Ocean is more ancient than the mountains, and freighted with the memories and the dreams of time.
-H.P. Lovecraft
I awoke screaming from my slumber, furiously gasping for air. My heart pounding within my chest. My eyes were wide and at attention as they darted back and forth across my room, scanning for any signs of intrusion. Profuse beads of sweat slowly raced across my cheeks and forehead. It finally came to me that I was sitting upright in my own bed. I recognized all the shadows along my walls, as belonging to my own furniture. My couch and desk just as I left them including the empty beer cans stacked lazily in the shape of a pyramid on my desk. I almost got up to check if I had any more beer in my fridge.
I was astonished to be waking in my own apartment. For what felt like months, maybe years, I had not been living my average everyday life, but living the life of a small-town fisherman in the 1920s. I could remember it all: the air so salty you could taste it, the small engine humming its steadfast tune, the cool water from small waves splashing onto my skin, and the eyes that wouldn’t stop staring at me in the night. Surely it felt too real to merely be a dream; though towards the end it seemed more like a nightmare. Even as I lay in my own bed, I still feel the piercing gaze of that … that thing lurking below the waters. I must jot all of this down. I can’t forget what I saw. I must remember.
Like most dreams, I am unsure when or where the dream manifested itself. The earliest recollection I could remember is sailing along the crisp blue ocean with the glowing sun hanging in the cloudless sky. I was on my way to answer a mysterious ad for a fisherman when a monstrous black cloud swallowed the sun out of the sky. The storm came out of nowhere. I tried to maintain my composure but the violent seas tossed my small boat onto the jagged rocks. The last thing I could remember was sinking into the deep dark abyss.
I woke gasping for air. My hand touched the cold slimy wood that I recognized as a common fishing dock; the seas must have spat me back out. I scanned my surroundings to see a small fishing town nestled on a tiny island. There was a short portly man standing a few feet in front of me. He sported a brown jacket that looked almost too small for him with an accompanying matching hat and pants. He turned to expose his square face adorned with long sideburns. I soon spotted his crinkled green tie and gold chain in his jacket that must have held a watch at the end. Despite looking a little disheveled he had an air of importance to him that made me think the docks belonged to him.
The man soon spotted me and hobbled over to see if I was ok. He introduced himself as the Mayor of Greater Marrow. The man stuck out his plump finger and pointed to the lighthouse atop the nearby cliff. He asked if I saw it through the storm. I mentioned I could only see the thick black clouds that engulfed my now-destroyed ship. The Mayor kindly offered to loan me one of the town’s old sailing vessels that I could pay for by fishing for the town. Seeing how I was pretty much stranded on the island, I felt I was in no position to turn down the fair offer.
I set out aboard my new rickety vessel in search of fish that I could use to pay off my debt. I came upon a school of fish mere meters from the bay of the island. I pulled out my fishing line and tossed it into the calm waters. As soon as the line touched the surface of the waters, I began to see strange visions. As I reeled in the fish, I would see a ring with a line traveling along it in a clockwise fashion. There were sections of the ring marked in green. I found if I save my strength and tugged on the line the hardest when the line was crossing into the green sections of the rings, I would reel in the fish faster. As I pulled up my first fish, I was momentarily uneasy about how effective timing how hard I reeled in the fish with the visions was, but the thought of my debt to the Mayor made me think it wasn’t the best time to ask questions.
As I fished up more and more of the school below, I had to be precise about where I stored the fish aboard my tiny vessel. There was a small compartment below the deck that had adequate space to store what I caught. In order to ensure I never took on too heavy of a load, I divided the storage area into a grid-like pattern. Having carefully drawn out the grid in chalk, a strange and peculiar thought popped into my head: this reminds me of Tetris and the inventory management of Resident Evil 4. At that moment, the thought had seemed completely alien to me, but as I sat at my desk, recalling this memory, it became clear and made perfect sense. I pocketed my piece of chalk and got back to fishing. I knew looming on such thoughts wasn’t going to get me anywhere with the Mayor.
After pulling in the whole school of fish, I soon spotted a sunken ship poking out of the water a few meters from me. No doubt it was another ship that had got caught in an identical storm and was dashed against the rocks in a similar fashion. I noticed I had tools to dredge up any useful materials or valuables from the wreckage, so I steered my boat towards the debris and fired up the machines. Much like fishing, I begin seeing visions of rings, only this time there were two of them each with holes in them. I found that the dredge equipment worked perfectly if I focus on navigating an arrow between the two rings in my vision. If the arrow didn’t hit any of the holes, there was little to no delay. After pulling up some lumber and a set of pearl earrings, I took my haul back to Greater Marrow.
I first spoke with the Shipwright, who told me she could repair my ship and upgrade it with the lumber and additional items. I paid for the repairs and thanked her for her time. I head over to the Fishmonger’s shop to sell off the fish. I opened the door to see a tired man with a long drawn-out face and beard. He glanced down at my haul and paid me amply. After handing me the money, he told me that despite the decent first haul, I should keep my eye out for bigger fish and fish with various … corruptions. He said would easily pay more for such rare catches. I asked where one could find such odd specimens. Before answering, he warned me I could find most of the corrupted fish and various other nocturnal species at night. However, fishing at night was very dangerous as rumors were circling around about deadly creatures that come out at night. With greed in my eyes, I decided the ignore the old man’s warning and ventured out into the night.
I was able to find a small school of nocturnal eels near the coast of the island. I soon came upon a school of cods, but something seemed slightly off. The first fish I pulled up had a giant glassy green eye. An eye so massive and bulbous that it felt like the fish was piercing through my soul. I put the fish in the cargo area and fished up the remaining school trying not to put more thought into that fish.
As I ventured later into the night, I began to hear whispers among the waters. I was confused and bewildered about where they came from as I was the only one out at this hour. Mere seconds later, I saw a light illuminate the deep black dark of the night. I hit the fog horn and was greeted with a friendly fog horn back. Hoping to see another friendly face, I headed towards the light. At first, the light appeared to be from another fishing vessel, but as the boat got closer into view it shifted before my eyes. I am not sure if it was just the fatigue or maddening whispers that had gotten to me, but the ship became a monstrous fish resembling a deep-sea angler. It lunged at my ship, damaging my motors and causing part of my cargo to spill into the sea. I braced for the second attack, but the fish vanished into the night. Fearing the creature would return, I hastily sped to the docks with the remaining sanity that I had.
With the surviving cargo, I sprinted to the Fishmonger’s shop, slamming the door shut as soon as I got inside. The Fishmonger’s normal dower face had a giant smirk across it as he scanned my frightened appearance. We didn’t need to exchange any words on the matter. He knew. I plopped the few fish I had onto the table. Thankfully the cod with the massive bulbous eye had survived, and the Fishmonger paid handsomely for it.
Days turned into weeks, as I continued to fish around the coast of the Greater Marrow. I was able to pay off my debt to the Mayor and afford some upgrades for the ship. One day, I brought a fresh supply of cod to the Fishmonger. He sliced into a fish and pulled out a mysterious napkin. With no use for the napkin, he handed it to me saying you caught it, you earned it. Just as I exited the Fishmonger’s shop a voice whispered in my head.
I say there was a voice, but that’s not entirely true. Nobody in the small town had actually spoken to me. I only heard faint mumbles from everyone. Thankfully, a wall of text would appear behind them that I assumed was what they were saying. It hadn’t failed me yet and it fit the very macabre situation that I had found myself in. As I sit at my desk recalling all of these events, I couldn’t help but think if these events were a video game, I would enjoy it more if these characters had voice acting. Obviously, it is a lot to ask for a small studio, but my hope is those developers can take the success of their indie games and put that money towards adding voice acting similar to what the developers of Disco Elysium did.
The mysterious voice was calling me to visit the Blackstone Isles. After getting a quick night’s sleep, I ventured to the Isles which were just a few minutes off the coast of Greater Marrow. The mysterious voice belonged to The Collector, an odd fellow hoping I could use my dredging equipment to locate various artifacts scattered around the Isles. To show me he meant no harm, he gave me an ability called haste, which allowed me to get to the further Isles quickly. Sensing no immediate danger, I promised him I would look for the various artifacts.
I soon made my voyage to the further Isles: the rocky peaks of the Gale Cliffs, the sunny beaches of the Stellar Basin, the musty swamps of the Twisted Strand, and the volcanic waters of the Devil’s Spine. I made friends along the way including a traveling merchant who frequently let me dock my boat at their traveling pontoon. I would meet various town folks within these new zones who would frequently ask me for assistance. Various odd jobs such as getting specific fish they could use for research or dredging up family heirlooms. In exchange, they would help me find these artifacts I was questing for. Even though, most of the tasks involved fishing or dredging, I could not complain. The life of a fisherman was well suited for me.
As I finally reached that twisting peak of the Devil’s Spine, I knew the last artifact was within reach. I carefully maneuvered my boat among the wrecked pillars and jutting rocks until I could see the debris I was searching for. I fired up the tools and got to work sifting through the waste until I finally found what I believed I was looking for. It was covered in thick black tar that took me hours to peel off. Finally, I was able to see a yellow book covered in strange symbols. I opened it and glanced at the alien text before me. The Collector was a strange man, but surely this would be useless to him. I briefly looked out to sea when I suddenly saw it. Two massive glowing red eyes staring at me beneath the water’s surface. The beast looked more reptilian than fish. A large sharp spiked fin stood erect on his back. The monster violently lunged at me, opening its gaping jaw to reveal its rows of teeth and the endless dark void that was the beast’s stomach. It swallowed me and my boat whole causing me to immediately wake from my slumber and realize it was all a dreadful dream.
As my pen jotted down the final words, I knew this was a story that had to be told. Maybe in the form of a book or a movie. No, surely this tale had to be a video game. One where players have the satisfaction of day-to-day fisherman life while experiencing the uncomfortable dread that comes from not knowing that something lurks below the surface. I must get this story out there, at any cost. Even if I must stand atop a soapbox shouting in the middle of the square. Many might think me mad, to be shouting about such a strange dream as if it was a game I had played with my own hands. Alas, I know this tale must come to life. To add to my bewilderment, I looked down to see my hands covered in a thick and heavy callus. Callus you simply don’t get from sleeping or writing. Something this maddening couldn’t have just been a dream, could it?
