Brigette stood before her Big, Stacey. The Halloween reunion of her Gamma Delta Iota sisters had come to this: a photograph, held in a trembling hand. Stacey stood in the dark, holding her own camera like a bird clutching a fish. Brigette’s Big was taller than her, now. Dark eyes twinkled with mischief from no apparent light source.
“I uh-- J’accuse,” Brigette nervously laughed, referencing another, less harmful, game they played.
“Say the words,” Stacey croaked in a matronly voice.
“I accuse you, Auntie [*].”
The others hadn’t come yet, and her friend stepped forward on twitchy legs. “You win, little one. Tell me your woes, child.” Bones cracked in Stacey’s back, and she stood taller. Brigette worried if Auntie stretched her Big as tall as the thing in the photograph, Stacey wouldn’t survive.
But still, Brigette had questions that needed answering.
Stick around for your own instructions to the Polaroid Game
GLIMSVALE GAZETTE
Hey, folks. Let’s talk about where we’ve gone and where we’re going.
With spring being the season of new life, this April is the deepest of my springs: we’ve just had a healthy baby girl. Becoming a dad means there is an army of little imps, each one a new lesson to learn. Some of these imps I will fling violently off my back, while some will rut deep into my flesh and remain.
What I’m trying to say is, delays on this project are going to happen.
Still, there has never been a better time to jump into The Longest Game because we are just getting started. While “biweekly” was a foolhardy goal, I can do you one better: New chapters twice a month, plus a monthly newsletter. Rather than uploading every other Friday, there will be two full chapters each month. This is essentially the same gross output, with the flexibility I need to bring the best possible work.
The newsletter will feature some flash fiction set in the world of the Longest Game, as well as the rules these games are played by. Obviously, I could not recommend you try to play along-- there are many strings attached to the games, and not all of them are visible on the board.
One more thing. With the warmth of a mug of cocoa, thank you. Thank you for reading, and for being here.
— Benjamin Bagenski
Project Updates
The current chapter in the works (Chapter 4) will mark the end of Act I for our current story. It’s about 50% written. This current story itself is about 75% outlined. “The story” will remain untitled until after it is written, and is simply filed as Volume 1, Side A.
Why sides? I imagine these stories to be organized like vinyls. Volume I will feature four interconnected stories, centering on the Byzantine and the city of Glimsvale, Massachusetts. These will be marked sides A through D. One day, I’d like to see these packaged as two double-side magazine-sized pulps, which slide into a folder. One can dream.
You’ve met Calumn Quothe, our hero-- as well as Minerva Calahan, the plucky sidekick snatched from our tale before the first chapter had even begun. There’s been my personal favorite, Sylvester. And the Byzantine just placed his final piece, the broken marble-- who you’re about to meet, as soon as she puts Calumn down back on the ground.
A Piece Of The Puzzle
Q: What’s black and white, and red all over?
A: The Trinketer’s Gambit, if you’re playing it right.
I will say for now that the “longest game” is complex, and nobody knows all its rules. The boardgame played by the dusty automaton called the Byzantine is called Trinketer’s Gambit. Like a prism casting colors from a single ray of light, these games are but one facet of a larger system.
Now, when Grandpa Georges still drew breath, he just may have divulged-- after being plied with a few Sazeracs-- a game he’d known as a boy, called Peddler’s Jest. “Taught to me by a zwah traiteur, it was. Boy, he had the words!”
It looked much like our Trinketer’s Gambit, played with chalk on a wooden board, and cups for little lit candles and bowls of water. Some children played hide-and-seek after the man taught them to play, and Georges never finishes his story.
Yes, the long, long game is full of diversions, little breakable pieces like a chocolate bar. Here is one for you to try at home, below:
The Polaroid Game
or, Shadow Safari
This game dates back to the 1970s, with variations appearing in Home & Steady’s 1978 Lifestyle Quarterly as well as Jive Turkey. Both sets of instructions, titled “Polaroid Party Game” (PPG) and “Auntie’s Name” were both submitted by a Brigette Theodore, a schoolteacher from Bristol. No other works were ever published by Ms. Theodore.
The following, “Shadow Safari,” is a melding of the two games. Some alterations have been made for better playability. For example, while “Auntie’s Name” calls for the use of a Yellow Crown of Honey, PPG calls for an unknown substance called “milk of oxidate.” Both have been removed, as their function is unclear. Meanwhile, “Auntie’s Name” mentioned the manifestation of the doting “Auntie,” while PPG is more ambiguous in the nature of the spirit.
TOTAL PLAYERS: 4
MATERIALS:
One Polaroid Camera per player, with flash
Film for the Camera
Salt, preferably conditioned for banishment
Lighter
Paper and a Pen
OBJECT OF THE GAME:
Summon a spirit, and use a Polaroid camera to capture it in or around another player, compelling the spirit to answer three questions.
SETUP:
Each player will equip their Polaroid with film. Salt is placed in the pocket. Begin with each player outside the house, each player photographing one exterior corner of the home. Entering the house, each player must knock on the door behind themselves.
Each player writes a name on a piece of paper, keeping it secret.
Stand in a circle. The first player will whisper the name they wrote to the player on their left. This will be their secret name, known only between those two players. Continue in a circle until all have been named.
The first player will whisper to the second, “There is a fifth, who has no name.” Continue in a circle, until all have heard this whispered.
Each player walks to the interior corner of the home corresponding with their outside corner: holding the camera to their chest and snapping a picture. The game has begun.
RULES:
PHASE 1. SHADOW SAFARI
Each player seeks out and photographs the other three participants.
Players may not photograph each other directly or make eye contact.
Players may not speak to one another.
All snapped photographs must be safely kept between the two “corner” photos.
Players should also photograph any mirrors, areas that feel heavy, or locations with suspicious sounds.
Do not look at the photographs during this phase.
PHASE 2. DEDUCTIONS
Once you arrive back at your corner, lay out the photographs in a row: Exterior Corner → Shadow Safari Photographs → InteriorCorner.
Examine the photographs for any anomalies, such as visual distortions in a player’s face, suspicious shadows, or an altered detail (such as a different shirt).
If any of the other players appear influenced by the apparition, it is time to make an ACCUSATION.
PHASE 3. ACCUSATION
When ready, players meet in their original location and stand in a circle. Each player may accuse one other player of being attached to the visiting spirit. The accuser asks for their secret name.
Should the accused provide a name that is different than what the accuser has written down, the spirit has been caught. The accuser may ask three questions, and the spirit will be unable to lie.
PHASE 4. PURIFICATION
If one of the players is influenced by a spirit, the other participants must throw salt at them, demanding the spirit be banished. The photograph depicting the spirit are to be burned.
Any locations depicting anomalies in photographs are to be salted, and the photographs burned.
Any photographs depicting nothing of interest are to be burned next.
The eight total corner photographs are to be burned last.
Notes from the Damned
MILK OF OXIDATE is effective as a ward, and as a focus for Powers of Industry. It is produced by scraping rust off three objects. One object must have been oxidized underwater, one object after being used for its intended purpose, and one from a memorial that is still visited. The three compounds must total thirty grams each, to be then mixed with an equal thirty grams of unpasteurized milk.
That spooked the hell out of me! And in a news letter!?