A multimedia collection of letters, animatics, plus fan-made content that makes up the studio's lore.
The Grimoire has its core in the depths of nobodies' Discord server, a place where
everyone is welcome to come by and share their horror stories.

I Letter - The Grimoire

A book made by me, yours truly, to my friend Lhari.
For, actually, I'm writing it per your request.

Dearest L.Well, calling it a book might be a bit pretentious on my part, since I’ll treat it more like a diary.
I know, I know, you asked me a grimoire, but you know I’m not one for formalities:
the stiffness of the scientific form bores me to death, and I’m a thousand years too inexperienced to write you a novel, so this is the best I can do.Now then, about this entry.
The first one is supposed to be special, isn’t it?
So here I am, reminding myself to never cross you, recalling my visit to your “favourite” city.Bet you’re wondering how I even know about it, considering how hard you tried to keep it a secret. For one, I’m just that good. But I do commend you: given how little you let out, the whole process was a struggle.First, deciphering the almost non-existent clues you gave me was a pain. Is it really so hard for you to talk about your past? After a thousand years? Anyways, after that, there was the ordeal of finding the original name of the place (which was cool, but useless), then the new one (which is pretty uninspired, yet was slightly less useless), and then finally the place itself. How much time and effort this took me you can guess for yourself, as you have been tailing the city for years as well, albeit without much to show for it.Even getting there was stupidly difficult: the curse you cast left a bit of a mess; the borders keep shifting, sometimes even kilometers, in matters of seconds, which was really annoying. If I may kindly ask this of you, next time you condemn a city to eternal damnation, would you mind binding it to a stationary cloud? Having to run on foot to get inside the phenomena was a curse in on itself, but not even I would be so stupid as to try to fly through that creepy ass storm. My poor legs hurt now.You would think an entire kingdom would move slower than that, but things are never easy for poor poor Nemo, simply trying to do their job.Anyhow, I do like what you did with the place.
Gives it that touch of apocalyptic je-ne-sais-quoi that I just can’t help but love.Finally, without further ado, here we go.Since it constantly moves telling you the coordinates I used would be meaningless, but next time I come to visit, if you want, we can track it down together.Sincerely,
Nemo

II Letter - An Apology

Dearest L,You have stopped writing to me since I sent you the first chapter of the grimoire.
I plead guilty to the charge, but before the Judge’s hammer seals my sentence, please give me an opportunity to apologize.Digging into your past without your permission was a mistake; and although I refuse to regret my findings, there is no excuse for the way I went about it.Having faced situations like yours before, I became convinced I knew how to lighten your burden. I behaved like my reasons and experiences were universal, and concluded arbitrarily that my selfish actions would make you happy.You know me, often my enthusiasm gets the better of my senses.
Blinded by curiosity, I went too far.My ego led me astray, and I hurt you.
I am sorry.Since I wronged you by stealing a glance at your past, let me make amends.
The next entry is a story from my past.
A tale from the unburned forest, Incombusta, one that I never told you.
One that I hope will make us even.Let me tell you one last thing, before I start.Take all the time to grieve the past that is needed, but I beg you: don’t let it consume what joy is left in the present.Endlessly tormenting yourself is adding pointless misery to an already cruel punishment.Let the guilt go, there is no one left to condemn you, there is no one left to forgive you.
There is no one left, but you.
You have suffered enough.I miss your snarky comments, your convoluted stories, our matches of chess by mail.Please, talk to me.
NemoP.S. Don’t think I haven’t noticed the increase in the amount of humans disappearing in their sleep; I know that “that” is your “thing”, and that you may not be inclined to listen to my pleas right now, but there has to be a better way to vent your sorrow.PPS. Pawn in B3.

III Letter - An Apology

Dearest L,You have stopped writing to me since I sent you the first chapter of the grimoire.
I plead guilty to the charge, but before the Judge’s hammer seals my sentence, please give me an opportunity to apologize.Digging into your past without your permission was a mistake; and although I refuse to regret my findings, there is no excuse for the way I went about it.Having faced situations like yours before, I became convinced I knew how to lighten your burden. I behaved like my reasons and experiences were universal, and concluded arbitrarily that my selfish actions would make you happy.You know me, often my enthusiasm gets the better of my senses.
Blinded by curiosity, I went too far.My ego led me astray, and I hurt you.
I am sorry.Since I wronged you by stealing a glance at your past, let me make amends.
The next entry is a story from my past.
A tale from the unburned forest, Incombusta, one that I never told you.
One that I hope will make us even.Let me tell you one last thing, before I start.Take all the time to grieve the past that is needed, but I beg you: don’t let it consume what joy is left in the present.Endlessly tormenting yourself is adding pointless misery to an already cruel punishment.Let the guilt go, there is no one left to condemn you, there is no one left to forgive you.
There is no one left, but you.
You have suffered enough.I miss your snarky comments, your convoluted stories, our matches of chess by mail.Please, talk to me.
NemoP.S. Don’t think I haven’t noticed the increase in the amount of humans disappearing in their sleep; I know that “that” is your “thing”, and that you may not be inclined to listen to my pleas right now, but there has to be a better way to vent your sorrow.PPS. Pawn in B3.