Backwater Static

An oil painting that was already old when the gallery it hangs in was new. The varnish has gone the color of weak tea, cracked into a fine web that catches the light differently depending on where you stand. Nobody working at the gallery remembers hanging it, and the accession records that should explain it don't exist. The subject's expression is neutral in every photograph taken of it, but never neutral to the naked eye - always caught mid-shift, as if it stopped moving the instant the camera did. Up close it smells faintly of linseed oil, decades after any wet paint should have stopped smelling like anything.

Soak 6 · Health Levels 3 · Stationary

Gaze (Mental, 4 dice vs. Psyche, triggered by looking directly at it for more than a moment - no to-hit roll)

Traits: Recursive - a target who loses a Sanity Level to the Gaze notices the subject has shifted slightly the next time they look, guaranteeing they'll look again eventually (GM's call on pacing).

Fifty-two cards, and every reading comes true - just not always the way you'd want. Corners rounded soft from decades of shuffling, the pattern on the backs worn past legibility, a few cards gone so thin they're translucent held up to light. It's always cool to the touch, in any room, in any season - and it gets colder, card by card, the longer a reading runs, until by the end of a full spread it's like holding something pulled straight out of a freezer.

Corners rounded soft from decades of shuffling, the pattern on the backs worn past legibility, a few cards gone so thin they're translucent held up to light. It's always cool to the touch, in any room, in any season - and it gets colder, card by card, the longer a reading runs, until by the end of a full spread it's like holding something pulled straight out of a freezer.

How a Reading Works: the reader lays cards for whoever the reading is for, one at a time, in whatever spread the reader's own style calls for - a simple three-card line, a full cross, anything the moment calls for. The spread itself is flavor; only the final, decisive card resolves mechanically. Only the subject of the reading triggers A Card Is Drawn - a reader drawing on someone else's behalf is never affected by their own reading.

Soak 2 · Health Levels 1 · Stationary

A Card Is Drawn (Social or Mental depending on the card drawn, 3 dice, triggered automatically the first time a character shuffles or draws from the deck - no to-hit roll)

Reading the Card: the suit and rank of the drawn card decide what the reading actually is.

• Suit sets the track: Hearts or Diamonds draw a Social roll (vs. Poise); Clubs or Spades draw a Mental roll (vs. Sanity).
• Rank sets what the card means. An Ace is a single defining truth - if an Ace is drawn anywhere in a spread, it overrides whatever else was laid, and the reading becomes about that card alone. A 2 through 10 tells you how soon the omen comes due: low cards land almost immediately (this Session), high cards loom over the long term (this Arc). A face card (Jack, Queen, King) means a specific person enters the reading, not an event - the GM should have a real NPC in mind, existing or new, before revealing what the card portends.

Traits: Every Reading Is True - the drawn card's effect always comes to pass narratively in some form, independent of whether its dice connect mechanically. Can't Be Un-Drawn - a card that's already resolved for someone can't affect that same person again until a Month passes.

A battered brass horn, always missing its mouthpiece cap. Whoever plays it can't stop, and can't play anything else. The brass is dented in a shape that doesn't match any collision anyone's described, and that spot stays warm to the touch no matter how cold the morning. Set it down mid-note and the sound keeps going for a beat or two longer than breath should allow, thin and a little tinny, like it's coming from further away than the horn actually is. The case it came with is lined with velvet gone bald in the shape of a different, smaller instrument.

Soak 2 · Health Levels 1 · Stationary

The Wrong Note (Mental, 2 dice vs. Psyche, triggered by playing it for more than a few bars - no to-hit roll)

Traits: One-Song Mind - a target who loses a Sanity Level to it hums the same off-key phrase involuntarily for the rest of the Scene.

A 78 that repeats four bars forever once the needle drops, no matter how many times it's lifted. The label's worn to a smear, no artist name, no title, just a run-out groove that never actually runs out. Lift the needle and the sound keeps playing underneath it, faint, like it's coming from a different room in the same building. The vinyl is warped just enough that it shouldn't play cleanly at all, and yet it never once skips off those same four bars.

Soak 1 · Health Levels 1 · Stationary

The Loop (Mental, 2 dice vs. Psyche, triggered by listening through a full repeat - no to-hit roll)

Traits: Contagious - a Scene with more than one listener triggers the Loop against every listener simultaneously, not just the first.

A marching bass drum, skin gone dark with age, that starts a slow beat the moment it's touched. The rope tensioners are frayed but somehow still hold true pitch, and the drumhead stays cool under the palm even after an hour of beating. Nobody's ever caught it starting - it's always already going by the time anyone notices, like it picked up mid-phrase from somewhere else. Stand close enough and you feel the beat in your sternum before you consciously register the sound.

Soak 3 · Health Levels 2 · Stationary

March Behind Me (Social, 3 dice vs. Presence, triggered by hearing the beat within earshot - no to-hit roll)

Traits: Draws a Crowd - a target who loses a Poise Level to it feels compelled to physically follow the sound, GM's call on how far before it lets go.

An upright's paper roll, brittle and yellowed, that plays itself to an empty room. The perforations are cut in a pattern that doesn't match any published sheet music, and running a finger along the holes leaves it smelling faintly of pipe smoke with no obvious source. It only ever starts once the last person leaves and stops the instant anyone opens the door, so most people who own it have never actually heard it play, only heard about it. The keys move under an unseen touch just far enough to depress, never further, like whoever's playing learned restraint a long time ago.

Soak 2 · Health Levels 1 · Stationary

An Audience of One (Mental, 3 dice vs. Psyche, triggered by being alone in the room while it plays - no to-hit roll)

Traits: Never Alone - the piano insists someone is sitting at the bench; a target who loses a Sanity Level to it swears they saw a hand on the keys.

A dented tip jar that was already full when the shop that owned it closed decades ago. The coins inside are a mix of eras, some currency that hasn't been minted in a lifetime, and the glass is scuffed cloudy from handling that never seems to have actually happened. It rattles faintly when picked up, coins shifting, though nothing ever spills loose no matter how hard it's shaken. The dent in the side is shaped like a shoe print, low down, like it was kicked once and never fixed.

Soak 1 · Health Levels 1 · Stationary

Pay the Toll (Social, 2 dice vs. Presence, triggered by making eye contact with it while passing - no to-hit roll)

Traits: Always Full - no matter how much is dropped in or taken out, the jar is exactly as full the next time someone looks.

A woven-hair mourning ring, a keepsake style from a much older era, kept long after the mourning should have ended. The hair braided into the band is dark and fine, no longer matching whoever last wore it, and the gold around it is worn thin from a thumb that rubbed the same spot for years. It sits warm against the skin almost immediately, faster than body heat alone would explain. The clasp sticks a little on the way off, just enough to make you pause before you take it off, like it's asking you to reconsider.

Soak 2 · Health Levels 1 · Stationary

Still Grieving (Mental, 3 dice vs. Psyche, triggered by wearing it for more than a Scene - no to-hit roll)

Traits: Borrowed Grief - a target who loses a Sanity Level to it briefly grieves someone they never met, with real, specific false memories that fade over a Day.

A yellowed newspaper clipping with a blank space where the death date should be. The paper is soft at the fold from being carried, and the print elsewhere on the clipping is perfectly legible, ordinary, forgettable - just that one gap where a date should sit, clean and unbrowned, like it was left out on purpose. It doesn't smudge if you touch the blank space, and it won't take pencil or ink either. Held up to a window, the light comes through that blank patch just slightly brighter than the rest of the page.

Soak 1 · Health Levels 1 · Stationary

Fill in the Date (Mental, 3 dice vs. Psyche, triggered by reading it aloud - no to-hit roll)

Traits: Whoever's Named - the blank fills in with the reader's own name for as long as they hold it, and only their name.

A funeral guestbook, its pages already full of names in handwriting that isn't anyone's. The cover is cheap pleather, cracked at the spine the way a book gets from real use, and the pages inside are soft and thin from turning. Every name is written in a different hand, careful cursive to hurried print, but none of it matches any known signature on record. Flip through it and the ink smells faintly fresh, like it dried an hour ago no matter how long the book's been shut.

Soak 2 · Health Levels 2 · Stationary

Sign In (Social, 3 dice vs. Presence, triggered by signing your own name in it - no to-hit roll)

Traits: Marks Your Return - a signed name reappears, in the same ink, if that person ever attends another funeral anywhere in the city.

Charcoal on paper, taken from a grave nobody can find anymore. The paper's gone soft and gray at the edges, charcoal smudged the way it always does after handling, and the lettering it captured is only partly legible, cut off mid-name by a crack that was already in the stone when the rubbing was made. It leaves black on the fingers like any charcoal rubbing would, but the black doesn't wash off with soap, just water. Held at an angle to the light, the worn letters seem to shift position slightly, like the crack itself is still spreading somewhere.

Soak 1 · Health Levels 1 · Stationary

The Missing Name (Mental, 2 dice vs. Psyche, triggered by tracing the rubbing's letters with a finger - no to-hit roll)

Traits: Fades to Match - the worn-away letters on the rubbing always match whichever part of the headstone is currently most eroded, wherever it actually is.

A paper hand fan, church-pew standard issue, printed with a face that isn't the same face twice. The cardstock is warped soft from decades in humid rooms, the wooden handle stapled on the cheap way these always are, and the printed face on front looks different depending on who's holding it, though never anyone the holder actually recognizes. Fanning it stirs air that's colder than the room around it. The back still carries a faded ad for a funeral home that, as far as anyone's found, never existed under that name.

Soak 1 · Health Levels 1 · Stationary

Cool Yourself (Mental, 2 dice vs. Psyche, triggered by fanning yourself with it for more than a minute - no to-hit roll)

Traits: Borrowed Face - a target who loses a Sanity Level to it sees the fan's printed face reflected back in the next mirror they look into, once.

An iron key to a shotgun house that's since been demolished, though the key still turns something. It's heavier than a key that size should be, rust bloomed along the shaft in a pattern that never seems to spread further. The teeth are cut for a lock nobody's found, but slide it into almost any old deadbolt and it seats like it belongs there, even when it won't turn. On warm afternoons it holds onto cold longer than metal should, like it's still sitting on a shelf in a house that no longer has weather to feel.

Soak 2 · Health Levels 1 · Stationary

One More Room (Mental, 3 dice vs. Psyche, triggered by turning it in any lock - no to-hit roll)

Traits: A Room That Isn't There - success or failure, the target has a brief, vivid sense of walking through a house that no longer exists, ending back where they started.

An old tin, dented, that still smells fresh no matter how long it's been shut. The paint's chipped down to bare metal at the corners, the lid stiff and hard to pry, but crack it open and the chicory smell hits like it was ground that morning. There's always just enough grounds inside for one more pot, no matter how many pots have already been made from it. The tin stays a little warm to the touch, like it just came off a stove that isn't there.

Soak 1 · Health Levels 1 · Stationary

One More Cup (Social, 2 dice vs. Presence, triggered by drinking from a cup poured from it - no to-hit roll)

Traits: Somebody's Kitchen - a target who loses a Poise Level to it feels a sudden, specific homesickness for a kitchen that isn't theirs.

Cypress wood, worn smooth on the arms, that rocks gently on a porch with no wind. The grain's gone silver-gray from years of weather, the joints tight despite the age, no creak when it rocks, which is somehow more unsettling than if it did. It never rocks faster or slower, just that same even pace, and it stops the instant someone sits down, only to start again the moment they get up. Run a hand over the armrests and they're worn into shallow grooves shaped like hands bigger than most people's.

Soak 2 · Health Levels 2 · Stationary

Sit a Spell (Mental, 2 dice vs. Psyche, triggered by sitting in it - no to-hit roll)

Traits: Loses Track of Time - a target who loses a Sanity Level to it consistently underestimates how long they sat there by about an hour, every time.

A lady's compact, the glass split corner to corner, that shows the room a half-second behind. The case is brass gone dull, the powder puff inside long since crumbled to dust, but the mirror itself is clean, no fog, no scratches beyond the one crack. The lag is small enough to miss at first, just a flicker between a hand raised and its reflection catching up. Snap it shut and you can feel the click land a beat later than the sound actually reaches your ears.

Soak 1 · Health Levels 1 · Stationary

Catching Up (Mental, 3 dice vs. Psyche, triggered by checking your reflection in it - no to-hit roll)

Traits: Delayed Reflection - the reflection always lags behind the target's actual movement, most noticeable, and most unsettling, right as it stops.

A cast-iron pot that's never once been washed empty, no matter the occasion or how many bowls are served. The bottom's seasoned black the way a pot gets from decades of use, the handle wrapped in cloth gone stiff and dark. Ladle out a bowl and the level in the pot doesn't drop, filled right back up to the same mark by the time the spoon's out again. It smells like it's simmering even stone cold, and whoever's closest to it tends to get hungry faster than they should.

Soak 3 · Health Levels 2 · Stationary

Always Enough (Social, 2 dice vs. Presence, triggered by eating from it - no to-hit roll)

Traits: Obligated - a target who loses a Poise Level to it feels a real compulsion to return the favor somehow, to someone, before the week is out.

A small flannel charm bag, stitched shut, that's heavier than it should be and occasionally shifts on its own. The flannel's faded from red to a dull rust color, the stitching tight and even, done by a hand that knew what it was doing. It's noticeably heavier than a bag that size should be for whatever's rattling around inside, and every so often it settles, like something in there is getting comfortable. Press it between two fingers and you can feel something hard and uneven through the cloth, more than one shape, none of them soft.

Soak 3 · Health Levels 2 · Stationary

Bite Back (Physical, 3 dice vs. Soak, triggered by opening it - no to-hit roll)

Traits: Meant to Protect Someone - the bag never triggers against whoever it was originally made for, only against anyone else who opens it.

An old, worn coin, left where two roads meet, that keeps turning up in your pocket after you've already spent it. The face is worn smooth past recognition, whatever was minted on it rubbed down to a suggestion rather than an image. It's always a little colder than the other coins around it, easy to pick out by feel alone in a pocket full of change. However far you throw it, however deliberately you leave it behind, it has a way of ending up back in the same pocket by the end of the day.

Soak 1 · Health Levels 1 · Stationary

Owed a Trade (Mental, 3 dice vs. Psyche, triggered by pocketing it a second time - no to-hit roll)

Traits: Always Comes Back - genuinely discarding it (not just spending it) only works at an actual crossroads, and only once per Month.

A single cobalt bottle, meant to hang on a bottle tree's bare branch, that hums faintly when you're being watched. The glass is thick and old-fashioned, bubbled in places the way hand-blown glass gets, the neck worn smooth where it's hung from wire for years. Held up to sunlight it throws blue light that seems slightly too saturated for how much sun is actually coming through it. The hum is low, almost below hearing, more felt in the teeth than heard in the ears, and it only starts once there's actually something worth being warned about.

Soak 1 · Health Levels 1 · Stationary

Something's Caught (Mental, 2 dice vs. Psyche, triggered by holding it up to the light - no to-hit roll)

Traits: Actually Useful - a target who succeeds against the effect instead gains a genuine, GM-adjudicated warning about a real nearby threat, reflecting the ornament's original protective purpose.

A thick black candle that's burned for as long as anyone's owned it and never gotten shorter. The wax is matte black all the way through, not just dyed on the surface, and the wick stays trimmed to the same short length no matter how long it burns. The flame doesn't flicker in a draft that would gutter any normal candle, holding steady and upright like it's burning somewhere without air currents at all. It gives off real heat close up, but the wax pooled at the base never seems to actually melt.

Soak 2 · Health Levels 1 · Stationary

Sit With It (Mental, 3 dice vs. Psyche, triggered by watching the flame for more than a minute - no to-hit roll)

Traits: Keeps Something Lit - extinguishing it by any means only works for one Round before it relights itself, unless whatever it's "for" is resolved narratively (GM's call).

A small drawstring pouch, sewn shut with red thread, that was never meant to be opened by anyone but the person it was made for. The cloth is plain and unmarked, the red thread pulled tight in stitches meant to be permanent, not decorative. It's dense with contents that shift and settle when moved, giving no clue by shape or sound what's actually inside. The knot at the drawstring resists picking apart by hand, tight in a way that feels deliberate rather than accidental, like it was tied by someone who didn't want it opened casually.

Soak 4 · Health Levels 2 · Stationary

Not Yours to Open (Social, 4 dice vs. Presence, triggered by opening it - no to-hit roll)

Traits: Backfires Hard - unlike the rest of this file's entries, this one deliberately punishes the wrong hands; a target who loses all their Poise Levels to it in one triggering becomes Flustered immediately, no partial-connect grace.

A heavy steel cuff, a Foundation property tag riveted to the inside. A small charge-indicator light on its face stays lit whether or not it's been used. The steel is scuffed and scratched from field use, the hinge worn smooth where it opens and closes, nothing about it visually distinguishing a charged unit from a spent one beyond that light. It's cold to the touch even after being carried in a warm pocket for hours, standard for Foundation-issue gear that's seen this much handling. The property tag lists a case number instead of a name, riveted on slightly crooked, like it was attached in a hurry.

Function: forcibly severs a non-corporeal entity from a living host without lethal harm to the host.

Uses: single use per charge cycle - the indicator light goes dark once spent, and there's no known field method to recharge one.

Limits: requires direct physical contact with the host for a minimum of 4 seconds, uninterrupted. Not built for combat and does nothing against a target that isn't currently possessed. Whether a given unit still has a charge left, and what happens if one is ever used on a PC, is a GM call.