I mentioned in my post yesterday, that I was thinking about trying a solo journaling ttrpg. I'm doing just that. For my first game, I wanted something easy with no rules overhead. I chose a game called, One Day at a Thyme by Jei D. Marcade. You can find One Day at a Thyme on Itch.io.
The game promises a cozy experience and asks you to create a homey little cottage. The text asks a few questions about the cottage to help you to fill in some details. It's an interesting way to begin, because focusing on where you live informs your surroundings and the kinds of things that will happen there.
The only random prompt for your cottage, will provide you with the cottage's location. I rolled, "swamp" which I admit I didn't feel too good about. I considered rolling again, but ultimately decided against it. I'm so glad, I stuck with swamp. I ended up being really happy with the story that I made.
I wrote about my homey little cottage as instructed by the rules. This first step is vital. When you begin your story having a solid foundation will really help you build everything that comes after.
Story prompts are created using two parts, an Experience and a Detail. The Experience is rolled using a six-sided die and only includes three types, although as you will see below, some types include multiple options.
Details, come in one of four varieties based on card suit.
- Clubs: Activities
- Diamonds: Items
- Hearts: Neighbors
- Spades: Events
Players roll a six-sided die to determine how many total Details they should use to define their day. I rolled four. That means that once I had interpreted and resolved the results of four card flips combined with four rolls of the dice, that would complete my Journal entries for a single day.
The rules recommend that you give each entry a date and it suggests that you can keep playing until every card in your deck of cards has been used. I wrote quite a lot and I can't imagine keeping at this until I have used up every card. However, I am really enjoying the experience and I believe that I want to keep at it until I have told a story that fills an entire week.
The actual play below is only my first day, which I have assigned the simple date of Monday. Also, I did not write this in Journal format. It is in more of a story format. I'm also not sure that I interpreted the prompts precisely as I should have. But the great thing about solo TTRPGs is that they are yours to interpret however you wish. In the end, I was really happy with the results.
This single day of role-play journaling filled a good portion of an entire day in real time. I can see easily losing myself in Journaling Solo TTRPGs and I am glad that I chose, "
One Day at a Thyme by Jei D. Marcade" for my first experience. It's only 3 pages long and everything works well. You are probably going to get the best experience if you are fairly creative and enjoy writing, but I think that applies to most entries in this genre of TTRPGs.
Below is a report of my first day playing: One Day at a Thyme.
SETUP (Page 1)
Location of my homey little cottage
[3] Swamp
I live in the Sweet Water swamp. The residents here all try their best to live in harmony with nature. We use rafts to travel from place to place and our homes are on stilts to keep everything dry.
The path to my home is only accessible by raft. The ground is wet and covered in lilypads. Little yellow frogs hop all around in my front yard. They are plentiful and not at all shy. I like when the little frogs hop on me. It tickles.
My homey little cottage is made of wood and moss. It is up on wooden stilts to keep it out of the water. A rope ladder leads from the surface of the swamp below to my front door. It's kind of like living in a tree house, which makes me feel a little like a child. I like that feeling. It makes everything about my homey little cottage seem a bit more fun.
My front door faces east and so the windows in the front room catch the morning sun as it peeks through the forest canopy high above. Before you get to my door however you must first climb the rope onto my front porch. My porch is a wide wooden platform protected by a roof. The roof is supported by log columns made from the trunks of red maple trees. There's a little porch swing here and I often enjoy spending my time sitting on the porch, swinging and listening to the musical chirps of the little frogs and inhaling the fragrance of the swamp lilies which are plentiful and give Sweet Water Swamp its name.
Inside my cottage the main room has a large window facing east and next to that window is a wooden rocking chair covered in a thick soft cushion the color of a deep red wine. In the center of the room is an iron pot bellied stove. I use the stove for cooking and to keep the cottage warm when the air grows cold outside.
On the opposite side of the stove directly across from the rocking chair is a medium sized round table and four chairs. It's my dining room / gaming room. Most of the walls in the rest of the cabin are covered in wooden shelves and these shelves are filled with all manner of board games.
A single doorway opposite the dining table in the north wall of the large main room leads to my bedroom. From here I can see my small black cat, "Clawdette" sleeping on the bed.
PLAY (Page 2) How many cards you draw for this day. [4]
Before turning over each card, roll to see what kind of experience you had: [2], [4], [2], [2]
[2] Mystery, Dilemma, or Conflict
[4] An unexpected encounter
[2] Mystery, Dilemma, or Conflict
[2] Mystery, Dilemma, or Conflict
Card #1 (Page 3) [5D]
My Journal - Entry One - Monday
(Experience: Mystery - Item: Hand Drawn Map)
As I wake up on this unusually sunny Monday morning. I scratch Clawdette behind her ears and wish her a good morning as I make my way into the main room of my house. The pot bellied stove in the middle of the room is always warm. I keep a low ember going to combat the humidity of living in the swamp. I collect board games, and humidity is the bane of all things cardboard.
On the stove are a stove top coffee pot, a copper bottom pan, and a cast iron skillet. I take the coffee pot and carry it through my bedroom to the bathroom. The only running water in my homey little cottage is in the bathroom. The cottage doesn't have a proper kitchen, but I get by just fine. I like my little house. It is "intimate."
I fill the pot with water and then take the basket out and fill it with coffee, which I keep on one of the few shelves in the house not dedicated to board games. Once the basket is filled, I return it to the stem inside the coffee pot and close the lid. I place the pyroceram coffee pot on top of the stove and stoke the embers to bring up the heat. I add a piece of wood that sits inside by the front door. Soon, I will have coffee.
As I wait, I rock in my chair and play on my phone. (Oh, did you think that I live in a fantasy world without technology?) I don't, but I have chosen this quiet life for myself. I use my phone to play games, to chat, to watch videos and to order board games. Most of my games are solo or two player games. I have a friend nearby who will often come to play with me.
Today as I wait for my coffee to brew, I watch some board game video reviews. I am interested in a two-player game called: Duel for Cardia. Maybe I will order it some day. As the video that I am watching comes to a close, the smell of fresh brewed coffee fills my nostrils.
I go to pour myself some coffee, but first I remove the internal stem and basket from the inside of the pot carefully with a pot holder and place them on top of the stove. Later, I will dispose of the grounds in my trashcan, which is inside a cute little box / end table thingy sitting next to the shelves that I have designated as my pantry.
As I am doing this, I notice that the chirping of the little yellow frogs outside has increased considerably. This usually means that I am about to have a visitor. They are my own little warning system. I turn, a hot cup of coffee in hand, waiting for the knock on the door that I am sure is about to come. I don't move away from the stove. What if they want coffee?
The knock doesn't come, and after a moment the chirps of the frogs die down. Did someone come? Did I have a delivery? I hadn't ordered any new board games and wasn't expecting anything, but I went out to the front porch to check.
I don't see anyone or anything. The little yellow frogs chirp a happy greeting at me and I smile at them as I take a sip of my coffee. Then I notice that my front porch swing is moving. It can sometimes move in the wind, but that usually requires quite the breeze. Something (or someone) must have bumped into it.
I look over at the swing and notice a folded piece of parchment paper sitting in the seat. A first sized round stone sits on top of the parchment serving as a paper weight to keep the paper from blowing away. It seems someone has left me a written message. Why write me a letter? Why not just knock on the door?
I walk over to the parchment paper and take it. I sit on the porch swing, sitting the stone beside me as I unfold the paper. The paper as it turns out is rather large. Really large, and not a letter at all, but a map. It's a hand drawn map of the swamp where I live scrawled on brown parchment in black ink. The ink strokes make me think that the map was drawn with a fine brush and no modern writing utensil.
Who left this? Why did they leave it? Why didn't they knock on my door to talk to me about this unusual gift? What was I meant to do with it? Was this map intended to lead me somewhere? I had so many questions and no answers.
Card #2 (Page 3) [9S]
My Journal - Entry Two - Monday
(Experience: An unexpected encounter - Event: Find something that’s been lost / hidden for years)
As I examine the map, I see my house clearly, and all the neighbors' homes. I see the market where I sometimes work stocking shelves, or where I sell the soft shell crabs that I collect after it rains. Much of the surrounding area is included in remarkable detail, trees and other terrain features that normally wouldn't be included on a map.
Then I see it. There's a little hut on one edge of the map that I have never known about before. I've lived here for a few years now. I am well liked and social with my neighbors. No one has ever made mention of this place. Now, I am incredibly curious.
Clawdette has come out and joined me on the porch. She is batting playfully at the loose edges of the map and purring.
"What do you think, Clawdette?" I ask her. "Are you ready to go on an adventure?"
Clawdette likes riding with me on the raft and visiting neighbors. Sometimes, during dry spells, she will jump around on the lily pads chasing frogs, but mostly she sticks to the porch and the cottage. She doesn't like getting her paws wet.
I climb down the rope ladder and spin myself around to set foot on my raft which lives under my house, which is suspended some 7 feet above the level of the swamp. Less in the rainy season. The raft is very stable underfoot. Lying across it is a long pole. I use the pole to push myself out to the front of my home.
Clawdette jumps down as soon as the raft comes into view. As I push the raft out across my front "yard," dozens of little yellow frogs jump around on the raft to join us. Clawette chases and bats at the frogs playfully, but she doesn't actually catch any. I don't think that she wants to. She tried to eat one once and quickly spat it out. These frogs apparently don't taste very pleasant.
We travel through our little village. I nod and smile and greet the neighbors that I encounter on the way. I stop at the market and ask beautiful, dark haired Julie, who owns the shop, about the map and the unknown hut at the edge of the map. The market is also the post office for Sweet Water Hamlet. As the official postmaster, Julie knows the swamp better than anyone.
Julie informs me that there is no such hut and that she does not believe that there has ever been anything but more and more swamp at the location shown on the map. I am disappointed at this revelation, but I am still determined to visit the location for myself. The quest is the quest.
Once I have left the immediate surrounds of the central Hamlet, there's not much to see or hear except the natural beauty of the swamp and the chirping of the frogs. Out here, the frogs don't jump onto my raft like the ones at my house. These jump away. Clawdette and I are after all, strangers here.
As we finally approach the area marked on the map, I do indeed discover a small hut. The hut isn't on stilts like many of the homes here in the swamp. It sits on a solitary mound of dry earth that manages to sit just above the surface of the water line. The placement of such a structure doesn't seem tenable, but I don't see stains on the walls to indicate that the place has ever flooded.
"Why would Hannah tell me that this place didn't exist?"
Card #3 (Page 3) [10H]
My Journal - Entry Three - Monday
(Experience: Dilemma - Neighbors: Voice issuing from a massive urn)
The edge of my raft stops at the bank of the mound of earth and I walk out onto solid ground. With some effort, I pull my raft in far enough that I don't have to worry about it floating out into the middle of the bog. Then, I approach the hut, Clawdette close by at my heels.
The hut is clearly old, the wood is faded and there are cobwebs covering its exterior. The door to the hut is closed, but the handle works and I am able to push it open, disturbing the network of spiderwebs that cover it as I do so. I duck through the entrance created by the open door getting spiderwebs all over me despite my best efforts.
Whatever is inside the room is ignored until I can free myself and my clothing of every last web. I hate spiderwebs. Eventually, I rid myself of the various strands of ick and am able to take a look around. Clawdette sits beside me taking a bath, obviously anxious to rid herself of any errant webbing that I may have cast in her direction.
The hut appears just as disused on the inside, although I should mention that while everything seems faded by the passing of time, and certainly cobwebs are a big part of the decorum, nothing here is in disrepair. There are no holes in the walls, or cracks, or peeling paint. Everything is in very good condition despite its apparent age.
I have been avoiding the one key feature of the room. Well, perhaps not "avoiding," more like "saving the best for last." In the center of this little hut, which is empty except for myself and Clawdette, there sits the room's only feature, and it is a prominent one.
In the center of the room is a massive porcelain vase or maybe urn? (I'm not sure that I know the difference.) The urn is quite large, I would guess five feet tall. Its porcelain surface is decorated in a style which I assume might be consistent with artifacts found in ancient Egypt. What on earth is it doing here?
The decorations present a definite cat theme. The central figure on the vase / urn is a bare breasted woman with the head of a cat. I am guessing that she is a representation of the Egyptian goddess, Bast. Bast was the patron of cats, which the peoples of ancient Egypt revered as holy. (I think all of this is true. I didn't take out my phone to check any of the actual facts. So, don't take me at my word. If you are curious, look it up yourself.)
The urn certainly seems to be cat friendly, Clawdette is walking circles around its base, rubbing against it and purring. As I attempt to look inside the urn, I hear a voice. "Come."
The voice is wispy and hollow. It's like the wind, but it definitely spoke. Then I hear it again. "Come." The voice came from inside the urn. I'm sure of it. I try to peek inside the urn to see the source of the voice. "Come."
"Come where?" I ask the urn feeling foolish. "Come how? I'm already here!"
"Come."
What do I do now?
I look around and Clawdette is gone. "Clawdeeette." I call, trying not to panic. "Clawdeeeettte!" I look outside; she isn't there. I look around the hut, not that there is any place to go in here … except.
"Wel-Come."
I look inside the urn. Now instead of the empty porcelain interior that I saw before there's a thick black swirling smoke. "Clawdette!" I scream. Now, I am panicking!!
Card #4 (Page 3) [7S]
My Journal - Entry Four - Monday
(Experience: Conflict - Event: Thunderstorm)
I plunge my arm into the urn, into the black smoke. The smoke is hot and thick … and I feel something solid. It's Clawdette! I grab her and drag her out of the urn. She's okay!
No sooner do I get Clawdette free of the urn than I hear a terrifying clap of thunder. Clawdette leaps into my arms and clings to me. She hates thunder. I want to examine the urn, further. I want to study it, but I'll get Clawdette away from it and to safety first.
I turn toward the door and see water pouring in under the crack. "Oh, no. Oh, no!" I rush outside. The rain is pounding. I tuck Clawdette under my jacket to try to keep her dry, but I don't think that it's going to do any good. As I feared, with the little "island" under water, my raft has drifted out into the middle of the bog.
I wade out to try to retrieve my raft. I chance a look behind me at the little hut. It is now half submerged under the water and through the open door, a long tendril of thick black smoke is pursuing me!
I climb onto the raft keeping Clawdette under my jacket. This isn't easy. I'm now up to my armpits in water and the storm is raging, pelting me hard with water. As I get on the raft, the tendril of smoke pulls at me grabbing me by the leg. Its touch is hot. It burns.
"You're not getting Clawdette!" I scream. Clawdette is still safe and hiding beneath my coat. She doesn't make a sound and she doesn't move. She just holds on to me. Her claws in me hurt, but it's a good hurt. It means that she's still there, that she's safe.
I kick at the smoke as I use my pole to push us away from the hut. As difficult as it makes things, the storm is a blessing. As the water level rises, the smoke gets weaker and weaker. Eventually we are free and I see the top of the hut disappear beneath the rising water. No sooner has the hut vanished from view than the storm stops as mysteriously as it began.
Clawdette and I are soaked. We eventually make it back to the safety of our homey little cottage.
(End of Journal entries for Monday.)
