’s “Annihilation”) uses a lighthouse as a focus and is where the incredibly weird climax happens. It’s also the setting for Robert Egger’s fascinating and weird film, “The Lighthouse.”

Something about lighthouses stirs the dark places in our minds. So this game immediately caught my attention.

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The game takes place over 7 parts. For each part, except the 7th, you roll 1d6 and respond to the corresponding prompt(s). I will only post my response to the prompts so as not to give away the questions themselves and keep up the mystery.

It begins with this…

Story so far…

Through all the mirrored lantern's glass,

and through a tidal maze,

over the vicious ocean's wrath,

the light reflects its gaze

Upon that distant gloomy shore,

the lighthouse bares it's rays,

and watching me, who ventures near,

Its light reflects its gaze

An interloper on the beach,

I've journeyed here despite,

the ones I've heard that use this place,

by gazing through the light

• 1d6 = 1

I ran from monotony. The same old job and routine. Get up, go to work, type on my computer in my tiny cubicle until lunch, eat lunch alone in my cubicle, work, come home, watch tv, microwave and eat a frozen dinner, rinse, repeat. Same thing every day. 

I needed something different, something new. It sounds strange, doesn’t it? To run from monotony to be a lighthouse keeper? But it made sense to me. 

Lighthouses have always drawn my interest and when the opportunity came, I took it. An application, a brief interview. It was almost too easy.

I knew to take my journal. I needed somewhere to write down my thoughts. Without the busy-ness of the city, I felt I could truly take the time to write. Perhaps I could write that novel I always wanted to. I tossed the journal into one of my bags. 

The lighthouse is out of sight, on a small island just off the coast. All that is there is a small hut, where the keeper lives, and the lighthouse itself, a tall, imposing white structure, old, but solid. 

An old man who lived in the small village on the coast nearby gave me a ride in his boat with my stuff, and helped me get settled. 

I felt excited. I felt purpose. Something different. Something new. 

• 1d6 = 5

I’d heard rumors of the little village on the coast, by the lighthouse. One, that it was once a fishing village, but not for many years. The tales were that the fish had changed or turned. They looked strange and smelled foul. More and more every year, until the fishermen gave up and moved on. 

Even in the waters, I can see the fish and they look…strange. They move in odd and almost hypnotizing ways. At times, I find myself looking into the sea for hours, until the sun sets and I’m hungry, tired and cold. I’ve stopped looking at the fish if I can help it. Instead, I like to look at the light coming from the top of the lighthouse, brilliant and blazing in the night. 

The other rumor is that many in the village died of consumption back in the day, and there were still cases, here or there, which surprised me. I always thought that was something people long ago died from, not in modern day. But it was a rather small and quaint town, so I didn’t bother thinking about it too much. Even though I had a cough. I ignored it and assumed it would go away.

• 1d6 = 2

It is a rather quiet job, with little human contact. I have the crash of the waves and the chortling of the sea birds to accompany me. And the light at night. I find myself watching it from the window of my bedroom. Pulsing, beaming.

The lack of human contact, I didn’t think it would be a problem. No distractions, I told myself. All the time in the world to write in my journal! To meditate, to think, to better myself. But I do find myself longing for contact…The bi-weekly delivery of supplies and word-of-mouth news by the old man is not enough.

So when I heard a whistling in the air, I was intrigued. A trick of the wind, through a crack in the wall, window or door jamb, surely. But it persisted, in other parts of the shack, and outside, and in the lighthouse. A whistle. A trick of sound and wind, I told myself, but what harm could there be in responding, as if there was someone else? I whistled in response, and we went back and forth, this imaginary being I’d made up and myself.

After coming down from the lighthouse, I found myself following the whistle. It led me down along the rocky beach, and to a small cave, half submerged. I didn’t find anything within, but it was dark and I had no light. I could hear the waves splashing, echoing off the cavern walls, and the whistling had stopped. I went back to my hut as the sun had set and it was growing cold. I coughed and coughed, unable to get warm, and went to sleep, shivering.

1d6 = 1

Something has come.

It came from the sea, in the dark of night.

I woke in my bed, to hear a growling from outside, guttural, strange, like nothing I’d heard before.

It shook and twisted my bones. I clutched the blanket in white fists and couldn’t breath.

I told myself it was a nightmare, it couldn’t be real. With a shaking hand, I reached to the lamp on the nightstand and flicked it on.

Pale light filled the room.

The growling increased from outside the window.

The curtains were open but it was dark outside and I couldn’t see the beast.

The shadow of the creature spread along the wall from the window, growing, stretching, spreading across the room, impossibly.

I pulled the blanket over my head and closed my eyes.

The light went out and everything went dark.

In the morning, I woke, and told myself it was a dream. But outside the window, I found strange disturbances in the dust and dirt. I coughed and wiped my mouth with a handkerchief. I scuffed over the disturbances and told myself it was a dream, and went on with my day.

1d6 = 3

I found something. I went back to the submerged cave, splashing through the ankle-deep waters. Deep within, flashlight bouncing off the cavernous walls, my light fell upon …a fossil.

I took it, brought it back to my home. It’s…unusual. It doesn’t make sense. It matches no creature on earth, nor is it made of anything of earth. A strange texture, feel to it. I don’t know how I know, but I know that is not of this planet or perhaps, this reality.

It’s on the table, I sit and do not look at it.

The light from the lighthouse beams out into the sea but is that the only place the light goes? Could the light go…elsewhere? To places beyond our knowledge or experience? Does it draw things here?

We are not alone. There are things here. Beings. From elsewhere.

I throw a towel over the fossil, unable to resist looking at it.

• 1d6 = 6

I bury the fossil and go to burn my journal but when I pick it up, I see the last page. I see words written that I did not write. Entries I don’t remember writing. It is my handwriting, but it doesn’t sound like me. It sounds like someone else. Something else.

I set the journal down.

I dig up the fossil.

In the dark, with the lighthouse light pulsing, I carry the fossil back down to the rocky beach, splashing through the water, back to the cave. I put it back where it was. As I go to leave, there is a form in front of me.

They shove me and I fall back into the water with a splash.

I cannot move, something takes me, holds me under. I accept it. I…go. I am nowhere. I am nothing. I am not. I am

gone.

…

The figure leaves the cave, picks its way along the rocky beach, back up to the shack. It opens the door and goes to the journal, picking it up. It sits at the table, picks up a pen and begins writing down a new entry.

Photo by Quaid Lagan on Unsplash

The Light is always watching…

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There is a final poem, but I won’t post it here, so as not to spoil it. This is a fun, short, micro-game with weird and creative prompts. A couple of the prompts are a bit confusing and can leave you feeling like you’re not sure how to respond to them, but this is solo-gaming, so you can just do whatever you want!

If you’re feeling like a short solo horror game about a lighthouse is a cool idea, give it a try.

Happy Halloween!