The Sick Room is a tarot-driven solo journaling game. The following is a very short game that I played
to understand how it worked. I would expect a normal game to run considerably longer.
The game forces you to engage your imagination, drawing tarot cards for inspiration. Each card has been allocated specific inspirational text to help you explore the horrors to be found in the Sick Room.
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Tuesday,
I'm in the bathroom, I'm hiding! Hiding from my living room. No, that's not right. I'm hiding from the room, from the door. There's a door in there, it wasn't there before. It just appeared. Am I mad? The door is wrong, it shouldn't be there. I opened it, god forgive me. The door felt cold and there was a strange meaty smell when I opened it.
I can't explain it there's a living room from the 80s behind the door. But it shouldn't, can't be there. The other side of that wall is an empty show shop. I took a step in there, saw the TV, and the wallpaper just like when I was a kid. And, there was a feeling, like someone was standing in there watching me. But there wasn't anyone there. I kept turning round, it was like there was someone being me. I ran up here, I'm still shaking.
Wednesday,
I had to know it was real, had to know I wasn't mad, I went in there again. I stood in the middle of the room. I looked at the TV, it's like the one my grandmother had. I got the feeling I was being watched again. When I turned round they were sitting on the sofa. I don't know what they were, I mean it was a man, woman, and a girl, only they weren't people, not really. I rubbed my eyes, but it wasn't my eyes, the people were blurry. They were talking, laughing I think. They were quiet, I couldn't quite make out what they were saying. Their words warbled, fading in and out. I think they could see me. But I felt there was someone behind me, and when I turned round, there was no one there. I turned again as the people were gone. I couldn't stay there. I moved the table in front of the door when I came out.
Thursday,
I heard a knocking on the door, from the other side. I stared at it, I was shaking. I've never felt fear like that before, I WAS shaking. I stared at the door and ate a whole pack of biscuits, staring the whole time. In the end I moved the table and opened the door. There was no one there. I balled up the biscuit wrapper and tossed it in. It landed on the carpet. Nothing happened. I really didn't want to go in but I had an urge and took two two quick steps. That someone's-here feeling instantly engulfed me. The room, it was, well, it felt close. There was a glow in the middle of the TV screen. I crouched next to it and could here something in the speaker. It warbled like the people had. I turned the volume dial, I only touched it, turned it the tiniest amount. The speaker blared, shouted "fat fuck" at me. I fell back from it horrified, then scrambled-ran out the door, slammed it shut and pushed the table back in front of it. Then I threw up.
Friday,
I woke up determined to master my fear. I stomped downstairs, dragged the table out of the way and opened the door.
There was a packet of bisuits. Where I'd left the wrapper was a full packet. I think it was the same packet, at least the one I balled up was gone, and this was in its place.
I went in picked it up, it felt good in my hand. I don't know why or how, somehow it felt right. I felt confidence while I held it. And that feeling of someone else in the room faded. It didn't go, just felt less invasive. I sat on the sofa facing the TV and ate all the biscuits. I drifted off, I don't know how long, I was staring at the TV. I remember it had shadows moving on the screen but i don't recollect anything about them in particular.
I picked up the biscuits and ate them all. And watched the shadows.
I picked up the biscuits, again. That was when I realised I'd changed. I don't know how many packs I'd eaten but my god I filled the whole sofa, I'd grown fat, hugely big. Shocked I tried to stand, and unbalanced by this new weight I fell. Gasping for breath on the floor I sucked in air that stank. It took a couple of breaths before I realised it was my body that was giving off the stink. I nearly threw up. I couldn't get up, I crawled to the door dragged myself out of the room, rolled over and kicked the door shut. The stink was so bad I couldn't catch my breath it was choking, choking.
I woke up the next morning on the floor. The door was gone. No sign of it at all. I wasn't fat but I felt drained. I got up went to the kitchen, and threw away the biscuits I had in the cupboard.
