TEXT: 1
  T H E  S L E E P  O F 
  R E A S O N  B R E E D S 
  M O N S T E R S . . .
  A GAME, BY 
  DENNIS DETWILLER
  S t a t e s  h a 
  p r a c t i c a l l y  c o m p l e t e d  t h e  p r o g r a m m e ,  a d o p t e d  d u r i n g  t h e  l a s 
  m o n t h s  o 
  P r e s i d e n t  W i n t h r o p ' s  a d m i n i s t r a t i o n .  T h e  c o u n t r y  w a 
  a p p a r e n t l y  t r a n q u i l 
  E v e r y b o d y  k n o w s  h o w  t h e  T a r i f f  a n d  L a b o u r  q u e s t i o n s  w e r 
  s e t t l e d .  T h e  w a 
  w i t h  G e r m a n y ,  i n c i d e n t  o n  t h a t  c o u n t r y ' s  s e i z u r e  o f  t h 
  S a m o a n  I s l a n d s 
   a d  l e f t  n o  v i s i b l e  s c a r s  u p o n  t h e  r e p u b l i c ,  a n d  t h e  t e m p o r a r 
  o c c u p a t i o 
   f  N o r f o l k  b y  t h e  i n v a d i n g  a r m y  h a d  b e e n  f o r g o t t e n  i n  t h e  j o 
  o v e 
   e p e a t e d  n a v a l  v i c t o r i e s ,  a n d  t h e  s u b s e q u e n t  r i d i c u l o u s  p l i g h 
  o f  G e n e r a 
  V o n  G a r t e n l a u b e ' s  f o r c e s  i n  t h e  S t a t e  o f  N e w  J e r s e y .  T h 
  C u b a n  a n 
  H a w a i i a n  i n v e s t m e n t s  h a d  p a i d  o n e  h u n d r e d  p e r  c e n t  a n d  t h 
  t e r r i t o r y  o 
  S a m o a  w a s  w e l l  w o r t h  i t s  c o s t  a s  a  c o a l i n g  s t a t i o n .  T h 
  c o u n t r y  w a s  i n  
  s u p e r b  s t a t e  o f  d e f e n c e .  E v e r y  c o a s t  c i t y  h a d  b e e n  w e l 
  s u p p l i e d  w i t h  l a n 
   o r t i f i c a t i o n s ;  t h e  a r m y  u n d e r  t h e  p a r e n t a l  e y e  o f  t h e  G e n e r a 
  S t a f f 
  o r g a n i z e d  a c c o r d i n g  t o  t h e  P r u s s i a n  s y s t e m ,  h a d  b e e 
  i n c r e a s e d  t o  3 0 0 , 0 0 
  m e n ,  w i t h  a  t e r r i t o r i a l  r e s e r v e  o f  a  m i l l i o n ;  a n d  s i 
  m a g n i f i c e n 
  s q u a d r o n s  o f  c r u i s e r s  a n d  b a t t l e - s h i p s  p a t r o l l e d  t h e  s i 
  s t a t i o n s  o f  t h 
  n a v i g a b l e  s e a s ,  l e a v i n g  a  s t e a m  r e s e r v e  a m p l y  f i t t e d  t 
  c o n t r o l  h o m 
  w a t e r s .  T h e  g e n t l e m e n  f r o m  t h e  W e s t  h a d  a t  l a s t  b e e 
  c o n s t r a i n e d  t 
  a c k n o w l e d g e  t h a t  a  c o l l e g e  f o r  t h e  t r a i n i n g  o f  d i p l o m a t s  w a 
  a s  n e c e s s a r 
  a s  l a w  s c h o o l s  a r e  f o r  t h e  t r a i n i n g  o f  b a r r i s t e r s 
  c o n s e q u e n t l y  w e  w e r e  n 
  l o n g e r  r e p r e s e n t e d  a b r o a d  b y  i n c o m p e t e n t  p a t r i o t s .  T h 
  n a t i o n  w a 
  p r o s p e r o u s ;  C h i c a g o ,  f o r  a  m o m e n t  p a r a l y z e d  a f t e r  a  s e c o n 
  g r e a t  f i r e ,  h a 
  r i s e n  f r o m  i t s  r u i n s ,  w h i t e  a n d  i m p e r i a l ,  a n d  m o r e  b e a u t i f u 
  t h a n  t h e  w h i t 
  c i t y  w h i c h  h a d  b e e n  b u i l t  f o r  i t s  p l a y t h i n g  i n  1 8 9 3 
  E v e r y w h e r e  g o o 
  a r c h i t e c t u r e  w a s  r e p l a c i n g  b a d ,  a n d  e v e n  i n  N e w  Y o r k ,  
  s u d d e n  c r a v i n g  f o 
  d e c e n c y  h a d  s w e p t  a w a y  a  g r e a t  p o r t i o n  o f  t h e  e x i s t i n 
  h o r r o r s .  S t r e e t 
  h a d  b e e n  w i d e n e d ,  p r o p e r l y  p a v e d  a n d  l i g h t e d ,  t r e e s  h a d  b e e 
  p l a n t e d 
  s q u a r e s  l a i d  o u t ,  e l e v a t e d  s t r u c t u r e s  d e m o l i s h e d  a n 
  u n d e r g r o u n d  r o a d 
  b u i l t  t o  r e p l a c e  t h e m .  T h e  n e w  g o v e r n m e n t  b u i l d i n g s  a n 
  b a r r a c k s  w e r e  f i n 
  b i t s  o f  a r c h i t e c t u r e ,  a n d  t h e  l o n g  s y s t e m  o f  s t o n e  q u a y 
  w h i c h  c o m p l e t e l 
  s u r r o u n d e d  t h e  i s l a n d  h a d  b e e n  t u r n e d  i n t o  p a r k s  w h i c 
  p r o v e d  a  g o d - s e n 
  t o  t h e  p o p u l a t i o n .  T h e  s u b s i d i z i n g  o f  t h e  s t a t e  t h e a t r e  a n 
  s t a t e  o p e r 
  b r o u g h t  i t s  o w n  r e w a r d .  T h e  U n i t e d  S t a t e s  N a t i o n a l  A c a d e m 
  o f  D e s i g n  w a 
  I
  N
  S
  Y
  L
  U
  M
  
  2
  
  3
  Insylum — A game by Dennis Detwiller
  With special thanks to our anonymous sponsor — without which, this game would never have 
  been realized
  Along the shore the cloud waves break, The twin suns sink behind the lake, The shadows lengthen 
  I
  n
   
  C
  a
  r
  c
  o
  s
  a
  Strange is the night where black stars rise, And strange moons circle through the skies, But stranger still is 
  L
  o
  s
  t
   
  C
  a
  r
  c
  o
  s
  a
  Songs that the Hyades shall sing, Where ﬂap the tatters of  the King, Must die unheard in 
  D
  i
  m
   
  C
  a
  r
  c
  o
  s
  a
  Song of  my soul, my voice is dead, Die thou, unsung, as tears unshed Shall dry and die in
  L
  o
  s
  t
   
  C
  a
  r
  c
  o
  s
  a
  Dedicated o Robert W. Chambers and John Tynes — Birds of a feather...
  INSYLUM IS © 2005 DENNIS DETWILLER. PORTIONS OF INSYLUM ARE ADAPTED WITH PERMISSION FROM 
  THE SHORT STORIES "BROADALBIN," "AMBROSE," AND "SOSOSTRIS," ©1995, 1996, AND 2000 JOHN 
  TYNES, AS WELL AS FROM THE ARTICLE "THE HASTUR MYTHOS" IN DELTA GREEN: Countdown, ©1999 
  John Tynes.
  Because you're mine, I walk the line.
  The Tatters of the King.........................................................5
  Introduction-The System.......................................................6
  Facilitators Only...................................................................11
  Treatment.............................................................................11
  Midnight on Ward 23..........................................................15
  The Play...............................................................................17
  The Players...........................................................................24
  
  4
  
  You are here — in the Asylum — because 
  of something you did. You don’t recall the 
  speciﬁcs; not yet, but you’re here to work 
  through your problems in a constructive 
  manner. To learn from mistakes and move 
  on with your life in what they call “the 
  world”. It’s arts and crafts, lunch, 
  meds and therapy. The life of a pet. 
  Cared for, groomed and maintained, 
  but not permitted past the boundaries 
  into the outside.
  You’re Insylum to remember.
  Something important was lost. 
  Something more important than 
  anything you’ve ever known before. 
  And late at night, after therapy and 
  TV time, you sit awake and think back. 
  It’s like reaching into a darkened 
  drawer ﬁlled with sharp, rusty 
  implements of some forgotten 
  operation — it’s easy to hurt yourself, 
  it’s easy to bleed. 
  You remember a party. A mask. 
  A play… 
  You remember the end of the world.
  Sometimes, you have no idea what 
  you’re doing here. It’s like trying to cure 
  a drunk by locking him in a brewery. 
  You and your friends — what of them 
  you have — talk and talk. About the 
  past. About the things you think are real.
  You differ on many points, but you can all 
  agree on one thing:
  Sometimes it’s best not to remember. 
  5
  The Tatters of the King
  the woRld Welcome to the end of the world, end of the world, end
  
  The ﬁrst rule is this: you’re not in charge 
  anymore. Your life is gone, and you’re 
  Insylum at the whim of the one who 
  controls the world inside its walls: the 
  Facilitator. He dictates the course of 
  events, establishes what and what is not 
  real, and attempts to cure you. You have 
  no choice but to follow. Everything 
  Insylum is — the doctors and rooms and 
  billy clubs — is the 
  Facilitator. Nothing you do 
  ever escapes his attentions. 
  Nothing you feel is secret. 
  
  You’re not sure just 
  what is real and what is 
  fantasy — that’s why you’re 
  here. Nevertheless the world 
  you exist in is dictated by 
  rules. You must live or die 
  by these rules, just like 
  everyone in the world. The 
  only difference is, to you, the 
  rules seem to change from 
  time to time. 
  
  You’re a Patient. As 
  a Patient, your progress and 
  health are measured in 
  several number codes 
  indicating your state of well-
  being. They are (in order):
  Memory
  Lucidity
  Fatigue
  These codes range lowest to highest from 
  1 to 20, with Fatigue at the bottom to 
  Memory at the top. It costs 5 points of a 
  lower code to increase a code one step up 
  by 1 point. For instance, 5 points of 
  Fatigue equals 1 point of Lucidity, and 5 
  points of Lucidity equals 1 point of 
  Memory (or 25 points of Fatigue equals 1 
  point of Memory). If you have 5 Fatigue 
  points, you can expend 
  them and gain 1 point of 
  Lucidity. If you spend 10 
  Lucidity, you buy 2 points of 
  Memory.
  	
  All Patients start 
  with Fatigue 5 and Lucidity 
  3. Memory however, always 
  begins at 1. 
  
  Points move 
  backwards as well (say, from 
  Memory to Lucidity), but 
  the ratio is not the same — 
  you don’t gain 5 points of 
  Fatigue back for 1 point of 
  Lucidity, you just gain 1. Just 
  the same, 1 point of 
  Memory doesn’t buy you 25 
  points of Fatigue, only 1.
  	
  It’s possible to have scores 
  like:
  Memory 6
  Lucidity 5
  Fatigue 2
  6
  Introduction-The system
  smooth broken glass, Inside, nothing but the smooth reflection of 
  Memory
  Lucidity
  Fatigue
  5 to 1
  5 to 1
   1 to 1
  
  So, with the above scores, you can drop 1 
  Lucidity to make your Fatigue 3, or a 
  point of Memory to make Lucidity 6.
  You are trying for Memory 20. When you 
  reach it — you’re cured, whether you 
  want to be or not. You remember 
  everything; all the details of what landed 
  you inside. You don’t really want to 
  remember, but then again, the world 
  inside is a dangerous place and Patients 
  have a habit of turning up missing, or 
  worse.
  Fatigue
  Fatigue measures physical strength, as well 
  as a madman’s tenacity, force of will or 
  drive. Jumping over a wall, beating an 
  orderly to death with a rusty bed pole or 
  struggling up a wall made of severed doll 
  heads can cost Fatigue points. Resting for 
  ten minutes always brings you back to 1 
  Fatigue point (or restores 1 Fatigue point if 
  you’re already positive). If you force 
  yourself to 0 Fatigue points, you pass out 
  and can no longer dictate your own 
  actions (whereupon you wake in 30 
  minutes with 1 Fatigue point). 
  
  Once someone is unconscious they 
  can’t defend themselves and it no longer 
  costs Fatigue points to kill them — it’s a 
  snap to murder someone who’s 
  unconscious. If you say you do it, you’re a 
  murderer.
  
  At negative Fatigue points, 
  congratulations, your problems are over: 
  you’re dead. You can’t spend yourself 
  negative; it takes an outside force; like a 
  razor blade hidden in a pants’ cuff, a 
  melting mass of blue and yellow pills 
  clutched like a fading hope, or a boot to 
  the forehead to escape in that manner.
  Spending or Losing Fatigue
  There are two ways to lose Fatigue points; 
  either you spend them or lose them when 
  someone takes them from you. The most 
  common application of spending Fatigue 
  is attacking someone, or defending 
  yourself from injury.
  Attacking and Defending with 
  Fatigue
  To injure somebody, spend Fatigue points. 
  Grab a d20 and set it to a number from 1 
  to 20, up to the amount of Fatigue you 
  can possibly spend, but keep it hidden 
  from your opponent. All Fatigue you 
  spend is a blind bid in this manner. Reveal 
  what you’ve spent only when the 
  Facilitator asks. Once you’ve spent the 
  points, announce your intentions. 
  
  Say something like; “I spend 
  Fatigue points and stab him in the face 
  with the rusty screwdriver.” If the target 
  sees the attack coming, they can spend 
  Fatigue points to cancel your attack in the 
  same manner. Whoever bids highest — 
  the attacker or defender — wins.
  
  If the defender outspends an 
  attack, they lose 1 Fatigue point (no matter 
  how many were bid) and take no damage 
  — while the attacker loses everything 
  spent. If they don’t counter for some 
  reason, they lose the full number of 
  Fatigue points bid, but the attacker only 
  subtracts 1 point. 
  
  If they defend but fail to beat the 
  attacker’s amount — they fail to fully 
  block your rusty screwdriver attack, but 
  manage to block 2 points of it for example 
  7
  
  — they lose half the amount of points 
  spent on defense, and take the left over 
  damage, while the attacker loses half the 
  amount spent (round up).
  
  To defend yourself, declare it. 
  After you’re told who’s attacking you and 
  how, say something like “I spend Fatigue 
  points and catch the Billy Club in my 
  hand before it comes out fully.” Blind bid. 
  Win or get injured. If you don’t see the 
  attack coming, you’re simply hit.
  Example: Michael M. (Fatigue 9); reveals a 
  straight razor from his belt. The Orderly, whom 
  the Patients call Mr. Ed (Fatigue 10) pulls his 
  baton to defend himself. The two blind bid — 
  Michael M. bids 4 Fatigue, and Mr. Ed bids 2 
  Fatigue. Mr. Ed swings the baton in a threatening 
  manner to keep Michael at a distance, while 
  Michael aims for the face with the unfolded razor.
  	
  The bids are compared.
  
  Michael M. hits, inﬂicting 2 points of  
  damage (since Ed blocked 2) at the cost of  2 
  Fatigue points (half  the Fatigue spent on the 
  attack, since it was partially defended). Michael 
  has unzipped Ed’s face like an unlaced football, 
  and blood pours everywhere. Ed spends 1 Fatigue 
  on the failed defense and suffers 2 points of  
  damage as well.
  
  “I gave you a new mouth, now you can 
  eat twice as fast,” Michael says.
  	
  Ed (now Fatigue 7) makes an all-out 
  attack with the club spending 2 Fatigue; while 
  Michael (now Fatigue 7) defends with 1 Fatigue.
  	
  The bids are compared.
  
  Crack! Michael attempts to swing the 
  razor in a threatening manner, but is struck in the 
  head with the billy club for 1 point of  damage; 
  this attack costs Ed 1 Fatigue point (now Fatigue 
  6); Michael’s defense costs 1 point of  Fatigue 
  (now Fatigue 6).
  	
  They are both bloody and wheezing from 
  exertion. 
  
  “Repson lied,” Michael mumbles through 
  gasps, “it’s not like killing someone in your mind 
  at all…”
  A Coup
  A coup is when you’re engaged in combat 
  against an opponent with twice as much 
  (or more) current Fatigue and still manage 
  to land any attack. When this is 
  accomplished, your Fatigue spikes back to 
  its full score for the remainder of that 
  particular combat (when the combat is 
  over, it drops back down to what it was 
  before the spike). This Coup Fatigue is 
  spent normally, and represents a blood lust 
  induced second wind. Use it wisely, it 
  doesn’t come around often. 
  Example: Ed (now Fatigue 1) prepares one 
  last attack. He drops his club and crawls around 
  on the ground as if  he was nearly unconscious. 
  Michael begins chanting, “Horse MEAT! Horse 
  MEAT!” paying little attention to his quarry. Ed 
  launches a punch with his lone Fatigue Point — 
  Michael doesn’t see it coming. 
  
  The punch lands, inﬂicting 1 point of  
  damage, and Ed’s Fatigue spikes to 10 — he’s 
  pulled off  a coup (otherwise he would have passed 
  out!) He immediately launches a 9 point attack on 
  Michael who recoils in horror as the blood-soaked 
  orderly leaps up and begins pummeling him. 
  Michael defends with all 6 of  his Fatigue points. 
  
  Ed smashes Michael against an iron 
  baseboard heater and slams both ﬁsts down on his 
  chest. Michael ribs splinter. Michael loses 3 points 
  8
  
  for his failed defense and 3 points from Ed’s 
  assault. 
  	
  Ed slowly begins to pummel the 
  unconscious Michael to death.
  Gaining Fatigue
  Gaining Fatigue points past the initial 5 
  you begin with is a tough process. Spend 
  backwards from Lucidity or Memory to 
  increase your Fatigue (if, say, you’re at 5 
  Fatigue and you spend a point of Lucidity 
  to increase it, your new max Fatigue score 
  is 6). 
  Lucidity
  Lucidity represents the middle ground 
  between Fatigue and Memory. How well 
  you understand what is real and what is 
  not. You begin with 3 points of Lucidity. 
  
  Sometimes, you’ll see things in the 
  Asylum, things that shouldn’t be there. 
  Expend a point of Lucidity to make them 
  go away. Sometimes, however, those things 
  really are there — or you are so convinced 
  they are there — that any number of 
  Lucidity points won’t make them go away. 
  If you don’t make something “go away” 
  — it can very effectively kill you — 
  whether it’s real or not.
  
  Lucidity points are the litmus test 
  of reality. If you’re successful, and what 
  you see turns out to be not real (or at least, 
  not real enough), you keep the Lucidity 
  point, If not — if it keeps coming for you 
  — you lose the point. Once a point is 
  gone, it’s normally only recoverable by 
  spending 5 Fatigue points or 1 Memory 
  point.  
  Memory
  Memory is the prize. Choose to expend a 
  point of Memory to determine whether 
  something rings a bell, is familiar or has 
  something to do with why you’re here. 
  Unfortunately, remembering this way — 
  when you’re not ready to remember 
  everything at once — can be damaging 
  (hence losing a Memory point when doing 
  so).  
  	
  Sometimes, you can gain Fatigue 
  or Lucidity suddenly by spending 
  Memory; something you recall gives you 
  strength or establishes just which way to 
  insanity and which way to reality. This 
  however, remains up to the Facilitator.
  
  There’s an upside however; when 
  you do successfully remember that fact is 
  ironclad — it is an absolute fact that no 
  amount of drugs, hallucinations or terrors 
  can change. When you do remember 
  successfully, scribble down what you recall; 
  it can prove to be the difference between 
  life or death later.
  
  When you hit 20 Memory and 
  spend it all at once, all becomes clear to 
  you — all the incontrovertible facts you’ve 
  jotted down now make sense — and 
  you’re ready to…move on.  
  Name, Apparent Age, Height, 
  Weight and Distinguishing Marks
  First name and last initial please. Look in 
  a mirror and jot down these facts about 
  yourself. Try to be honest. 
  9
  
  Patients read no
  further
  10 Facilitators Only
  
  You are the Facilitator of the Asylum; as 
  such, you are its entire staff, the orderlies, 
  the doctors, and nurses; the drugs, the 
  locked doors and barred windows; the 
  shock therapy and billy clubs — and they 
  are you. You’re even the madness that 
  stalks the halls after light’s out – the 
  monsters that may or may not be real, the 
  places only madmen can see, and go. 
  
  You are everything contained 
  within the shifting expanse of rooms in 
  the Asylum. You control it, you are it, and 
  you create it. You are the result of the 
  patient’s peculiar type of madness. You 
  are lunacy given shape, form and 
  function.
  
  It is your job to collect the 
  recollections and memories of those select 
  few that have glimpsed another world. 
  This is what you call treatment. You talk, 
  experiment and help the Patients to work 
  their way through their “difﬁculties”, to 
  uncover their memories and examine 
  them at length, but most of all, to get 
  them to reveal what they know of the real 
  secret.
  
  Of the last King. The Palace, the 
  party and the lake. As Facilitator, you have 
  been in control of the Asylum for a long, 
  long time, and you have heard many 
  things about the play — The King in Yellow. 
  Long ago, you fell under its sway, and yet, 
  you don’t even know what it really is. 
  When they arrive, most of the patient’s 
  don’t either… It’s not surprising; 
  something so grand, so epic, so revealing, 
  washes people away like one might erase a 
  blackboard — but things remain behind; 
  hints and shapes in the dust. You must 
  ﬁnd out what the Patient’s saw on the 
  other side, what they learned before being 
  spit back into the real world like an 
  aborted fetus; blank and dead.
  
  This is what unites the patients 
  under your care. Each has read and 
  blocked the play from their memories. 
  Uncovering just what they gleaned from it, 
  and what it made them do to land them 
  here, is your job. Not literally of course. 
  The play works in images, ideas, innuendo 
  and allegory. It bends the world like a 
  paper model, folding lives, families, places 
  and things into seams — whose symmetry 
  is too terrible for one person to 
  understand. As Facilitator, you search for 
  the central message of the Play — the 
  idea; the concept; the premise. The point 
  where everything joins in the center.
  
  And then, when all is clear and the 
  book is yours, the Asylum will change. It 
  will become one with the world the 
  madmen create with their insanity — a 
  place without reason, whose endless rooms 
  expand in inﬁnite directions of ﬁction 
  forever. A place beyond this world where 
  order is a dream and facts run like 
  dripping wax, changing, congealing and 
  ﬂowing into one another until nothing is 
  indistinguishable from anything else. This 
  is the place from which you came, and 
  when the time is right, to which you will 
  return.
  11
  Treatment
  Nothing inside empty empty except for the smell of roses, and a 
  
  Past is Prelude
  In the beginning, the 
  deepest history of the 
  Patient is not known — to 
  the Facilitator or even the 
  Patient themselves. Instead, 
  it is brought out over time, 
  through experience, the 
  Patient gaining Memory, 
  and exploring the ever-
  expanding world of 
  CarCoSA — the Carlsbad 
  County Schizophrenics Annex. 
  The Patient recalls (or 
  pretends to recall) just what 
  it was that had them placed 
  in the Asylum in the ﬁrst 
  place. It’s not very long until the Patient 
  learns that there’s something about 
  CarCoSA — about the way the minds of 
  those who inhabit it affect it — that’s not 
  quite right.
  
  The secret power of the mind of 
  madmen is clear to you, the Facilitator, but 
  you do your best to pretend to understand 
  the difference between fantasy and reality: 
  just to get them to open up — of course. 
  But, if a patient is close to…
  remembering…this disguise may falter. 
  Everyone in your employ is after the same 
  thing, the secrets of the divide, that place 
  in-between where the world of insanity 
  and sanity meet in an unstable shifting 
  wasteland of imagination, whether they 
  know it or not.
  
  As the Patients begin to unlock 
  their memories, and to piece together 
  their pasts, it is up to the Facilitator to 
  unite their individual memories and 
  stories into a single unbroken story — a 
  story which begins for all Patients the 
  same way, though they may not know it. 
  They picked up and read a book: The King 
  in Yellow. It is your job, as Facilitator, to put 
  it back together piece by piece, from the 
  recollections of the madmen in your care. 
  Therapy
  Therapy is where Patient’s are questioned 
  and talk about their past or present. As 
  Facilitator, it’s your job to get to the 
  bottom of their disturbance. A Patient can 
  ask for a Session at any time during the 
  day, and vice versa. Mostly, Sessions are 
  group — that is, all the Patients are called 
  together to share ideas about just what 
  landed them in CarCoSA. But sometimes 
  it’s just one on one.
  
  As Facilitator it’s your job to 
  reconstruct the circumstances of the 
  Patient’s break with “reality”. Questions 
  about their family life, their former jobs 
  and passions are common — along with 
  more disturbing questions that even the 
  Patient themselves may not know; But why 
  did you saw the boy’s head off? How many times 
  did you use Heroin before overdosing? How many 
  times did your father molest you? 
  
  While the Patient may know some 
  things, you, as Facilitator stand on the 
  divide of what is real and what is false — 
  you alone are the watchman of reality. It is 
  your job to talk the Patient out of his 
  delusions, convince him of reality, and 
  learn the secrets of what drove them to 
  12
  
  madness — the engine that powers 
  imagination, The King in Yellow. Ultimately, 
  what you say is real, is real, and what the 
  Patient says is real, suspect. When the 
  Patient spends a point of Memory, it is 
  you who decides whether what they are 
  attempting to recall is real or not. But 
  once it is — that is the only thing beyond 
  your reach. Once you have deemed 
  something real by allowing a point of 
  Memory to be spent to reveal it, it is 
  incontrovertibly real and cannot be 
  changed; even by you. 
  
  A good Facilitator keeps extensive 
  notes of such Sessions — altering them as 
  they like of course — so that the progress 
  of the Patient can be easily tracked. 
  Barring notes, try only to be consistent in 
  your facts, or those facts that you create 
  and deem to be real. Consistency, or a 
  subtle shifting of almost-consistent 
  elements is a sly way to bend the Patients 
  mind towards revelation.  
  
  If a Session is deemed beneﬁcial – 
  if a Patient offers up a relevant, or 
  disturbing piece of information, the 
  Facilitator may award them 1 point of 
  Lucidity. If the Session is particularly 
  insightful and offers some hint of The King 
  in Yellow (without prior coaching or leading 
  questions from the Facilitator), 1 point of 
  Memory may be awarded.
  
  If the Patient refuses to believe or 
  reveal things that they have learned or 
  discovered in CarCoSA, the Facilitator 
  may put them on a drug regimen – this 
  freezes all codes – Fatigue, Lucidity and 
  Memory – at their current numbers for as 
  long as it lasts, and makes forward 
  movement up the chain to Memory 20 
  impossible. Codes can, of course, 
  decrease, but upward movement is not 
  possible as long as the drugs last. Only 
  the Facilitator can remove a Patient 
  from a drug regimen. Successfully 
  sharing in a Session and gaining either a 
  point of Lucidity or Memory is enough to 
  remove a Patient from a drug regimen.
  Secrets
  As Facilitator, you know that your Patients, 
  just like you, keep secrets. Secrets about 
  their past; about the world within the 
  rooms of the Asylum that bloom at night 
  when the sane madmen sleep. It is your 
  job to test them — to send them into the 
  dark borderland and to see what it does to 
  them. And when — and if — they come 
  back from the edge, to uncover what they 
  have learned about what made them this 
  way. 
  
  The greatest secret is exactly what 
  the play, The King in Yellow is. What it 
  means and most importantly, what it does 
  to the mind. This is the ultimate secret you 
  will do anything to uncover. But long ago 
  you learned that Patients had a habit of 
  dying, disappearing, or — on some rare 
  occasions — being cured of their insanity 
  before all they learned of the Play could 
  be uncovered. 
  
  It is your job to push, probe and 
  explore their madness before one of these 
  three outcomes — the only ones possible 
  in CarCoSA — occur. 
  13
  
  14
  
  The Patients share a small section of the 
  Carlsbad County asylum. They are off 
  hallway A, in a section called Ward 23, off 
  the Schizophrenics Annex. They rarely 
  leave the Annex for the main building — 
  their treatment and life exists only in this 
  small appendage of the Asylum — but 
  they do go places, at night.
  
  The Night World exists only after 
  light’s out — when they are alone with 
  their memories. 
  
  At night, despite the fact that the 
  Patients remain locked in the tiny Ward 
  23, there are many, many places for them 
  to go. When the clock strikes midnight 
  their doors, locked promptly at 8 PM open 
  onto the Ward, and entrances to the Night 
  World are visible. Sometimes they are 
  obvious — a huge mahogany door 
  emblazoned with the timeworn faces of a 
  thousand screaming men, sunk in a wall 
  where it never was before. Other times, 
  they are not so obvious — a billow of 
  confetti blown from an air-vent that also 
  carries the distant sound of Calliope 
  music; a trail of dust leading to the child-
  scrawled chalk shape of a trap door on the 
  ﬂoor; a loosened drain sticky with 
  something rich with a metallic smell like 
  blood. 
  15
  MIDNIGHT ON WARD 23
   AS FLESH SAGS AND DOORS OPEN; SOON WE COME TO THE LAST FLESH
  
  
  The Patients can choose whether 
  or not they enter the Night World, but any 
  chance at true salvation lies there — this 
  feeling is fundamental and obvious to all 
  Patients. Those who stay behind have no 
  real chance at revelation or escape; though 
  a Patient may choose to ignore the Night 
  World altogether, few can resist the 
  temptation of knowing just what it all 
  means. Those who remain behind face 
  only a slow decay and a million different 
  questions, with no real answers.
  
  When they do enter the Night 
  World, Patients quickly learn to stay 
  together. Those who enter alone or 
  separate from the group often do not 
  come back. No one in the Facility is ever 
  overly concerned with missing Patients in 
  Ward 23 — their disappearance is simply 
  labeled a suicide or escape, and life, such 
  as it is, goes on.  Patients that stick 
  together have a chance — they can spend 
  1 point of Lucidity to undo the 
  monstrosities in the Night World for one 
  another, they can learn together and 
  unlock the secrets of the Play 
  together, and help each other 
  ﬁnd their way back to Ward 23 
  by spending a Point of 
  Memory, or combined 10 
  points of Lucidity. 
  
  That is the rule — entering 
  the Night World costs nothing, 
  but ﬁnding a way out costs 1 
  point of Memory or 5 points of 
  Lucidity (any Patient present 
  can contribute to these totals). 
  Otherwise, the Patients remain 
  in the Night World, and it 
  continues on and on, possibly 
  forever. 
  Inside The Night World  
  The Night World is everything 
  and nothing. It is everywhere 
  and everything the Patients 
  have ever seen, heard of or 
  imagined and it is as elastic 
  and inﬁnite as their 
  subconscious. It can be 
  absolutely lucid and clean or 
  bizarre and disjointed. It can, 
  in short, be anything, do 
  anything and change anything 
  except the Patient themselves. 
  It can go on for days, years, or 
  minutes. It can even last 
  forever. 
  16
  There are only five permanent rules in the Night World:
  1) Entering the Night World is always achieved by discovering the 
  entrance from Ward 23 that appears exactly four hours after 
  lights out and lockdown — promptly at 12 Midnight.
  2)The Patient remains the Patient — they cannot be physically 
  changed into something else, though they can be injured or killed while 
  in the Night World. If they are killed or fail to return to Ward 23 
  (that is, they hit 0 in Fatigue, Lucidity and Memory while in the 
  Night World), they vanish, forever — never to be seen again. 
  3) Any Patient, can spend 1 point of Lucidity at any time, to 
  change what they are currently seeing in the Night World  — as 
  with everything, what this changes remains up to the Facilitator to 
  decide. It can be a positive or detrimental change; but one thing is 
  certain — a change always occurs under such circumstances. 
  4) Patients that enter alone or a separated from the group in the 
  Night World must expend 1 point of Memory or 5 points of Lucidity 
  to leave the Night World to Ward 23, or rejoin the other Patients 
  in the Night World.
  5) Exiting the Night World requires the Patients to search for an 
  exit back to the Ward by expending 1 point of Memory, or 5 points 
  of Lucidity. This always brings the Patients back to Ward 23 at 
  the last second before 12:01 AM — no matter how late after 
  midnight they left for the Night World; despite the fact that six 
  hours, or sixty years, might have passed in the interim.
  
  The Play is the engine that makes the 
  world spin. The Night World is the result 
  of the Play — the pivot on which the 
  world was set — while the real world is 
  nothing more than a still reﬂection of the 
  madness that lies at the heart of it all. 
  Entering the Night World is the only real 
  way to the Play. It is the meaning of the 
  Play, and its effect on the Patients given 
  physicality and form. 
  	
  Only in the Night World are the 
  real secrets of the Play learned through 
  experience. This is not some dry tour 
  through a shifting maze of rooms; it is a 
  coherent ﬂow of insanity, ridden like a 
  roller coaster. Ideas grow; 
  shift and change like 
  monstrous plants, and 
  sometimes even consume 
  their creators.
  The Stage
  The Night World 
  expands forever. There is 
  nothing it cannot 
  encompass, be, or do. It 
  is larger than all the 
  worlds that ever were. It 
  is in the truest sense, 
  inﬁnite. It is the liquid 
  substance of the 
  imagination made real 
  when it is observed. 
  Before it is solidiﬁed 
  however, it is simply that 
  — liquid and shifting 
  and indistinct — insubstantiality waiting 
  to be made real by the mind of a 
  madman.
  The Set
  The Set is the area of the Night World the 
  Patients can see, smell, taste or hear. It is 
  the directly observable area in the Night 
  World all around them. When Patients 
  split up, multiple Sets form, ﬂoating in the 
  void of the Stage, and when the Patients 
  reunite in the Night World, those two Sets 
  congeal to form one larger bubble of a 
  Set. 
  17
  THE PLAY
  IF GOD IS DEAD AND THE DEVIL IS DREAMING WHAT DOES THAT MAKE A
  
  A Set can be anything the Facilitator 
  decides the Patients see, feel or imagine.
  
  Some Sets created long ago by 
  other minds in the Night World are so 
  strong, so real, they insist themselves into 
  the minds of those who did not create 
  them. Occasionally, depending on 
  circumstances, these Sets collide with the 
  sets created by the Patients — like an 
  iceberg striking land. 
  
  The power of these Sets should 
  not be underestimated — they were 
  created long ago through the thoughts of 
  other madmen; the most powerful of 
  which are the Sets that comprise the 
  endless cycle of the Play The King in Yellow, 
  though there are others. They have lasted 
  in the timeless eternity of the Night World 
  like a perfect, implacable bubble of pure 
  concept. They have a tendency to absorb 
  those who lack the wherewithal to escape 
  their purity. 
  Example Sets
  The following example Sets are given as a 
  guideline to show the Facilitator what is 
  expected. They are by no means the only 
  Sets in existence. The Facilitator is in 
  control of all the Patients see and hear, 
  and the world is shaped at his whim, he 
  should feel free to expand upon, change, 
  or completely create all Sets in the Night 
  World by himself.
   
  The Night World, like the 
  Facilitator’s imagination, is infinite. 
  The Castle
  This set exists on the edge of a mist-
  covered lake at night. The sky shows an 
  alien set of stars, and two moons hover 
  near the edge of where the sky turns to 
  fog. There, vast and ancient spires — like 
  a castle from a Russian fairy-tale — 
  spring up from the clouds; dotted with 
  lamps and lit windows. Distant music can 
  be heard from inside — a hurdy-gurdy 
  like din, backed by a band and mechanical 
  calliope that plays an endless looping 
  tune. 
   
  On a boulevard, partygoers walk 
  past — dressed in elegant clothing; rich 
  burgundy and green velour; pearls and 
  tiaras, diamonds and scepters — and each 
  wears a mask. Demons and charlatans, 
  jesters and tragic Homeric heroes; the 
  partygoers are faceless and rich and 
  empty. They give the patient’s a wide 
  berth and laugh at their dress, or 
  occasionally throw a few copper coins 
  their way. They speak different languages 
  — sometimes recognizable, other times 
  not. 
  The Party
  The Party is a masquerade ball that 
  happens every night in the Castle – a 
  countdown to the end of time. Its splendor 
  draws in partygoers from every reach of 
  18
  
  the Night Floors and if they stay until the 
  unmasking; keeps them forever.
   
  Nearly every character in the Cast 
  (see below) can be found there. 
   
  To enter the Party, the Patient must 
  have an appropriate costume (which can 
  be found many places in the Night World) 
  without it, the guards turn them away; 
  those attempting to sneak in are caught 
  and thrown into the mists of the Lake. The 
  guards are implacable brutes who speak 
  no English and seem to multiply along 
  with the Patients’ struggles – each wearing 
  an identical Lion mask.  
   
  If the Patients do not struggle and 
  are turned away, they spy a brief glimpse 
  of huge mahogany doors closing on a 
  party so opulent and rich that sheer 
  curiosity of what could possibly be going 
  on consumes their every waking thought. 
  Those that catch this glimpse are sure the 
  answer to their question lies within. 
   
  Inside, the party unfolds in a maze 
  of rooms, each more vault-like, festooned 
  with confetti, discarded drinks, and 
  drunken mask-wearing partygoers. In fact, 
  it’s very confusing to maneuver through; 
  so much so that to find the entrance or any 
  exit costs 1 point of Lucidity.
   
  The partygoers are full of gossip – 
  that much is obvious – but their language, 
  initially, can’t be understood. As the hour 
  approaches Midnight (as marked on 
  ancient, chiming clocks) the Patients 
  discover they can understand more and 
  more of what is said around them. This 
  understanding grows just like their sense 
  of dread – a feeling of some impending 
  doom that settles on them and slowly 
  suffocates them. Those that can remain 
  until the hour before the unmasking 
  understand everything said around them. 
  Talk centers on “The Phantom of Truth” 
  and “The King”. The partygoers are 
  anxious to know if a legend will come to 
  pass that evening. Rumors have spread 
  that the Phantom of Truth has come to 
  Carcosa to herald the coming of the last 
  King. Talk centers around a stranger who 
  wears a plain ivory mask and yellow 
  robes. The stranger is often seen, but 
  difficult to catch up with – he is always 
  one step ahead in the party. Visible but 
  never within reach. 
   
  Any Patient remaining to the last 
  fifteen minutes before Midnight begins to 
  lose first Lucidity and then Memory 
  points. At Midnight, the Patient is one 
  with the Party, and will remain there, 
  forever. Those that escape before the last 
  chime gain 1 point of Memory.
  The Lake
  The Lake appears to be just that – but 
  closer examination reveals it is nothing 
  more than a thick mist that sits in a 
  depression like a lake. There is no water. 
  Boats seem to float across it, but those 
  entering it find nothing but a thick mist. 
  Walking down the slope of the shore, one 
  eventually finds themselves beneath the 
  mist lake. Inside, giant whale-like 
  creatures occasionally disturb the mist, 
  swimming within yards of the Patients; 
  but they never approach the Patients, 
  seemingly disturbed by their presence. 
  Other less cautious things haunt the mist 
  as well.
   
  As the Patients descend, the mist 
  seems to thicken to the consistency of 
  water – though the Patient can still 
  breathe. There is a level in the mist where 
  the Patients can swim about as if they 
  were underwater. Swimming lower, the 
  Patients sink until they arrive in Carcosa; 
  swimming higher they arrive on the shore 
  19
  
  and can walk up. But at the level where 
  the mist is thickest, the Patients can float 
  indefinitely.
   
  At this level, beneath them, barely 
  visible, are the spires of some city. Above 
  them, lost in the fog are two pinpricks of 
  light that must be the moons above. 
  Carcosa
  The door to the Night Floors always opens 
  into Carcosa. Carcosa is the city that 
  surrounds the Castle. Caught somewhere 
  between Victorian England and Gaudi 
  Spanish architecture, it’s a sprawling town 
  of many levels, plazas and vistas; 
  shrouded in mist and always consumed by 
  night. Doors are shut, windows shuttered 
  and plazas empty. Those that move 
  through the streets are either partygoers 
  (accompanied by the Lion-Mask guards) 
  heading to the Party, or secretive 
  individuals who rush through the streets 
  on various secret tasks. 
  This city literally leads anywhere – at the 
  Facilitator’s discretion, any set can be 
  accessed from Carcosa. It is the center of 
  every Set; the hub of a wheel that has 
  many spokes. Everything comes from it, 
  and relies on it. As such, a single wrong 
  turn down a Carcosan street can leave the 
  Patient stranded in Stalingrad, Berlin, The 
  Whisper Labyrinth – anywhere. As such, 
  it’s dangerous and wonderful…and 
  addictive. It’s very easy to remain in 
  Carcosa for too long; eager to see just 
  what is around the next corner, what 
  might be found on the next street, to see 
  who lives in the house that vanishes into 
  the mist… 
  The Broadalbin
  The Broadalbin is a dilapidated hotel in 
  New York City circa 1922. Patients 
  usually enter from one of the basement 
  levels. It’s a small hotel; but as those 
  who’ve been to Carcosa know, looks can 
  be deceiving. Though it claims only a 
  dozen stories all told, the 
  rooms of the Broadalbin 
  seem to wind and twist in a 
  way that seems unnatural, 
  somehow stuffing enormous 
  ballrooms, huge tunnels and 
  staircases and halls into a 
  thin, brownstone style 
  building.
   
  Those who stay at 
  the Broadalbin are either 
  searching for Carcosa, the 
  Whisper Labyrinth or 
  something more – no one 
  stays there by accident. Some 
  might not know exactly why 
  they are there; only that 
  they’re searching for 
  something. Everyone who 
  20
  
  checks into the Broadalbin eventually get 
  what they deserve… 
   
  All rooms and hallways in the 
  Broadalbin have ceilings lined with four 
  groove-like tracks. The staff is rarely seen 
  – when they are, it’s always at a distance, 
  and even then something about them 
  seems not right. They walk unnaturally, 
  floating and bobbing on the ground as if 
  they were under water. 
  The MacAllistair Building
  The MacAllistair Building is a four-story 
  brownstone-like structure in modern 
  Manhattan. The building once served as 
  low-income home for artists, but fell 
  under the sway of the King in Yellow 
  sometime in the past. Its inhabitants are 
  all caught in the pull of Carcosa, and often 
  travel there, after dark, when the 
  MacAllistair connects to the Night World. 
  At night the MacAllistair seems to go on 
  and on – floor upon floor of cluttered 
  rooms, hidden hallways and rickety 
  staircases. At night, like Carcosa and the 
  Broadalbin, the MacAllistair is one with 
  the Night World. 
   
  The inhabitants of the MacAllistair 
  live normal lives in the day – going about 
  their business in the world outside. At 
  night however, they don’t sleep; instead 
  they haunt the halls of the MacAllistair 
  and congregate in the upstairs rooms to 
  discuss the play and its implications. They 
  fraternize with the personalities who were 
  long ago consumed by Carcosa; and some 
  even travel into the depths of the Night 
  World, searching for whatever the play 
  took from them. What they don’t realize is 
  that the MacAllistair is simply a way 
  station – nothing of import can be found 
  there; it’s simply a honey-trap. 
   
   There’s enough in the 
  MacAllistair to keep a Patient fascinated 
  forever, only those strong enough to pull 
  themselves away from its draw will ever 
  discover anything of import.
  The Whisper Labyrinth
  The Whisper Labyrinth is a series of 
  hand-carved stone tunnels which wind, 
  turn, twist and drop in some endless 
  subterranean gulf – the path is often 
  treacherous and poorly lit, and covered 
  in dust. Footprints in the dust are often 
  visible.
   
  Discarded items can be found 
  nearly everywhere. Most often, they’re 
  tools – like pick axes, rock hammers 
  and such. Sometimes there are old 
  ropes, burned out lamps and even 
  clothing scattered about.
   
  There are never any bodies. 
   
  Every few feet in the tunnels, a 
  recessed alcove is carved in the stone. 
  Each alcove is unique. Some are 
  ovals; others are more complex 
  carvings such as faces, hands, or 
  21
  
  geometric shapes. Each alcove holds a 
  unique bottle. Each bottle is wholly 
  original – no two are alike. And each is 
  labeled in one way or another – each bears 
  a single name on it. Some have it carved 
  into their surface, others a ratty tag 
  scrawled with a signature, and still others 
  have initials marked in blood. 
   
  All bottles in alcoves are sealed 
  and lit from behind by a dim light. This is 
  the only light source in the Whisper 
  Labyrinth. 
   
  Sometimes, a bottle is found on 
  the floor – and an empty alcove is nearby. 
  The bottles on the floor are never sealed. 
  There’s nothing in them; though the 
  bottles in the alcove all seem to contain 
  something. A few hold what look like 
  mysterious objects – perhaps a slip of 
  paper behind darkened glass; or bits of 
  decaying matter. Others hold strange 
  liquids, sand or rocks.
   
  If Patient finds the alcove with 
  their bottle, they can remove it, and if they 
  choose to do so; open it. Every other 
  bottle except their own is effectively off 
  limits to the Patient. It can’t be lifted, 
  moved or smashed. 
   
  Patients often spend their lives 
  searching for the secret that resides in 
  their bottle. The draw is this: the answer 
  to all a Patient has ever wished to know – 
  some final peace – can be found within it. 
   
  Rumors persist that if a person 
  opens their bottle – they vanish forever. 
  Still, many hunt the Whisper Labyrinth 
  for their secret.
  The Library
  The Library is an endless sprawling 
  complex of mahogany bookshelves, 
  hallways and raised walkways. There are 
  no windows; only door upon door – 
  reading rooms which open on impossible 
  vistas of galleries, stairs and walkways 
  that seem to continue on and on forever. 
  The shelves are more often than not filled 
  with exotic books in bizarre languages – 
  but some areas of the Library are in 
  disrepair; wrecked by water damage, 
  collapsed plaster ceilings and books 
  bloated like leeches filled with water. 
  Some books are in English, but they 
  describe bizarre, never-before-heard-of 
  locales. Countries that don’t exist, animals 
  that don’t exist, people who don’t exist. 
   
  Tracks – like those found in the 
  Broadalbin – are found everywhere in the 
  Library. Sometimes, strange, bounding 
  figures are seen in the distance. 
  Otherwise, besides the Patient, the Library 
  seems to be vacant – of people, that is.
   
  Various areas seem to have been 
  lived in for long periods. Debris like old 
  food tins, empty bottles of alcohol and the 
  remains of books burned for warmth can 
  be found. Animal bones – which seem to 
  be of strange rat-like creatures – can 
  sometimes be found near these campsites.
   
  The lights in the library seem to 
  grow and shrink in intensity over long 
  periods of time, almost as if they were 
  mimicking night and day. Despite this, 
  there are no obvious light sources – the 
  light seems to bleed from the walls 
  themselves. As it grows darker, sounds 
  begin to echo through the halls. At first, 
  they are the sounds of skittering – 
  something far off and small rushing across 
  a dusty floor. Later, as the darkness 
  increases, the sounds grow in intensity 
  until it’s the sound of something the size 
  of a lion padding through the stacks.
   
  Anyone who remains there after 
  dark should light a fire, or they’ll find out 
  22
  
  what wanders the halls of the Library at 
  night.
  The Clockwork Factory
  This vast warehouse is covered in a huge, 
  vault-like ceiling, which can never be seen 
  – it’s forever lost in absolute blackness. 
  On the floor are dimly lit work areas, most 
  covered in old-looking tools of 
  questionable purpose – none are readily 
  identifiable.
   
  No workmen are ever present. 
  Though occasionally, a mournful violin 
  tune can be heard. Its direction can never 
  be pinpointed, though those pursuing the 
  sound fervently enough can locate a single 
  steel door sunk into a wall; like that of a 
  submarine. It’s unlike any other door in 
  the Factory and through it, the music 
  seems to emanate. It is immune to all 
  mundane attempts to open it; though 
  persistent Patients might find a way to 
  open it. 
   
  The worktables themselves are 
  nothing exceptional – huge roughly cut 
  wooden slabs on twisting wrought-iron 
  legs. On some worktables are what look 
  like ivory limbs – a hand here, a foot there 
  – these limbs are startlingly complex 
  clockwork recreations of actual limbs. 
  Fingers articulate, heels pivot, elbows 
  bend and rotate. They are wholly 
  convincing. Their “skin” is incredibly 
  detailed ivory sculpture; delicate and 
  amazingly thin. 
   
  Occasionally, an entire clockwork 
  man will be found – dangling from four 
  sets of wires that rise and vanish into the 
  vault-like ceiling. These clockwork men 
  are often clothed in a simple 
  approximation of a tradesman’s dress – 
  one might wear a priest’s collar, another a 
  gangster’s pinstriped suit, still another the 
  outfit of a 1920’s bellhop. All these 
  clothes – despite color and style 
  differences – are made of a similar satin-
  like material.
   
  Sometimes huge jumbles of these 
  figures can be found gathered in open 
  spaces, their wires hopelessly tangled 
  about one another. A woman tied around a 
  police office, the officer leaning towards a 
  doctor, the doctor strangling on a cord 
  from an old lady. Sometimes Patients 
  might see a relationship in these figures 
  that imitates their former life.  
  Yhtill
  Yhtill is an ancient city. It looks like a 
  cross between classical Rome and 
  Mesopotamia, rich with former glory and 
  opulence. Lions adorn every available 
  surface – the same yawning maw of a 
  stylized beast staring from a surface. But 
  someone has meticulously scraped the 
  eyes off each and every lion, so they are 
  blind. The city seems abandoned.
   
  No one lives in Yhtill – in fact, it 
  seems centuries have passed since anyone 
  but the Patients have set foot in the city. 
  Flagstones are uneven and overgrown 
  with grass, buildings have slumped and 
  spilled over with time, roads have rippled 
  as the ground beneath them shifts.  
   
  Also, a strange symbol – like a 
  rippling eye with lines of power 
  emanating from it – can be found 
  scrawled in random places. It’s drawn in 
  ancient crumbling yellow-brown paint. 
  Those attempting to remember the sign 
  often have trouble forgetting it, and begin 
  to see it everywhere. Though, to Patients, 
  the sign is often very familiar to begin 
  with.
  23
  
  Threats
  The Night World is inhabited by all 
  manner of beings – creatures, figments, 
  the remains of personalities set to repeat 
  the last moments of their lives forever – 
  they are drawn to Carcosa, and are there 
  set in the orbit of their particular madness. 
  All these beings have one thing in 
  common – they feed of fear, discomfort, 
  madness and melancholy.
   
  At best, they are mundane – at 
  worst, they threaten the very existence of 
  the Patient. Some murder, others drain, 
  still others lure the Patient to other fates, 
  but have no fear; there is life after death. 
  If a Patient vanishes in the Night World 
  it’s likely the others will see him again, as 
  he endlessly haunts the pathways of 
  Carcosa…  
  Dealing With Threats
  The particular threats in the Night World 
  can be classified in 4 categories, from 
  least to most powerful: Figments, 
  Creatures, Repeaters and Entities. 
   
  Figments exist only on Lucidity 
  points. They attack and defend with 
  Lucidity and must be overcome by a 
  Patient’s Lucidity to be destroyed.
  Figments
  Figments are rarely seen – and then only 
  by individuals. Usually, only the after-
  effects of their particular obsession are 
  seen; a room covered with bloodstains, a 
  cigar-burned manuscript next to a ruined 
  typewriter, a smashed film camera from 
  the 1920’s filled with old photographs. 
  They are all that is left of a particular 
  personality consumed with a single vice, 
  purpose or obsession, which lacked the 
  corresponding will to remain whole in the 
  Night World. When their personalities are 
  shattered by madness, the fragments that 
  are left wander Carcosa. 
   
  No group can observe a figment – 
  instead, they will see the effects of its 
  madness and nothing more. Alone 
  however, individual Patients can see or 
  even interact with Figments. Such 
  encounters are never good on the whole, 
  though sometimes hints of Memory can 
  be gleaned from them. Locating a Figment 
  is extremely difficult, and should cost 
  Fatigue or Lucidity at the Facilitator’s 
  whim – but if the Patient is wise, and 
  follows through, the reward should be a 
  point of Memory. 
   
  Figments have a Lucidity score 
  and nothing else. This is the equivalent of 
  Fatigue for them. They can attack and 
  defend with Lucidity until a Patient 
  spends enough Lucidity to make them go 
  negative; whereupon they vanish. Patients 
  do not need to spend Lucidity to defend 
  24
  THE PLAYERS
  NEVER WISH FOR FOREVER BECAUSE IT COMES IS DREAMING WHAT DOES 
  
  from a Figment; they can just spend and 
  counter with Fatigue.
  Creatures
  Creatures are often the product of some 
  great tragedy or sorrow. They are non-
  human in the classical sense, though they 
  can be almost anything – a walking 
  construct of Victorian chairs, a statue with 
  no eyes that moves when the Patients 
  aren’t looking, a buzzing swarm of paper 
  butterflies – it doesn’t have to be a living, 
  breathing creature to be classified as such.
  Creatures generally want very simple 
  things: to eat, to play, to follow, to fetch. 
  Some are extremely dangerous – eager to 
  kill anything that crosses their path; others 
  are more benign – content to watch or 
  follow the Patients.
   
  If a Patient can fulfill a Creatures’ 
  desire they should be rewarded with 
  Lucidity points.
   
  Creatures have a Fatigue score and 
  nothing else. They attack and defend with 
  Fatigue normally. If they are sent negative 
  from external attacks, they vanish or are 
  killed, at the Facilitator’s whim. Lucidity 
  points are useless against them.
  Repeaters
  Repeaters are the shell of a consciousness 
  that was drawn into and then destroyed by 
  Carcosa. They are different from Figments 
  in that they are simply shells; nothing 
  else. There is no remnant of consciousness 
  within: as such, in and of themselves they 
  are not a significant threat. However, each 
  is linked to some locale, idea of concept – 
  the thing that consumed them and they 
  repeat the actions that lead to their doom, 
  over and over again. They often lead 
  unsuspecting Patients into such traps – 
  where they are consumed themselves.
   
  Each Repeater is composed of a 
  single point of Memory and nothing else. 
  Those who follow a Repeater and survive 
  the trap that consumed them gain that 
  point of Memory and dismiss the Repeater 
  forever.
   
   
  Entities
  Entities are independent beings that have 
  managed to hold on to some part of their 
  consciousness despite their consumption 
  by Carcosa. They are capable of new and 
  self-motivated action despite the 
  repetition and melancholy of Carcosa; and 
  can even make plans, form alliances and 
  choose where to be. 
   
  They range from those that barely 
  made such a transition (Ambrose), to 
  those who exhibit a huge amount of 
  control on the Sets of Carcosa (The King). 
  Like Patients, each Entity has all three 
  scores: Fatigue, Lucidity and Memory. 
  Even if they are overcome with Fatigue, 
  they do not perish in the common sense – 
  instead they seem to vanish – they are 
  fully restored the next time the Patients 
  enter the Night World. 
  The Cast
  The following beings are presented only 
  as examples. Like Sets, it is up to the 
  Facilitator to create and administer the 
  Players in the Play. Anyone or anything is 
  possible in the Night World. 
  Aldones (Repeater)
  A member of the Royal family, Aldones is 
  a young man who is always at the Party in 
  the Castle. He wears a lion mask and a 
  complex outfit of sequins, jewels and 
  satin. He is a foul-tempered, disbelieving 
  sort, eager to have the “prophecy” of the 
  Phantom of Truth turn out to be nothing 
  25
  
  but hogwash. He is the younger brother of 
  Cassilda and Cassandra and will become 
  King someday.
   
  However, every night at midnight, 
  he finds he is mistaken. He will continue 
  to do so, forever.
  Ambrose (Entity)
  Fatigue 4
  Lucidity 5
  Memory 3
  Ambrose is an old man who haunts 
  Carcosa. He is one of the few who does 
  not attend the Party nightly, and instead 
  spends his time in the Clockwork 
  Workshop constructing toys and 
  marionettes that strike his fancy. He’s both 
  a skilled violinist and tinkerer, and has 
  built all manner of impossible machines. 
  He has waited for an invitation to the 
  Party for eons now, and eagerly, every 
  evening prepares his outfit, a meticulously 
  constructed mail suit of tin clockwork that 
  bends with his body.
   
  He has never worn it. 
   
  Ambrose does not recall where he 
  was before all this, though he does 
  remember his country being at war 
  sometime in the past with the Russo-
  German Pact. This fact seems to confuse 
  him more than comfort 
  him as he does not 
  think Carcosa was his 
  country at all. It was 
  somewhere else, a 
  long time ago.
   
  Ambrose is 
  eager to help Patients 
  and is one of the very 
  few useful Entities in 
  the Night World who 
  does not have an 
  ulterior motive. 
  Instead, he will do 
  all manner of things 
  for the Patients is 
  motivated to do so, 
  and understands 
  much of the Night World, as such, he’s a 
  valuable contact to have. He can most 
  often be found in Carcosa or the 
  Clockwork Factory. 
  Cassandra and Cassilda (Repeaters)
  Mother and daughter; Queen and princess 
  of the realm respectively. They are always 
  found at the Party in the Castle. 
  Cassandra is caught between prophecy 
  and fear. She is certain the Phantom of 
  Truth has spoken and the King in Yellow 
  has arrived. She is an older woman in 
  regal gown, wearing a crown of emeralds, 
  rubies and diamonds, and a mask of a cat. 
  She glances about the party nervously, and 
  wanders about as if searching for 
  somebody.
   
  Cassilda is young and certain 
  nothing supernatural is going on at all. 
  26
  
  She is eager to gain the favor of her 
  brother Aldones, since more down-to-
  earth matters concern her; such as the 
  royal succession when her mother dies. 
   
  Both are equally shocked however, 
  when the King reveals himself at 
  Midnight. 
  Mark Roark (Entity)
  Fatigue 6
  Lucidity 7
  Memory 2
  Mark Roark is an obnoxious traveling 
  salesman type, clothed in 1920’s fashions 
  and topped by a hideously realized wig. 
  Roark thinks he is in a “hotel” and in fact, 
  thinks everything in the Night World is 
  part of the “hotel”. Roark is familiar with 
  the Broadalbin and the MacAllistair 
  building, but knows very little outside of 
  those locations – he’s eager to learn, 
  however. 
   
  Roark is loud, brash, overweight 
  and obnoxious. He talks over anyone with 
  a strong opinion, and has a mercurial 
  temper – he snaps at the slightest 
  provocation. Roark is obsessed with 
  locating his bottle in the Whisper 
  Labyrinth; but so far, despite nightly 
  sojourns into the rocky maze, has failed to 
  do so. He will do anything for someone 
  who can help him complete such a task.   
   
  Though he comes across as silly, if 
  provoked, Roark can prove murderous – 
  he has killed before – for all the good it’s 
  done him. 
  The Addict (Repeater)
  The Addict can often be found lounging 
  about. He stumbles from place to place, 
  nodding off or crawling on the floor 
  searching for something. He’s a thin man 
  dressed in 1920’s clothing with a porkpie 
  hat and rolled up trousers. He looks clean 
  but smells terrible. He has no name.
   
  His arms are marked by what at 
  first appear to be track marks, but closer 
  examination reveals them to be holes of 
  some tiny burrowing worm-like creatures. 
  Every once an awhile the Addict 
  consumes something brought out from his 
  pocket – a gelatin cube of amber, filled 
  with tiny golden worms.
   
  The Addict is difficult to talk to. 
  He often gives the impression he knows 
  more than he does (when he can be 
  understood), and will gladly lead the 
  Patients nearly anywhere in the Night 
  World. It doesn’t matter where he goes – 
  he’s already in his own personal hell and 
  he’s eager for company.
  The Author (Figment)
  The Author is never there – instead, only 
  the remains of his work can be found: 
  thousands of manuscript pages spilled 
  about a room; a wrecked typewriter, open 
  bottles of booze, a burned through cigar. 
  He is defined by his absence.
   
  Those who do manage to see him 
  must put up a vast pursuit event to catch a 
  glimpse of him; and they must be alone to 
  do so. He is a tall, thin man in a sweat-
  stained suit with small, round; silver 
  rimmed glasses, a slight mustache and 
  dusty brown hair. 
   
   He doesn’t speak – instead, he 
  responds with manuscript pages that he 
  pulls from some interior pocket. Sections 
  circled on such pages in red indicate his 
  response. He always seems to be late for 
  some great event he is ill prepared for. He 
  has a cheap charlatan mask sticking from 
  his pocket. Perhaps he is going to a 
  party…
  27
  
  The Clockwork Child (Entity)
  Fatigue 2
  Lucidity 2
  Memory 3
  The Clockwork Child is a small 
  clockwork being composed of brass-parts, 
  wheels and the remains of a porcelain 
  doll. It cannot talk, but its mouth clacks 
  open and shut as it wobbles on its two 
  uneven wheels. Its arms spin as it moves 
  and a gloomy dirge plays from a music 
  box embedded in its chest. Its clockwork 
  seems to be lubricated with something 
  like blood – and the air fills with a 
  coppery stench when it is nearby. 
   
  The motivations of the Clockwork 
  Child are mysterious. It can often be 
  found haunting the Clockwork Factory or 
  following Ambrose about, but frequently, 
  it is out on its own, wandering the streets 
  of Carcosa. The Child cannot 
  communicate in the common sense, but 
  instead is found carrying notes; carefully 
  written letters pinned to its back. Who 
  writes these notes is unknown. 
   
  Despite appearing to be a 
  Creature, the Clockwork Child 
  most definitely has its own sense 
  of self-motivation, and very often 
  goes off on its own. 
  The Dog (Creature)
  Fatigue 6
  The Dog is an invisible Creature 
  with the countenance of a playful 
  and somewhat nosy large dog. It 
  can be heard and felt, but never 
  seen. It does what all dogs do – it 
  goes to the bathroom, roots around 
  for food, whines, and plays. It is 
  quite startling to first encounter, 
  since it always bounds up to the 
  Patients – making a terrible noise 
  as its claws clack on the floor. 
   
  Sometimes the Dog will follow 
  Patients and, if fed, will remain with them 
  for some time. It can prove useful – 
  locating hidden objects, entrances and 
  beings. But more often than not, it simply 
  wanders off, bored or hungry. 
   
  The Dog is not a threat in any 
  conventional sense, and can be found 
  nearly anywhere in the Night World. 
  The King in Yellow (Entity)
  Fatigue 20
  Lucidity 20
  Memory 20
  The King is in control of all of Carcosa, 
  and every realm it touches. He brings 
  Carcosa behind him like his shadow, and 
  he is simultaneously always at the Party 
  and anywhere else he deems important in 
  the Night World. Difficult to approach and 
  impossible to defeat – he never loses 
  enough Fatigue to be defeated despite any 
  attempts by the Patients, and when 
  midnight strikes, he’s restored to full 
  scores. He can’t be “beaten” in a 
  28
  
  conventional sense because he is not real. 
  The King In Yellow is a fictional entity 
  given life and power by the forces that 
  created the play.
   
  In the classic chicken and the egg 
  scenario, the King pre-dates the play and 
  the play the King. They created one 
  another and in concert they power 
  Carcosa and all who haunt it. 
   
  The King is an inscrutable figure 
  in tattered yellow robes that wears a 
  porcelain mask of pure white. Nothing is 
  visible inside the mask – no flesh of any 
  sort is visible. Any who stays at the Party 
  long enough discovers that the mask is no 
  mask – it is his face. And at midnight he 
  announces to the Party, “I wear no 
  mask…” 
  The Paper Lion (Creature)
  Fatigue 10
  The Paper Lion is the beast that haunts the 
  Library. As the “day” turns to “night” in 
  the Library the Paper Lion grows in power 
  and size, from Fatigue 1 to Fatigue 10, 
  and shrinks back down again as the “day” 
  breaks.
   
  It appears to be a huge beast 
  composed of dripping wet paper; like an 
  ever-shifting papier-mâché beast that 
  never dries. Its face is a maw composed of 
  broken glass, rusty nails and razor blades 
  sunk in the ruined husks of old leather-
  bound books. It is a killer – and will run 
  down and kill any Patients it can.
   
  Once it makes a single kill, it’ll 
  resign itself to feeding on the corpse; 
  leaving anyone else nearby free to leave.  
  The Marionettes (Creatures)
  Fatigue 5
  Marionettes are people consumed by the 
  Clockwork Factory, the Broadalbin or 
  Library. They are the form stripped of 
  consciousness, and serve some outside 
  power, fulfilling its will. They are life-size 
  marionettes – clothed in satin and 
  composed of clockwork limbs. They hang 
  from tracks in the ceiling and can move 
  with great speed. They are utterly silent 
  and terrifying and their motivations are 
  inscrutable. Sometimes they simply 
  deliver something – a book, a picture, a 
  bottle – other times they are there to make 
  more of their kind. 
   
  No one knows what motivates or 
  controls the marionettes. 
  29
  
  30
  
  31
  ...WELCOME TO THE 
  INSYLUM
  ...YOU CAME HERE 
  TO FORGET...
  ...IT IS OUR JOB TO 
  MAKE YOU...
  ...REMEMBER...
  ...WE SEND YOU INTO THE NIGHT WORLD...
  ...AND YOU BRING BACK... 
  ...SECRETS...
  OR YOU DO NOT COME BACK AT ALL...
  
SOURCE: textdata/thevault/_GM Books/Bestiaries/Insylum.pdf