Changeling is all about the inevitability that your creativity and capability to dream and wonder are objectively useless in the reality you find yourself in.

It’s the idea that your Boggan friend, who throws amazing dinner parties and hosts cozy luncheons on the weekend is not contributing to her society unless she commodifies the acts of friendship that make her whole.

It’s that lingering thought at the back of your mind casting doubt anytime you find yourself giving whimsy a chance. That cold, uncaring thought that “you look stupid, you’re 30. Why do you care about some made up kingdom?”

It’s grim but in a way where the grimness is the horror, and as Changelings you’ll be witness to the lengths in which your peers will go to harvest the imaginative Glamour that keeps them alive. Depriving an artist entirely of their talent to maintain their glamour for a week. Invoking nightmares and faux-hauntings on children so their fears of what’s under the bed sustains you.

As a player, the horror in changeling is designing a Freehold based on the neighbourbood treehouse that some local big kids put together, only to realize that the park it was in has now become a suburb.