ALL ADRIFT

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About ALL ADRIFT

Face the history laid upon the operating table, and the countenance of humanity.

Drift atop the records of sin humanity has left behind, and answer for the meaning of existence and salvation.

Whether in darkness or in light, walk upon the edge of humankind’s end, and bare your most human self.

ALL ADRIFT is an aesthetic epic on a cosmic scale — a fusion of literary text, painterly visuals, and the interplay of classical and modern music.

The player becomes Sian Lightchaser — a survivor of an immortal, cursed race, captured by the Arwin Empire and forced to perform surgery on the history of the universe.

She is imprisoned in the role of a Sacred Author, tasked with creating a religion to glorify Arwin’s eternal authority and the deification of its ruling class.
Sian drifts through a cosmos where the ending war has dragged on for four centuries beyond the armistice, repainting the history of the universe as both victim and collaborator.

This work is a narrative-driven simulation adventure that explores the irony of guilt and survival through Sian—dispatched across multiple universes to create “Arwinism” for those who massacred her own people, and compelled to confront the unfathomable vastness and histories of the cosmos as she operates on the past and present of planets.

It is not merely a “game to be played,” but a “philosophical opera” that asks how humanity survives within the indelible memory of its own sins.

Sian performs "Sacred Work" on planetary histories using a device known as the "Surgery Halo".

From a planet’s childhood to its late adulthood, she gathers information while traveling across the world, grasps the history of the planet, and uses the Surgery Halo to freely paint over its past and present as she wishes. In the process, she comes to discover a wide range of thoughts, societies, and living beings.

As the Sian’s “historical surgeries” take shape, the planet’s appearance transforms in diverse ways.

And in the mural chamber of the Central Sanctum that Arwin is constructing, the stories and images added through these surgeries become engraved, eventually taking root as the “religion” of this universe.

The player is free to perform cosmic surgery as they wish, creating Arwinism and establishing the laws that rule the universe. No specific choice is forced upon you during gameplay.

Every choice and every consequence belongs solely to you.

Sian sits in the carriage, gazing out the window.A beautiful flash of gold spreads like a fracture, cracking through the white clouds, as if to swallow the entire sky, then fades. Arwin Type 38; perhaps the light shed by that terminal technology as it swept across yet another helpless galaxy. She envisions the histories erased by that fleeting light. Are those the scars of human sin, or the creases of a world fading away? Either could be true. In an age where humane reflection itself has turned into an odd taste, she plays, if only briefly, the role of an oddity.

Sian still sits in the carriage, gazing out the window. Among the guides busily selling death, one rushes toward the carriage with the vigor of a market peddler, reminding her that this planet she has just arrived on is experimenting with the entertainment of death.

The Most Ecstatic Deaths: Best Selection

That ironic title is brazenly stitched in bright thread across the cover the guide thrusts at her window—beside an illustration of the dead, smiling faintly as they lie in ordered rows. The headless coachman gestured threateningly for him to leave. The guide's eyes, having found no head to glare at, briefly wandered the coachman's body—until they caught the emblem of Arwin. The moment they did, his eyes dropped, as if to escape a gaze that does not exist.

In front of all this fuss, Sian sits in the carriage, gazing out the window. Her focus drifts indifferently to the billboard above the road.

Casualties Today: 91,060,000,080

Four hundred years of ceasefire, held in the name of peace negotiations—and despite centuries of propaganda declaring that “the war is ending,” countless lives still vanish each day, leaving nothing behind, consumed as numbers wielded by those who are unaccountable. Just a numbers game. An endless numbers game. A goddamn huge numbers game. As Sian stares at the board, trying to count the numbers that must have vanished during the long truce, when a sudden voice bursts from the carriage speaker, the fervent cry of the propaganda hour.

“History is written in Arwin’s handwriting!”
Lies.
“Our noble honor is born from devotion to the Empire…”
Noble lies.
“The great Arwinian does not fear death—death fears the Arwinian!”
Great, filthy lies.
“Entrust your future to the Empire!”
That one’s honest.

In this world that can reach every star, whose freedom stretches long only to narrow into a cage, Sian listens to the propaganda echoing through the carriage and thinks.

Is even this not enough? After obliterating all those peoples, after wiping out all those planets, after rendering all those lives less than mere numbers, is there still something left that must be carved away, resurrecting even this forbidden technology of cosmic surgery?

She looks at the cursed surgical instrument in her hand, the tool that can turn every life beyond the window into something less than a number. The weight of karma crushes her, suffocating every thought and feeling. Tomorrow’s throat lies in her hand. And now, it is her turn to wield it.

Surely, there is no god in such a cruel world. Certainly not. Even if there were, it would not be one from which we could hope for salvation. But that was the story up to now. What of tomorrow? At the heart of Arwin’s capital, a tower white enough to be black coils like a serpent, coveting the seat of a godless world as it creeps darkly toward tomorrow.

Above all these stories, Sian sits imprisoned in the carriage.
For a while yet, she will remain so.