DEADLIGHT is an actual play, live-streamed Pathfinder 2e experience that follows scattered survivors across a failing world.
Each is on their own and probably not by choice. They don’t know each other. They don’t know what’s coming. But they move toward the same dark shape on the horizon, drawn by broken signs, old debts, or the simple need to outrun whatever they left behind.
No parties. No legends. Just one step forward and collaborative story left in their wake.
Wednesday, June 4 – Wisp, 8:00 pm
Monday, June 9 – Khêprìn, 8:00 pm
Friday, June 13 – Korvell, 12:00 pm
Friday, June 13 – Castor, 8:00 pm
Wednesday, June 18 – Wisp, 8:00 pm
Monday, June 23 – Khêprìn, 8:00 pm
Friday, June 27 – Castor, 8:00 pm
Wednesday, July 2 – Wisp, 8:00 pm
Monday, July 7 – Khêprìn, 8:00 pm
Friday, July 11 – Korvell, 12:00 pm
Friday, July 11 – Castor, 8:00 pm
Wednesday, July 16 – Wisp, 8:00 pm
Monday, July 21 – Khêprìn, 8:00 pm
Friday, July 25 – Korvell, 12:00 pm
Friday, July 25 – Castor, 8:00 pm
Wednesday, July 30 – Wisp, 8:00 pm
Monday, August 4 – Khêprìn, 8:00 pm
Friday, August 8 – Korvell, 12:00 pm
Friday, August 8 – Castor, 8:00 pm
Exact days and time may vary based on player availability.
All times Eastern Standard Time
More to come soon.
Raith
Apocalypsicle
Larpgenie
Chris
Everything that could burn or drown, did.
And still the sun kept rising.
They call this the Fifth Age, but nobody agrees on when it started and most know nothing about any preceding time. Some mark it by the floods. Others, when the moons broke pattern. Doesn’t matter. The truth is, by the time anyone noticed the age had changed, it already had.
What’s left isn’t a kingdom or a nation or a cause: it’s people. Clinging. Scraping. Killing. Digging. Lighting fires because there’s no warmth without effort, and no safety without noise.
The gods are dead. Their names forgotten for the most part.
Nature’s taken the bones of the world and started over, but not gently. Forests walk. Weather forgets its place. Animals dream of being men, and men forget they ever weren’t prey.
No one’s in charge anymore. Just factions, cults, old blood lines that pretend they still matter. There’s trade, if you’re lucky. Shelter, if you earn it. Magic, if you dare.
Four places still holding on are at the center of our story. Thornhollow, where survival’s a kind of religion. Mütvia, where signals burn in silence and no one forgets the cost of being seen. Hollow Spine, where the mountains remember more than they should. And somewhere beneath it all, something is waking. Something slow. Old. Certain.
They say it’s nature, balancing the scales.
They say it’s a final judgment.
They say a lot of things.
But whatever it is—
It doesn’t care what you believe.
And it’s coming.