What happens when you die

None of this changes a rule. All of it is the game admitting what it is.

One of the twelve is taken, not replaced

When you banish one, the card does not swap for the next one. It collapses inward, a hole opens where it stood, and the next one climbs out of that hole.

The trigger is structural rather than written: nothing except a kill can change which card the enemy is, so the animation cannot be knocked out of step by a change of wording, and it cannot fire on a reveal that was not a death.

The mark is asleep, not off

Two embers sit where the creature’s eyes are on the entry screen. The cycle is long and mostly dark, the light never reaches full, and the two are out of phase. Two lights pulsing together read as a machine. Two lights pulsing apart read as something breathing.

You are a constellation

The figure beside your name at the table is not a portrait. It is a person drawn as the points they are made of, dense at the middle and already fraying at the legs.

It is the same figure that comes apart on the Consumed screen, and that is the whole reason it exists. A death screen showing someone you have never seen before is a stock illustration. The one that has been sitting beside your name all game is you.

Because it is made of points, it does not need to be wiped away. The points simply leave, each on its own drift, and what stays behind stays behind.

All three respect a reduced motion preference, and none of them loops.