Game 5 Notes

Sleep now, child of flesh and bone,
Ash to ash, return alone.
One for sorrow, two for flame,
Speak not light, nor birth, nor name.

Your breath is soft, your pulse is thin,
The black wind seeks a way within.
The door is shut, the mirror blind—
Let no god see what we will bind.

Crawl now, Shadow, ancient, deep,
Stir from halls where angels sleep.
Bring your teeth and bring your fire,
Feast upon this heart’s desire.

Blood for bond, and bone for key,
This soul is ripe. This soul is free.
In stillness wrapped, in silence crowned,
Let flesh be torn and soul unbound.

Hear the hush—do not resist.
The cold has come. The mouth has kissed.
No stars remain. No breath is drawn.
The veil is pierced. The child is gone.

So bind the name, and burn the thread,
The eyes are closed, the lips are red.
With one last sigh and one last breath—
Sleep is sealed. And so is death.

Game 4 Notes

Whoopsie, I didn't actually do the intro for game 3 or 4, so I'll reuse them later!

Game 3 Notes

Whoopsie, I didn't actually do the intro for game 3 or 4, so I'll reuse them later!

Game 2 Notes

Citizens of the Infernal Borough, spawn of shadow and flame, lend me your ears—or whatever appendages you're using these days.

Tonight, under the auspicious alignment of the shattered moons and the wailing of distant souls, we gather to extend a warm, sulfur-scented welcome to our newest arrival: Vortox, freshly summoned and ready to stir the cauldron that is our cursed little town.

You've come at just the right time—our nightmares are stagnating, the screams are losing their spice, and the last newcomer accidentally brought peace and quiet. Never again.

But you, Vortox, you’re different. We’ve read your résumé—very impressive. The eternal torment of a thousand minds? Love it. That one incident with the haunted orphanage and the accordion? Inspired. And let’s not forget your signature move—spinning around really really quickly.

You’ll fit right in here among the cursed cryptkeepers, and chaos merchants. We've even assigned you a lair with excellent acoustics for dramatic monologuing.

So, on behalf of all denizens, devils, and deranged council members, welcome. May your schemes be wicked, your curses catchy, and your coffee eternally black.

Let the hellfire burn brighter with your arrival!

Game 1 Notes

Ladies and gentlemen, friends both new and familiar—

Welcome! Today, we open our doors and our hearts to those who were once strangers but are now part of something greater: our clamily. Whether you’ve come from far across the world or just a few blocks down the road, know this—you belong here. In this circle, we don’t just share meals and stories, we share strength, compassion, and the unshakable bond of togetherness.

It’s a rare and beautiful thing, to be welcomed. In a world so often divided, this moment of unity is precious. So raise a glass, shake a hand, hug someone (consensually), and feel the warmth of being seen and accepted.

Now… if I may digress just slightly.

There is, of course, the matter of the Leviathan.

Yes, 'that' Leviathan—the ancient, slumbering beast beneath the churning deep. You’ve probably felt it, haven’t you? The subtle trembling of the ground at night? The unnatural tides? That low, almost imperceptible hum when you close your eyes and listen just right?

For centuries, it has waited. Watching. Dreaming in the black abyss, beneath fathoms of cold silence. But lately—oh yes, lately—it has stirred. The old songs warned us, but who listens to barnacled prophets anymore?

You see, it doesn’t just devour ships and shatter coastlines with its waking breath—it REMEMBERS. And it judges. And I fear, dear clamily, it has judged us wanting.

Now, I don’t bring this up to alarm anyone per se—though if you feel a chill in your bones or the sudden urge to flee inland, that is perfectly natural. But rather, I speak of the Leviathan to remind us of our shared fate. Of how we must cling to each other, laugh together, love boldly, and perhaps build an elaborate subterranean refuge equipped with ancient sigils and canned goods.

So let us feast tonight, not just in joy, but in defiance. Let the walls ring with music and merriment, that the Leviathan might hear us and pause—but briefly—before its endless hunger resumes.

Welcome to the clamily.

We are stronger together.
And we will need to be.

Goodnight everyone.