A wolf takes your arm.
It heals. It will not wield a shield again. The crossbow it could once draw is now firewood. The world doesn't owe you symmetry.
Aeonmarked
A small thing, in a world that does not care about you.
A turn-based open-world roguelike. Your body is data. Your world will end. You will not.
You wake in a root cellar. You are a rat. Above you, a kingdom older than its own gods sleeps through the rain.
A turn-based open-world roguelike. You may be a rat, a swamp slime, or a farmhand with a rusted knife. The world is older than you and it does not care about you. Factions rise and fall while you sleep. Legends are written about places you have never seen.
Worlds end. Aeons begin. You are the splinter the cosmos couldn't work out — the one continuous thing falling forward into each new cosmos.
Carry what survives. Try not to repeat its mistakes. The continents will not be where you left them.
The world does not wait for you.
Sleep too long. The bandits you spared have moved on. The settlement they sacked is ash. Somewhere a faction you never met has decided you are a problem.
You are not the protagonist. You are the camera.
Rat. Slime. Revenant. Farmhand with a rusted knife. The same rules apply to all of them. The world is the same shape. Only the body changes.