a game-making circle
ゲームという花を育てるサークル
A contemplative puzzle game about guiding light through underground caverns. You are a spark — nameless, patient, ancient — descending through layers of stone and silence. Each cavern is a puzzle of reflection and refraction: angle the crystals, part the shadows, find the path that lets you fall deeper into the earth's luminous heart. There is no enemy. There is no timer. There is only the light, and the dark, and the geometry between them.
神様の庭
A gardening simulation where you tend a god's abandoned garden. The god left centuries ago — no one remembers why — but the garden persists, overgrown and wild and quietly waiting. You arrive with a watering can and infinite patience. Each plant has its own temperament: the wisteria is vain, the moss is philosophical, the bamboo is impatient. Tend them well, and the garden whispers its secrets. Tend them poorly, and it forgives you anyway.
A narrative RPG about a tailor in a dying kingdom. The kingdom is not dying of war or plague — it is dying of fraying. The seams of reality are coming undone, and only those who work with thread can see it. You are the last tailor in the capital, and your needle is the only weapon that matters. Stitch the world back together, one torn edge at a time, or watch it unravel into beautiful, terrible nothing.
A meditative space game about maintaining a space station's botanical bay. You are the station's last gardener, orbiting a world you can no longer return to. Your task is simple and infinite: keep the plants alive. Water the ferns in Bay 3. Adjust the UV lamps in Bay 7. Talk to the orchids — they don't understand, but they lean toward your voice. Outside the windows, the planet turns. Inside, green things grow. That is enough.
We started MiRiS in a university cafeteria, three people with laptops and too much coffee. The name came from a misheard word — someone said "mirisu" instead of "morisu" and it stuck. That was 2017. We're still here.
The best part of making games together is the moment when someone adds something you didn't expect and it's better than anything you planned. Thread & Thorn's entire magic system came from a "what if the needle could sew time" conversation at 2 AM.
I keep telling them we should finish a game before starting a new one. They keep telling me that's not how gardens work. I think they might be right.
Every game we make is a letter to the people who will play it. We don't know who they are yet, but we write to them anyway. Dear player: we hope you find something here that makes you want to stay a little longer.
For correspondence, address inquiries to
hello@miris-project.net
Est. 2017 · This catalogue compiled 2026