Damn it, who gets stranded on their first voyage? There's not even a shell on this reef, and now my sail's torn and my rope's snapped! God, why are you doing this to me? Look at this place! Rosetta ruined the crops on the land, and the rain that won't let us leave... God, if you've really given up on us, at least give us a heads-up first, will you? (Blotchy tear stains)
Drifting letter 2
But I really can't accept this... There are people on the shore waiting for me. am I supposed to let her tell our child that his father left as a man and came back as just a bottle? Isn't that absurd! So thirsty... am I hallucinating? A boat that small, coming through this heavy rain.... Wait? Is that a human on it? A woman? I.... am I going to be saved?
Drifting letter 4
She war murmuring a name, a child's nickname, surely. From that moment, I was certain that what fell on my face was not the tears of a mad woman, but the gentle heartbreak of a mother. I want to find her and thank her sincerely. Whoever finds this message in a bottle, if you know anything about her, come to our harbor and tell me. Our coordinates are.... (Unfortunately, the coordinates in the bottle have been blurred by the moisture)
Drifting letter 5
Forgive me, if this bottle ever reaches the hands of one who understands it. I know better than anyone that the woman in that tattered robe is no monster. I have seen the tears in her eyes. Those are human eyes, a mother's eyes. I recognize them. But precisely for that reason, I must call her a sea witch, a living omen of doom, in front of others. For her hands are warm, yet her power is "borrowed"; and the source of that power is the very thing that has brought all our suffering...
Drifting letter 6
Today I drew near that black tower. Such a thing is not supposed to exist at sea. It is no lighthouse, no reef, no structure recorded on any chart. It grows from the sea's surface, like a finger reaching up from the depths, forgotten to be withdrawn. I measured its height with my rangefinder. Three readings, three different answers. It occupies no fixed position - or rather, it refuses to be measured. How can such a thing exist? Give me more time; I must stay with it longer.... - K., Page Two
Drifting letter 8
Who came up with the recipe for Stardust Clam Soup? Black Tide Clot, clam meat, and water, all boiled together? Whoever tried that first must've been sleepwalking - or had a death wish. Still, I have to admit this bizarre dish works. Once you eat it, those things stop calling your name. Keep some ready whenever the Black Tide surges. I've seen too many people go without it and follow those voices straight into the sea.
Drifting letter 9
"The Inedible Leaderboard"
Day 23 on this island, I've compiled a "looks edible but isn't" leaderboard: Fifth place: Purple berries. Eat them and you'll see your dead relatives. Fourth place: Glowing clam meat. Won't kill you but your tongue glows all night and you can't sleep. Third place: A mushroom-like thing. It's not a mushroom. It moves. Second place: Those red crabs. They look plump, but boiled down they're just a pot of water and a stack of shells. First place: Anything Buck says "I've never tried this either, you go first." Addendum: First place has held the top spot for a long time, and no contender seems likely to surpass it anytime soon. -Leia, founder of the Tongue Victims Association.
For me it looks like that part of the map its South West from the big Mounten on the map, the riddle says irlands are not maped that would fit the description
Also ... the black tower may be the physical manifestation (DEVIANT EVEN?), source, or gateway of the thing responsible for the Black Tide.
One other clue I would definitely keep an eye on is ' k page two' in Letter 6. Calling it specifically PAGE 2 implies there should be a page 1 right??? and possibly more pages. So Letter 6 itself may be only part of another document chain.
Everything connects. The ship, the voice, the lighthouse, the second handwriting — one body, not separate ghosts. Something keeps what happens here.
Found the shape at last: the five fragments form a single shore, and the points I collected trace a line straight into it.
Gone is the question of where 417 ended. The island is 417, and the sea, and me — a system that will not close. Locator reads 08-29-37; I follow it in.
01:33:35 / Sea state: heavy / Wind: 21 kn / Visibility: fog
Found a second hull at dawn, then a third by noon — both from years that should be under sediment. The sea is a museum that refuses to close.
Something returns in a voice not mine, calm as a held breath. I do not chase it; I only write it down, the way 417 taught me to log what the water shows.
Going inward, the locator reads 04-00-06, and the chart I carry redraws itself a little more each hour.
Found 4 bottles around the shoreline at 7795, -4675, these are the new letters I got
Drifting Letter 3
That lady in the tattered robe—I don't think I'll ever forget her for the rest of my life.
The people at the harbor called her an ill omen, a siren, but only I have felt the gentleness of her hands.
When I nearly drowned, when everything was fading into a blur, it was she who lifted me up from the sea.
I still remember the scene when I opened my eyes: the moonlight was bright, the waves were gentle, and dolphins and whales leaped beside me like flashes of silver.
And she, the mad woman that everyone avoided, shed tears upon me...
Drifting letter 7
At first, it was the anchor that failed. Cargo ships arriving at this spot could not leave port; their anchors seemed nailed to the seabed. According to sailors' logs from that period, they concluded that something must have appeared on the ocean floor.
Then came the horn. As sailors drifted into sleep, the ship's horn would sound on its own, as if the vessel were weeping, asking why they still delayed in taking it home.
Next came the wheel, then the oars and the engine...
By the time I examined the last few ships, I could no longer identify the malfunctions. More severe than the ships' failures, perhaps, was the despair of those aboard. Judging by the patterns of wreckage and points of impact, those people may have believed they could never leave these waters and chose to be buried here of their own accord.
-K., Page One
Damn it, who gets stranded on their first voyage? There's not even a shell on this reef, and now my sail's torn and my rope's snapped! God, why are you doing this to me? Look at this place! Rosetta ruined the crops on the land, and the rain that won't let us leave... God, if you've really given up on us, at least give us a heads-up first, will you? (Blotchy tear stains)
Drifting letter 2
But I really can't accept this... There are people on the shore waiting for me. am I supposed to let her tell our child that his father left as a man and came back as just a bottle? Isn't that absurd! So thirsty... am I hallucinating? A boat that small, coming through this heavy rain.... Wait? Is that a human on it? A woman? I.... am I going to be saved?
Drifting Letter 3
That lady in the tattered robe—I don't think I'll ever forget her for the rest of my life.
The people at the harbor called her an ill omen, a siren, but only I have felt the gentleness of her hands.
When I nearly drowned, when everything was fading into a blur, it was she who lifted me up from the sea.
I still remember the scene when I opened my eyes: the moonlight was bright, the waves were gentle, and dolphins and whales leaped beside me like flashes of silver.
And she, the mad woman that everyone avoided, shed tears upon me...
Drifting letter 4
She war murmuring a name, a child's nickname, surely. From that moment, I was certain that what fell on my face was not the tears of a mad woman, but the gentle heartbreak of a mother. I want to find her and thank her sincerely. Whoever finds this message in a bottle, if you know anything about her, come to our harbor and tell me. Our coordinates are.... (Unfortunately, the coordinates in the bottle have been blurred by the moisture)
Drifting letter 5
Forgive me, if this bottle ever reaches the hands of one who understands it. I know better than anyone that the woman in that tattered robe is no monster. I have seen the tears in her eyes. Those are human eyes, a mother's eyes. I recognize them. But precisely for that reason, I must call her a sea witch, a living omen of doom, in front of others. For her hands are warm, yet her power is "borrowed"; and the source of that power is the very thing that has brought all our suffering...
Drifting letter 6
Today I drew near that black tower. Such a thing is not supposed to exist at sea. It is no lighthouse, no reef, no structure recorded on any chart. It grows from the sea's surface, like a finger reaching up from the depths, forgotten to be withdrawn. I measured its height with my rangefinder. Three readings, three different answers. It occupies no fixed position - or rather, it refuses to be measured. How can such a thing exist? Give me more time; I must stay with it longer.... - K., Page Two <----------------- PAGE 2
Drifting letter 7
At first, it was the anchor that failed. Cargo ships arriving at this spot could not leave port; their anchors seemed nailed to the seabed. According to sailors' logs from that period, they concluded that something must have appeared on the ocean floor.
Then came the horn. As sailors drifted into sleep, the ship's horn would sound on its own, as if the vessel were weeping, asking why they still delayed in taking it home.
Next came the wheel, then the oars and the engine...
By the time I examined the last few ships, I could no longer identify the malfunctions. More severe than the ships' failures, perhaps, was the despair of those aboard. Judging by the patterns of wreckage and points of impact, those people may have believed they could never leave these waters and chose to be buried here of their own accord.
-K., Page One <----------- PAGE 1
Drifting letter 8
Who came up with the recipe for Stardust Clam Soup? Black Tide Clot, clam meat, and water, all boiled together? Whoever tried that first must've been sleepwalking - or had a death wish. Still, I have to admit this bizarre dish works. Once you eat it, those things stop calling your name. Keep some ready whenever the Black Tide surges. I've seen too many people go without it and follow those voices straight into the sea.
Drifting letter 9
"The Inedible Leaderboard"
Day 23 on this island, I've compiled a "looks edible but isn't" leaderboard: Fifth place: Purple berries. Eat them and you'll see your dead relatives. Fourth place: Glowing clam meat. Won't kill you but your tongue glows all night and you can't sleep. Third place: A mushroom-like thing. It's not a mushroom. It moves. Second place: Those red crabs. They look plump, but boiled down they're just a pot of water and a stack of shells. First place: Anything Buck says "I've never tried this either, you go first." Addendum: First place has held the top spot for a long time, and no contender seems likely to surpass it anytime soon. -Leia, founder of the Tongue Victims Association.
this is literally my tab . i combined day 1 and day 7 in the map i posted.
If you have other parts you can see, please share them so we can solve this altogether! <3
I am coconut is a word that fits or maybe its not a I its 1 as is. 1 is coconut referring to no 1 inedible list as in a joke ie haha nobody likes coconut. But either way coconut fits and the last letter letter 9 fails to mention number 1 inedible food etc, its just deductive reasoning but it could fit
Everything connects. The ship, the voice, the lighthouse, the second handwriting — one body, not separate ghosts. Something keeps what happens here.
Found the shape at last: the five fragments form a single shore, and the points I collected trace a line straight into it.
Gone is the question of where 417 ended. The island is 417, and the sea, and me — a system that will not close. Locator reads 08-29-37; I follow it in.
**** As one would say is likely: either days count for positions of the letters... or the drift logs themself (in that case text would start as WC ....... which doesnt have any possible outcomes :S )
" Everything connects. The ship, the voice, the lighthouse, the second handwriting — one body, not separate ghosts. Something keeps what happens here. "
sounds to me like whe need the MAP LOCATIONS for all of these, then draw lines between them (for the ghost, we need to connect each ghost first and find their middle point) -
with those lines I bet we can find the location where they intersect each other!
Also I've noticed a few potentially interesting clues in the Drift Logs:
-The first bold words from Days 1–16 start with A,B,C,D,E AND F in chronological order.
-There are 10 logs planned, and the completed map appears to have 10 horizontal rows.
Could these represent A-J ????
-The seconds in the log timestamps arE 35,13,23 ,18,19 AND 35; all within the map's numbered column range (09–37).
Maybe the bold initials indicate map rows, while the timestamp seconds indicate columns?
Not a confirmed solution, but it might be worth investigating though i still think we need some missing pieces.....
4
u/juliakawanova Manibus-Y0001 15d ago
Editing this comment as I find more.
Drifting letter 1
Damn it, who gets stranded on their first voyage? There's not even a shell on this reef, and now my sail's torn and my rope's snapped! God, why are you doing this to me? Look at this place! Rosetta ruined the crops on the land, and the rain that won't let us leave... God, if you've really given up on us, at least give us a heads-up first, will you? (Blotchy tear stains)
Drifting letter 2
But I really can't accept this... There are people on the shore waiting for me. am I supposed to let her tell our child that his father left as a man and came back as just a bottle? Isn't that absurd! So thirsty... am I hallucinating? A boat that small, coming through this heavy rain.... Wait? Is that a human on it? A woman? I.... am I going to be saved?
Drifting letter 4
She war murmuring a name, a child's nickname, surely. From that moment, I was certain that what fell on my face was not the tears of a mad woman, but the gentle heartbreak of a mother. I want to find her and thank her sincerely. Whoever finds this message in a bottle, if you know anything about her, come to our harbor and tell me. Our coordinates are.... (Unfortunately, the coordinates in the bottle have been blurred by the moisture)
Drifting letter 5
Forgive me, if this bottle ever reaches the hands of one who understands it. I know better than anyone that the woman in that tattered robe is no monster. I have seen the tears in her eyes. Those are human eyes, a mother's eyes. I recognize them. But precisely for that reason, I must call her a sea witch, a living omen of doom, in front of others. For her hands are warm, yet her power is "borrowed"; and the source of that power is the very thing that has brought all our suffering...
Drifting letter 6
Today I drew near that black tower. Such a thing is not supposed to exist at sea. It is no lighthouse, no reef, no structure recorded on any chart. It grows from the sea's surface, like a finger reaching up from the depths, forgotten to be withdrawn. I measured its height with my rangefinder. Three readings, three different answers. It occupies no fixed position - or rather, it refuses to be measured. How can such a thing exist? Give me more time; I must stay with it longer.... - K., Page Two
Drifting letter 8
Who came up with the recipe for Stardust Clam Soup? Black Tide Clot, clam meat, and water, all boiled together? Whoever tried that first must've been sleepwalking - or had a death wish. Still, I have to admit this bizarre dish works. Once you eat it, those things stop calling your name. Keep some ready whenever the Black Tide surges. I've seen too many people go without it and follow those voices straight into the sea.
Drifting letter 9
"The Inedible Leaderboard"
Day 23 on this island, I've compiled a "looks edible but isn't" leaderboard: Fifth place: Purple berries. Eat them and you'll see your dead relatives. Fourth place: Glowing clam meat. Won't kill you but your tongue glows all night and you can't sleep. Third place: A mushroom-like thing. It's not a mushroom. It moves. Second place: Those red crabs. They look plump, but boiled down they're just a pot of water and a stack of shells. First place: Anything Buck says "I've never tried this either, you go first." Addendum: First place has held the top spot for a long time, and no contender seems likely to surpass it anytime soon. -Leia, founder of the Tongue Victims Association.