Solo Tabletop RPG Review & Actual Play – Wanderhome Part Two

Wanderhome (Possum Creek Games)
Designed and written by Jay Dragon
Book design by Ruby Lavin
Art by Sylvia Bi (cover) and Letty Wilson (interior)

Purchase this book here.

Read Part One here.

On a breezy morning, as the early morning sun cast was shaded by the growing thunderclouds over the swamp’s murky waters, Bernard and Poppy made their next steps in their journey home. With some resourcefulness, they acquired a quaint dinghy from an old possum who’d been successful enough in his fishing business to buy a new one for himself. As the small vessel glided through the winding waterways, Bernard thought back on the kind people he met at Bogmarket and hoped that wherever he and his ward ended up would be as warm & friendly. He rowed day and night, sleeping for a few hours in the early morning sun.

Eventually, in the distance, the river opened up into a lagoon. A mysterious island loomed in the distance, beckoning Bernard to stop for a rest. Upon reaching the enigmatic isle, the duo discovered an ancient relic of industry—a dilapidated umbrella factory – a sign advertising for the BreezyCharm Parasol Plant was in a state of disrepair, a quarter of its letters washed away from rain – that stood as a testament to bygone days. Its timeworn facade whispered tales of forgotten craftsmanship, and as Bernard and Poppy delved into its labyrinthine corridors, shadows danced in the corners, adding an extra layer of intrigue. Within this setting, they stumbled upon Aggie, a spirited raccoon child with mischievous eyes who had made the island her home for countless seasons.

Guided by Aggie’s lively spirit, Bernard and Poppy meandered through the remnants of the once bustling umbrella factory. The air was thick with the poignant echoes of those who’d labored here before, and the abandoned machinery whispered tales of a lost community. His curiosity piqued, Bernard couldn’t help but inquire about Aggie’s family, leading the raccoon child down the path of heart-wrenching memories.

As the trio found a quiet spot amidst the remnants, Aggie began to unravel the sorrowful tale of the factory workers, once laboring tirelessly to craft umbrellas to shield against relentless rains. The floods came, transforming the valley into a river and swallowing their livelihood. Aggie’s parents, valiant in their efforts to seek help, met a tragic end in the unforgiving waters. They’d taken a small boat to head to the mainland for help. It flooded, and they sank to the bottom. Left alone, save for the company of Dutch, the resilient rat custodian of the factory, Aggie clung to a relic of his past—a tattered rainbow umbrella, a poignant memento of the last creations crafted by his parents before the waters stole them away.

As the now-trio explored the remnants of the umbrella factory together, they did so with a bit more solemnity, intertwining with the whispers of the past. However, their newfound camaraderie was abruptly tested when they discovered the unfortunate state of their dinghy. Bernard had not tied it up correctly, and while he could wade into the water and pull it back to shore, the vessel had smashed against some rocks in the shallow waters, leaving a hole in the underside. Stranded on this peculiar island, surrounded by the echoes of an obsolete industry, Bernard and Poppy now faced a challenging obstacle—their vessel was in disrepair, leaving them at the mercy of time and Bernard’s ability to fix the boat with what materials were available on the island.

Bernard ventured deeper inside the dilapidated umbrella factory while Aggie reveled in playful antics with Poppy by the water’s edge outside. He felt the cool breeze of the creek that meandered through the factory floor, a natural intruder from the outside world. The water, crystal clear in the tide pool formed by the creek, held a miniature ecosystem of vibrant life. Tiny, iridescent fish darted between rocks adorned with moss, and delicate river plants swayed gently in the water’s ebb and flow rhythm.

Laughter from the children echoed into the building as Bernard marveled at the wonders of the tide pool, discovering the hidden world beneath its surface. He noticed the mesmerizing dance of water beetles and the intricate patterns etched by snails on the rocks. It felt strange to find something so rich & full of color and beauty within the decaying grandeur of the umbrella factory.

Amidst the abandoned machinery, Bernard’s attention turned to Dutch, the enigmatic rat who guarded the factory’s secrets. Nestled by the creek, Dutch nibbled on a husk of stale bread, his sharp eyes fixed on Bernard with suspicion. The air was tense as the inquisitive bear sought common ground, only to be met with accusatory questions and looks from the wary rodent. Bernard asked about salvaged materials and tools, but the stubborn and solitary Dutch insisted on coin—though the island offered no marketplace to spend it. What value could these little metal disks have for someone in such a place? Bernard thought.

Frustration marked Bernard’s face as he sighed, relenting to the rat’s demand with a couple of copper pieces from his pocket. The exchange, however, failed to thaw the icy demeanor of Dutch. He only offered terse responses that circled the outskirts of meaningful conversation. Undeterred, Bernard continued scavenging through piles of debris while remaining amenable against the rat’s guarded persona. Dutch retreated to the precarious sanctuary of the manager’s office, perched atop rickety stairs. From the broken windows, he glared down at Bernard, a silent sentinel refusing to let his walls crumble.

As the waning days of Leap whispered their goodbyes, Ablution Day unfurled across the island. Amidst the trials of boat repair, Bernard decided to pause, letting the hum of work yield to the celebration of renewal. Once veiled in the quiet slumber of Chill, the island now echoed with the laughter of Poppy and Aggie, burgeoning life.

Bernard assumed the role of a gentle guide for the holiday, imparting the wisdom of hands cleansed—a symbolic shedding of the past year’s dust to welcome the pristine new canvas. With a touch of magic, he fashioned a scavenger hunt, weaving threads of anticipation through the abandoned factory and the island’s lush corners. Aggie, with meticulous care, combed through every nook, unveiling treasures hidden by Bernard’s hands; Poppy toddled behind the older raccoon, who often slowed down and pointed out objects poking out from behind their hiding places.

Poppy, radiant with newfound responsibility, as she was the youngest on a holiday that celebrated such new life, led the trio through a whimsical parade around the island, a jubilant dance under a cloudy sky with the threat of rain. The sun eventually broke through, casting warm gold hues, bowing gracefully to the horizon, and Bernard, Poppy, and Aggie gathered on the sandy shore. A bonfire danced to life, and the trio skewered potatoes and vegetables, embracing the timeless joy of communal feasting.

Dutch emerged from the treeline, a shadow on the periphery, his solitary presence starkly contrasted with the firelight revelry. Amidst crackling flames and the symphony of laughter, Dutch, keeping his distance, probed Bernard’s heart. The air hummed with unspoken queries until Dutch, breaking the silence, wanted to know just what Bernard wanted on this island. 

The answer flowed like a river of memories as Bernard spoke of the haunting images glimpsed through a clerk’s window—tiny bodies on stretchers, fleeting echoes of fragility. His earnest wish was simple: to give these children memories steeped in sweetness, a talisman against future uncertainties. In the embrace of Ablution Day’s festivities, Bernard reminded them all that life, like the crackling flames and the camaraderie of companionship, is most profoundly savored in fleeting moments. “They must remember that life is sweet in moments; otherwise, they’ll become bitter.”

The next day, the repaired boat held Bernard & Poppy. Bernard asked Aggie if he wanted to come along, but the young raccoon had responded with a question: “Who will be there for Dutch if I go?” Bernard couldn’t say much to that other than to tell Aggie if he ever left the island and headed west, he would eventually find a valley covered in bright purple wildflowers. There would be a stream that cut through the valley. Follow that stream, and he would eventually find Bernard’s cottage. There, Aggie would always be welcome. Poppy waved as she stood in the back of the boat until Aggie was so small a speck he was invisible to her eye.

Wanderhome makes for an excellent solo tabletop RPG with this big caveat: You must come to this not expecting the game to tell you what to do or resolve your conflicts. Wanderhome works as a pastoral story engine. It gives you a plethora of prompts and ideas to bounce off of. You must be open to engaging with them. This is not a game for everyone, especially people who prefer more tactical and combat-focused games. Wanderhome is a game for people who want something more gentle, humane, and empathic. Magic must happen when this game meets the people it’s best suited for. I don’t know if or when I’ll return to Bernard and Poppy’s journey, but I wouldn’t be surprised to find myself back here in the future.