cryptid apothecary

introduction

this page is based off a session of the solo journaling rpg Cryptid Apothecary by Jei D. Marcade. the rules are free, and all you need is a couple of dice (physical or digital) and a deck of cards. i chose to generalize the cryptids and riff off their physical description alone, without digging too deep into the actual lore.

the rules are written with a deck of playing cards in mind, but i used a tarot deck instead. to make it work, i used the traditional tarot suit equivalences (cups for hearts, coins for diamonds, wands for clubs, swords for spades) and treated the pages as wildcards, for which i chose from the table at random or just made something up. since i had the major arcana set aside anyway, i decided to pull one of them for each patient to see whether their treatment would succeed.

this was a fantastic experience for my first solo rpg. if you enjoy the little world i've built here, i encourage you to try the game yourself.

before too long, a creature emerges from the treeline across the water. they stand still for an eerie length of time before shaking out their enormous batlike wings and skimming over the lake surface to your small pier. they land lightly, with a clunk of cloven hooves on weathered wood, and approach your window in long slow strides. their face is also long, and while startling at first glance, you see that it is both honest and troubled. there's an exhaustion to their posture, so you invite them in.

your patient doesn't have the right kind of mouth to speak in words, but when you hold their dark gaze it feels as though they speak silently into your eyes. it is not pleasant, but you have been an apothecary for a very long time and it doesn't bother you much anymore. you are interrupted occasionally as the patient's shadow roams across the walls, knocking items off shelves and leaving gouges in the logs.

the symptoms:

• patient is troubled by their increasingly corporeal shadow
• patient appears distressed, perhaps even hunted - unusual for a creature of their stature and metaphysicality
• symptoms have progressed over several months; the shadow has gained force and mobility
• most recently, the shadow has developed a pair of darker smudges that are beginning to look like eyes

the diagnosis:

patient suffers from malignant shadow, a manifestation of dark mental energy that feeds on discomfort and lives in the darkness that its host cannot escape - their own shadow. will slowly overtake the host's mind if not neutralized.

the remedy:

place a piece of true fool's gold in a small pouch and cover with powdered lunar eggshell. wear around the neck for one week, avoiding all eye contact until the malignant shadow is worn away by the alchemical energies.

powdered lunar eggshell

you give your patient your remaining supply - despite its rarity you feel that this is a worthwhile use for the last half-bottle in the cabinet. the eggshell fragment landed in the nearby swamp a few years ago, and you'd worked it in a mortal and pestle until it became a sandy powder with the texture and chill of snow. it offers the clarity and protection of moonlight.

true fool's gold

not pyrite, but real gold acquired from a real fool. this chunk came from a man who headed north to mine the glacial crevasses, and was so intent on digging up and spending his fortune that he didn't realize until he returned to civilization that he'd died somewhere along the way. it's very cold to the touch, but the lunar energies and the patient's body heat will clear any residual greed attached to the stone. it offers the grounding and valor of elemental gold.

the outcome:

after your patient leaves, you consult your tarot deck to see how they will fare. you draw the Chariot and are struck with a vision of the great winged goat-beast fleeing west, into the sun, to avoid the gaze of their dark follower. you hope that they will outrun their ailment long enough for the remedy to take effect, but you fear that you will hear no more from this patient.

the sun slants down and you move to the rocking chair on the pier. the fresh air is nice, and if you get bored you can watch the light scrawl its illegible cursive across the ripples in the lake.

your next patient appears in a spray of droplets, emerging gracefully from the water and landing at your feet with a wet plop. he is polite in both manner and stature - a small otterlike body with a more substantial, doglike head adorned with whiskers and fins. he doesn't mind basking on the pier with you while you talk.

the symptoms:

• patient reports auditory issues - specifically, all sounds are transformed into off-key narrative singing
• understandably, this interferes with everyday life
• symptoms began shortly after a breakup, but the patient is unwilling to elaborate

the diagnosis:

the sheer specificity makes it obvious that this is a petty sensory curse, and a sloppy one at that. you discuss with the patient and learn that his folk are ill-equipped to set up the rituals required for curses. in a way, this makes sense. the curse has a rough, templated quality that makes you think of the freelancing warlocks-for-hire that plague the port towns. it's an impressive length to go to for a regular breakup, but you are here to treat, not judge.

the remedy:

a curse this messy is easier to blow out than to reverse. set up a focus ritual at a crossroads on a moonless night and meditate on the following items: a chunk of polished orihalcon, a faceted siren scale, powdered black orchid, and a square of candy made from bioluminescent honey. these components will overwhelm the other senses until the auditory curse is drowned out altogether. the experience will be intense but (hopefully) not terribly unpleasant.

polished orihalcon

this has been on your shelf for too long anyway. it must be a broken-off chunk of some ancient stonemasonry - one face is silky smooth and the rest is jagged and fissured. it's not sharp enough to cut but it's sharp enough to make you check for blood when you handle it. it will be the tactile focus of the ritual.

faceted siren scale

your handful of rainbow siren scales came to you in trade from a long-ago patient, and over a cold winter you'd faceted and polished a few of them. this is the largest one, and it catches even the dimmest light like it's on fire. it will be the visual focus of the ritual.

powdered black orchid

a common ingredient, gathered by the armful and dried through the autumn. it only takes you a minute to grind a few rustling flower heads into a fine dust, releasing as much of the aroma as possible - it smells like vanilla and jasmine and nighttime. it will be the olfactory focus of the ritual.

bioluminescent honey

the glowing bees of the deep forest make this thick blue honey, which is most commonly cooked down into a dense caramel-like consistency. it has dark fruity notes like black cherry and it makes you exhale little sparkles of blue light as you chew. you enjoy it (perhaps irresponsibly) as an occasional treat, and you have to gird up your professionalism to not regret giving away a piece from your stash. it will be the gustatory focus of the ritual.

the outcome:

your patient packs his items into a waterproof bundle and disappears into the darkening murk. you return to your deck and draw the High Priestess. it seems inevitable that the patient's jilted lover (if that is the case...) will find out about your remedy before long, and that his chance of success depends on how quickly he can get the ritual done. you wish him luck, but you wonder...

it is dusk before your next patient arrives. they appear suddenly before you, but you are not startled, because your eyes seem to bounce off their form anyway. you catch glimpses - a snout, a leathery jaw, a talon, a shadow - but they jumble in your mind before you can put them together. it's not often you get to treat one of the dreamfolk, but you always enjoy their company.

you speak through closed eyes and images pushed and pulled like clay in your mind, your hand seeming to move on its own as you take notes. some of what you write is confusing, half-formed thoughts layered over each other, but you know better than to try and force it into shape.

the symptoms:

• patient moves in strange directions, feels the world gliding past as they stay still
• they repeatedly reference eldritch orthogonals? - must look this up
• patient holds a stone/a dark orb/an anchor to help tether them, but they still feel adrift
• symptoms have remained steady for several days/eons/moons

the diagnosis:

inner insomnia - not uncommon among dreamfolk when the veil is turbulent and thin. it's an imbalance to the psychocircadian rhythms that blurs the realself and the dreamself, leading to issues in the physical world. in this patient's case, it manifests as dreamlike misalignments of gravity and the feeling of falling forever.

the remedy:

in a big bowl of rainwater, dilute tincture of pomegranate seed, a bucketful of dream sand, and a dusting of tea of forgetfulness. soak finely julienned bezoar in the liquid overnight, then consume under an eclipse. (the eclipse need not be in the physical world.)

tincture of pomegranate seed

dream sand

tea of forgetfulness

julienned bezoar

the outcome:

final thoughts:

i really enjoyed playing this game and putting this page together afterward. i've been hunting for a way to get writing reps in and solo rpgs seem perfect. the original play session was an easy 1500 words over the course of an hour or two, and then that kind of spiraled into this over the next few days. the pixel art just kind of happened along the way? another fun thing to get reps in, i suppose, and i think you can see a little bit of progression from the first little doodles to the last.

best of all, i got to spend a bunch of time playing on my puter without interacting with the internet, which makes me feel very healthy and normal, lol. 10/10, will play more journaling rpgs.