Normally, this contained object remains static, transparent, and stable. It only moves when there are no signs of ■■■■■■■ ■■■■■■ in the Overrealm-slithering and wriggling to sweep up scattered items from the ground before delivering them into the "Door."
Don't stand around too long in the Overrealm, lest you be mistaken for ■■■■ ■■■■■■.

The contained object resembles a clock-except its hands spin backwards. Whenever the Overrealm begins to ■■■■■, you instinctively reach for it, only to find the time unreadable.

Even the most seasoned agents cannot discern what creature these wings belong to. They are wings, and seem to be just that. By that, I mean every other part of this being seems to have been completely ■■■■.
If you accidentally touch it, your feet will be seized by an uncontrollable urge to move forward, until you ■■■■■■■.

This is a firearm, or so the technician's dismantling report claims. Yet when ■■■ held it, the thing felt warm and something inside throbbed like a pulse-almost as though it were alive.
When the agents arrived, ■■■ stood motionless amidst the ■■■■■■■■■ of his colleagues, yet he insisted he had done nothing at all.

Before entering the Overrealm, ■■■■ carved an anchor with ■■■■■.
It was a marker, a signal, a direction.
■■ always return to that anchor, as if finding the way home.

To delve deeper into the Overrealm, you must carry this contained object with you.
Tell me, can you still recall how many doors you've pushed open?

In the Overrealm, objects occasionally fall from above. It's dangerous-yet somehow, not entirely so.
It was at that moment, amidst the falling debris, that a hauntingly familiar face seemed to stare back.

This contained object appears to have no physical form. It's more like a pervasive atmosphere.
Within its influence, all ■■■■■■■■ organisms reanimate into identical forms, each exhibiting startling aggression.

This contained object resembles a humanoid creature. Most of the time, it merely crouches silently in the corner-utterly still, utterly silent. Yet when you let your guard down and draw too close, you can no longer ■■■■ him.

Sometimes, overshadows cling to abnormalities. To capture them, you must carry this contained object.
While performing containment in the Overrealm, agents should collect these overshadows. They may yield unexpected ■■■■■■■.

To delve deeper into the Overrealm, you must carry this contained object with you.
Tell me, can you still recall how many doors you've pushed open?

This contained object takes the form of a floating head. It drifts endlessly through the Overrealm, devouring ■■■■■ in its path. Among which, valuable items are inevitably consumed.
Should you encounter it within the Overrealm, you must ■■■■■ it at all costs.

This contained object is an exquisite birdcage, emanating a peculiar allure. Often, you come to your senses only to realize you've already stepped inside.
Yet you recall nothing of what follows, only a faint sense that ■■■■■ ■■■■■■ might not be so terrible after all.

I encountered the "Doorkeeper" in the Overrealm, yet even after I ■■■■■■■■ him, the door remained sealed.
How splendid. Now, it's your turn to become the ■■■■■■■■■.

It seems you've forgotten where home is again.
But worry not. We've found it.

I passed through a door, and another, and another, and another.
From these doors emerged a version of me, and another, and another, and another, and another.
Now, it is time to open the final door.

Countless paths emerge in the Overrealm.
I turn left, advance, then ■■■■ ■■■■■. I am certain I've chosen the right path.
Perhaps this way, I can remain in the ■■■■■■■ forever.

Countless paths emerge in the Overrealm.
I turn left, advance, then ■■■■ ■■■■■. I am certain I've chosen the right path.
Perhaps this way, I can remain in the ■■■■■■■ forever.

This contained object manifests as a pale red membrane, typically drifting in the air with a faint rhythmic pulse.
Upon contact with a ■■■■■ creature, it latches on to the host's skin, draining ■■■■■■ and hardening into a solid shell.

This contained object manifests as a pale red membrane, typically drifting in the air with a faint rhythmic pulse.
Upon contact with a ■■■■■ creature, it latches on to the host's skin, draining ■■■■■■ and hardening into a solid shell.

My hands lie broken, my pendulum twisted, my face in ruins.
Yet my gaze never leaves you.

My hands lie broken, my pendulum twisted, my face in ruins.
Yet my gaze never leaves you.