Grave Shift
Nine men went down the No. 4 on the grave shift and none came up. The company called it a roof fall and sealed the drift. That was eight years ago. The ground has started opening again — and it opens a little wider every night.
You are the Keeper
Not a person — an office. You wake in the old burial ground whenever the night blooms, in the last Keeper's coat, carrying the last Keeper's crossbow, remembering none of the last Keeper's nights.
Nailed inside the cemetery gate, on paper older than anyone in town: CALL THE KEEPER IF THE NIGHT BLOOMS. Somebody called.
What you are getting into
- Survival horror, roguelike
The deliberate, resource-starved dread of survival horror wrapped around a run you can lose in twenty minutes. Death is the loop, not the failure. - No two nights the same
Hand-built rooms dealt out in a fresh order every run, with the houses, the keys and the graves rearranged behind them. - Tense combat
A crossbow you have to re-cock, a flashlight that only reaches so far, and things coming at you out of the dark you did not point it at. - Every bolt counted
The coat holds what it holds. Ammunition, tinctures and medallions all want the same pockets, and you choose at the door. - Houses that do not want solving
Locked storeys, colour-coded keys, wards to disarm, and a crypt that will not open without its medallion.
Actual gameplay
And he rises
Press the stone in the crypt and you have asked for him. He does not stay in his room: he walks the ground you have already walked, he rides in on the mist, and he is somewhere behind you for the rest of the night.
Decline, and the crypt keeps asking.
Reserve a copy
The playtest is a Windows build, rough on purpose. Leave an address and we send it when there is something worth your evening.