Originally published March 2016

Due to my recent obsession with the rogue-lite, story-focused, H.P. Lovecraft sailing simulator, Sunless Sea, I decided to make my playthrough more personally interesting by sharing the adventures of my second ship captain from his journal. Sadly, my first was lost in the great computer upgrade.

If you haven't read the first entry, click here.

Hunter's Keep - Sept 5, 1880

As ominous a name as this island has, it does not match the lovely hosts of the house that live here. The three sisters have been nothing but delightful since we've landed. They've not only provided us a place to stay but food and stories as well. Dinner with the ladies is always filled with something exciting and interesting it seems. Of the three, I enjoy Phoebe the most. She manages to tell the most chilling of tales with an optimistic enthusiasm.

Only a day northeast of London, I never knew people lived on this island in such a lavish mansion. I remember when I would stroll through London, I could only ever see a shadow of an island in the distance from the docks, but this was on the rare days that no fog had infiltrated the city and the lights from the ships passing through would give off the needed glow. I wonder how the island got such an ominous name or how the fine ladies managed to inherit such a massive property on it.

There is a slight bit of unease I get from the place, though. Upon hearing Phoebe's legend, I felt as though something beneath the home stirred and that a greater power had suddenly taken notice of me. The zailors, superstitious as they are, claim it is one of the zee gods. They told me their names, but I've already forgotten. I'm sure I'll hear of it all again soon enough.

In the morning we make for Venderbight in the Northwest. I hear tell that the people who live there are not living at all. I'd have to see it for myself but to think that there is a city of the living dead only a few days from our fair London is astonishing, especially because they would be a stone's throw away from spreading their decomposing malice if there were any to share. Perhaps the decay has made them docile? Who knows?! I just can't wait to see for myself!

Venderbight - September 6 1880

It seems what they say about Venderbight is both true and false. It does seem to be a city of the dead. Any individual unprepared for shore leave in this place might turn tail at the first sight of a resident, despite their benign nature. They all have been hospitable, albeit in a rather peculiar way, but hospitable nonetheless.

We're to stay docked for a full day as I soak in the surroundings and grab whatever material I can for my song. 3 of our most superstitious zailors refused to step ashore, worried that they might catch some sort of death plague. They forget that a more dangerous disease is already very real on the Unterzee. Fear.

Never have I seen so many eager and willing men and women jump aboard a ship for a steady paycheck with a taste for adventure turn so fearful on the open water. We were barely 20 kilometers from home and they all looked like something was nestled deep at the base of their spines, making them permanently ill at ease. They still look healthy enough to do the work and follow orders, but I'm concerned about when our travels will lead us further east.

It's something about the zee itself. We know not what lurks beneath its black waters and in the areas where our mirrors can only catch a glimpse of distant light, even I feel as though I am being watched. A great eye beneath the waves, content for now to simply spectate as we cross treacherous waters. I wonder how long it will remain only a spectator before... well, before things get worse. I shouldn't write more, I'm starting to sound like the crew. Out into Venderbight where the corpses dance and the living drink!

Venderbight - September 7 1880

Last night I wandered the streets of the city looking for whatever trinkets and snippets I could find. I eavesdropped on a couple of individuals who had been sailors in their past lives but had retired from the zee-life to sit in front of their local restaurant and reminisce with a bowl of zzoup in front of them. I noticed that they barely touched their food most of the time, though probably for the best considering how often one of them would make a gesture and his wrappings would dip into the viscous stew.

Wrappings are definitely the style around here. I wonder if the medical cloth serves a purpose or if the public dead around here has just chosen to wear the wrappings so as not to scare away any visitors and potential traders. Regardless, I and much of the crew have gotten used to the decomposed look of the people here. They're all quite eager to hear of news from London or any sort of legend. They're willing to pay a small bit of a coin just to hear a story or two. Since it's a new audience, different from the one I'm used to, I told them one of my classic tales to help pay for supplies and fuel upon our return to London. Supplies here are a bit too pricey to warrant a purchase otherwise.