The Lighthouse Ledger

Premise

Gull Point Light was decommissioned in 1921 and its keeper, Obadiah Meech, buried the same winter. But the Lighthouse Service keeps receiving his monthly logs — punctual, correctly postmarked, in his unmistakable crabbed hand — recording arrivals of vessels that appear in no registry. The latest log records the arrival of the SS Berenice, 'with all souls awake,' dated three days from now. The investigators are sent to close the station properly.

Scenes

1. 1

   Closing the Station

   Gull Point Light and keeper's cottage, a tidal islet reached by causeway at low water

   The station is spotless — brass polished, wicks trimmed, oil reservoirs full — though no one has been paid to keep it since 1921. The log desk holds thirty years of neat monthly entries continuing eighteen months past Meech's death without a change in ink or hand. The last page is half-written: the Berenice's arrival, the date three days out, and a line reading 'I have kept the light against this. Whoever reads this, do not let them talk you into lighting it.' The tide chart on the wall has the investigators' arrival date circled — in the same hand.

   Decision point: The causeway floods in an hour. Stay the night in a station that has been expecting them by name, or retreat to the mainland and lose the low-tide window until tomorrow?

   If they go sideways: If the players immediately try to disable the light, the mechanism resists mundane sabotage politely — cut wicks are found trimmed, drained oil reservoirs full by morning — teaching them the rules before the finale rather than blocking them.

   Spot Hidden — Regular success notices the log continues past the keeper's death; Hard success also finds the circled tide chart
2. 2

   The Man Who Rowed Away

   Squall Harbor village — the Meech grave, the customs house, and the parlor of Meech's sister

   The village remembers Meech as a hero who kept the light forty years, and remembers nothing at all about how he came to Squall Harbor — a Hard Library Use in the customs house finds him listed as the Berenice's third mate, landed alone in her jolly boat in 1893, 'much affected.' His sister Hepzibah, eighty and sharp, still irons his shirts every Sunday and sets his place at table. She tells the investigators plainly: 'Obie isn't done. He writes to me too.' She has a shoebox of letters, the newest a week old, all begging her for lamp oil.

   Decision point: Hepzibah will trade the letters for a promise: that the investigators will light the lamp on the recorded night, 'so my brother can finally stop.' The letters are the best evidence they'll get — and the promise is exactly what the log warned against.

   If they go sideways: If the players skip the village entirely, deliver the crucial history through the station itself: the Berenice's jolly boat is in the boathouse under a tarp, her name still legible, with forty-one notches cut into the gunwale.

   Library Use — Hard success in the customs house records connects Meech to the Berenice
3. 3

   What the Log Keeps Out

   The lamp room, second night, fog closing in

   At dusk the fog arrives against the wind, and inside it, lights: masthead lanterns, moving in patterns that spell out chandlery signal-code. A Navigate or Hard Know roll reads the signals — HAVE BEEN AWAKE THIRTY YEARS. REQUEST HARBOR. REQUEST THE MATE. The temperature in the lamp room drops until breath fogs the lens. In the log desk, the current page is writing itself, the pen upright and moving alone: it is recording the investigators' names, one by one, under the heading EXPECTED.

   Decision point: The pen pauses after the last name, hovering over a final column — the same column where Meech's log always recorded 'lit' or 'dark.' Whatever the investigators say aloud in that room, the pen writes. They are being asked, formally and on the record, for their intention.

   If they go sideways: If a player grabs or snaps the pen, the writing continues in frost on the lens glass — and that investigator's name in the ledger acquires a small, neat question mark. They suffer 0/1 Sanity every time they see their breath for the rest of the scenario.

   Sanity roll — 1/1d4+1 loss watching the pen record your own name
4. 4

   The Berenice Makes Port

   The gallery deck and lamp room, the recorded night

   She comes at slack tide, hull barnacled to the waterline, sails set and dead slack in the offshore wind. Forty-one figures stand her deck facing the light. If the lamp is dark, she circles the islet, patient, and Meech's handwriting fills page after page: PLEASE. THEY ONLY WANT TO SLEEP. I KEPT THEM OUT FOR YOU ALL THESE YEARS. LET ME FINISH IT. If the lamp is lit, she alters course for the causeway — and the investigators discover which promise was true, and to whom the crew are 'awake.'

   Decision point: Light the lamp and let the Berenice make port — trusting a dead man's letters to his sister — or hold it dark and condemn the crew (and Meech's restless hand) to circle for another thirty years. The log's warning and Hepzibah's plea cannot both be honest.

   If they go sideways: If the players split the difference — signal lamps, bonfires, rowing out — treat any light shown as a partial invitation: only some of the crew come ashore, and the ones left behind are the ones who scream. This is worse, and the Keeper should let it be worse.

   Sanity roll — 1d4/1d8 loss when the crew's faces resolve in the lens — every one of them is Meech's, aged differently

NPCs

Endings