There’s a joke in the studio that Shore was "Disco-like" for the first five weeks—until the real work began. And while there’s nothing wrong with drawing inspiration from anything, especially universally recognizable art, it’s crucial to use tools that serve the story and world, not just the ones you personally love.
What started as a detective RPG with espionage elements naturally evolved into something closer to a psychological thriller—demanding a different technical approach and entirely new instruments.
Shore is a 28-day, cat-and-mouse open-world RPG where you constantly choose between bad and worse, with crushing emphasis on time management. Every day fractures into four pivotal moments: morning, day, evening, and night. The city’s shape, available locations, character movements, and unique events synthesize into a high-stakes puzzle. You’ll scramble for the "best" choice, fail anyway, and cling to moments with friends—the only people left to trust.
Skill checks. The thorn in our vision’s side. No one’s ever solved them perfectly. Succeed? Get a reward. Fail? A "bitter reward"—a few darkly funny lines and the grim satisfaction of resisting save-scumming. But tie skill checks to dialogue options, and players will mindlessly chase the shiny special choice, even if it clashes with their roleplay.
For Shore, this was unacceptable. The game thrives on mounting pressure—you’re racing a clock to solve a murder. So we tore the system apart and built something entirely new. You’ll see it in the demo. We’re keeping details close for now, but internally, we’re calling it the "Eureka Solution"—the best damn idea this project’s ever had.
No more talking to yourself (well, almost no more—there’s a nuance, and it matters). No more dice rolls. No more War and Peace monologues just to flex prose. Just raw meat.