Hours, not seconds
The clock never stops, but nothing here is quick. An army might march for a day before it reaches the walls. You give orders over coffee, adjust them at lunch and find out at midnight whether you guessed right.
A slow real-time strategy game
A multiplayer war that unfolds over days, not minutes. Raise cities, march armies across a hex world, and outlast generals dragged back from a hundred dead worlds, all under an ash-choked sky for the amusement of whatever watches from above the dome.
The clock never stops, but nothing here is quick. An army might march for a day before it reaches the walls. You give orders over coffee, adjust them at lunch and find out at midnight whether you guessed right.
If you’ve played Neptune’s Pride or Subterfuge, you know the feeling: a match that lasts weeks, alliances made in private messages, and the slow dread of watching an attack you can’t stop crawl toward you.
Every arena is a freshly generated hex world of ridges, forests and cold lakes. Found cities where the land can feed them, run caravans between them and learn the ground before someone uses it against you.
Recovered transmission
You were a general once, on a world that doesn’t exist anymore. Something pulled you off that last field, stitched you together and set you down inside a dome with a dozen others like you: sword-bearers, star-pilots, things with too many hands. You fight. Somebody watches. When it’s over, you wake up and do it again.
The dome is being built. Get word when the gates open.