The Current: Codex of the Lost Voice
A Diorama of Distance and Devotion
A fan-created setting for The Current by The Grey Ledger Society
Inspired by Wim Wenders' film Paris, Texas
What You Are Seeing (But Not Yet Saying)
A man walks across the desert in silence.
He doesn't remember why he left.
He doesn't know what to say when he arrives.
But he knows the name he carried all this way. And he knows the voice he must use when he finally speaks it.
The motel's curtains don't quite close.
The diner has one song on repeat.
The payphone rings once. Then stops.
Somewhere, a boy waits. Somewhere, a woman watches.
The Current here does not rush. It remembers in long drives, in cassette tapes flipped at mile markers, in voiceovers that crack when they try to ask forgiveness.
You are not here to reclaim what was lost.
You are here to witness what is still echoing.
Even if it never finds its way home.
This is the Codex of the Lost Voice.
You will not raise your voice here. But you may use it.
Once.
Softly.
Attunements of the Lost Voice
Dust
Clings, settles, obscures
Blessing: You are hard to follow. Time moves slower around you.
Flaw: People forget what you looked like—even when they remember your voice.
Echo
Repeats, distorts, reveals
Blessing: You may ask the same question twice and receive a different answer.
Flaw: Your words come back to you, spoken by others, but always at the wrong time.
Glass
Separates, reflects, trembles
Blessing: You can see yourself through someone else's memory.
Flaw: You cannot say what you most need to say without a barrier between you.
Ritual: The Pane Between Us
To speak what cannot be said directly
You'll need:
- A barrier (A window. A sheet of paper. The back of your hand. A turned chair.)
- Another player (They do not need to be your character's person. But they must be present.)
- Something you never said
Steps:
- Sit facing away. Or place the barrier between you.
- Breathe once, audibly.
- Speak to them. Slowly. Without naming them.
- Tell them what you couldn't say, then. Or can't say, now.
- When you finish, remain in silence.
- The other player may respond. Not in character. But in tone. A phrase. A sound. A breath. A single line from a remembered film.
What Changes:
You have said it.
The Current may do nothing.
Or something in the scene may soften.
Or your voice may come back later—used by someone else.
Facilitator Tip: You don't need to frame this ritual. Let it arrive when the silence gets heavy enough.
Notable Figure: The One Who Walked
They were gone for four years. Or five. Or forever.
Then they came back.
Walking.
They didn't say why. They still don't.
They carry a red thread in their coat pocket. They don't tie it to anything.
They don't drive.
They remember numbers but not names.
They sometimes sleep standing up, as if waiting for the next scene to start.
They are not searching for someone.
They are searching for the moment before they left.
That last silence. The one that felt like love, or maybe shame.
When You Meet Them:
- They ask: "Do you remember what you sounded like, back then?"
- They don't eat, but they always sit in the same booth.
- Their shadow is longer at noon than at dusk.
Mechanically:
You may invoke the One Who Walked once per session.
When you do, they arrive without explanation.
They do not stay long.
But they always ask something that cannot be answered simply.
And sometimes, they leave you with the words you were missing.
Signal Line
Heard on the wind between gas stations. In the static between songs. Spoken just before someone walks away.
"I was there. I just didn't know how to be."
Playing in the Lost Voice
This setting explores The Current through the lens of absence and return. Characters drift through landscapes of memory and regret, seeking not redemption but recognition—the moment when what was lost reveals itself to have been waiting all along.
The tone is contemplative rather than dramatic, internal rather than external. Conflicts arise from what cannot be said rather than what opposes you. The supernatural emerges through emotional resonance rather than spectacular manifestation.
Sessions might center around:
- A reunion years in the making
- The search for a place that exists only in memory
- Messages left in abandoned locations
- The weight of words that were never spoken
Weather in this setting is emotional—long stretches of clear desert punctuated by sudden storms of recognition. Time moves differently here, measured in silence and the spaces between words rather than clocks or urgency.
Designer's Note
That's the hum beneath this diorama:
Not disappearance, but delay.
Not abandonment, but absence unfinished.
The Current flows here like radio through empty desert, like headlights in reverse.
Let the players pick it up. Let them say it once.
Then let it echo.
This is a fan-created supplement for The Current by The Grey Ledger Society. All credit for the core system belongs to the original creators. This work is inspired by Wim Wenders' 1984 film Paris, Texas and is created with love for both the game and the film that inspired it.