It is with extreme pleasure that I announce as of today, Sins of Our Mother has entered the final phase of development. Every dungeon has been built, every class fully realized, and every last word written. There’s still hard work ahead. More than 46,000 words have to be reread, honestly evaluated, and then rewritten when found wanting.

Balance needs attention, too. I’ll be going over each class and running them through encounters to fine tune their abilities. Lastly, one last layout pass will bring Sins’ look and feel into harmony. Sins has gone through a lot of changes, but I promise Sins will be the best I can make it. Read on to find out more on the new narrative dungeon, Hospital of Quiet Minds. But first, a small message of gratitude for all Sins’ backers and supporters.

Thank you for your patience during this long process. I rushed into Sins of Our Mother on a high after finishing Cult of the Blood Queen. I thought I could finish Sins by October. I was wrong. Cult hit a respectable 14 thousand words, but Sins demanded over 40 thousand to fulfill all of its campaign promises (more than 3x the word count of Cult!) Add in that this past year included major life changes. I got married, moved, and more. This meant that my deadlines were unrealistic. It shouldn’t surprise me that I met only a few. So again, thank you for your patience and continued support. I earnestly hope Sins of Our Mother lives up to your expectations.

Welcome to another entry in the “Meet the X” series where I go into depth concerning some of Sins’ more unique facets. Today, we’re taking a look at Dr. James Wayward and the Hospital of Quiet Minds.

The impetus for the Hospital of Quiet Minds comes from an old game theory thought experiment: the prisoner’s dilemma. To summarize, two people (Prisoner A and Prisoner B) are arrested. Each prisoner is given the opportunity to snitch. If they do, their sentence is reduced or even eliminated. However, both are told that if they don’t snitch and the other does, one will receive full punishment and the other goes free. Let’s map the outcomes to see the choices.

Most people would go for staying silent. It’s the choice that can result in the least jail time after all. However, if both A and B are rational actors most interested in maximizing individual gain, testifying becomes the optimal choice. Why? Because testifying results in a better outcome more often. If A testifies, B also wants to testify. But, if A stays silent, B still wants to testify. Therefore, testifying is the best option for both parties to reduce their sentence. This feels kind of bleak, right? Thankfully, Dr. James Wayward wants to help. 

The great doctor established the Hospital of Quiet Minds to promote moral discipline. The new practice will employ only the most modern innovations in medicine to care for its patients. Yet, the mind is a tricky thing. Rarely can surgery affect its functions without incurring major damage. Psychotherapy then, despite its lack of research, seems the only method. Join Dr. Wayward and pave our path to happiness.

Here’s a few snippets of my favorite pieces of the narrative dungeon.

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“James Wayward – an unparalleled intellect singularly devoted to understanding the mind’s clockwork. Born a humble tinker's son, James graduated magna cum laude. In a bold speech, Dr. Wayward insisted that modern maladies were not external wounds of the body, but afflictions of the mind. The fault lies not with bones or bruises, but the brain. Now, five years later, Dr. Wayward has finally opened his own hospital to explore this brave, new frontier of medicine. Please, join us on our journey to happiness here at the Hospital of Quiet Minds.” - An article celebrating the opening of the Hospital of Quiet Minds

We all strive towards happiness. Some find it at the bottom of a bottle, others in the depths of soft flesh. I, Dr. Wayward, know better. Yes, pleasure makes us happy. We greedily gulp it down, and revel in its warmth, its joy. We cannot resist its allure, but pain… it is pain that sustains us. Think back. What action, what worth, what justice has revelry wrought? None. We despicable creatures need augurs like righteous rage to divine our purpose. Yes, I know compassion well. It is a principle tool here at the hospital. It too begets action, but only in answer to pain. See how inseparable we are from pain? Fret not. I promise I will save us all, and lead us to an uncorrupted happiness. Afterall, we deserve it.

Come ye broken and hopeless masses, come to the Hospital of Quiets Minds and find here the gates to your salvation. ‘Tis not heaven I offer, but the keys to your own soul.

A beacon of hope for a dark, oft forgotten neighborhood. The brick building spans a block in the midst of ill-lit and rat infested streets. It rises like a white tower above its destitute neighbors, every window shining bright white in the grey, foggy night. Only the misshapen shadows that cross those sills foretell the horrors that lie inside.

The asylum’s foremost concern is the health of its patients, and to that end employs the most modern innovations in medicine. These practices often seem cruel to the uneducated, but don’t worry. It’s for a good cause. 

The hospital’s staff have undergone some variation on the treatment they inflict on their patients. As such, their bodies are often scared or disfigured. Every staff member wears a white uniform, and many wear mirror masks.

The hospital’s surgeons stand ready to assist any patients injured in the course of therapy. Though skilled, the demands on their time are immense. Bones may be set at bad angles, faces reconstructed without reference, and limbs amputated simply for convenience.

The psychiatric staff work day and night to collect data and test the doctor’s theories. Each of these tests have the potential to revolutionize medical science. The ends justify the means.

You and another patient are seated across from one another at a small table. “Fear is an obstacle to happiness” intones the doctor as they place a revolver on the table between you. “There’s one bullet. You are to take turns pulling the trigger with the barrel to your skull. The survivor gets a clean bill of health and can leave the hospital.”

The revolver is empty and the promise in fact a lie. If a patient refuses to play, they are beaten and returned to Intake. If a patient completes the game, they are rewarded with a warm meal and then returned to Intake.

Orderlies drag you and 6 other patients into a room with a rat-sized maze on a table in the center. The nurse jabs each of you with a syringe, and you begin to shrink down to the size of a mouse. She places each of you at the gates to the maze. “Your goal is simple,” she explains. “Reach the end before the snake swallows you.” Then, she places a snake on the table. It flicks its tongue once before racing towards you and the other patients.

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I simply find them terrifying. I recently watched The Exorcist with friends. “How could such an old movie scare me?” I thought beforehand. Not much, to be honest. The idea of a grand malevolence didn’t move me. Neither was I fazed by a possessed 12-year old girl stabbing herself in the groin.

What did scare me were the doctors. The endless march of white-haired men in white lab coats unnerved me. How could all these people with so much knowledge fail so miserably? My discomfort peaked when Regan underwent a Pneumoencephalograph. It’s a rare surgery now, but in the 70s they used it to make the brain more visible on x-rays. The doctor pushes a needle through Regan’s throat to bore a hole to the spine. Blood spurts out until the doctor pushes in another needle. This one drains her cerebral spinal fluid. It's a hard surgery to watch, but to endure? It seems impossible.

I despise hospitals. I hate the white hallways, the frigid air, and especially the tight smiles. Staff and family put on brave faces, but everyone knows the worst is coming near. No one’s there by choice. That’s what a hospital is: a prison. It’s not a place you go because you have a choice. You either risk it alone with Dr. WebMD, or you put yourself on display to be poked and prodded. That’s what Hospital of Quiet Minds aims to explore; that liminal space between deliverance and pain. That moment where you give yourself over entirely to helping hands, yet terrified by your own helplessness. You have to trust, but you don’t know how.

Here’s a link to a clip of The Exorcist surgery if you’re interested: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a8GIMvDly6E

I hope you look forward to exploring the Hospital of Quiet Minds in greater detail. I really love designing these one-shot dungeons, and they allow me to explore themes in greater detail. Also, the playtests are just plain fun. That’s it for now. Thank you for reading! Check back soon for more insights into the project!

Ashton Baker

Creator of Catacolyte Games