Solo Play: Superstition by Albi
Superstition is a solo RPG written by Albi that I supported during ZineQuest 2021 (you can buy it here on Itch.io). In this game you play as an oracle, crafting rituals for the local community over the course of three years, trying to win the community’s favor. The rituals don’t actually do anything; your oracle is a fraud. And if the community ever finds out, you will be exiled.
I really loved the concept behind Superstition, and I even got to help out a little bit during the proofreading stage of the zine, so I wanted to do a write-up of my first session playing through it. This will take the form of a series of scattered journal entries, written in-character as my unnamed Oracle.
In my game, the community is a small, somewhat isolated village of people known as the Navians (Traditional), their chieftain is called Faelan (The Heir), and my oracle is The Fugitive. My components order was The Focus, The Participants, and The Ceremony.
Content Warning: Manipulation, blood, drugs and alcohol, animal death
Year One
Spring. The only thing vaguely mystical I had on me when I arrived at the Navian village was a dagger, a squat blade I stole out of the prisoner’s box when I broke out months earlier. It had some ornate carving on the handle, and scratches on the blade that I said were etchings from previous communion with the wild gods. The Navian chief, Faelan, looked unsure, but he seemed eager for anything that would impress his people. That made him somewhat easy to impress, in turn. I drew some of my own blood with the dagger, chanted something in what I could remember of the old language, and gave a small speech about blood as the power of life, given to us by the gods and taken at their whim. The village elders seemed satisfied, at least, so I can stay, for now.
A couple weeks later, a doctor showed up. Well, not a doctor exactly - a traveling tradesman selling tonics, but I recognized his mixtures from what I’d seen at the Capitol. This man knew medical practices that hadn’t gotten around to the Navian village yet. I whispered to Faelan that he was sent by the wild gods to protect the village against disease, then whispered to the trader that he could make a stable life out here as a proper doctor. He actually trained in applied medicine, he told me, but didn’t get much further than peddling tonics, back at the Capitol. I told him which villagers might be most interested in seeking his help, or collecting ingredients for him. I carried the dagger at my hip, to suggest to the villagers that I predicted this. They seem to be taking well to him.
Summer. Because winters get so cold way out here, the main product of the Navians, behind food, is fabric. Anyone who isn’t hunting or farming is spinning thread constantly, making blankets, mending stockings, the works. I’m not doing much else useful on a day-to-day basis, so when I proved useless at spinning one of the village elders sat me at a loom and told me to get weaving. At least I know how to work a shuttle. That’s how I got the idea for the tapestry. It doesn’t look good, sure, but it combines the work of at least half the village, from sheering the animals, spinning the wool, dying the threads, winding the thread, and operating the loom. I started my summer ritual as soon as I got the loom running smoothly, almost musically, using the rhythm of the shuttle as a beat to my chant. Something about the tapestry symbolizing the toil of the whole village coming together as one. It’s always an easy grift when you can make the mark feel special.
Unfortunately the village seemed to be fracturing around me. I knew Faelan was eager to win over his people’s trust, but I didn’t realize how little of it he had to begin with. Around midsummer, the hottest part of the year, one of the hunters openly challenged him to a duel to the death for the Chieftain’s seat. I didn’t realize villages out here still dueled like that. Both Faelan and the young warrior came to me, asking for me to call on the wild gods for their favor. Faelan may be young himself but he has the right of lineage on his side - I realized that if I backed his claim to leadership, and convinced the villagers to trust him, then that trust could extend to me as well. The young warrior had more physical strength, however, so I took Faelan aside and performed a ritual over his weapon, to ‘bless it with the gods’ power’. I also added a small poison to the cutting edge. Not enough to kill the other warrior, but enough to give Faelan an edge in the fight. When the hunter was eventually slain, his family turned to me for blame. I’m going to try to stay away from mediating community problems for a while, if I can.
Autumn. A few of the Navians have been bringing me small gifts, things they think hold the gods’ power, and which I can use to bless the village with. The best is a large deer skull, picked clean by time but with an impressive rack of antlers to display. At the Capitol an item such as this would fetch a high price; out here, the best I can do is build a ramshackle pedestal of dead branches to display it on. It looks delightfully creepy. I spent a night carving what could be divine symbols into the wood, and scouted out more animal bones to leave at the base. When the village elders finally came around to ask what it meant, I said it was a sign from the wild gods to remind us that even when we die, we leave a part of ourselves behind. Something macabre yet encouraging. The weather shifted quickly, and even with a new doctor this winter promises to be a bad one.
I’ve been a con artist for as long as I can remember. At the Capitol, if that didn’t get you executed it usually got you a spot in a bandit gang, but I was never great with a weapon. I fled out into the further towns and villages, lying and tricking people for a living. I usually pretended to be a merchant, sometimes a foreign spy, once a long-lost heir. Last year, on the road, I tried to con a man out of his own horse and carriage. It turned out he was a member of the Monarch’s council, traveling in disguise. I ended up in a small prison, waiting for the councilman to send soldiers to retrieve me. Lucky, that gave me enough time to convince one of the guards to fall in love with me, and he freed me so we could run away together. I don’t know what happened to him, but I know the councilman has had soldiers out searching for me, and I’ve narrowly evaded them on occasional. I’ve had to grow my hair out long, and change my look from a fancy merchant’s costume to that of a humble servant of the wild gods. The ruse is working for now, but I don’t know how much longer it can last.
Winter. A trader came down the river at the start of the season, heading back home with some unsold wares. Nobody at the village was particularly interested in what she had to sell, but I immediately recognized the cut and polished glass crystals; I’d seen them used in stage shows at the Capitol, to refract light in the most unnatural way. I bought a few things from her, and announced to the village that I’d be putting on a ‘display of divine magic’ in a few days time (after I’d had time to practice). It didn’t turn out nearly as fanciful as the shows at the Capitol, and many of the villagers have seen light refracting in water before and weren’t impressed. The children, however, stared in amazement, believing fully that I had directly contacted the realm of the gods.
I hear whispers around the village for weeks before someone finally announces that it’s the ten-year anniversary of some old great hero’s death. The story changes depending on who I ask, but the gist of it is this: decades ago, invaders from across the wilderness stole into this land, trying to claim it for their own, and this farm woman managed to hold them off long enough for the Monarch’s own soldiers to arrive and kill them. Some say she single-handedly fought them off, using a scythe and a broken hoe. Some say initiated a parlay, and convinced them to delay their attack. Ten years ago she succumbed so some disease or the other during a particularly harsh winter. The only one of her children still among the Navians is an unmarried young man, who was pointed out to me by someone asking if I can include him, somehow, in next year’s winter ritual, in honor of his mother. I told them I would.
Year Two
Spring. At least half a dozen babies were born around the village since summer ended. By the time the ice began to melt, only three still lived. I had to help the Navians bury more bodies in the frozen earth than I felt comfortable with last winter. Piercing my skin to draw blood and chant about the fragility of life didn’t sound like something I wanted to do again. Instead I found the newborns’ families and asked their permission to bless the babies with the wild gods’ strength. Of course they agreed. I took the blood from their fathers, one from an elder sibling, and wiped a bit of it on the babe’s heads, feeling uncomfortable the entire time. The village elders supplied a speech about survival, and I told them to wash the blood off at sunset.
The hunter Faelan killed last summer had a sister, and she has been grumbling and murmuring about the chief’s weakness ever since. I steered clear of the family - I knew they hated me - but apparently Faelan hadn’t been ignoring them. He confronted her in the village center while I was out gathering herbs, and demanded she either back down and accept his leadership, or take her family and leave. It was a bold move, probably one I would have advised him against, but it seemed to have worked. The family stayed, and they’re less outspoken in their unhappiness. I made sure to tell the doctor, and anyone else who was listening in, how diplomatic I thought Faelan had been.
Summer. I was called in to mediate when one of the farmers caught a young boy, barely old enough to grow hair on his face, slaughtering one of her animals. Apparently the boy has been getting into trouble for years, and it’s escalated from stealing double portions at mealtimes to stealing food from neighbor’s fields. The farmer wanted him driven out and even his parents were unable to defend him, and something about him reminded me of me when I was that age. I didn’t have a plan when I offered to take him on, to teach him to make amends. I still had the loom from last summer’s rite and I taught him to work it with me, spinning some nonsense about the gods’ judgement while dropping truths about what I’d learned in my time. How he had to commit to the community that would accept him, or else learn a skill to convince others to accept him. When we finally presented the ritual tapestry together, I pronounced him forgiven by the wild gods, and I hope he has taken what I said to heart.
As summer began to wane Faelan asked for a private audience with me. He congratulated me on my work with the young boy, then asked if I could include something in my autumn ritual to ‘remind the village’ of all Faelan’s good work. In other words, he wanted me to make him look good. I knew a bit about doing that already, but what I had planned for this year’s autumn wasn’t quite what he’d be looking for. I amended some of my plans to be less macabre, and told him that what happened would be ‘in the hands of the wild gods’.
Autumn. A trader traveling through last summer reminded me of an old friend I used to have in a neighboring town, only a couple days ride away, and I paid the trader to deliver a message for me. Seems my old friend was still there, and still low on coin, so I hired him to perform a strange service for me. We hid in the forest for a few days and built a costume of dead leaves and animal bones, topped with the large antlered skull I’d been gifted a year before. In my next ritual I told all the Navians that we had been blessed by a visit from the god of death. Death would not harm us, I promised, they only wanted to witness how well we’d honored our dead, and if we were deemed worthy we’d be blessed with peaceful deaths when our time came. During the day I hid my friend in my small shack, sneaking him food and alcohol, then at night he wandered around the outskirts of the village in his costume, making sure to be seen. This went on for about a week.
Everything seemed to go well and my old friend was on his way back home, but halfway through the season something odd happened - the nearby river stopped flowing. It happened suddenly, and some of the hunters scouted out and reported that a landslide had dammed up the river, diverting it further away from the village. I instantly knew this would look bad for me, and indeed, the village elders all agreed this must be my fault. Apparently, I wasn’t supposed to tell them that ‘Death’ was visiting, and by doing so the wild gods had decided to take away one of our sources of life. Of course, I can’t tell them it’s not really my fault. This means no more fishing, no more river trade, and less water for the fields. It’s lucky most of the crops have been harvested already, but I had to quickly make up some rites of forgiveness to soothe the elders’ anger.
Winter. As the snows settled around the village I found the hero’s son who was pointed out to me last year, and tell him he’d been chosen to take part in a display of the wild gods’ power. He was apprehensive, and my reputation in the village wasn’t the best at the time, but he eventually agreed. Around the same time, a troop of soldiers had arrived in our lands from the Capitol, apparently sent by the Monarch to be on the lookout for invaders again. The Navians didn’t trust the soldiers and the soldiers didn’t trust the Navians, so I approached the troop (face partially concealed, in case they recognized me from a wanted poster) and asked if any would be willing to participate in a traditional festival honoring the gods’ power. Only one took the offer, but that was all I needed. Both the soldier and the hero’s son were given a tea laced with a psychedelic herb my old friend was able to procure for me, to give them a ‘glimpse of the gods’ realm’. That, along with my stage props and sleight of hand, was enough to convince the Navians that I had truly accessed the power of the gods.
The display was a bigger success than I could have imagined. At the end of my chanting, a large bird flew overhead, and the village elders pointed out a large white eagle that had landed on a branch towards the edge of town. Everyone immediately declared it a sign and I was quick to name the eagle an avatar of the god of the skies, blessing us with their presence. The Navians ate it up. They decided to hold a giant feast, not in my honor of course, but it felt like it was all for me.
Year Three
Spring. The ice melting this year came as a huge relief. Not as many bodies, and this time five babies survived their first winter. I overheard one of the mothers humming a lullaby as she fed her new child, which reminded me of an old haunting tune I’d heard when I was younger. I changed the words to a meaningless chant as I anointed the babies this year, hoping the melody would soothe them in a seemingly magical way. The blood was again drawn from their families by the stolen dagger I’ve carried with me for years.
I ask travelers coming through the village for information back from the Capitol, but I’ve never found a way to safely ask about wanted fugitives. I know the councilman is still a man of high rank, but I don’t know if this means his wounded pride will forever haunt me, or if my petty grift was too long ago to care about. I also remember that prison guard, the one I abandoned after he let me go. I don’t know if he was imprisoned, or for how long. Soldiers have already come to the village again, asking about our magic, and I’ve had to play it up as a seasonal oddity. I’ve told the Navians that the wild gods’ favor is on us exclusively, and that strangers may taint our connection to the gods, in hopes that they will dissuade outsiders from making pilgrimages here. I don’t know what I’ll do if that prison guard ever finds me, but I’ll surely be killed in the event.
Summer. A mother found me as I was setting up my loom for the summer tapestry, dragging her young daughter behind her. It seems this is going to be a trend now. The girl’s sin was that she slacked in her work, and mistreated her siblings. It was hard convincing her to do any work on the loom with me, but when I noticed her tapping along to the rhythmic beat of the shuttle I realized I could make a game of it. I spent a few nights rewriting the lyrics of an old work song into something more divine, and a few weeks teaching the girl this new song as we worked together. Soon others came to join us but I insisted that the girl and I were the only ones to sing the ritual song, at least until the ritual tapestry was completed. She seemed to enjoy holding this power over the others, if only for a short time.
Another soldier arrived after midsummer, this time with a proclamation from the Monarch. A new law banned the hunting of wild rabbits and hares for meat. Everyone in the village decided this was nonsense, and the hunters continue to bring rabbits back to the village cooking pots. A trader gossiped that the Monarch’s young son has a pet rabbit, and that this new law is his fault. The Navians can’t seem to wrap their minds around the concept of a pet rabbit - '“Would you keep a fish as a pet?” someone asked in a sarcastic way, “or a loaf of bread?” Secretly, I was a bit proud of their rebellious streak.
Autumn. I couldn’t quite repeat last year’s disaster for this year’s autumn ritual, so I decided to change it up; instead of just talking about the dead, we would actually burn a ritual pyre in their honor (we couldn’t dig up the bodies without desecrating them, apparently). I helped build the pyre from dead wood, crowning the whole thing with a new deer skull and chanting something about death and the honored dead. It took way longer to burn than I’d anticipated, and by the time it was done no one wanted to disturb the mound of ash and charcoal to retrieve the deer skull, so it stayed there, a soot stain in the village square, for weeks.
Just as the rains had finally washed the ash away, one of the Navian elders died. She was one of the oldest ones, and one who didn’t particularly love me, but the village loved her. Apparently she taught most everyone in the village to spin thread, and most of the village fabric had originally come from her work. Though body-burning isn’t usually how the Navians lay people to rest, the effect of my last rite was fresh in everyone’s minds, and I agreed to perform the ritual again for her. This time I had the people dig a pit beneath the pyre, so when it burned down we could bury both her and her pyre together. I managed to fit her textile-work into my funeral speech, drawing on my yearly tapestry ritual for inspiration. This year, going into winter, the village is already very solemn.
Winter. Because of last year’s miraculous coincidence, the Navians decided to turn this year’s winter rite into a full on festival. There was dancing, feasting, storytelling, and I had nothing more interesting to exhibit in my little show of magic than what they’d already seen but they loved it anyways. The village even managed to rope another soldier from the Monarch’s troops in to try my drugged tea, which I didn’t feel too bad about inflicting on them.
The first trader arrived once the snow got slushy, meaning our first bit of outside news in over a month. It turns out the councilman I’d been hiding from succumbed to an illness back at the Capitol before winter even started. Outwardly I expressed neighborly sorrow, but inwardly I was overjoyed. However, I still don’t know what this means for me. That guard might have stopped looking for me years ago, and maybe there never were any wanted posters. I’ve already decided to stay with the Navians for a bit longer, but for how long? I can do the ritual work for now, but one bad year could have me run out of the village. On the other hand, it’s nice to not have to keep running.
Conclusion
When the snow melted Faelan announced he was having the Navians build me a proper lodging, an upgrade from the used shack I’d lived out of so far. The village held a feast in my honor, for real this time. It seemed not a day went by without someone coming to me, asking for a small blessing in their favor. Often these were rewarded with offerings, things I could use or sell to traders, even occasionally coin. I’m making a better living way out here, on the edge of civilization, than I ever did back at the Capitol. I’ll stay for a while longer, to see how this goes.