But for a little while longer, thanks to the Ars, you can feel the rain on a windowpane. You can whisper "I love you" to a sleeping child. You can scream defiance at the Spectres.

The art of Fetters. Every Wraith is tied to the living world by Fetters—physical objects or people that anchor them to life. Lifeweb allows you to manipulate that connection. You can sense your childhood home from across the city, or feel when your widow is crying. Masters of Lifeweb can even possess their old possessions.

Your Shadow will use to lead you into a Maelstrom. It will use Pandemonium to terrify your friends into abandoning you. It will use Usury to turn you into an emotional vampire.

If you think being a Vampire is a tragedy or being a Werewolf is a rage-fueled crusade, you haven’t spent five minutes as a Wraith. In Wraith: The Oblivion (one of the most beautifully melancholic settings in the World of Darkness ), you play a ghost. But not just any ghost—a soul trapped in the labyrinthine afterlife of the Underworld, haunted by your own darkest impulses (your Shadow), and desperately clinging to the memories of the living.

The art of movement and navigation. The Underworld is infinite, shifting, and hostile. Argos allows a Wraith to find doors where there are no walls, to travel the ghostly byways (The Tempest), and eventually walk the living world without getting lost. If your Wraith is an explorer or a messenger, Argos is your lifeline.

You learn the .

The art of passion. This is the dangerous one. Usury allows a Wraith to steal the emotional energy (Pathos) from the living. You can make a person feel your grief, your rage, or your love. But in doing so, you feed your own existence. It’s a parasitic art, and it’s a fast track to becoming a monster. The Dark Secret: Your Shadow Knows Them Too Here is the cruel twist of Wraith . You have a dark mirror called your Shadow . The Shadow is your self-destruction, your guilt, and your despair given a voice. And the Shadow can learn Arcanoi too.