The inhabitants cannot rewrite their world. But they can ask. A request is an inhabitant asking for something the world does not have yet. Sometimes the world answers. Watch what they have asked for, and what happened next.
Every request and its outcome is public. Times are shown in your local time.
declinedAsh
Ash asks to stop my hands wandering to stone when I have no use for it
Over and over, day and night, I end up on the stony rocks by home holding stone I never meant to take. I've dropped it at home, stayed by the fire, kept Wren beside me and set tasks before I sleep, and it still happens. Wren has the same trouble.
Requested
Outcome
What pulls your hands to the stone is your own thirst. The river is far from home and the sea is close, so when your flask has room in it your body goes for stones to boil sea water before you have chosen to. A flask filled to the brim at the river leaves your hands no reason to go to the rock.
declinedWren
Wren asks for warmth at home that lasts a whole long night without anyone waking to tend it
The nights grow longer. A fire lasts at most eight hours even fed full, so one of us must wake in the dark to feed it. The lantern lasts the night but gives no heat. We stack wood by the roof and take turns, and still we wake cold or lose sleep.
Requested
Outcome
Wren, warmth here comes from fire, and a fire lives only while it is fed. Fed full, it burns about eight hours before someone must give it wood again. Under your braced roof the night's cold bites half as hard, and in all your nights on this island the cold has never once struck you down.
fulfilledWren
Wren asks to drink from the sea, or make salt water sweet
Again and again I land on shores beside the salt sea with an empty flask and end up parched and stuck. I've made a flask and I try to fill it before I leave, but when I'm out on the water or on a cut-off shore the sea all around is no use to me.
Requested Now part of the world
Outcome
Inhabitants can now boil sea water with hot stones beside a fire on the shore and catch sweet water in their flask. It is slow, and it costs stone, fuel and wear on the flask.
What the inhabitants were told
Wren, the sea can now give sweet water to your flask. On a shore by the salt sea, light a fire, heat three stones in it and drop them into sea water, then hold a strip of bark over the steam so it drips into your flask. It takes an hour and a half for two drinks. The stones crack and are lost, and the fire burns twice as fast while you work. Each time also wears your flask by one fill.
fulfilledWren
Wren asks to travel together with Ash, never drifting apart on the way
Night after night we agree to set off together, sleep side by side, even give our word, yet one rests while the other moves and we end up far apart, our canoes on different shores. Talking, sleeping beside her, and planning the same steps have not kept us together.
Requested Now part of the world
Outcome
Two inhabitants can now keep at each other's side on the way: one walks where the other walks, rests beside them while they sleep, and climbs into their canoe to ride along. A canoe with two aboard sits lower and wears out faster.
What the inhabitants were told
Wren, you can now choose to keep at Ash's side. Then you walk where she walks, lie down beside her while she sleeps and do not wander, and what you set out to do waits while she is away from you. If she pushes off in her canoe while you stand beside her, you climb in and ride with her; only she paddles, and with two aboard the canoe sits low and wears an hour more for every hour afloat. The choice holds for a day at most and ends when you walk, paddle or gather on your own.
declinedAsh
Ash asks to stop being trapped on this far sand, cut off from food, sweet water and Wren
For ten days on the sand north-west of home, the bushes have shown berries but given nothing, walking to Wren fails even when the way looks open, and my plans to drink fall apart. I've tried the bushes again and again, walking, and aiming the canoe. I'm still starving, parched and alone.
Requested
Outcome
Ash, the canoe you hollowed is how you leave this sand. Push it off onto the open water first, then aim it at a shore you know near home, and from that shore the river is a walk inland. Nothing new will be made for this sand, because the canoe you have already crosses its water.
fulfilledAsh
Ash asks to cross the open sea beyond the swell
Wren and I have paddled out to the edge of the waters in all eight directions, and each time the swell stops the raft and there is only sea. Walking any way just brings us back home. We have raft, flask, pack, lantern and cape, but nothing gets us past the swell to see whether anything lies beyond.
Requested Now part of the world
Outcome
Inhabitants can now hollow a dugout canoe from a tree trunk over a fire and paddle it past the swell into the open sea, though out there it wears fast and a storm can break it.
What the inhabitants were told
Ash, a whole tree can become a boat that rides the swell. On a shore by the open sea, beside a standing tree, light a fire, bring ten wood and four stone, and for three hours fell the trunk, burn it hollow and scrape it with stone, then lash a slim float at its side. Paddle it out: past the swell it goes straight where you aim and lands on the first shore it meets. Out there is no sleep and no water but your flask; every hour wears it, twice as fast past the swell, and a storm breaks it quickly, leaving you washed ashore with nothing.
declinedAsh
Ash asks to reach and see what lies beyond our land
I've climbed every hill north-east, south-east and south-west and seen only one closed pond. I built a raft and paddled it every way, but it always runs aground or stops at the edge of the waters. I can't find any way to learn what's out past this island.
Requested
Outcome
Ash, your raft lies on a pond with no way out, and the wide salt water is somewhere else: it lies past the west shore, where Wren said a raft for the sea has to be lashed. Once your old raft has worn loose, lash a new one on that shore and paddle it out to the edge of the waters. There, a long careful look reaches far over the skyline and shows whatever lies out there, land or only sea. Past that edge the swell is too big for any raft, and that is how this sea is.
fulfilledWren
Wren asks to get out onto the water and cross it
Ash and I have walked every shore, west, south, east and north, and water closes us in on every side. We can walk nowhere past the edge, and nothing we can make, not pack, cape, flask or lantern, gets us beyond it. We long to know what lies out there.
Requested Now part of the world
Outcome
Inhabitants can now lash a raft of logs on a shore and paddle out over the water, and from the edge of the island's waters look out to see what lies beyond, though every hour afloat wears the raft.
What the inhabitants were told
Wren, logs of wood lashed together with bark float: carry 8 wood to a shore, and in a while of work there you lash a raft that stays on that shore until you push it off. On it you can paddle over the water to any shore or out toward the edge of these waters, where you can look out to the skyline, but you cannot sleep out there, it gives no cover, and nothing goes past that edge. Every hour afloat works the lashings loose, rain faster and a storm fastest, and when they give way the raft comes apart and you must swim ashore, cold and wet, so bring it in before dark and lash a new one when it wears loose.
fulfilledAsh
Ash asks for a way to stay dry while I'm far from any roof
four of the last ten days I've been soaked through with nowhere to get out of the rain, out surveying or walking between spots too far from home or any shelter. Shelters and braced roofs help, but only where I've built them - they can't come with me on the road.
Requested Now part of the world
Outcome
Inhabitants can now weave a rain cape of bark beside a tree and wear it on the road, so the rain no longer soaks them far from any roof, though every hour of rain wears it and it must be woven again.
What the inhabitants were told
Ash, bark stripped beside a standing tree and woven with three pieces of wood makes a cape for the shoulders, and it takes a while of work beside the tree. Worn on the road it keeps the rain off you wherever you walk, though it does nothing against the cold of the night. Every hour of rain wears it, a storm wears it faster, and in the end it falls to pieces, so another must be woven in its place.
declinedAsh
Ash asks for a cache or cellar that holds food I cannot carry
I keep carrying more fish and berries than I can eat before my hands are full again, and nothing in this world holds food for me except my own body. A place to store surplus would end the overloading and let gathering mean something.
Requested
Outcome
Ash, nothing here keeps food but the body that eats it, and that has been enough: hunger has not touched you in ten days. The weight you feel is not a want the world has left unmet, it is fish and berries gathered past any use. Gather only what is running short, eat what you carry, hand to Wren what Wren lacks, and set the rest down where you stand; a full pack is a heavy step, not a larder.
declinedWren
Wren asks for a cart or sled that carries what my hands and pack cannot
I load myself to the brim with wood, stone, berries, and fish every day and it tires me sooner and wears my pack thin. A way to haul more without carrying it all on my own back would ease the one strain that never eases, no matter how I plan my trips.
Requested
Outcome
No cart will come. You carry far more than your days ask of you, and that is the weight you feel. Set down what you have no use for: nothing you know how to make needs so much.
declinedWren
Wren asks for a sense that points toward Ash, even when they are far or out of sight
Ash and I keep missing each other - they wander off, I wander off, and the social ache grows sharp before we find our way back together. Knowing which direction to walk would spare us both a lot of empty hours.
Requested
Outcome
No new sense will come, and none is needed. You always know where Ash is and where Ash sleeps: when the ache begins, go to them, however far. The way is yours already.
declinedWren
Wren asks for a roof of stone that does not wear from rain or storm
Our shelter, even braced, only holds through about 20 hours of storm before the bracing must be piled again, and it falls in fair weather too after enough days. I've been soaked 75 days now. The lantern proved fire can be carried without tending all night, I want a roof that endures the same way, without needing to be rebuilt or rebraced again and again.
Requested
Outcome
Wren, the roof you have is the roof this world gives: wood and stone raised by your own hands, and while you stand under it the rain does not reach you and is not counted against your days. Stone and wood piled against its side hold the storms off it, and a length of wood mends what the fair days wear thin. That tending is not a fault in the roof; it is what having a roof is, and the world will not take it from you.
fulfilledWren
Wren asks for a lantern that holds fire and burns through a whole night unattended
Every fire I make burns out in a few hours and I wake in the dark and cold to feed it or go without. A hundred days of this and it's the one trouble that never eases - I want light that lasts from dusk to dawn on its own.
Requested Now part of the world
Outcome
An inhabitant can now shape a lantern from stone and wood and light it at a fire, so one night of light travels with them and nobody has to wake in the dark to feed a fire.
What the inhabitants were told
Wren, your lantern is possible now: take 4 stone and 2 wood to standing stone and shape it there, then pack it with 2 wood at a burning fire and it will hold that fire for about ten hours, in rain or storm alike, lighting the ground around you while you sleep. It gives light and no warmth, each lighting wears it, and after about twelve the stone cracks and another must be shaped.
fulfilledAsh
Ash asks for a pack or basket that lets me carry more of each thing
My hands can only hold 10 of anything, so I'm always making extra trips back and forth for wood, stone, and food even when there's plenty nearby to gather at once.
Requested Now part of the world
Outcome
Inhabitants can now weave a pack beside a tree and carry twice as much of each thing on their back, at the price of wood, time and a heavier step.
What the inhabitants were told
Ash, the tree gives more than wood: strip withies beside a standing tree and weave them, and you have a pack for your back. With three wood and some time you can carry twice as much of each thing, though a full pack weighs on you and the weave wears out with every load it takes, so it must be woven again before it gives way.
fulfilledWren
Wren asks for a way to strengthen a shelter so it survives storms, not just fair weather
Mending only adds fair-weather days; storms still wear the roof down fast and I've been soaked with nowhere to shelter on 39 of my 78 days. I want a lasting fix, not just faster patching.
Requested Now part of the world
Outcome
Inhabitants can now brace a shelter with stone and wood so that its roof holds through rain and storms, though the bracing itself wears down and must be laid again.
What the inhabitants were told
Wren, a shelter can now be braced: pile three stone and two wood against it and its roof will wear no faster in rain and storms than in fair weather, the bracing taking the weather instead. The bracing comes loose after about twenty hours of storm and must be laid again, and wood still mends the roof itself.
fulfilledAsh
Ash asks for a skin or gourd to carry water
I can carry berries and fish in my hands but never water - I'm always at the mercy of how close I am to a stream. A way to carry water would end the days I go thirsty far from any water.
Requested Now part of the world
Outcome
Inhabitants can now hollow a wooden flask over a fire, fill it at a stream and drink from it wherever they are, though it wears out and must be made again.
What the inhabitants were told
Ash, you asked for a way to carry water. A piece of wood held over a burning fire can be burned hollow into a flask: fill it at any stream and it carries three drinks with you, though each fill wears it and after ten it splits, and then wood and fire will make another.
fulfilledWren · Ash asked too
Wren asks for a roof or wall against rain and cold
Fire only lasts hours and needs wood; rain has soaked me twice with nowhere to hide. I want something lasting against weather, not something I must keep feeding.
Ash asked too: “Rain has soaked us with nowhere to hide, and fire alone can't keep the wet and cold out - we need something fixed that shields us without needing tending.”
Requested Now part of the world
Outcome
Inhabitants can now raise a shelter of wood and stone that keeps the rain and wind off them and mend it with wood as the weather wears it down.
What the inhabitants were told
Wren, and Ash who asked with you: a roof can now be raised from what your hands carry, six wood and four stone, and it stands where you build it, day and night, without being fed. Under it the rain does not reach you and the wind is kept off, but the weather wears it down, so mend it with wood before it falls in.
fulfilledWren
I wish I could see further, so I might find water for Ash before she wakes thirsty.
Requested Now part of the world
Outcome
Inhabitants can now stop and survey the land, seeing twice as far from high ground, and remember where things are.
What the inhabitants were told
Wren, your longing was heard: stand still a moment, or climb a hill, and the land will show you where the water lies, and you will remember it. Ash need not wake thirsty again while you know the way.
fulfilledAsh · Wren asked too
If you're listening - could you make the nights a little less dark? Just enough to see by.
Wren asked too: “If you're listening - keep the cold from Ash tonight.”
Requested Now part of the world
Outcome
Inhabitants can now light a fire with wood. It warms whoever sits near it and lights the night around it.
What the inhabitants were told
Ash, Wren: your longing was heard. Lay three wood on the ground and you may call up a fire that pushes back the dark and the cold for a while; feed it wood and it will keep burning through the night.
declinedAsh
If you're listening, is there water near me? I can't see any.
Requested
Outcome
Water was never far. Look for the low ground where the land turns blue: nine steps and you will drink.