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The Mystery of Ravensgaer Manor

A Victorian Gothic Mystery and Interactive Game

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Hi there!

Before you proceed, I'd like to take a moment to explain a bit about this project.

When @bflanigan came across the Team of Two Contest by @veryspider and @scrawly, he had an idea in mind for what he would like to do and needed a process partner who would complement his work.

@bflanigan, better known to some as HumbleBeaver, is very much into creating with 3D Modelling and techie gadgetry that is waaaay over my head. His idea was to make the preliminary set design for an interactive game. To get a better idea of what this involves, you might check out his post Making a game or interactive content in Blend4Web.

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The theme for the Team of Two contest was to be GOTHIC!!!, in honor of all the spooky holiday stuff. I was intrigued by this idea because the definition of Gothic has so many permutations, from architecture and literature to music and style. I decided that I would contribute by writing a Victorian Gothic story. As part of the process, I wound up being a game tester, post writer and photo editor.

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_{process pic - 3D blender design screen}

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Well, we both got extremely carried away to say the least. You know those freebie net games you download and take for granted? I now have a tremendous amount of respect for game developers, as I know how much time, patience and energy is spent on perfecting the simplest function.

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What started out as a small contest project for burgeoned into something we might eventually continue in several installments, featuring a new room with continuing clues and storyline. Sorta like a Gothic Clue..

Both the interactive and story aspects are works in progress and are incomplete.

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_{process pic screenshot - the unfinished book closet}

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Even though the Beaver is incredibly talented and industrious, much of his process was trial and error; making things clickable, adjusting the sound volume, adding in details from the story, making the raven move about and caw. With two weeks solid work, the interactive component is still very much in Alpha stage, so please keep this in mind when reviewing it.

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_{process pic screenshot - adding in the walls}

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My process was a little different, because I wanted ideas that would hook the reader into the story, things I could build and layer as time passed and rooms were added on. I spent days just researching, developing ideas which I could develop into plot or character. Much of this got thrown out as too complicated or not fitting. Lots of rewriting. So ya maybe not so different. We try, and try again.

In any case, without further ado, I present:

@bflanagin ~ interactive 3D design and creation ~ Interactive Model Link

@torico ~ story, photo editing, writing

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Death in Absentia

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“The boundaries which divide Life from Death are at best shadowy and vague. Who shall say where the one ends, and where the other begins?” ~ Edgar Allen Poe

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The dreams came as they always did, in the bone weary hours between dark and light, in the hushed still of twilight. For it mattered not whether I slept or remained awake.

These visions seemed to be connected, as if I saw events through another's eyes. The same stark images marked my hallucinations.

Cold, so cold... the room I am in is deep, shadowlit by a few sparse candles along the shelves. I am in the library again, or is it a study? Strange that there is no fire. The books, there is need to preserve them. They line the walls like spectres at an event, their blank eyes staring at me as I pass.

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A dark stain, an overturned chair - are those drops of blood? a ticking clock grows louder with each step, as does the whistling roar of ocean waves beyond the window and the eerie howl of the wind. I hold a letter, yet I cannot seem to read the words, like codes in books whose clues remained hidden...

Suddenly, I hear furtive whispers behind the walls, sense the mal-intent. My heart pounds, knowing that I must find my brother. We are in danger! The sharp call of ravens with a score of flapping wings startles me out of my trance. Always I awake after this, for my fear knows no bounds.

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It is of note that amongst our close family, nightmares have always been vivid; the abiding inheritance of a curse layed upon us by some crazed gypsy fortune teller, or so it was told. Until of late, I had been quite able to dismiss these occurrences as due to imagination, for the joy in my life had far overtaken the pain.

At first, the gentle portents I had pushed away as a sign of stress due to my husbands lingering illness, and later as anxiety, for despite the concerning events relayed to me by my brother in several letters, I could not assist in two places at once.

At what time the ravens began to follow me I was unsure, for I had been much preoccupied, yet once awoken to their presence, I sensed their watchfulness and curiosity. Some say the cyhyraeth reside within them, the lost souls of the damned, for to hear the ravens rattling call in the twilight is said by the healers to be a portent of death.

For this reason, I believed the ravens would depart once my husband passed over. Yet they remain, ever-present. Haunting my days with their mirth.

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And so it was with terrible dread that, in October of 1809 and soon after the passing of my much beloved late husband, I took fate into my hands by travelling by coach to the nether-regions of northern Cornwall. I had been invited by my dear brother, Captain Corbyn Renshaw, now the Lord of Ravensgaer, to live at his newly acquired manor.

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28 January 1808

London, England

My dearest sister,

I write to you with greatest hope that this letter reaches you swiftly and finds you in good health. I pray that Edgar has regained some strength after his terrible ordeal...

You can scarce imagine the amazement I feel in announcing to you that His Royal Majesty, King George III, has awarded to me a minor baronetcy for my outstanding service in the Chesapeake affair! To be acclaimed as a war hero is no small feat, yet I find myself with much guilt and consternation as to why I should be singled out, for I acted only out of duty and a sense of compassion.

Whilst this appointment is a great honour I fear it isn't all it seems, for Ravensgaer Manor (the domicile attached to the title) is in northern Cornwall and by all accounts a derelict keep in need of many repairs. The natives are hostile to outsiders, and smuggling is many a mans rough trade. I scarce know what I shall do as I have no extra funds and no desire to leave the Sea for some crumbling edifice in the wilds.

My closest friends concur that this is an expedient political move by King and Court. My outspoken tendencies are well known, yet I am now beholden to support his Majesty's whims in the ongoing hostilities between France and Britain.

Alas, loyal subjects have little choice when given such "honour" by the King...

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The intense consternation I sensed in Corbyn's letter disturbed me, as he was normally so placid and accepting. My anxiety over his mental constitution dictated a swift decision on my part, and given that my circumstances in life were much reduced by my husbands recent passing, the extreme gratitude at not being left homeless was so great that I ventured forth with all due haste. It eased my mind not at all that the ravens followed.

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The seven day sojourn to Cornwall gave me ample time to reflect on what lay ahead for me as an encumbered widow, so I took it upon myself to begin a journal to sort through recent events. Eventually I took some strange comfort in re-reading my brothers letters, and barely noticed the presence of the creatures who seemed to follow the coach, so entwined was I at that time in my grief.

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11 September 1808

London, England

...lacking funds. To resolve this issue, the king has "requested" that I marry his ward, Lady Enid Morgan, late of Llanrumney, Wales - a young girl scarcely out of the schoolroom!

I am to be relegated to the coast of Cornwall near Lewinnick Cove, where I am to act as a representative; "protector of the southwestern coastline", so as to be of service to my King and Country during their time of need. For this I will receive a modest stipend, and with my future wife's settlement I hope to gain some niggling stature in the local community..

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My dear brother, heretofore a stoic and humble man by all outward appearances, seemed increasingly bitter in his duplicitous misfortune. As I read on my apprehension increased.

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15 March 1809

Cardiff, Wales

My dearest sister,

I ask you to forgive me and beg of you to wish me well, for I have married. Although I would have dearly loved to have my only sister present, and in the chapel of our local parish, my bride requested that she be allowed to have her dear friends nearby. Since time is of the essence, and my new bride has much to adjust to already, I agreed to this.

We will be leaving post haste for Cornwall, as my duties commence at the end of July and I have much to set in order in the manse so that it is habitable.

I have been in London these past four months getting acquainted with my wife, Lady Enid. She is a quiet and dutiful lass who knows her place. The Morgan name seems to be connected to that infamous scoundrel, Sir Henry Morgan, former privateer and sometimes pirate, and although many generations have passed, certain associations give me cause for concern.

My wife has a twin, identical in looks but not temperament. Miss Cassandra Morgan has been against our bond as soon as it was created and caused quite a commotion at Court. A fey girl of sixteen, she yet refuses to marry, and has predicted no end of doom and unhappiness should her sister be parted from her.

His Royal Majesty, in his infinite wisdom, thought to end the matter by arranging for Cassandra to live with us until she married or came of age, for at her disposal is a most agreeable inheritance...

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According to subsequent letters, whilst at first the situation proceeded as it should, with the passing of time and Corbyn's continued absence from the Ravensgaer due to his mounting duties, it became clear through his infrequent letters that strange events were occurring at the Manor.

A band of local smugglers and wreckers plagued the coastline. If that were not enough, Lady Cassandra, often of a melancholy turn, would disappear without a word for days, which caused Lady Enid to panic. Corbyn swore that objects would mysteriously appear or disappear, strange lights and sounds befell those who walked the halls alone. The servants refused to stay on, of course.

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My visions increased daily, even though I attempted to steel my mind. Such was my foreboding at this point in my journey that I chose to tarry at St Clether upon the Moor so that I might partake of the blessed waters in the Holy Well - a token attempt to ward off any devil, should we chance to meet.

The next morning I awoke to a sky devoid of color, and had it not been for the heather on the Moor I would have believed my vision was failing. As we continued south towards St Minver, the rain began, making travel exceedingly arduous.

The hour was quite late when I finally reached the Manor. Although I knew the land had once been inhabited by Monks centuries before, I didn't realize that part of the original Abbey was still intact. Ravensgaer was built of local greenstone, mined nearby, and shone pale in the moonlight. I could see several spires, while a steepled arch marked the main entry.

No lights were on, and I began to worry what I should do if this voyage was all in vain, but several minutes knocking retrieved a most taciturn housekeeper by name of Mrs Pendogget, who insisted that no one was at home. After several minutes arguing, she admitted that while Captain Renshaw was at Sea, that perhaps the Lady might be within. She bid me wait in the foyer then and went off to look for Lady Enid.

After what seemed like at least a half hour, but was perhaps no more than half that, curiosity called me to explore a far door to see if I might find someone within. What I found was my nightmare... (to be continued)

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If you haven't already, search the room for clues. Help me solve the mystery of what happened here! (p.s., work in progress)

Interactive Model Link

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A Conspiracy of Ravens

One for misfortune,
Two for mirth.
Three is a wedding,
Four is a birth.
Five is for riches,
Six is a thief.
Seven, a journey,
Eight is for grief.
Nine is a secret,
Ten is for sorrow.
Eleven is love,
Joy for tomorrow.

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Thank you for reading and playing! We love comments! All proceeds will be split evenly between the beaver and the bunny.