Anamnesis
The Shadow: The Star
Act 1
I wake up in a motel room, seemingly within a small town. I cannot remember who I was or why I am here. All I know for certain is that I am not in my home.
8 of Disks & The Empress
My fingers close around a small memento in my pocket —a locket, cool and familiar against my skin. The metal is worn, engraved with a sun and moon entwined. I ease it open, and inside, a faded photograph of a woman greets me.
Her smile is warm, framed by rosy cheeks, her beauty timeless. But I don’t know who she is. She wasn’t my mother, yet there’s something unmistakably familiar about her —like family, but not by blood. Our features share no resemblance, and still, an ache stirs deep within me.
Who is she?
The longer I gaze at the photo, the stronger the emotions swell —love, sorrow, longing. A missing piece of me, just out of reach.
10 of Disks & The Hermit
When I focus, I can grasp the edges of a hazy memory, lingering just before I lost consciousness. A man in a doctor's gown—stained with blood and vomit —stood before me, his head lowered. His voice was steady, almost distant, as he declared the woman’s death.
I couldn’t believe what I had just heard. The words refused to settle, dissolving the moment they touched my mind.
I remember following him as he turned away, moving toward another patient. His pace was slow, yet it felt impossibly fast —always just out of reach. No matter how desperately I tried to catch up, he remained ahead, slipping further from my grasp.
9 of Disks & The Moon
An intense craving for darkness washes over me. The light is too harsh, too intrusive —it feels wrong.
I pull the curtains shut, and at once, the world feels softer, safer. Shadows settle around me like a familiar embrace, quiet and undisturbed.
In the dark, I finally close my eyes. Sleep takes me.
Act 2
I wake up in the evening. The sun is down and the air seems less hostile. After getting my bearings, I walk around town. I know this town. I know it well, but I cannot remember how I know it.
King of Swords & The Tower
I see a child swinging between her parent's arms, laughter bubbling in the air.
Then, suddenly, a vision strikes —sharp and unrelenting.
I was coming home from work, my steps light, my mind elsewhere. But as I turned the corner, I saw it. Flames devouring our building. Smoke curling into the sky. Firetrucks, firefighters, neighbors gathered in tense silence —some watching with morbid curiosity, others frozen in helpless worry.
And then —Mum. She was at the window, my baby brother in her arms. She was trying to save him, trying to throw him to safety. But before she could—
The ceiling gave way. And just like that, they were gone.
10 of Swords & The Chariot
I find myself wandering through a graveyard, my steps slow, aimless. The air is heavy with silence.
Then I see it —the grave. Mum’s name, little Weenie’s name. And resting beside the stone, a tiny toy car. It looks new, recent.
A memory surfaces. I had been here before, with the woman in the locket. We were on our way when we stopped at a petrol station. She bought a Kinder Joy, and inside, we found a small toy car. Later, at my brother’s grave, she placed it gently on the earth. He would quite like it in heaven, she had said with a soft smile.
She was kind. Thoughtful. Warmer than I ever was.
Queen of Swords & The Lust
I stop in front of a building, a strange familiarity settling over me. Then it hits me —I used to work here.
A theatre.
I danced. I danced with burning passion, pouring every ounce of myself into each movement, down to the very tips of my fingers. The fire that didn’t consume me lived inside me instead. Every explosive motion was a cry, every leap an outburst of anger —a scream I could never voice when I had to bury my family.
The woman in the locket... she had helped me unlock those feelings, taught me how to pour them into movement, to transform pain into something breathtaking.
I scan the posters plastered across the theatre walls —Starring Dancers. Among the dozen faces, I find us. Me and her. Our profile photos beam with wide, inviting smiles, full of enthusiasm, just as they were meant to. I remember awkwardly grinning and the woman kept on encouraging me to be not tensed and look natural.
Act 3
I manage to find my home. The façade is unfamiliar. I fish the key out of my pocket and open the door.
2 of Cups & The Priestess
There are signs that someone else once stayed here. Two mugs sit side by side —one adorned with a moon, the other with a sun.
A memory stirs. That was my name. Luna. Though most people called me by my nickname —Looney. I never minded. In fact, I liked it. It suited me.
And it fit so perfectly with…
Sunny. That’s it. The woman in the locket —her name was Sunny.
I remember the quiet delight I felt when I first realized it, as if the universe had conspired to bring us together. The sun and the moon. A destined pair. A meant to be.
King of Cups & The Lovers
A familiar spot in my home pulls a memory to the surface. The couch.
Sunny and I used to lounge there for hours, half-buried in blankets, watching romantic comedies. I endured them only because she loved them, rolling my eyes at the predictable plots while she laughed at all the right moments. We ate pizza, stealing bites from each other’s slices, making a mess without a care.
After every meal, she would sigh dramatically, worrying about gaining weight. You wouldn’t understand, she’d grumble, you’re always skinny as a twig.
I’d just laugh, pulling her into a hug. You’re brilliant just as you are.
I meant it. I loved everything about her. Even the way she pursed her lips in mock annoyance, even her endless complaints.
3 of Cups & The Moon
I peer into the waste bin. Among the crumpled scraps of paper and empty wrappers, something catches my eye —discarded packages of weight loss pills.
And just like that, the memory comes rushing back.
Sunny. My brilliant, radiant Sunny. She had been taking them. It started small —half a dose, then a full pill, then two, then three. Slowly, obsession took hold. She became fixated on her body, on shrinking herself into something she was never meant to be.
I remember the day I came home to find the toilet bowl filled with vomit. I flushed it down, trying to erase the evidence, only to turn and find her standing there —pale, wide-eyed, caught between surprise and shame.
"Are you okay?" I asked.
"Don’t worry about it," she murmured.
And I nodded. Pretended I hadn’t seen anything. Pretended everything was fine.
Until the day I came home to find her collapsed on the bathroom floor. Vomit and blood everywhere.
I called 911 with shaking hands. Rode in the ambulance, gripping hers tightly, silently pleading. Not again. Please, not again.
After she was gone, I couldn’t bring myself to return home. I drifted between motel rooms for days, untethered, unwilling to face the emptiness she left behind.
Act 4: Wands
King of Wands & The Priestess
A memory surfaces—one I would rather forget.
That night, we had salad. I had chosen the meal, hoping that if it was light, if it was healthy, she wouldn’t feel the need to purge.
Thirty minutes later, while we were watching Saturday Night Live, she stood up suddenly, pressing a hand to her stomach. I don’t feel well, she said before disappearing into the bathroom.
I remember the way my ears strained, how I tuned out the laughter on the screen, listening instead for the faint sounds coming from behind the door. The muffled, unmistakable retching.
She returned minutes later, her smile easy, effortless —like nothing had happened. And so, we went back to watching the show, pretending everything was fine.
I had no idea what to say. No idea what to do. I had been ignoring the dark side of my warm, bright, shining Sun.
10 of Wands & The Adjustment
I find myself crying.
Because I was unfair.
She had been there for me through my darkest moments. She helped me cope, helped me move forward, helped me turn my pain into something passionate, something alive. She saw my scars and showed me how to sublimate them into art.
But I wasn’t there for hers.
I regret it —every hesitation, every moment I looked away. I regret not intervening, not speaking up, choosing to be blind her when she needed to be seen. I regret the cowardice that kept me silent, the way I chose ignorance over confrontation.
She saved me. And I let her slip away.
4 of Wands & The Death
I lie on the bed, letting the soft hum of Sleepyheads by Passion Pit fill the room. The melody wraps around me, familiar yet distant, like an echo from another life.
A memory surfaces—
I remember the first time she really approached me. We barely knew each other then, exchanging nothing more than occasional hellos. But one day, out of nowhere, she sent me a text:
'Hi, totally random, but I just came across this song and it made me think of you xD. Btw, wanna grab a coffee after practice tmr?'
That simple, impulsive message set everything into motion. A small spark that spiraled into something special. Something I lost.
I let the song play on repeat, the notes blurring as sleep takes me.
Act 5
Days pass in a blur. I barely leave my bed—waking up to find no one beside me, drifting back into sleep, waking up alone again.
But then, I hear her. Sunny's voice, clear as if she were right next to me.
Your past may shape your experiences, your thoughts, your desires—but it does not define you. You are in control of your own path. The road ahead may be built from the stones you've gathered, but these fragments of your past do not dictate where it leads. It is time to move forward.
The Present: The Sun
I push back the blankets and stand. My body feels stiff, unfamiliar. I stretch, take a shower, drink a glass of milk. I step outside.
The morning light greets me —not harsh, not blinding. Gentle.
I walk to the theatre and swing open the door. The first face I see is my old co-worker. Surprise flickers across her features, quickly replaced by a smile.
"Welcome back, Looney."
Without thinking, I pull her into a hug. It’s something I never used to do —never with anyone but Sunny.
She stiffens, startled, but then her arms wrap around me. A firm pat on my back.
"It’s okay. I’m glad you’re back. C’mon, let’s go upstairs. Anna will be happy to see you."
A month later, I’m back on stage. The lights are warm against my skin, the wooden floor familiar beneath my bare feet. The air hums with anticipation, with the quiet energy of an audience waiting just beyond the curtain.
I close my eyes.
I used to dance with fire —anger, grief, loss burning through every movement. But tonight, I dance with something else. Not to escape the past, but to honour it. To honour her.
The music swells, and I move. My body remembers what my heart has tried to forget. Every step, every turn, every breath is filled with something deeper than sorrow. It’s love. It’s longing. It’s the quiet understanding that Sunny will always be a part of me, not as a shadow I run from, but as a light I carry forward.
And as I spin, reaching toward the sky, I swear —just for a moment— I feel the warmth of the sun.
Review
Anamnesis by Blinking Birch Game was the first solo TTRPG I added to my library when I first got into this genre. I kept putting it off, thinking I needed to be in the right headspace to play something so critically acclaimed. But today, I finally did it—hungover, my esophagus burning from throwing up multiple times.
Like every solo RPG I play, it started with a blank slate and slowly shaped itself into a reflection of my psyche. It’s no secret to me that I struggle with an eating disorder —a dark side I hide behind. I remember a painful conversation with my mom when she found a cup of vomit I had regurgitated. She told me she ignored it at the time because she was too afraid to face the reality that her daughter —well into her late 20s— was still battling this. I remember her crying, saying she didn’t know what to do. And I remember telling her not to worry, that I was getting better and that I am not purging anymore.
At least, that’s what I told her.
The truth is, I’m still struggling. My number one resolution this year is to put an absolute end to it. Sunny is me. And Looney is everyone who waits in silence, hoping for my recovery.