|The Eye (Map)|
|The Eye (Gazetteer)|
|Located in||Nameless tile|
"Something forgotten is here"
The Eye is a colossal eye on the sea floor that appears on a nameless tile in the southern part of the sea. It appeared in some Sunless Sea publicity material, as well as in one of the splash screens when loading a saved game.
Each time a new Map is created, one of five nameless tiles could appear in the purple tile zone (the latitude of the Iron Republic, marked in green at Map#Map_Generation). The one which contains The Eye only contains one small rock. When you sail into it, the log message "Something forgotten is here" appears. The Eye does not appear on your chart even after discovery.
When you sail over it, it suddenly opens and the eyeball tracks your ship. Your Terror starts increasing +1 per second, and if you stay there for a few moments, the zee shakes and rumbles.
Finding it gives the Steam achievement "Roaring Rise".
The Eye does not appear in every map: there is a 4/5 possibility that the empty tile in that area contains some non-descript islets instead. The following log descriptions all indicate that you've found the right area, but your map is unlucky:
- Spined towers rear in the light of the false-stars. Ware reefs.
- The wind carries the echo of distant chants. Long-dead priests still count the hours in this place.
- A sudden fog of spores! Zailors sneeze. The sound echoes flatly in the soupy air.
- The zee here is warm. Bubbles rise and burst with lazy menace. The fire in the earth is restless.
The eye! The eye! As vast and round and wild as the moon!
Your crew shriek and cavort! They pull their moustaches and bay like dogs! You, of course, are calm. Utterly calm. Calm as the moon! Those noises must be coming from someone else.
This event is triggered when you zail into the Eye with your zubmarine if you have the following:
|Dive into the pupil
Dive and exult!
|You descend. The blackness of the pupil expands. There is no cornea to bar your way, no lens. The pupil is a tunnel, and your vessel plunges into it.
Your forward light dies. Your lamps die. Darkness unfurls like spilled ink. A cold breeze brushes your face.
As fast as you can. It sees!
|It sees through your skin and your flesh and into your bones where accumulate all the things that you have ever done or said or thought or feared or adored or despised or wished or made or broken or grieved or desired or shamed-
For God's sake! Can't this bl__dy zubmarine go any faster?
Under Sunless Skies
You are in a room, of sorts. It is bulbous in shape, not unlike a kidney. The furnishings (if that is what they are) look like the work of a surrealist. This straight-backed, many-legged edifice is perhaps a chair. That oily surface - a table? An altar?
The breeze, winter-cold, enters through an arched window. Through it, you can see a dark sky.
The sun is black. It squirms.
A sound from behind you. Something moves in the chamber. The lumpen mass opposite the window is not, after all, a disastrous attempt at a coat-stand - it is a living thing, wrapped in multitudinous layers of gauze.
||The creature is towering, bulky, and unevenly-shaped beneath its fluttering veils. It carries what looks like a measuring rod, notched with unfamiliar enumerations. Its voice is shrill. "Welcome, Trespasser, to the House of Rods and Chains. Your daring is notable, and rare. My employer -" here, the thing extends what is hopefully an arm towards the window, and the sable, seething sun, "- would like you to deliver a message to the Neath. You will be compensated."
It shuffles towards the table-altar. A set of iridescent scales stand there, the bowls perfectly balanced. One bowl holds a bubble of glass, in which something bright and misty coils. The other bowl is empty.
|Agree to carry the message
Is it curiosity? Greed? Madness? In days to come, you will wonder what drove you to accept.
||"Please," the creature squeals, inclining its upper portions towards the scales. You take the glass bubble. The wisp inside it peers madly out with pinprick eyes. The black sun is closer, now, glaring into the chamber like a child through a dollhouse window.
Pain blooms behind your left temple. It migrates: across your cheek, down your neck, over your shoulder. You clutch at it, and feel a sliding, swelling pucker on your skin before it moves out of reach.
"The Liberation of Night began long ago," the veiled creature pipes. "Tell whoever you choose, or do not. You are the message. Those who must know, will know." It bangs its measuring-rod on the floor. The sun screams in joy. Everything goes dark.
You find yourself back in your zubmarine, your crew desperately steering it away from the vast eye on the zee-bed. Your pain is easing, but not gone. You stumble wildly to your quarters. A mirror. You need a mirror!
+1 x An Additional Eye on an Unobtrusive Part of your Person
+1 x Supremacy: The Anarchists (if ≤ 6)
Beheld = 0
Demand to be returned to your vessel!
||Outside the window, the black sun withdraws. Its seething calms to a languid boil.
Its creature gives an irritable whistle. "So. An insistently disappointing species. Begone, then. My employer must grieve. To look on you longer would only cause it distress." Your vision floods with inky gloom.
When it recedes you are back in your zubmarine, your crew frantically steering it away from the vast eye that dominates the zee-bed. You spring to help them.