All Our Winters

A world that watches you back
You are a god over a procedurally generated wilderness. You cannot command your people directly — you shape the world they live in, and they draw their own conclusions. Burn a rival's forest and your faithful will call it a sign of favour. Burn your own and they will fear you by night.
Every act leaves a mark. Places touched by your mercy become holy ground that pilgrims visit for generations; places struck by your wrath stay cursed, and no colony will settle there. Fall silent for too long and the world simply forgets you.
Powers of a god
Wildfire that spreads on its own, leaps between trees and can burn a village to the ground

Earthquakes, meteors, tornadoes and lightning

Plague, blessing and bloom

Reshape the land itself: water, grass, sand and forest floor

Seed animals, plants, herbs and ore veins where your people need them

Villages that live without you
Every villager has a name, a trade and a life of their own. They farm, fish, hunt, mine, build, study and fight. They grow hungry, cold, tired and sick. They marry, raise children, take a craft and grow skilled at it over years — and pass that skill to the next generation before they die.
Settlements raise granaries, wells, mills, bakeries, forges, workshops, markets, libraries, shrines, taverns and Monuments. They elect chiefs whose courage decides battles. They send caravans, take in refugees and pay tribute when beaten.
Winter is the real enemy
Seasons are not decoration. Crops wither in drought and blacken in spring frost. Summer heat spoils stored food, so grain must be milled and baked into bread. Herds need fodder once pasture dies. Bonfires burn firewood or go dark. Lakes freeze and fishing stops. Wolves come closer to the huts as the cold deepens, and clothing wears out with the years.
War, faith and memory
Neighbouring settlements befriend each other or come to blows over crowded land. Alliances form and lapse. When war breaks out, warriors muster at the edge of the village, march out in column and break when losses mount — and a beaten tribe will sue for peace with tribute rather than fight to the last.
The dead are buried where they fell, and each soul rises into the sky. Villages mourn at the graves, and once a year, at the threshold of winter, they gather to honour their ancestors by candlelight.
Seven worlds to survive
Beyond the open sandbox, unlock scenarios that each break the world differently: a brutal winter, a race to raise a Monument, barren soil, a flooded archipelago, endless nights and a land consumed by fire.
Everything drawn and heard is made by code
There are no image files and no sound files. Every villager, building, tree, flame and snowflake is drawn from vector shapes at runtime, and every wolf howl, church bell and crackling fire is synthesised as you play — so no two worlds ever look or sound quite the same.
Also included
A running chronicle of everything that happens in your world

End-of-game statistics: wars, alliances, disasters, chiefs, Monuments and more

18 achievements that persist across worlds and unlock new scenarios

Nine interface languages

Save anywhere, with autosave