When the Impossible Is Intimate
Small Magic, Deep Meaning, and the Power of Quiet Moments
I'm glad you're here.
The magic in HOUSE OF SMALL WOES doesn’t demand spectacle. It appears in moments that matter because they’re personal. A bruise that won’t heal until the truth is spoken. A mirror that shows who someone was before they forgot. A letter that arrives sealed in grief, written in a familiar hand that never held a pen. Magical realism works best when the impossible lives in the same room as memory and longing. Not as metaphor. As presence.
You don’t need to build a system around that kind of magic. You only need to make space for it. In this game, the smallest shifts can carry the most weight. A door doesn’t open. A plant wilts each time a lie is told. The house answers without asking. The meaning doesn’t need to be explained. It already feels true. That’s what makes it real.
When you play HOUSE OF SMALL WOES, you’re not chasing power or unraveling mysteries. You’re noticing what the world remembers. You’re responding to what’s already changed. This is roleplaying for people who know how much a quiet moment can hold. Where the story lingers in gestures, glances, and silence that doesn’t try to fill itself.
The occult line at Lightspress is full of stories shaped by feeling rather than spectacle.
Find them here.
I hope you're doing well today,
Berin
