Self-published open-world walk beyond the city limits — one courier, one dying signal, and four hundred kilometres of cold coast with no map.

Run contraband through a blockaded North Sea in a failing trawler — live weather, failing gear, and a patrol AI that learns the routes you keep using.

Ninety minutes inside an executive arcology on the night it is quietly decommissioned — one continuous take, no cuts, no fail state.

Program a swarm of paper-thin surveillance drones to slip past a coastal free port — fourteen hand-illustrated flocks, folded into working code.

A long-haul courier drive with no timer — sun-bleached corridor highways, a handling model built for cruising, and a synth score that reads the road.

Run a debt-financed station above a burning arcology — a survival sim where orbital mechanics, crew morale and failing hardware are all the same problem.

Forty hours in a rain-locked walled city — three districts, a magenta-and-cyan palette held end to end, and combat built around reading light.

Command a wing of bio-engineered submersibles under a drowned megacity — pressure, power draw and crew nerve decide the fight before contact.

Ride a decommissioned bio-drake through the vertical slums of a corporate arcology — a metroidvania where the map opens because something living decides to carry you.