Luna Ghost
A girl and her twin sister, a barn fire, and a door that was locked from the outside. She is certain she knows what she did. She is not entirely right.
A cozy role-playing game
Cozy Necromancy
You are a journeyman necromancer, freshly graduated, sent to a small village with a backlog of restless dead.
No armies. No combat. A lantern, a list of names, and a village that has been waiting a very long time for someone to sit down and listen.
- In development
- iOS & Android
- Windows, macOS, Linux
- No combat
Willowmere at dusk
Lantern-lit, hand-painted, and never in a hurry
Every villager is a painted portrait, warm as an oil lamp and honest about its wrinkles. The village they live in is soft-shaded 3D you walk through in the third person — timber and thatch, a chapel, a market, a wood that gets darker than it should at the far end.
The light is the storyteller. Willowmere has no clock: the world's phase follows the case you are working. As an investigation deepens, the afternoon lengthens into evening; the ritual itself happens at the bottom of the night; and when a spirit is finally let go, the village breaks to dawn.
You always know how far in you are by looking at the sky.
Six who cannot leave
Everyone here is stuck on something true
Nobody in Willowmere is haunted by a monster. They are held by something unfinished — a thing they did, or a thing that was done to them and never spoken aloud. You travel with them while you work out what it is. There are two seats in your party and six stories, so you will be choosing company.
Sir Aldric Ghost
A knight who watched a young prince murdered and chose silence. He has been waiting a lifetime for an absolution that has not come, from someone who cannot reach him.
Thornwood Ghost
A hedge witch burned alive by the village she had just saved. She does not want your forgiveness — she wants a witness. Nobody watched, and that is the wound.
Veska Golem
Two hundred and twelve years old, built with a genuine heart, still working through a task list left by a master who died mid-sentence fifteen years ago. She would like to offer you tea.
Vesper Vampire
Not dead, and not young. Sixty years of his memory came apart the night the well was sealed. One orphan's face is all he has left of it, and he had forgotten her name.
Wren Ghost
An assassin bound by a massacre they can no longer picture. They remember the music in the room. They do not remember the faces, and that is precisely the problem.
The work
Listen, dig, deduce, then light the candles
A case is not won, it is understood. You gather what the village remembers, the pieces it misfiled, and the parts it would rather you left alone — then you say it back in a form the dead can accept.
EncounterMeet a bound spirit
ObserveTravel together, note what they react to
InvestigateClues in the world, and in what people won't say
DeduceWork out what actually holds them
RitualThree symbolic items in the circle
ResolutionThey move on — or choose to stay with you
Three things, and what they mean
Items carry symbolic tags — sister, guilt, oath, truth, sacrifice. A ritual takes three of them. How well the tags answer what actually binds the spirit decides which of four endings the rite reaches.
- SuccessYou understood it, and they can put it down.
- PartialClose. Something eases; something is still held.
- Near missWrong shape. The oracle offers a hint, and it is deliberately Delphic.
- FailureNothing breaks. Your items come back. Go and find out more.
You can never lose an item to a failed rite. The cost of being wrong is understanding, not inventory.
Talk of the town
The idle chatter is spoken by a model on your phone
Walk through the market and the people near you start talking to each other. One villager says something; a beat later the other answers. A rounded bubble fades in over each of them, holds, and fades out. None of it is on a list — the lines are made up on the spot by a small language model bundled inside the game, running on the device in your hand.
No server, no account, no round trip. It works in airplane mode, in a tunnel, on a plane, and it costs you nothing, because nothing leaves the phone. Walk away and the village goes quiet: it only talks when someone is there to hear it, which is also why it never drains your battery in your pocket.
Experimental, and one of the reasons the game is still in development: the on-device model runs today on desktop and is in device testing on iOS. Where it cannot run, the villagers fall back to written lines and the game plays exactly as it should.
And the parts that matter
Every word of the story is written by hand
The model is trusted with the weather, not the plot. Quest conversations, the six companions' stories and every line that moves the game forward are authored, in full, by a person — the model's only job there is to choose which of those written lines fits the moment, given who is with you, what you have found, and what you have already done about it.
So the archivist gets more careful with you the more cases you close: the same scene, played with the lines of a man who has begun to worry. Nothing is invented about the dead. Nothing about Willowmere's history changes between saves. And when the model is not available, the game picks a sensible line and carries on — you would have to be looking to notice.
Underneath all of it
Why does one small village hold this many?
Willowmere sits on a moonwell — a natural waypoint where the dead could linger, settle their business and move along. It was sealed thirty-five years ago, and ever since, the spirits have been gathering behind it like water behind a dam: aware enough to suffer, not aware enough to understand why they cannot go.
Pull hard on any one of these six stories and you will feel the seal move. A locked door, a father, a well that somebody closed on purpose: the last case is the one nobody in the village has wanted to open.