Lexicon

Sensation play

Sensation play is the body as an instrument: temperature, texture, pressure, the blindfold that takes away seeing so that everything else gets louder. Ice, wax, fur, the edge of something that might be a blade and is a credit card. The catalogue calls it the body without the seeing, and readers who tick it want scenes that stay very close to the skin, slow, and specific about what each thing actually feels like.

It is the theme most tempted by figurative writing, because sensation is hard to name and metaphor is easy. The readers who love it are the ones most tired of metaphor. They want a hand to be a hand and cold to be cold, described precisely enough that they can feel it.

How the engine handles it. With Sensation play ticked, the engine writes literally: what is touched, with what, where, how it changes, and how the body answers, in the loop of action, sensation and response the whole engine is built on. It tracks what the blindfolded person can and cannot know, which is a continuity fact as much as a sensory one, and it keeps the person applying the sensation on the page as attention, watching for the response. The scene's explicitness follows the level you set; the theme only decides what the scene is made of. Sensation play combines with restraint more often than not, and with denial and edging when the sensation is the thing being withheld.

Your stories are encrypted at rest. We can read them to write them. Nobody else can read them.