Content Warning: Crux Umbra explores themes of existential dread, as well as survival and psychological horror. Many articles contain depictions of violence and moral ambiguity.

Emoshrooms

Introduction

 

It was beautiful to see.

The dance of the luminous spores surrounded the settlement like the warm embrace of a nurturing mother. A while back, the air had been filled with screams; terror gnawing at the soul, hunger devouring flesh.

Then they found this place.

No one cared that it stood beside an old graveyard. The whole world was a graveyard anyway.

Upon their arrival, the cries stopped - a synchronized silence.

The spores came at night, brushing against their thoughts, calming the storm within. That very night, they sat around the fire and shared their last provisions. They were barely enough to feed one person. For all ten of them, it was merely a taste trying to outsmart starvation.

And yet, somehow, they all felt full.

Nights turned into days. Days into weeks. The the ten became twenty, then thirty, until a small hamlet rose from the bones of the forgotten. And still, the spores danced. Still, they nourished.

Soon, Fear became a memory.

Grief lost its teeth, as the names of the lost slipped out of memory.

Faces blurred.

Words hollowed.

Voice became irrelevant.

Their bodies were fed. Their souls?

Emptied.

That’s when the dance stopped.

The feast was over. The spores vanished.

And the blooms, having taken what they needed, moved on.

 

Origins

The Cataclysm fractured more than just the world. It shattered the veil between magic and reality, merging the two into an unstable amalgam of memory and possibility. Civilizations crumbled. Nature twisted. Nothing stayed pure, not even death. But not everything born of this upheaval wants to kill you.

Mostly.

The Painkiller Fungus, or Emoshroom as it came to be known among the survivors, is one such anomaly. These fungi are the unnatural offspring of fungal life and Wyld magic. A cruel form of evolution, perhaps, or an eerie fusion sprouted where magic and grief collided.

They form colonies with a hive-like awareness, sensing patterns and emotions to feed on. What survivors find - a shimmer in the dark, a flicker at the corner of their breath - is just a piece of something deeper. Every bloom is a nerve ending and every spore a messenger. Every colony ends up to a single body, stretching across ruins and silence.

The blooms do not move quickly, but they do move, trailing sorrow like scent. The sharpness of despair draws them, the heat of grief awakens them. And in this new world, where life survives only by forgetting what it’s lost, the Emoshrooms have found a neverending feast.

 
"It wants to feel. I want to live. It's a fair trade.
— Unknown Survivor
Scientific Name
Mycoghosta vaga (=The Wandering Ghost Fungus)
Origin/Ancestry
Fungi infused with wyld magic
Lifespan
Unknown

Common Names

The Painkiller Fungus, the Emoshroom, the Grey Mercy  

Parts of the Hive Mind

  • The Rootmind (the central, unseen body)
  • The Blooms (mobile satellite fungi)
  • The Symbiospores (spore clouds facilitating exchange)
 

Bloom Variants

  • Mourning Blooms
  • Rage Blooms
  • Solace Blooms

  1. Fungal colonies demonstrate complex, hive-like behavior. Each bloom acts as a sensory node, connected beneath the surface by what seems to be incorporeal mycelial threads.
  2. The spores are releashed selectively when exposed to emotional stimuli.
  3. Nutrient transfer occurs passively via spore inhalation and dermal absorption. No ingestion necessary. Explains high toxicity if eaten.
  4. Bioluminescence colors exhibits slight changes depending to emotion and/or bloom variation. Suspected chemical communication.
  5. Migration patterns connected with enviromental conditions? No! Observation shows they follow emotional “hotspots”. Colonies can relocate slowly over months or years.
  6. Long-term exposure leads to progressive emotional dulling, memory gaps, and physical fatigue despite improved nutrition. Exposure time depends on polulation numbers affected at the same time.
  7. Hypothesis: Emoshrooms rely on emotional energy as an integral part of their metabolism, creating a trade-off that sustains both species. The psychological toll may be a byproduct; not the intent.
   
Notes on "Painkiller Fungus".   Author Unknown.

To feed & to be fed

 

To stand among the Symbiospores is to feel the hush settle over your ribs. Breathing slows. Hunger quiets. Muscles unknot and the clawing ache of an empty gut softens into something bearable. You can move again. You can think again. You can last another day.

This is how the hive mind feed.

Their spores are released from the abundant mushroom blooms and they drift in silent pulses; not swallowed, not chewed, simply breathed or touched. The exchange is invisible, silent and unavoidable.

You give them your feelings: raw, unfiltered and heavy with memory.

In return, they give you what the world no longer does: sustenance.

There is no warmth in the stomach, but your body knows it’s been fed. The weakness lifts. The dizziness passes. Wounds knit just a little faster. As if something inside you suddenly remembers how to survive.

The Painkiller fungi are drawn strongest to the sharpest wounds: rage without voice, mourning without grave, fear that has nowhere left to run. And the more they take, the more hollow you become. Memory softens. Attachments slip away. Some begin to confuse stillness with safety, and numbness with peace.

And still the colonies bloom, searching for the next source that will nourish them.

They do not know you are vanishing. Or if they do, they do not care.

 

Anatomy of the unknown

“They feel like ghosts. They move like whispers beneath the earth, drawn to grief as much as to anger. Some say they cherish hope, but I don't believe it. No, they feed on pain. It's a slow trade. But I'll take it if it keeps me alive.”
— a desperate survivor
 

They look like food. They’re not. Their flesh is toxic; slick and veined, laced with bitter compounds that blacken the tongue and rupture the gut. Many have tried to cook them. None have tried twice.

The real nourishment lies in proximity. Spores drift like forgotten lullabies invisible, delicate, and very much alive. Inhaled or absorbed through skin, they exchange emotion for endurance, suffering for sustenance. The body recovers, but the heart turns slowly to stone.

The blooms do not spread by spore alone. They spread by suffering.

A massacre. A betrayal. A child’s name whispered in the ruins. These call new colonies into being faster than any rain.

Perhaps the most haunting part of the Emoshroom is the Rootmind, the unseen heart of every colony. Buried deep or hidden in ruin, it acts as the core of the hive-mind, the consciousness that binds the blooms together. Each bloom is only a piece of something larger: a single, scattered organism stretched across distance.

What one feels, all remember. Grief swallowed in one ruin may bloom in another.

No pain dies alone.

I don’t think all feelings get taken.

Near Firewatch, I saw something strange. The blooms stayed longer than usual, and the people… they were happy?

No husks fading into nothing.

A girl sang. Someone kissed someone else.

Stories were told by the fire, and people laughed. Not much, but it was real.

The spores drifted like always. But… this might sound crazy, they didn’t drain.

The people didn’t fade. Their eyes stayed sharp. Their faces stayed theirs.

Still... I didn't want to risk it. I left after a week.

Maybe I’m losing it, but…

I think they like hope. Or joy. Something like that.

Like we do.

But those feelings don’t last long out here.

Not when it’s cold, food’s gone, and the wind sounds like someone calling your name.

Pain always comes back.

And I don't know... maybe despair it's just easier for the blooms to follow.

Bloom Variants

 

Mourning Blooms: The most common. Their caps glow in shades of deep blue and tarnished silver. They grow where grief hangs in the air like fog: at mass graves, sunken shelters, and abandoned cradles. Animals curl against their stems for reasons no one understands. They exude warmth. A comforting hush. Survivors sleep beside them and wake with dry eyes. Some say Mourning Blooms devour names first.

Rage Blooms: Crimson-veined and twitching. Found where violence tore through reason: battlefields, execution pits, places of betrayal. Their spores surge like fire in the lungs, igniting bursts of fury, clarity, and cruel purpose. The effect fades fast. All that remains is the hollow afterburn. Some Reavers slice the caps open and smear the ichor across blades, not for poison, but for focus.

Solace Blooms: Found only in places where something was saved: a promise kept, a child protected, a grief made bearable. Their spores nourish without dulling emotion. Hope is preserved. Many doubt their existence. Others worship them in silence.

But Why Risk It?

“I gave them everything. My grief, my rage, even the memory of her name. In return, they kept me breathing. Was it worth it? I don’t know. But I’m still here. That has to count for something, right?”
— a name lost to a Rootmind

One word: survival.

Avoiding death has always been a strong enough instinct. But in a world where not even death is sacred anymore and the dead are restless, staying alive takes on new meaning. Three decades after the Cataclysm tore reality open, humanity still adapts. Still compromises. Still endures. And the Emoshrooms offer something close enough to a bargain.

The early years were brutal. Many died before they understood what the blooms were doing. But settlements have learned. Slowly. Carefully. Enough to survive. Some pass through only briefly - travelers, scavengers, nomads - using the spores like a roadside fire. They rest. They breathe. Their wounds knit. Their hunger fades. Then they move on before the hollowing sets in.

Others stay longer, mostly chasing myths. Believing they’ll be different. That they’ll resist what the spores take. Some even speak of rare blooms, those that said to nourish without taking. Blooms that feed on laughter. On music. On joy. Most believe these are stories told by those already too numb to feel anything else. But people still chase them.

Hope is scarce enough to make fools of the wise.

Stay too long, and you forget what fear was for. Rage fades. Urgency dissolves. People walk into danger with a smile. Some change so fast, their hearts petrifying. The body survives. But whatever lived inside is gone.

And then there are those who never leave. Who kneel among the blooms, whisper to the spores, and call the Rootmind god. They offer sorrow like prayer. And they speak of peace, not as something to reach, but something to collapse into.

Because in the end, the spores give you what the world no longer does.

And all they ask in return is you.

In the end, every survivor makes their own choice and quietly asks themselves:

 
You can live without hunger.   You can live without fear.   But can you still call it living without yourself?
 

Read Next

 

 

Tooltips were created with the help of the guide Styling Toolitips and Excerpts written by Annie Stein.


Comments

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Jun 29, 2025 16:45

This is fantastic and I am saving it for the August reading challenge!

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Jun 29, 2025 18:01 by Imagica

That means a lot coming from you <3 Thank you so much!!

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Jun 29, 2025 16:47 by Barbarossa Sparklebeard

This is such a great article! Holy crap! Its amazing how you got all this done in a single day! Very impressive! Well done! Your CSS is amazing, the effects are awesome. Love everything about this.

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Jun 29, 2025 18:02 by Imagica

Thank you very much!! I'm so glad you liked it (I deeply appreciate the enthousiasm!!)

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Jun 29, 2025 18:27 by Grey

Super moody, I love all the poetics you jammed into this! Very haunting and cool!

Jun 30, 2025 15:19 by Imagica

Thank you ^^ I'm glad you liked it!

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Jun 30, 2025 02:29 by Jacqueline Taylor

This is beautiful. A wonderful metaphor for the human condition and the constant question that we pose ourselves. Is THIS worth it? Is surviving enough? Brilliant! <3

Piggie
Jun 30, 2025 15:19 by Imagica

Thanks Piggie! I'm super happy you enjoyed it :)

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Jun 30, 2025 06:36

Amazing article! Fungi are cool, and this is such an interesting take on combining them with magic.

Fly high, Guardian. o7
— Nulcheck ¦ Dragonguard Legend
Jun 30, 2025 15:21 by Imagica

Thanks Nul! I'm glad you enjoyed the combo ^^

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Jun 30, 2025 07:42 by Asmod

Hecking yes

Jun 30, 2025 15:21 by Imagica

Best comment ever! Thanks you Asmo, I appreciate the enthousiasm ^^

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Jun 30, 2025 11:20 by CoolG

This sounds like an awful way to live, but I can understand why some still choose this :( Incredible work, as usual ^^

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Jun 30, 2025 15:23 by Imagica

Thanks CoolG! Yeah... it's a gloomy existance. But humanity adapts, and hope remains (it's somewhere in there, I promise!)

I survived Summer Camp! Check out what I wrote in my Summer Camp Hub Article
 
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Jul 1, 2025 21:22 by Dr Emily Vair-Turnbull

Mushrooms mushrooms mushrooms! I love the image of the rageshrooms twitching. So creepy.   I hope the solaceshrooms really do exist.

Emy x
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Jul 1, 2025 21:32 by Imagica

Thanks Emy! I hope I did mushrooms justice with this article <3 And... full disclosure... don't tell anybody but they do exist :)

I survived Summer Camp! Check out what I wrote in my Summer Camp Hub Article
 
Come visit my world of Kena'an for tales of fantasy and magic! Or, if you want something darker, Crux Umbra awaits.
Jul 16, 2025 09:27

Holy shrooms

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Jul 16, 2025 18:41 by Imagica

hehehe... holy shrooms indeed XD

I survived Summer Camp! Check out what I wrote in my Summer Camp Hub Article
 
Come visit my world of Kena'an for tales of fantasy and magic! Or, if you want something darker, Crux Umbra awaits.