Welcome, sailors,
In this day’s devlog, we dare unveil the progress of the ship’s principal interface though to name it merely an “interface” would be to diminish the uncanny apparatus it has become. Over the past weeks, it has undergone transformations most numerous, as though shaped not solely by human hands, but by some inscrutable influence lurking just beyond reason. As you venture into the dread expanse of Terror: Endless Night, you must keep a vigilant and ever-watchful eye upon the resources allotted to your fragile command. This central display, which is at once the main view and the upper deck itself, shall serve as your window into survival and perhaps, your descent.
At the uppermost reaches of this panel, you shall behold the tally of your vital provisions: medicines, coal, food and wood. There too lies the condition of the vessel on the present engraving marked as “Sailable,” a term deceptively benign, signifying readiness for the return voyage… should you endure ninety days amidst the merciless cold and encroaching darkness. Yet more troubling are the indicators of the ship’s mounting madness and the wavering loyalty of the crew. A glance suffices to reveal how many souls remain aboard, how many toil, how many languish in sickness, and how many are confined within the Sickbay. From this panel, one may also swiftly consult the Centre of Notifications, or seek counsel from the ever-faithful Steward, though how long his loyalty may persist, none can say.
Below, in the lower panel, reside matters no less vital: the ever-shifting conditions of weather and temperature, both upon the ship and in the hostile void beyond her hull. There you shall find access to the Prison, the Book of Laws, the Assignment System, the Captain’s Log, and the Expedition Menu - each a mechanism in the grand and dreadful machinery of survival. The current date is inscribed there as well, alongside the number of days yet to be endured. And should you possess the resolve to press onward into the next turn of fate, the means to do so awaits you there.
Upon the upper deck itself, certain labours are undertaken - watch duty, and the grim toil of icebreaking. A simple interaction shall transport you to the allocation of crew, where lives are assigned like pieces upon a board whose rules grow ever more obscure. All decks of the vessel lie open to your exploration. Beneath the upper deck, one finds the quarters of sustenance and fleeting respite - the Kitchen, and the resting place of the weary crew. Descend further, and you shall enter the Sickbay, alongside the cabins of those figures upon whom all hope precariously rests: the Captain, the Chaplain, the Doctor, the Researcher, and the Colonel.
At the lowest depths of the ship are found the Prison, the Furnace, and the stores wherein your dwindling resources are kept though one might wonder what else stirs in those suffocating confines. Yet know this: these decks are not immutable. They shall shift and alter in accordance with the ship’s condition, and with the creeping madness that takes hold of her crew. Certain events, ominous and ill-understood, shall leave their mark.
Consider, if you will, the account of a sailor who, in a fit of terror or derangement, scrawled strange and blasphemous inscriptions upon the walls… and thereafter, such markings did indeed manifest upon the very deck itself. Whether these changes are born of mind, matter, or something far more unspeakable, we dare not conclude