Record of Reclusion

Un-Navigatable

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Day 1

Ace of Spades. Through endless scrolling into the depths of Xenga, you have finally found it. Write your first ever blog post on your new Xenga blog. Do not discard this card. If you have drawn the Ace of Hearts, you may remove a token on a 5 or a 6.

user: whalestarr

date: 20100403

[first entry]

i don’t know why i made this. i don’t even know if i want anyone to read it. this is where i pour out everything that’s damp in my brain.

i don’t think i belong anywhere. not in school, not at home. people talk and smile and pretend like everything matters, but everything feels surreal and effervescent. time feels like sand slipping through my hands.

writing is the only thing that makes sense. the only way to get the thoughts out so i’m putting them here. maybe it’ll mean something someday. maybe it won’t. maybe i'll reread this as an adult, chuckling. that means i'd have made it.

this is my notebook. my confession. welcome to the void.

Steph scrolls through her old posts, amused and a little embarrassed.

Why was I so melodramatic? she wonders. She tries to remember what made her feel so disconnected, so distant from everything. But she genuinely can’t. Whatever it was, it doesn’t matter now.

Still, there’s something oddly comforting about reading these words as an adult. She chuckles at her younger self —so intense, so certain that nothing would ever change.

If she could, she’d go back and tell her, Yes, I’ve made it. And whatever you're going through —it’ll pass.

3 of Spades. Write a post about a friend you no longer keep in contact with.

9 of Clover. The internet is full of cruelty, but often in bizarre ways. What was the wildest insult that made little to no sense that you received?

user: whalestarr

date: 20100915

[lost frequencies]

i had a best friend once. we used to send postcards, emails, little gifts—proof that distance didn’t matter. we swore we’d be best friends forever.

but forever is a long time. slowly, the messages faded. “we should catch up soon” turned into nothing. And then last summer, i saw her again. it was… strange. we smiled, we talked, but something was missing. the words didn’t flow the same way. i kept searching for the girl I used to know, but she wasn’t there. or maybe i wasn’t.

i don’t know if i miss her, or just the way things used to be. people change. that’s normal. but i wish some things didn’t.

i wonder—years from now, if we see each other again, will we try? or just nod politely and move on?

i guess i already know the answer.

Steph thinks about that friend. The last time they talked was two years ago. No dramatic reunion, no rekindled bond —just a Happy New Year over text. A nod, but not even in person. And that was it.

She scrolls past an old comment, the one that once made her heart jump. She remembers the brief flicker of excitement, thinking —maybe they get it. Then came the disappointment, the realization that it was just another throwaway remark, something careless. She shakes her head, amused now at how much it had stung back then.

Fucking wanker.

Day 2

10 of Spades. Describe then write the accompanying post for a piece of artwork that you posted on the blog. Include the reasons for your artistic choices.

user: whalestarr

date: 20100708

[space between us]

Image Cheetsheet example

two people, so close, but never touching.

i wish i could be different. i wish i could be enough. but i know better.

he smiles, he laughs, he moves through the world untouched. and i stay here, on the other side of the veil, watching, waiting, knowing i’ll never be the one he reaches for.

maybe some people are just meant to be shadows in other people’s lives.

Steph remembers Tony. Seven years of quiet longing, of glances that meant everything to her and nothing to him.

Does she still think about him? Not really. But sometimes, she wonders —will she ever feel that way again? That all-consuming certainty that someone mattered more than anything else? Probably not. She feels bittersweet.

She scrolls further and winces. Not at the feelings, but at the picture young Steph had chosen —the moody lighting, the calculated angle, the unmistakable I-am -mysterious-and-deep energy. She can almost smell the effort.

Atta girl. That was young Steph.

8 of Diamonds. Reading the posts has made them emotional for their youth. Are they nostalgic or are they happy it’s over?

Steph reads her old entries, the words pulling her back —dim hallways, silent lunches, the quiet weight of being alone. She remembers skipping meals, not out of hunger, but because sitting by herself felt worse. She remembers going out with a senior just to have someone to eat with. She remembers prom night, not under flashing lights, but in a dark room watching Splice.

She remembers being lonely.

Now, years later, she lives alone in a studio, eating dinner in the quiet dark. She still doesn’t have many friends, just a few. She doesn’t seek out conversation. She spends most of her time in her own company.

But she isn’t lonely. Not anymore. Or maybe she’s just used to it. Either way, it doesn’t hurt like it used to.

And that, she decides, is enough.

6 of Diamonds. What are they missing out on to spend time saving the blog posts? Pull 1 block from the tower

Steph barely blinks as she pastes another entry into the archive, fingers moving on autopilot. The weight of time presses against her—this digital graveyard of her teenage self, vanishing second by second. Gotta move faster.

Her phone buzzes.

She hesitates. Becky. Drunk. This could go anywhere.

"Hey! What are you doing right now?"

Steph exhales, shifting the phone to her shoulder. "Just… doing this stuff… what’s up?"

"Oh, me and Erik are out drinking, and Erik’s friend Jake tagged along. Jake seems to be interested in you —ah, wait, no no I’m not gonna tell her—"

Distant shouting, laughter, shuffling. Steph closes her eyes.

"Anyways, wanna join us?"

"I… uh…"

And then the handoff. A sigh.

"Hi, umm, Steph? Sorry about that. You know Becky can be a bit dramatic. But yeah, it’d be nice if you could join us."

Jake is fine. Jake is cool. But why now? Time is running out. The website won’t wait.

"Jake, I’m sorry, I’m up to something urgent right now. I’ll tell you what it is over a coffee next week. Is that okay?"

A pause.

"Sure… Good luck with that. See you then."

A flicker of disappointment in his voice. But Steph doesn’t dwell on it. She sets the phone aside, her fingers already moving again.

Project Salvation continues.

Jack of Diamonds. The Blogger is still friends with someone they met on Xenga. They are also trying to save all of their blog posts. Are they having just as much trouble as The Blogger?

Steph sighs, tossing her phone onto the desk.

She knows she shouldn’t be annoyed. It’s just Vanessa. Vanishedintothinair, her old Xenga friend. One of the few who actually got her back then.

Still, the interruption stings. Time is running out. The archive isn’t finished. She can’t stop now.

But curiosity wins. She glances at the screen.

Vanessa: I can't believe Xenga is going down. I'm cringing the F out looking back at old posts. I am facing the dark side of the moon rn. Wbu?

3 of Hearts. The website refused to load today. When this card is drawn, write what The Blogger did instead of saving posts and shuffle the remaining cards back into the deck.

Steph sighs, shutting her laptop. I guess everyone is crazy backing up their old memories. Might as well go drink with them.

She meets Becky, Erik, and a surprised Jake. The bar hums with the low murmur of conversations, the clink of glasses, the comfortable weight of people existing around her.

"You guys remember Xenga?" Jake asks, swirling his drink. "They say it’s closing soon."

Steph perks up. Maybe this night won’t be a waste after all.

"You wrote on Xenga?" she asks, tilting her head.

Jake smirks. "I did. Not the emo poetry type, though. More like… brooding philosophy. Thought I was deep."

"Oh god, you totally were," Erik teases. "Bet you had some Nietzsche quotes in there."

"Maybe," Jake says, grinning.

"Definitely," Becky confirms, laughing.

Steph takes a sip of her drink, feeling something unexpected —ease.

"Too bad it’s all disappearing," Jake continues. "Would’ve been fun to revisit my high school self. You know, stare into the abyss and all that."

"The abyss stares back," Steph mutters instinctively.

Jake meets her gaze, his grin widening. "Exactly."

Steph leans back, exhaling. Maybe she wasn’t the only one preserving ghosts tonight.

Maybe, for once, she wasn’t the only one who cared. This night might just be better than she thought.

Day 3

10 of Hearts. The resolution for the website is too small and they need to spend time zooming in each time they refresh the page.

Steph uses a macro to zoom the pages.

7 of Spades. Write a post about a time someone betrayed you. Does it still hurt, or do you realize you were being petty?

user: whalestarr

date: 20100926

[ghost in the room]

they say starting over is supposed to be a fresh start. a chance to be someone new. but what if no one notices you’re even there?

i thought i was making friends. for a moment, it felt like maybe things would be different this time. but then she showed up. the person who was supposed to help me. instead, she made sure there was no space for me at all.

i watched it happen in real-time. conversations i used to be part of, shifting away from me. the way people looked past me, like i was an empty chair in the corner of the room.

i don’t know what i did wrong. or maybe i didn’t do anything at all. maybe i was just… easy to erase.

Steph remembers high school —three years of walking through crowded halls, unseen. A ghost drifting between classes, unnoticed, unremarkable. She wonders if any of her classmates even remember she was there.

But she already knows the answer. With a quiet sigh, she clicks to the next post.

The guestbook feature won’t load. Steph shrugs. She doesn’t remember much about it anyway—just a blur of anonymous messages, meaningless chatter, and the occasional inside joke. Whatever was once there is gone now, and she doesn’t care enough to dig deeper.

She already has the contacts that matter. The real friends, the ones who existed beyond Xenga, beyond the guestbook filled with empty words. She talks to them outside of this, in places that actually mean something.

Funny. She remembers wanting to remove the guestbook back then. Maybe she could have.

Ace of Hearts. The Blogger has finally found it. After scrounging through old diaries, journals, and half-filled notebooks, they have the old password to their Xenga blog. They now have access to the individual entries for ease of downloading. At the end of each day, roll 1d6. On a 6, remove one of the tokens. Do not discard this card.####

4 of Clubs. One time someone from your school found your Xenga, and you were bullied for it. Pull 1 from the tower.

user: whalestarr

date: 201011028

[exposed]

they found me. i don’t know how, but they did -or maybe you who's reading- did. my words, my thoughts, all the things i never said out loud— now it’s a joke. a punchline.

"emo." "weird." i’m a caricature they’ve decided i am. like i'm sad for attention. like i’m trying to fit into some label i never asked for. as if loneliness is a trend. i wish.

i thought about deleting everything. just erasing it all, disappearing. but then what?

no.

they (or you) can laugh. they (or you) can roll eyes. they (or you) can call me whatever they (or you) want. my words are for them (or you). they never were.

Steph remembers the incident. Kids were cruel back then. But they were kids—easily distracted, quick to move on. Her blog was just another passing joke, forgotten as fast as it was found.

Still, at the time, it felt like forever. She exhales, closing her laptop. Enough for today. She gets up and pours herself a glass of wine.

Day 4

10 of Diamonds. They find a post that makes them laugh out loud. Was the writing genuinely funny or were they laughing at themselves?.

7 of Clubs. You had one person who would always comment on your posts. When did they first appear? Did they know you in real life?

user: whalestarr

date: 20110103

[crying soul]

Cheetsheet Image Example

Steph lets out a short laugh. She remembers this drawing—the one she used as a signature on every piece of art she made. Her face heats with embarrassment. Good god, Steph, you really went all in with this, didn’t you?

Shaking her head, she scrolls down and spots a comment from Vanessa. She smiles. Vanessa was one of her first commenters, a few years older, a fellow loner. When Vanessa left for college, she became a quiet beacon of hope, assuring Steph that everything shall pass, and it’s going to be okay.

And she was right. Years later, when Steph finally entered university, they met in real life. They weren’t lonely teenagers anymore. They were adults. And adults could drink. So they did —talking, reminiscing, laughing about their high school years until the night blurred at the edges.

Day 5

2 of Hearts. They spent the entire day copying and pasting from the blog to Word. Do they try to save the formatting, with all the colors and poor font choices?####

6 of Hearts. The emojis they used in the posts don’t transfer over to Word. Do they manually re-insert them, or do they forgo it completely? Pull 1 block from the tower.

Vanessa complains about how much time she’s spending preserving the original formatting—all the clashing colors, poor font choices, the full early 2000s authenticity.

Steph smirks. Thank god I kept mine simple. She remembers obsessing over consistency, carefully unifying her posts whenever something looked off. No glitter text, no flashing banners, just clean, uniform entries.

The comment section, though—that was a different story. Back then, she used emojis constantly when replying to people. Not because she loved them, but to be nice. To soften her words, to make sure nothing sounded too blunt.

Now, she just skips them. They aren’t the important part.

8 of Clubs. Who’s blog did you check every day? Can you still find this blog?

Out of curiosity, Steph types in the URL. CuriousCreature’s blog. It’s still online.

She scrolls through the posts, a wave of nostalgia washing over her. Crazy, unhinged Gorillaz fanfics. Wild sex scenes. The kind of writing that only exists when pure obsession meets absolute horn.

Then she remembers. Oh god. The Murdoc x 2D fanfics. Her face heats instantly.

Ace of Clubs. Xenga is crowdsourcing to keep the lights on! If they can raise $60k by mid-July for Xenga2.0 it might stay open! Do not discard this card! The next time the player is asked to pull from the tower, pull one less block than asked. This includes amounts obtained from dice rolls.

Day 6

8 of Hearts. There is something wrong with the formatting of an entire post. They can only see about half of the words. Do they try to fill in the blanks or do they leave it as is? Pull 1 block from the tower.

Steph has no time on this. She leaves the blanks as is.

10 of Clubs. You used to write about someone you had a crush on. Who was it and did they ever see your posts?

user: whalestarr

date: 20110317

[too late]

it’s his birthday today. and today, of all days, i found something i should have seen a long time ago. a message, buried in old texts, from before he left.

"Thanks for the umbrella. Stay in touch, okay?"

i never replied. not because i didn’t want to —because i never saw it. because somehow, it got lost, forgotten in the endless scroll of time. and now, it’s just another ghost of something that could have been.

would things have been different if i had answered? probably not. but i’ll never know. and that’s the part that lingers.

happy birthday, i guess.

Another Tony post.

Steph pauses, fingers hovering over the keyboard. Did he ever see this?

Probably not. Tony never seemed like the type to be on Xenga. Too focused on studying, on competitions, on his relentless pursuit of becoming a doctor. Always running from one achievement to the next, occasionally pausing just long enough to ask for help before moving on.

She wonders what he’s up to these days. Probably exactly what he set out to do.

4 of Spades. Write a post about a hobby you no longer do.

user: whalestarr

date: 20110317

[thread by thread]

knitting feels like the only thing keeping me together some days. there’s something about the way each stitch falls into place, the soft pull of the yarn, the quiet click of the needles. it’s steady. predictable. unlike everything else. unlike people.

i sit, and i knit, and the world slows down. my hands move, stitch by stitch, and for a little while, nothing hurts. nothing is messy or uncertain. just rows of thread, lining up exactly the way they’re supposed to. if i make a mistake, i can undo it, rewind, fix what went wrong. i wish i could do the same with everything else.

Steph doesn’t knit anymore. She just couldn’t justify the time —not when buying something was faster, easier. She still understands the value of a handmade piece, the care woven into each stitch, but for her, the habit faded.

She wonders where all those old granny squares ended up. A drawer? A donation box? Maybe lost somewhere, unraveling thread by thread.

Funny. Back then, it felt like she’d never stop.

Day 7

Xenga is finally gone.

Steph exhales, feeling like the past week was a fast-forwarded replay of her teenage years. Most of her old online friends had cringed at their past selves, drowning in secondhand embarrassment. She wished she could feel the same—but she didn’t.

Instead, there was only melancholy.

She was never the flashy, glitzy, emoji-covered type. Just a quiet shadow, waiting, always waiting, convinced that life would begin once she graduated. Maybe the others coped with that same dread by throwing thousands of emojis into the void.

She types a reply to Vanessa:

"Sorry for the late reply, I was just as busy as you, copy-pasting my old posts. I had two or three more pages to go before it shut down. Did you manage to back up all of yours?"

Before she can put her phone down, another message pops up.

Jake.

"Hey, are you going to tell me what was so urgent last week? Is that coffee thing still viable?"

Steph smiles.

Yes, things are better now. Maybe not perfect, but better. And she wouldn’t have realized it if she hadn’t looked back.

She starts typing.

Review

I played Un-Navigatable by K-Ramstack—my first time trying a game that uses the Wretched & Alone engine. I even made a trip to Daiso to grab a mini Jenga set just for this.

Going in, I expected it to be a total cringe fest, as the itch page seemed to suggest. But instead, it just ended up being… me. I never kept a blog as a teenager, but if I had, I’m sure it would have read exactly like my playthrough tonight. I just couldn’t bring myself to play anyone other than myself, so the whole thing felt surprisingly mundane.

Still, I’m satisfied —I got to revisit my high school self. Like Steph, the blogger I played in the game, I don’t entirely understand why I was so depressed and melancholic back then. Probably puberty. Probably the uncertainty of the future. Most likely the eating disorder that still haunts me time to time. I think I loosened up a lot once I got into university. It felt okay-er to not be constantly surrounded by people.