Modern Mud

Thirty years ago, thousands of people played online RPGs in worlds made entirely of text. They were called MUDs. There were no arrows on the ground and no exclamation marks over anyone's head: you read where you were, pictured it, and decided what to do. Modern Mud goes back to that. It is still a world you read and type in, shared with other players on a server that never stops, but this time with a map, portraits, music and illustrated scenes.
You read where you are. You picture it. You type what you do. And the world, and everyone in it, remembers.
A VILLAGE THAT DOESN'T FORGET
Shadi Vanam is an isolated village with something rotten beneath its temple. Its people have trades, routines and grudges, and they live them by day and by night. If the blacksmith dies, his son takes over the forge. If you kill someone, they don't come back. And if you're caught stealing, the guards will come looking for you and nobody will want to sell you anything.
MIDAS MOHN, THE CITY UNDER THE DOME
When the village grows too small, a ship carries you across the sea to Midas Mohn, the greatest trading city in the world. A dome has covered it for five hundred years and has never once broken. Its Sea Gate opens to let in the ships of every island, and its people are certain they were chosen. To them you are just another foreigner: useful for unloading their cargo, never good enough to sit at their table.
Walk its rings of streets, bridges and docks. Drink in a tavern that never closes, work alongside stevedores and washerwomen, and find out which citizens despise you, which pity you and which, despite everything, might grow fond of you.
THE LAW REMEMBERS
In Midas the guards don't kill you. They beat you to the ground and put you in irons. Then they march you through the streets, room by room, while a crier shouts your crime and the crowd insults you and throws stones. If other players are there, they can join in... or stand up for you.
At the barracks you pay your fine or work it off: rowing in a galley to the overseer's drum, breaking stone in the moat quarry, hauling sacks on the docks. Every sentence is played live, as a short game of rhythm and skill, and never while you're offline.
MIND YOUR DEBTS
The merchants of Midas will gladly sell to you on credit. Sign the contract, take the goods and pay before the deadline. If you can't, there are warnings, a hearing before the customs inspector... and then the Wharf of Chains, where your debt is auctioned to the highest bidder while you stand there and watch. Other players can bid. One of them might buy your freedom. Or you can work it off, strike a deal, or run, and spend the next half hour looking over your shoulder.
GODS WHO ARE WATCHING
Eight gods, and not one of them is kind. You pray to them in your own words, and they judge you by what you do, not by what you say. Offend yours and they will turn their back on you. Your faith changes some scenes, what you notice when you examine the world, and even how the village's story ends.
COMBAT YOU HAVE TO THINK THROUGH
Combat happens in real time, but you win it with your head: moving between rooms, shooting into the next one, ambushing from the shadows, knowing when to run. Call your party and fight side by side against a whole pack. When you fall you don't die. You're left on the ground, and what happens next depends on who finds you. The beasts of the forest show no such mercy: they devour their prey and grow stronger.
MAKE A LIVING WITH YOUR HANDS
Eleven trades, each with its own work: fell trees and split rock, fish a lake by moonlight, heat a blade until it glows white at the forge, weave at the loom, cook at the stove, distil at the alembic. What you make carries your name, from crude to masterwork. Trade with other players, or block a forest path and charge a toll to anyone who wants through... if they let you.
TAVERNS, DICE AND WHISPERS
Roll dice against a gambler, try your luck with a shell-game hustler who never seems to lose, and keep your ears open. In Midas, some doors only open if you know what to whisper through the grille.
YOU NEVER TRAVEL ALONE
Parties of up to five, racial tongues not everyone can understand, and a world that keeps turning while you're away. Deep in the forest, other players may be your greatest threat.
YOU PLAY BY TYPING, NOT IN A TERMINAL
Every room is illustrated, every character has a portrait, and the key moments play out as scenes with their own music. The client gives you autocomplete, hotkeys, a minimap and an in-game guide, in English, Spanish, French, German, Italian and Portuguese. If you've never played a MUD, you'll feel at home within ten minutes.
IN DEVELOPMENT
Modern Mud grows with every patch. Midas Mohn is only beginning to open its streets; beyond its Land Gate lies the rest of the continent. Clans are on their way, and there are paths and bloodlines that no one yet knows how to find.
This isn't a game for everyone. If you need a marker to know where to go, look elsewhere. If you miss getting lost in a world, the playtest is free.