Am I a terrible friend? And other thoughts while playing Letters to Sandra

When Sandra left for college, she ripped the smallest hole out of my world and left me worrying its edges. Smarter than me, smarter than most everyone in Centerville, Sandra’s destiny started at Mount Briaroke College. And from there? Anywhere. Anywhere other than Centerville and its factory, its one diner with a tuna fish special, and its church pew gossip.

Of course I read the other letters she wrote, the ones not explicitly meant for me. Have you ever peeked through a keyhole and wondered what else that room might hold? Have you ever squeezed your heart through the space between words and wondered if “the coffee is still burnt” might be read as “I love you”? Besides, she would want me to know about her life—we are best friends. She would understand.

Letters to Sandra is a solo RPG that casts you as someone else in Sandra Blank’s life—a mother, a brother, a friend. She writes to me — Dorothy, Dot, <”my Punctuation”> — as she writes to everyone close to her that still resides in sleepy Centerville. Her letters carry snippets of life at the women’s college in Briaroak, threads from grander tapestries concerning literature and quarrelsome professors. Boys and alcohol-fueled parties. Her letters are your only window into Sandra’s world. Each one is framed by a “mask” pulled from the zine-sized booklet that the player cuts to reveal only their designated snippet. The others are not meant for you and hover just out of reach beneath a gauze of paper.