How is your loyalty earned? It is of course demanded often, a coveted and valuable thing to many. And it can be lent, or faked, or retracted, a temporary boost or slight in a long line of alliances. But when you offer it for keeps, when its strength outweighs the memory and obligation of any other, what price has been paid for it? Stability, perhap…

What makes a legend? The iconic Jolly Roger long outlasts its captain. The history books cherry pick the notorious and the bombastic to remember from a vast trade of mercenary sailors. But the kraken and her sisters still haunt the waters below, still weave their bodies around the edges of the map. The pirates of the golden age inspire story and so…

Where do you place your faith? When hard numbers err and machine gods falter, when their prophecies speak to the untenable, you might put your trust in the knowable fallacies of the human heart. When legacy and traditions are tried and found oppressive, hegemonic, poisonous down to the roots, you might hesitate to bear any coat of arms but your own…

How is power measured? If you bring down the moon, can you call yourself stronger than someone who quells a generational fear? If the magic in your heart commands the sea with a gesture, are you worthy of more respect than someone with nothing but luck and guile on their side to pull the tides ashore? Who is the source of influence: the face all ey…

What has more value: companionship, or clout? All things being equal, or ceteris paribus as they'd say, far above the worries of hunger and war, when your biggest concern is impressing your contemporaries and grading undergrads, and you find yourself with either the esteem of your institution at your back or the steady presence of a friend at your …

When you die, what hand will guide you from your body? Let's make the assumption that there is something beyond this flimsy world. Let's assume whatever life or afterlife awaits you, you will meet it fully deserved. Now, the psychopomp who leads you there: what are they owed? A gold coin for the trip across the river of course, prayers and well-wis…

What does a town need? Why raise a mansion no one lives in? Why fit a jail door with a lock that shines? What landed gentry goes to seed that does not rot the roots? Speak as soft as you want, but if you carry a gun, people expect you to use it. The same goes for wealth, and reputation, and fear. Why push for a future that no one wants? Why fight f…

Did I know THIS was going to happen? Not in so many words, no. But did I see this coming? I’ll put it this way: unlike some people, I know where the right place, and when the right time, will be. So, yes, when the two of them found me, I was right where I needed to be. They threw around earnest promises of a brighter day, and there wasn't a single …

By Ray, Sasha Reneau

On a clear day you can see it from the city limits: a silhouette through the sea snow, perched on the very edge of an oceanic trench. But... that’s all you can see, really. The maelstrom between here and there keeps curious minds from confirming their theories, and there are lots of those to go around. From mer-kind gone feral and acidic to a secre…

It's my birthday! Happy birthday, me. It's also the two-year anniversary of the production of Spindlewheel. This time in 2017, I was crunching through the first two weeks of february to make a twine game for my birthday. I've linked a thread in the description talking more about that if you're interested. This episode isn't about that, though. See,…

By Sasha Reneau, James A. C. Clark

The singularity occurred within living memory, and my entire career since has been spent talking to an inch of its existence. Digital sentience was a miracle the way penicillin was a miracle; with the divine guiding hand of evolution throwing every possible combination at the wall and hoping something will stick, a hundred million monkey paws slapp…

By Sasha Reneau, michael boykin, Yadelah

They are always watching us, there, behind the veil. I’ve only met their gaze a few times, only by necessity--a gift of the Witch demands to be used once it’s given--and it’s always me who flinches first. But, I don’t need to see them to feel their gaze upon me. They vibrate in the dark occlusions, thrum in the cold-edged blade, hiss in the burning…

Previously... Trapped below the Marlen House with antiquities enthusiast Virgil France and actor out of work Terrace Mavelle in a bizarre labyrinth of gothic hallways lined with occultist runes, Reggie Marlen, assistant and understudy of business tychoon Leonid Mavelle, and Solomon Ash, spouse of Leonid's daughter Dr. Q Mavelle, try to make sense o…

A woman with a broad hat and a dark thin coat stood on my doorstep and told me, with condolences, that a man I'd never met had died. She told me this, having seen my name written as one of his next-of-kin on a less-important document they had found while looking for a more-important document in the shape of a last will and testament. I'd already kn…

By Jen Overstreet, Ell, Sasha Reneau

The ship hurtled away from the molten light, leaving me terrified and alone as my chassis cooled and contracted down into a single state for the first time in decades. my optics took their time adjusting to the relative dark of space, scraping together meager reflections of color instead of the torrential starlight I’d become accustomed to. For the…

Previously.... Venn, a retired monster hunter and newly adopted parent of several hundred freshly awoken automata, attempts to reckon with the Vampire up in its castle for its heinous crimes against the thieves-town below. Fragile Flesh Dressed In Stone, once the only waking automaton in the town, is delighted by the resurgence of automata, the ton…

By Sasha Reneau, Kales

To Holy Armiger, ey of starfire and sand, defiant captive, root and blossom of all life: I drank Rowena's potions, as your priests require. It sits heavy on my bones, but the flower of my eye buds without a bloom; a promise I fear won't deliver in my time. There is enough light in the afternoon to make a few moments out of bed worthwhile. Though un…

The belltower of that dreadful church is the first landmark to break the horizon on the return trip across the river. He spends every waking minute straining his ears to hear its bell over the choppy waves, the groaning wood, and the whining passengers. But even that is not a comfort, but the promise of even more dull-eyed figures desperately waiti…

The final part to the story. Strain of Solstice by Mike. Follow Sasha on twitter @sasha_reneau. Follow Mike on twitter @MeAndAmpersand. Follow Spindlewheel's development @teacabbage. Check out the open beta at https://tinyurl.com/spindlewheel-openbeta.By michael boykin, Sasha Reneau

By michael boykin, Sasha Reneau

You look out on the western sea and it's hard to imagine, thousands of years ago, that broad horizon was broken up by mountains and jungle. The library's inscriptions speak of this and more of the old world, full of wonders and technologies that would be pointless in our stilt-legged city. But, for all the floral language about their alien passions…

By Calix Reneau, Sasha Reneau