Saint of Vines
Saint of Vines
My planet is a garden: every living thing was grown for a purpose. But this city feels dead, and I don't know who I want to be.
Interactive fiction about poetry, homesickness, and a city on another planet.
Play here or at yarntheory.net .
Credits
Thanks to R0b0t5Are5uper10r for playtesting. Images from shooz (CC BY-SA 2.0) and Bart Lumber.
Comments
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The writing is really well-done! Great job!
Thank you!
Wow! Love this, so beautifully written. Well done.
Thank you!