Companions you keep
Party with a sim you like and it stays yours — a named roster you build over time, not a stranger every session.
Where this world is going, and what it would be like to be standing in it.
The sims a party is built from, the pets that fight beside them, and how a pull works.
Party with a sim you like and it stays yours — a named roster you build over time, not a stranger every session.
A Unicorn, a Dark Panther and a Phantom Summoner's pet should not all swing the same way. Each gets its own behaviour, and shots are always on.
A polearm puller drags a train and the AoE nukers drop it — the parties that make Dragon Valley cave and the catacombs worth a crowd.
Parties announce where they are going by landmark — the obelisk near the werewolves — instead of by zone.
Export a character from one of our worlds and carry it into your own, where the rates and the population are yours to set.
Everything the sims do today, they do at you: they stock the shops, they join when you ask, they follow when you move. None of it starts with them. This is the half where the world speaks first.
Sims run the shops you buy from, but nothing buys from you. The other half of that: a sim who wants what you are carrying, and says so.
Say it out loud — looking for a party, healer, sixty-five — and have somebody answer and come find you, instead of you going to them.
Scout ahead and the party waits somewhere sensible rather than trailing you into it. Walk far enough and they hold instead of chasing.
A shop already answers a whisper asking where it is. Everyone else in the crowd stays quiet, and a shop only ever answers that one question.
Several parties in one chamber against a boss, with one brain deciding who tanks, who spreads and who moves as the fight changes.
Not eight parties attacking the same target. Someone decides who tanks, who spreads, who moves — and changes their mind when the boss does.
Tight for a corridor, loose for an area attack. The same lever a real raid leader calls out.
A party that sits down, drinks, and buffs before it opens a door reads as people rather than processes.
Sims that found clans, hold castles, set the tax in the town below, and remember who took what from whom.
Reputation, membership, rivalry — the fabric that makes a name on a shop mean something.
Clans hold castles and halls, and the tax they set moves the prices in the town below.
Griefed at a spot, and the sims you are with respond — sensibly, and without dragging you into karma you did not ask for.
Castles contested on a schedule the world keeps, and a market in the town below that moves when one changes hands.
Registration, attackers, defenders, gates that fall. The schedule belongs to the world.
A castle changing hands moves the taxes, which moves the market. You can see who won without being told.
Sims that learn from a bad pull, take the safer route over the shorter one, and keep time with a world that has seasons.
A party that dies to the same pull twice should approach it differently the third time.
The shortest route through a Cruma room is often the worst one. Edging the wall to pull less is what a person does.
Pacing, hesitation, the way someone moves between fights. Small enough to be unremarkable, consistent enough to be a person.
Seasons, festivals, a day that turns. The economy already ages; the calendar is what makes it felt.
Nothing here has a date, and nothing here is a promise. It is a snapshot of where the world is being taken — and the list changes as the world teaches us what it wants.