PURGATORY LIMITS

There is a city beneath our world but above the next—a hazy thing like the gray line between candlelight and the dark, or the uncertain second after deciding to do something but before doing it. It has always been here—always will be here—but it hasn’t always been a city. It was an empty ocean, once, when there was nothing but water and vapor and radiation; then it was a field—a valley—a forest—as the world filled up with eyes and ears and information. 

Thoughts leak down through the cracks in our world and into this one, filling it up like a reservoir. Not our dreams or aspirations—those go somewhere else. Our fears and anxieties and revulsions. The things we repress and ignore seep between the lines and stain the walls—fill up the shadows like molds—spring from the soil like wretched saplings. 

We didn’t ruin this place—there was very little to ruin—but we did shape it. It was empty, and then it was a city haunted by our most shameful parts. A miserable tumor, but a benign one.

And then we breached the boundary. 

And now it’s malignant.


PURGATORY LIMITS. AN URBAN HORROR-FANTASY CITYCRAWLING RPG. COMING TO BACKERKIT SOON.