One day, while doomscrolling on Facebook, a rare thing happened. A sponsored post caught my eye and stopped my thumb mid scroll. The post was advertising Pandion Games’ 2-player, letter-writing, horror TTRPG called Tether. In that moment, I had no idea what TTRPG meant (tabletop role playing game), but “2-player” got my attention. My partner and I are always looking for new ways to connect, so I clicked the ad. My interest grew to excitement as I read more about the game, and I was thrilled when my partner shared my enthusiasm for the idea. We purchased Tether, and two of Pandion’s solo journaling games, and we are in love with Tether. The experience of building a world and writing a story together has been an unexpected delight.

How Does Tether Work?

Written by Adam Baffoni, even the first paragraph of Tether pulls you in. The opening sentences—“Nothing ever happens in this forgotten town. Every day is as predictable as the last, dragging into eternity.”—set the scene, and the text that follows explains that on one of those predictable days, you stumble upon a strange and ancient-looking journal. You find yourself drawn to the journal, opening it to find a lone page of mysterious text. It is unclear who the author is, but they tell you of a terror that reveals itself to the people of your town once every generation before retreating back into the darkness to hide. To give you a fighting chance against this terror, this unknown author used their last moments of life to create this magical journal, giving you the ability to communicate across time with another citizen of your town.

This story setup is followed by game-play instructions, including what materials you need to play (a deck of playing cards, and either a physical journal or a digital document to write in). In addition to directions on how to build your town and create your characters, the game instructs you on how to build “The Deck of Providence” from the playing cards, and this deck is used alongside the Tether booklet to provide writing prompts that guide your journey. My partner and I decided to use Penzu, because we can conveniently access this from all our devices, and it has worked swimmingly. Because of the way Tether is set up, the same two people could play this game multiple times, and each play would be an entirely unique experience. We are about halfway through our first play and cannot recommend this game enough. Below, I’ve shared the first two journal entries from our current game. My partner is writing from “the present” as Salem, and I am writing from “the past” as Chase.

Our First Two Entries

Journal Entry No. 1 – Present (1989)

While I was on my half hour lunch break that Radio Shack generously provides me, I decided to walk around the Loveless City Library.  I happened to notice a book on an upper shelf that was placed oddly.  There was a vibrant orange velvet ribbon/bookmark hanging from it.  I hate disorder, especially in a space that demands it, so I reached up to correct the slanted book.  When I touched the spine of the book I felt a shock in my hand.  It was like I had collected a shit ton of static in my body and touched an outlet.  The book fell from its precarious position on the shelf and opened to a single entry with an ominous warning that as the lucky recipient of its message, I’m in danger.  I don’t know if it’s the boredom of my day-to-day life, if I’m just low on weed money, or if I’m in the mood for Halloween, but I decided I’ll play.  I’m supposed to hear from another time period or dimension.  What the hell, that sounds like fun.  I can’t believe I’m actually writing all this as if it’s real. 

It’s late September 1989 and the air is crisp with the promise of Fall in the PNW.  As I said, I work at Radio Shack but my main gig is music.  I live to play guitar and sing.  Being in a band is the one avenue I’ve found that allows me to be me.  I can dress however I want and no one thinks much of it.  I guess I’m a tomboy.  That’s how people like to refer to me when they want to say I look like a boy in the nicest way they can.  I was born a girl but have never felt like one.  I present more as a male but like I said, no one much cares.  My band mates and I (including my girlfriend and uber-talented drummer) rent a 120 year old 3 bedroom house near The Lumberjack.  We play there most weekends and we garner a decent crowd which has become more important since Cass, the Jack’s beloved bartender and owner has taken a leave of absence.  Cass has always been the town counselor of sorts.  Hairdressers and bartenders know all the dirt on everyone in town; the bartenders just don’t spread it around.  Anyway, Cass is always there for everyone and she’s adored by everyone who has ever met her.  She’s never known a stranger.  Lately, she’s been distant.  Something is brewing behind her eyes.  She’s agitated, withdrawn and seems to have developed a phobia of the dark.  She hasn’t been able to tolerate the dim lighting in the bar and hasn’t been in for days.  Something obviously isn’t right but she has been unwilling to discuss it further so far. I guess that’s it for me today.  I look forward to my message from the great beyond.  Keep that promised danger away from me, okay?

-Salem

Journal Entry No. 2 – Past (1959)

Well. I’m not quite sure how to begin. I suppose I’ll start by saying “hello.” I haven’t fully wrapped my head around what’s happening, so the usual greetings feel a bit silly. I found this book…or journal…whatever it is…on my walk home from The Lumberjack tonight. It was just lying in a shallow puddle of water on the side of Maple Drive. As curious as I am, my mother taught me the importance of minding my own, and the rain had picked up again, so I continued on my way home. Then, the strangest thing happened. I’m almost afraid to write it down, because that will make it feel more real, and I already feel like this all must mean I’ve lost my marbles.

Anyway. As I kept walking, I swore I heard someone whisper my name. I stopped to listen, but all I heard was the rain hitting the pavement and the occasional car on the distant highway. I took another step, and then – gosh, this is just so surreal – I heard my name again. But this time, it sounded as if someone whispered it directly into my ear. I shrieked so loudly, a few nearby porch lights came on, and I spent nearly 10 minutes reassuring the ever-vigilant Mrs. Montgomery that everything was ok. I told her it was nothing—that a moth had flown in my ear and startled me—but I’m such a terrible liar, she couldn’t hide the suspicion on that puckered little face of hers. When she finally retreated back into her home, I stood there for a moment, eyes closed, trying to catch my breath and calm down. When I opened my eyes again, my jaw dropped in disbelief. The book I had seen swimming in the rain puddle was laying directly at my feet.

As if that wasn’t spooky enough, it gave me a literal shock when I reached for it. To be honest, that’s the only reason I even considered writing this. When I got home, I read about how you found the book – or how it found you, rather. And then to read how it shocked you? Well that just can’t be a coincidence, right? I have to tell you, I never drink at home, but when I finished reading your entry, I dug through the cabinets in the kitchen to find my sister’s whiskey. I hate the stuff, but I was feeling so nervous, and Frankie (that’s my sister) always pours a glass of whiskey when she’s feeling anxious. I suppose it’s helped me a little.

I guess I should introduce myself before I go further. In case you really can read this in 1989. My name is Vivian, but in my personal life, I go by my last name – Chase. That started back in high school, when the PE coach called us all by our last names. Vivian’s a pretty name, but I never felt like it really fit. When people call me Vivian, it feels a bit like the frilly Easter dresses my mother put me in as a child—uncomfortable and meant for someone else. When you said you’ve never felt like a girl…well, that spooked me almost as much as when I read about the shock we both got. I’ve never thought those exact words before, but I sure have felt them. A little jealousy bubbled up in me when I read that you…present?…more as a male. I guess that means you don’t wear dresses? I can get away with the occasional pedal pusher at a summer barbecue, but if I so much as think about cutting my hair, I swear the local church ladies know it and call or stop by to check in on me. I know they can’t read my thoughts, but sometimes it feels like they’re just waiting to pounce if I do one wrong thing, you know? My mom was never ladylike enough for the church folk either. Her hair has always been long, but it is wild and untamed. Like her. She has always known her worth and was such a force when she was young and healthy. Honestly, she’s still a force, but she can’t really leave home these days without a lot of planning and help from me or Frankie.

If all of this is real – if what I just read is really from you, from the future – I guess we have The Lumberjack in common. Frankie works there as a waitress, so I often take an evening walk to bring her dinner and grab a nightcap. We share the house next door to our mother, Fiona. I work from the house as a telephone operator. There’s only one other operator in Loveless – her name is Mary, and she’s Mrs. Montgomery’s youngest daughter. She’s really quite sweet, but her stingy and teetotalling mother still influences her, so I keep her at a distance. 

I just had the wildest thought…what if I still live in Loveless in 1989? What if I have seen you play at The Lumberjack?? At 67, my mother was certainly still doing whatever she wanted, so I guess I could see myself joining friends for a drink and watching a band. Oh! I suppose I should tell you that I’m writing this in 1959. I wonder what this little town is like 30 years from now. It’s hard for me to picture.

I have so many questions running through my mind right now… What kind of danger do you think we are in? The writing that was there when you picked up the book…it says whoever is on the other side might have clues? Is that referring to me? To us? I really hope this entry finds you. And that you get to write back. Ugh…I almost forgot! Your friend Cass, is she connected with anyone who goes to the 1st Baptist church? Some of the things you said about her sounded… familiar. The folks who attend there are a strange lot, and the other night—maybe a week or so ago?—on my walk home, I saw something I couldn’t quite explain when I passed the church cemetery. The sun was low, causing the shadows of the tombstones to be long and distorted, so I chalked it up to my mind playing tricks on me. But when I looked down the main path that splits the cemetery in two, I could have sworn I saw a man just standing there. I looked away for a split second, and when I turned toward the cemetery again, he seemed to vanish behind a tiny headstone. Like he was never even there! I decided I had had one too many cosmopolitans, and I hurried home to make a pot of coffee and check on Momma. I didn’t even let myself think about it until tonight. Now that this journal has found its way into my life, the vanishing man seems a little less crazy…and maybe a little more significant? Or maybe I’ve had a nervous breakdown and none of this is real!

I hope your friend is better when…or if…this entry reaches you. Please write back. I don’t think I can talk to anyone else about this yet, and if I haven’t already gone crazy, holding all of this in will drive me there, yet!

-Chase PS – How do you and your girlfriend manage? Loveless hasn’t always been completely backwards, but Frankie and I are constantly hounded about being single. You can only imagine the men Mrs. Montgomery has tried to set us up with. Your situation gives me a little hope that one day, I might find my own love.