Immortality is no cure for suffering. We came to hell as immigrants, with naught but the grave-gifts of the living to sustain us. The guardians at the gates took their toll; then they gave us oars and an ancient barge to navigate the river Styx. Centuries of detritus line the riverbanks. Write two burial gifts for the person on your right. Of your gifts received, keep one. Use the other to pay your passage. You’re dead, so a memory of life haunts you. In turns, name the thing you want to relive, remember, or escape. Ask the person to your right what to do to get your wish. No life means no will. Making a decision seems impossible. On your turn, sleep or ask the others one question about (a) what you see or hear, (b) what you feel or (c) what you do. Spend your Lucidity to declare answers instead (start with 1, +1 if you sleep, max 2). We drift together down the winding black river. Something predatory watches from the bluffs. Across the water, eerie metal sounds echo from caves in the crags. What you seek is just over the horizon. Keep going until you can’t anymore.
Thanks to my friend Myrlin this game is a more pure expression of melancholy than it would ever have otherwise been.