As you sink into the chair, you quite literally sink into the chair, with your spirit dropping from your body into the leather-upholstered recliner. Try as you might, over the next several hours, you can't shake your spirit loose from its new trappings, and to make matters worse, the way your spirit arranged itself in the chair is such that the seat isn't analogous to your lap, but rather to your face.

Thus, it comes as somewhat of a relief a few days later when a ghostly maid lifts your now-dead body from the chair and hauls it off ... somewhere. A relief in that you no longer have a decaying body sitting on your 'face,' but more worrisome in that it now seems that you'll never escape your new form.

Over the years, many of the ghostly inhabitants - from the ghostly Lady to her various servants: maids, butlers, musicians - make use of the fireside seat as a quiet place to relax. It never does seem 'normal' or 'natural' to you, somehow the magic of the place preserves your mind and identity, which means you never lose yourself and become nothing but a chair in essence ... but it also means you have nothing to cushion your senses from dealing with 'people' sitting on you.