A wandering anthology of game demos, half-remembered narratives, and interactive chambers from the MiRiS circle. Each panel ahead is a waypoint. Every scroll, a step deeper.
Demos and narrative previews from the wandering circle.
A side-scrolling memory played in moonlight. Walk the colonnade where every footfall summons a different verse. The cathedral answers in chimes, in echoes, in unfinished prayer.
A puzzle of breath and refraction. You are given a furnace, a pipe, and one question: what shape does the morning take? Solve with light, then live inside what you made.
A dialogue-only RPG aboard a barge that never reaches the far shore. Listen well — a passenger who tells the truth changes the current. By dawn, you will know which of you is dreaming.
A radio simulator set on a hill of derelict towers. Tune by feel. Some signals are voices, some are weather, some are answers to questions you have not yet asked.
Encounters that recur in MiRiS works — figures, weathers, instruments.
Vertical traversal, indifferent to story. Rungs hum when used.
Appears at thresholds. Its dust marks save points.
Rings between scenes. Its echo is a passable wall.
A map that updates only after you have already arrived.
A chord of unequal pipes. Pressing one alters the weather.
A timekeeper with no hands. It sees you finish, never start.
A reading-room for old builds, soundtracks, and field notes.
Leave a name at the threshold and the next chamber will know you were here. We send no mailings. We keep no maps of you. We only remember.