Welcome to Deep Drift

This place goes by many names; Land of the Purple Fog, Tangy’s Tribunal, Zorbis Blast Zone, Niflheim. But for the locals there is only one name: Deep Drift, and it is the Doomed Dimension of all known universes. There are no doors here, the only way in is to be sent, and I alone know a way out, though it is not much of a way at all, perhaps a curse is a better description.

We are all corrupted souls, doomed to an eternity of life in our death, as we lived, the very same. An immortal prison for the damned and the demonic. There are those who take much pleasure in their confined freedom. They see the Drift as more of an unrestricted realm, an endless valley of violence. They prey on newcomers and the weak minded.

You of course cannot die here, after all like Hell, it is a destination for the dead, but pain, trauma, and fear are all the more real. There are circulating stories, rumours of an “edge” of the purple fog, where this dimension bleeds into others, into the living. To get there it is said that one must travel for years, into the deepest depths of Deep Drift. Those here who pursue knowledge theorise that making it to the outer edges of the Drift could be an explanation for ghosts appearing in the mortal realms. Needless to say, this is not a means of escape, the wanderers always return eventually, more torn apart and lost than before they left. Along with those tales comes another, of a child, a gate keeper of the Drift, a boy with fire in his eyes: “The Boy Who Sees Red”. I believe him to be an eater of essence, a previous victim of the Angels. All of those who have seen him come back with glassy, open eyes, muttering his name over and over again… The Boy Who Sees Red, The Boy Who Sees Red.

For reasons unknown to me, despite being dead I am able to blend into the many different living worlds throughout the Pollyverse as somewhat of a spirit you could say. The further I stray from the Drift, or the longer I am away from it, the more strongly I feel it pulling me back in, and the hotter the burning presence of the boy becomes. Like a dull ache in my lungs, making my chest feel tighter and my breaths emptier.