[Explanatory note: One of my favourite things about procedurally-generated games like roguelikes, Minecraft and indeed A Valley Without Wind is the sense of emergent narrative they generate. While light on explicit narrative, the story of the player’s own journey through the game becomes compelling in its own right. It’s a big part of what makes story-light titles such as Demon’s Souls so entertaining, too, if you’re willing to invest in them.
What follows is the story of my first forays into the world of Environ via A Valley Without Wind. Some artistic license has been taken for brevity’s sake but this is more or less how my early play sessions have unfolded.
Additional note: All names in this piece are exactly as they appeared in the game thanks to its glorious random name generator.]
Yan Sadovski awoke with a start in a snowfield. Spitting out the wet slush as it melted on his face, he unsteadily pulled himself to his feet and surveyed his surroundings.
Snow and ice as far as the eye could see.
This was nothing unusual, of course, for the world had been enveloped in a new ice age certainly for as long as he could remember. But something didn’t seem quite right. He couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was, but something was very much amiss, and he had a strange feeling that something terrible had happened. If only he could remember what.
Flexing his fingers within his snowsuit which had been keeping him warm for however long he had been unconscious outdoors, he experimentally cast the “fire touch” spell that momentarily set his hand ablaze — one of the first spells his people learned, but a useful one.
Good, he thought. That’s still fine.
It was then he felt the strange presence behind him — a floating, glowing object depicting strange symbols.
Glyphbearer, said a resonant voice inside his head.
“What?” said Yan aloud, feeling immediately foolish, for there was no-one to speak to.
Wherever he turned, the glyph seemed to float behind him, meaning he couldn’t get a good look at it. He shrugged and started trudging onwards through the snow in what he hoped was the right direction to get back to civilisation.
Gravestones littered the path here and there, marking the spots where previous Glyphbearers had fallen. Inscribed upon them were warnings and advice — “don’t forget your wooden platforms”, “don’t jump into big holes unaware of what lies ahead”, “don’t forget a light source”. He didn’t know who had left the gravestones, but he felt it wise to follow their instructions, particularly as they always seemed peculiarly relevant to the situations in which he found himself.
Before long, he came upon the mouth of a cave. Curiosity getting the better of him, he walked inside and began to investigate.
The cavern was filled with strange mushrooms, lumps of rock and solid veins of purest gemstone. Greedily running his hands over the veins and letting the energy of elemental fire flow through his fingers, he gathered up the gemstones only to discover the strange glyph sucking them inside itself. He had no idea where the tiny, strange, floating object was putting them, but he had little doubt that they were safe.
Making a note of where the entrance was in his mind, Yan proceeded deeper into the caverns. Before long, he came upon what looked like a long-abandoned spellgem workbench — and it still held a selection of gems. He picked them up, the glyph “pocketing” them once again, and felt a rush of mystical energy flowing through him. Concentrating intently, he summoned forth a boulder of solid rock, flinging it into the air. Then a fireball, scorching the chill air as it passed. Then a ball of lightning, electricity cracking and fizzling around him as he chuckled to himself.
Satisfied with his haul, he picked his way through the caverns, back in the direction of the entrance. But he was no longer alone; the robots had come. The endless mechanical hordes had been blighting humanity throughout this new ice age, and now they were here, too. Grimacing, Yan fired off a bolt of lightning at the approaching mech, watching satisfied as it exploded into pieces. But still they came, in greater numbers.
Before long, he was surrounded. White metal robots jabbed him with their spears, while their red brethren — superiors? he thought — assaulted him with flaming masses.
He could feel his life slipping away as the machines continued their relentless assault. He was in pain, and he knew at that instant that he was never going to find out what disaster had befallen the lands.
Blackness.
Nothingness.
Anger.
Taquesha Garrett opened her eyes and found herself standing in a snowfield. She had no idea how she had got here, and no idea what the strange floating object behind her was. She sensed great power emanating from it, however, and sensed it wanted to accompany her.
She started walking through the snowfield in what she hoped was the right direction. Passing a small cave entrance, she hesitated for a moment, feeling an inexplicable sense of dread and rage emanating from within, before picking up the pace and moving on a little faster.
Before long, she came to an open area. A loud “thumping” noise was disturbing the peace, and it wasn’t hard to see the source — a giant robot roaming the landscape. Figuring it was too strong to challenge by herself, she carefully and stealthily found a route past it without attracting its attention, and shortly afterwards found herself in a sorry-looking village.
A long-haired man staggered up to her. “What have we done?” he cried. “We must put our trust in the Ilari!”
Taquesha frowned, and followed the man’s frantic gesturing to what passed for the village square, where three enormous crystals stood, glowing softly in the moonlight. She walked up to them and immediately felt a sense of warmth, concern and trust emanating from them.
Glyphbearer, they said in her mind. You have come.
She said nothing — she had no idea what she might be able to converse with these mysterious entities about — but in a flash, she understood her mission, if not the circumstances which had led to it.
The Overlord would fall. And these shattered lands would know peace.
She didn’t know what the words that had burned themselves into her brain knew until she left the village for the first time, only to discover a strange sight. In one direction, lush green unspoiled forest. Behind her, the glacial fields she had grown up with. To the north, barren desert. And to the south, what looked like a junkyard.
Her studies of magic had given her a good working knowledge of how to craft her own spellgems, so she resolved to equip herself with some stronger magics before taking on this mysterious “Overlord”, wherever he might be.
For the next few days, she explored the local area, poking her head into long-abandoned buildings and looting them of any valuables within. There was no sign of any human life anywhere save for the sole survivor she had seen back at the village. What had happened here?
In the distance, violent wind and rainstorms buffeted the landscape. She knew that if only she were able to push the winds further away from the settlement, she’d be able to better judge her surroundings and her eventual goal.
The Ilari, she thought. Maybe they can help.
She returned to the village and rested, then asked the strange crystal ones if they could help her with the wind.
Seek the wisdom of an Aquaurgist, they replied. Taquesha frowned in response. The other survivor in the village didn’t seem to be much for working with water — he was more of a wood specialist, judging by the number of logs he’d chopped since she’d been there. But where to find an honest-to-goodness Aquaurgist in this strange, shattered land?
It took time, but she eventually discovered a survivor holed up in an abandoned town. Promising to protect the frightened, bearded man from the monsters that terrified him so, she led him back to the village, where he began work with the Ilari immediately on summoning the materials needed for the construction of a wind shelter.
A short time later, Taquesha had braved the howling winds and acidic rain and successfully constructed the shelter. Its vast blades span majestically through the air, and the storm, as if frightened, backed away from it, far towards the horizon.
For a time, life was good. Taquesha spent her days gathering materials for the good of the village and to assist her with her spellgem research, but one day cruel Fate decided that her time was up.
She’d snuck into a run-down warehouse, feeling confident that she’d be able to find a stash of unspoiled supplies within. Inside, it was dark, and the air was thick with tension. She knew that she’d have to be very careful here, or the strange creatures lurking in the darkness would surely destroy her.
She tensely picked her way through the first few rooms of the building safely, but before long she’d attracted the attention of a strange, fiery beast. Its roaring, in turn, brought others like it running, and as her body was wracked with pain from the burning embers striking her skin, she found herself melancholy.
It wasn’t supposed to end this way, she thought. I was supposed to defeat the Overlord and save these lands. I’ve done so much for them already, and this is how–
Darkness.
Silence.
Rage.
Phlegethon Gogola suddenly awoke in an unfamiliar village, his long, unkempt beard and hair blowing in the chill wind of the disconcerting icy surroundings. Behind him floated a strange, unfamiliar object that unnerved him somewhat. But at the same time, he suddenly found himself with a sense of purpose.
Glyphbearer, came a voice in his head. It is time for you to begin your adventure.
Phlegethon grunted to himself. Adventure was all very well and good, but he was damned cold. He wouldn’t be going far unless he could find some way to protect himself from the elements…
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