About a week ago, Fallen London released a new feature: the ability to send calling cards to your contacts. I was one of the first to discover this, but I couldn’t possibly have known just how important it would turn out to be.

Below I have attempted to render a faithful account of these portentous events. This is the story of how I went where no other had before, and where, it may be, that no other will again. Forgive my tendency for grandiloquence, and read on, all ye Seekers…

I spent a few actions sending out cards to everyone I knew; as they gave a sizable amount of Making Waves, I’d hoped to upgrade my Profession. Then I noticed that I had Mr Eaten in my contact list. ‘Well, why not,’ I thought ‘what’s the worst that could happen?’ Ha. Haha.

So I sent my card to Mr Eaten. I didn’t really expect him to accept it, but I was still surprised when he declined.

I was even more surprised when he replied.

Oh dear. Oh dear god.

What could I do but accept?

 Ouch. That’s half of my stats gone, and enough Menace to make me go insane as soon as I get over being dead. Oh, but what a sinister curio I had gained!

My hands shook, and not just from the Nightmares inflicted upon me. Could this really be? While I was recovering, I reported all this on the forums. In the initial flurry of excitement, many people tried sending their own calling cards to Mr Eaten— but it seemed that no one else was even able to address it to him, let alone receive a reply.

I was to go this alone, then. Very well.

I have always made it my policy in these things to let some other intrepid explorer pioneer their way through the door to new and dangerous lands— not out of deference, but just to see what happens to them. Nevertheless, it seemed I was unique. If I did not do this, it would never be done.

I consigned myself to the role of the Ravenous Prophet, to go into the uncharted places and bring back knowledge to the ranked masses of hungry Seekers.

And so, as soon as my Menaces were reduced to marginally non-fatal levels, I set off to Wolfstack Docks, where a new storylet had been unlocked by my card.

Visiting Mr Eaten’s Home Address

He won’t be there. He is nowhere. There is nothing here.

The Blind Helmsman

 Not the pub of that name. There is only one among the fraternity of the Docks who will take you to that place. He won’t do it for just anyone. And even then, he’ll need some persuasion.

When I first got there, it cost ten actions, and required Connected: The Docks x 15. When I returned later, the fare had been raised by 100 Echoes, required one to be a Person of Some Importance, and had a rather difficult Persuasive challenge.

If one fails this challenge, all they see is:

Nothing doing

He shakes his head slowly. “The seas are wrong,” is all he’ll say.

But if they succeed?

I have gone where no other foot has tread. Out here in the darkness, there is only one storylet to play.

Out here in the darkness, you are cut off from everything. Well, almost everything. I was accruing quite a lot of fame by now, and so I discovered that you can still receive calling cards. And Christmas cards. London’s postal service take themselves very seriously.

I sat down to Fast and Meditate. The fasting wasn’t really optional. Not much food out here.

If you are unlucky, you see this:

A wind like a pack of circling dogs

You huddle low. Your belly is flat: it flaps like a tent. Every part of you is pocked by angry restless flints. You could light a fire. No: no, you couldn’t.

If you still have some luck left that has not been shredded by the search:

Success here gave the quality:

Fasting and Meditating to a Foolish End – Hard-won Misery: You could spend your whole life here, until even the vitality of the Neath gutters in you, and you lie brittle beside the Well.

Little did I know, but I was actually quite lucky. I continued with my Fasting and Meditating for some time, and it was only later that both failure and success began raise my Nightmares and Wounds by a not-insubstantial amount. Failure also began to remove some Fasting and Meditating to a Foolish End. But more on that later.

When I had succeeded a couple times, bringing FaMtaFE to 7, there was an intriguing development.

These options allowed one to give a Reported Location of a One-Time Prince of Hell, Cantigaster Venom, or Veils-Velvet to the well in trade for progress. As you can see, I was only able to give one of these: the Location.

Whisper a treasured secret to the well

You will forget this. Yes. This is a gift from no-one to no-one. Everything is lost in the North.

A monstrous silence

This is the silence of the North, where water fades to not-even-space. Hell is forgiven their trespasses there. Haha. Hahahaha. Your throat rusts.

Time passed. A great deal of time. Everything here costs a great many actions. But they revealed more things to sacrifice to the well.

At 9, there was Master’s Blood. At 14 there was the Breath of the Void or an Impossible Theorem, the latter of which had never received even a mention until here and now.

I still do not know what these result in, and shall have to wait for others to discover that. Oh yes, there could be others. I am but the First; the Second uncovered this:

Rend it

Tear it. Trample it. Cast its ragged wreck into the well.

A scent like rage

He wanted to go free, he wanted his hunt, his stars. He gave them flesh of the Judgements’ realm for his impatience. He, oh he, oh when my teeth are in him there will not be an end. No end.

Nevertheless, at the time, I did not see a clear purpose for the island. Was there something to be gained from these new options? In the absence of anything else to do, I continued to raise Fasting and Meditating even higher. I had a hunch.

Time passed, again. The mysterious quality, my only lead, went higher and higher without showing any sign of importance.

Until it reached 77.

My vindication came more forcefully than I expected. This is the fourth way to get St Destin’s Candle, but St Cerise? That is something that could only be gained from boundless tenacity or wicked betrayal in the game of Knife and Candle.

And St Forthigan’s Candle? Had never been seen at all. Even its name is a revelation.

St Destin’s Candle has no pre-requisites, as it is nothing to begin with.

St Cerise’s Candle requires that you not have it already, but that you have St Destin’s.

St Forthigan’s Candle requires both St Destin’s and St Cerise’s.

I considered pushing all the way to 100, but the lure of candles was too great.

And so I had to start over. It was around now that I noticed a change. Previously, the island had been safe, albeit time consuming; but now Wounds and Nightmares abound from every action. Worse still, the options to Fast and Meditate, and even the option to Return to London are now locked if you have more than 7 Wounds or Nightmares. Not only will you suffer when you get back to the Fifth City, you will not even be able to return. You will be stranded on this tiny, desolate speck of an island, wishing you had the luxury of escaping through death or insanity. Your only salvation would be Time, the Healer, slowly chipping away at your Menaces every week.

Now was the time I regretted my haste in setting out. Apparently, marginally sub-lethal levels of madness and injury are poor qualities for a voyage into unknown lands with a reputation for certain doom. Who knew?

Faced with such prospects, I opted to return to London with haste equal to that of my departure. I failed several times.

Not yet.

Perhaps tomorrow. In the meantime, you can scrape black lichen from the rocks to sate your hunger. Perhaps a little driftwood will have washed up on the beach. Yes, here. A tangle of shattered timber.

Eventually, I managed to attract help, and returned to London to prepare in earnest.

Home again

There! There! The boat’s approaching. Perhaps they don’t know the things that are said of this place, to approach so closely and so unwisely.

Fasting and Meditating to a Foolish End decreased slightly.

My opportunity cards weren’t even ruffled.

I will spare you the details, but I will tell you a little of what I did, so you will have some idea of how to prepare if you are ever bound for a journey to Winking Isle: Rid myself completely of my Menaces. Regained Connected: Docks. Stockpiled social action cures for Wounds and Nightmares; while you can’t receive or send them on the Isle, they can be accepted.

When I felt I was ready (some days later), I set out again. Everything was pretty much as I left it; aside from the change to the journey over, the requirements for sacrificing items to the well were tightened slightly. Speak the sound between stars (Breath of the Void) and A wrongness (Impossible Theorem) can no longer be used when you have more than 55 Fasting and Meditating to a Foolish End. Whisper a treasured secret (Reported Location of a One-Time Prince of Hell) locks after 66.

I rebuilt Fasting and Meditating to a Foolish End up until I had enough for another candle:

My stats cleaved in half once more. The Watchful gain was an error soon corrected.

Now, the nature of this cycle is this: If someone came to the island without any of the candles, they must grind all the way to St Destin’s. Their progress is reset, and they grind up again, to sacrifice St Destin’s Candle for that of St Cerise, where their progress is again reset. They must regain St Destin’s, re-grind, and then finally, they are ready for the sixth candle:

St Forthigan’s Candle: This candle is innocent of treachery. Long has it been maligned.

Yes, there is a typo in the candle’s name. I get the impression this whole thing was put together fairly quickly.

If one wishes to regain the other two candles, they can continue the cycle. It’s very slow going, though. Nothing new seems to be unlocked by St Forthigan’s Candle, but I haven’t had much chance to investigate it thoroughly.

And now my tale is almost done. There is but one little detail that I have not mentioned, though I noticed it early on.

Mr Eaten’s Calling Card is usable.

Offer Mr Eaten’s Calling Card to a friend

It’s a hoax, anyway. A Midnighter prank. Or worse, a Midnighter stratagem.

Seal it carefully

Let no light fall upon it.

Thus, the card may be passed on to another Seeker. It seems to require that the recipient have at least 77 in the four main stats.

Once sent:

And gone

A weight lifts.

While the card remains in your possession (at least temporarily) after you send it, you cannot send it to another without canceling the invitation.

The burden has been passed, and the world turns. I do not know what its ultimate fate will be—whether it is to be passed from hand to hand, until every Seeker has their candles, or whether it is destined to languish indefinitely in the void from whence it came. What I do know is that I have placed it in the hands of a trustworthy Seeker, and that now everything is up to them.

If this card ever ends up in your hands, reader, know this: This venture will cost you a great deal. It will scour your stats to the bone. You will find yourself drowning in Menace. Anything you do will take an incredibly long time, even if all goes well. And it is unlikely to go well— almost everything has a 50% chance to fail catastrophically. Even your attempts to leave will founder. The island is a very dangerous place, and by the word of its creator, it is unpredictable. There are very likely traps that even I have not sprung. Be careful. Treat every rock with suspicion, treat every shadow as an assassin.

I only succeeded because I was incredibly lucky. I stumbled upon the card by luck, and I stumbled upon the island before most of the peril had been put in place. I was lucky to survive the islands tribulations with more progress than setbacks. And I was also very, very lucky to have the support of many kind people on the forums. Their aid and encouragement was invaluable in my quest, and for that I thank them all.

I hope that this story shall go down in the annals of Fallen London history, recorded alongside such tales as The 50000 Rats, The Mirrorcatch Box, and The Beheading That Turned Out Just To Be A Goldfish.

With the greatest respect, I bid you farewell. May your betrayals be ever by arrangement, and your candles always lit.

                                                The mad, damned, Lord of Seekers,

                                                               -Alexander Feld

                                                        Ars Enixa Est Candelam

N.B. It seems that even I was ignorant of just how lucky I was. Alas, the quest has tolled a final note of doom, and this recording may be all that is left of the Winking Isle. I have written an epilogue which I hope shall elucidate you. I have also composed a lament.