Survive in the maze

This game is drawn by hand — black crayon on white paper. Every house, campfire and tree. And all of it is someone's diary. Possibly yours.

"Day 1. Woke up among walls. The sky is white as paper. I'll walk." An endless maze with no map. Hunger and thirst grow with every step, strength fades, and the exit is miles of corridors away.

"Day 4. Hunger turned out stronger than fear." Search ruined houses, hospitals and warehouses. Catch fish, gather berries, roast meat over a fire. A knife, an axe, a fishing rod, a water filter — everything here is made by hand.

"Day 9. Something cold came to the fire at night. The flame holds it back." Enemies are faster after dark, and only fire keeps you safe. Rain kills your matches — but fills your bottle straight from the sky.

"Day 15. I'm not alone here. A dog. A wanderer. And the big one, by the door." A scruffy dog will find you and smell danger before you do. A wanderer by the fire trades supplies for coins. And the master of the maze guards the exit — the ground trembles with his steps.

"Day 23. Found a note. Someone walked this path before me." Twelve notes are scattered through the maze. Collect the story in order — a hidden cache waits at its end.

"Day 31. Crosses along the walls. People. Before me." Where another player died, a cross remains — with the last words they chose. You will never meet, but you'll know: they were afraid in the same places you are.

"Day 40. The door. Three seals: path, memory, fire. I'm almost home." Walk the long road, gather the whole story, light a great fire at the door. And beyond it — a winter maze, where everything is inverted.

The game lives its own life: timers keep running while it's closed, and your hero waits for your return.

No internet. No rush. Just you, a crayon, and the way home.