After the last newsletter, work continued on the magnificent table (for the procedural land generation, see image at the end), which knowingly took a lot of time (it’s half finished at the moment) while there was something brewing behind the scenes that prompted me to take a short pause. Also there's some extra at the end, talking about the capsule image and replacing it with something else.

Thus, the last few days were spent on refurbishing the story for the game, as there were some loose parts near the end that needed clarifications; plus was told at one point that it could be a bit better overall. It’s been a long while since there was a need to write anything other than copy, so my pen skills were a little rusty as you can imagine. However, in these extremely turbulent times, it was welcomed as a refreshing change of scenery to all the madness and fighting for this cause: Something that’s been a constant reminder of failing to meet expectations and goals for this project. We’re past a handful of challenging days, saying this as the sole person pushing this project up the hill that’s about to reach a cliff. Unfortunately, some things are out of my control that are tied to this project, ones that carry the core; if only the stakeholders would understand this as well, but that’s unlikely to change. Regardless, in this next charge, I’ll be showing you the rest of the story with all its spoilers. There’s also a TL;DR version at the very bottom in case you don’t wish to read the whole thing.

Have mentioned before that the story revolves around a person escaping their captivity during WW2, and that they somehow end up in a mysterious part of the ocean. Due to the nature of the production, much else wasn’t flashed out; so think of something-something deep and monsters. One being that there was no time to think about these things, or make them; as being under crunch didn’t allow it. On top, creating decent animations requires a lot of assets and time, which would’ve meant a lot more work and delays; things I couldn’t afford to have at the time, but wanted to (e.g. cutscenes with people acting about, actually showing a story, instead of some vague narration of empty halls and whatnot). Hindsight, it still feels a bit anxiety-inducing, having spent more time on things like polish, because it had to be done, rather than finishing the game already. Maybe not doing those would’ve shaved off the remaining “couple of weeks” (bit more perhaps) for the project, and would’ve ultimately put me in a better position. Who knows. But enough of this, let’s continue the story with a short passage from a diary, as the content below fills in the second half of the story (after the escape that is).

Diary of Erdmann Göring

March, 16th, 1939, Berlin

“It was most advantageous for Ahnenerbe, and for the Reich, our expedition in Morocco. It’ll pave the way for the Canary Islands for further investigations. The evidence of prehistoric occupation in the Atlas Mountains shines brighter each day, and fills my heart with joy, as to reinforce our rightful claims. Unexpectedly though, inscriptions that were found near Zagora in the 1850s, were brought back, as these might be instrumental in the understanding of the events of the last great glaciation. Further analysis is required.”

April, 19th, 1939, Berlin

“As a preparation for the 50th birthday of the Fuhrer, the evidence from the manuscripts will be presented, that indeed there was another major satellite that crashed into Earth’s crust before shaping the Moon. Leaving traces all over the Atlantic, and especially West Africa. The source of unlimited power is finally within our grasp!”

“What is there is not to be sought,”

What Göring had found was not the truth within its entirety they hoped to seek. And the Assuratie people knew this, as they were the ones, many-many aeons ago, who first walked through the Rite of Passage, to fulfill their calling of the unknown that lay deep in the land.

The desire to learn and explore was only the beginning, and hid its own secrets of the extraordinary. A powerful experience so daunting that it marked the line between the living and the afterworld. Those who failed to challenge their inner self, would be cast to the depths of the dead, to linger as spirits that are not seen nor allowed to pass, while missed dearly.

In those caves, the earth rumbled, but gentle as it could, and reached out with kindness it seemed. Warmed the heart, soothed the mind and numbed the pain: “The gift of the root it was,” as they said. But soon what healed the wounds and mended the bones, turned sour. It is then the true journey of torment began. That is when the underworld ascended and tore up the land. But Göring did not know this, as the tale they found was broken and missing in great. Their lives were kept safe not by their competence, but the ruins of the stones.

Phantoms in the Sea of Stars

Legend has it, of a long forgotten realm, where all would confluence to witness the birth and death of the cosmic ages that defined us as we traveled through the great journey among the heavens.

It was there, the most sacred of places, where those who were afar and beyond would visit and celebrate the thought that was living. And as we all are bound to the great cycle, the future, our future was written in the stars.

But the times have changed and the calamities of the past had erased the remnants of the great. Leaving nothing behind but emptiness of the soul. A thought, that Göring would miss to grasp.

[...]

And as seasons passed, so did the face of the great plateau of resurgence: Buried it has become, and neglected by the caretakers of the old, turning its warmth to shiver, to serve none other but its own. A place where stars shone in the seas.

Calm, yet mischievous it was, where winds spoke for the mad, sails were torn and wood was crushed under the waves of blue; dragging down those who dared to cross the past, a fate many seamen lived to see.

When the arduous fall embraced the poor, frost crept up the flesh, while the light escaped the depths. And when the simmers of the two finally met, all hope was lost, as there was no turning back. The depths were relentless, not caring for the soul, continuing to grow as darkness approached. Only then it was straight to see, and witness the roar of the depths.

The weight grew with each step, and engrossed the mind. It was there, when the first burst of a star, shone pale as the sky but brighter as it were, stung then vanished at no moment. Their numbers grew as the journey continued, dancing like fireflies in the forest on a warm summer’s eve.

While grasping for the last remainder of breath as they sank, the bursts of marvels grew in number and swell, and the once wonders of the cosmos now proposed a threat of the new. Chimneys rose from the depths and spewed the bowels of the Earth, veiling the sacred grounds, carved into the hills.

Round stone these were, perfect in shape, built by giants it seemed, and joined to the bottom of the sea. Voicing their mind, rumbling about as the stars danced above. But these weren't the same as the old, tuned not to save but to harm those around. It mattered not, as life already passed the poor, the last one who survived the fall. Leaving nothing but rubble above the sea, that was washed ashore.

In the depths, the stars knew this and acted upon, as the phantoms gathered in the voids. Darker than black, and cold as the cosmos it was, where no dust could flow. Fear would emerge within the creatures that brushed the soil, searching for scraps, living off the soil, when the voids of other worlds would emerge.

Circles were drawn around the body of the sailor, screeching and swirling about. Like bullets piercing the flesh, those wraths tore up the poor as they spoke. Leaving only mist behind, and nothing more. They laughed, they screamed, and gathered around the high mountains that encompassed the land. Then they danced as the tombs continued to rumble, stars were born, and the cold streams swept the soil. As no force greater than theirs was to be seen.

With time only the brilliance of the countless jewels shone the stones as the smoke rose high from the mouth of the depths. Carved by the hand of the ages long forgotten, these magnificent mounds of our past were once again kept a secret, locked away from the prying eyes. Yet there were, much like Göring, who sought the very thing they lacked: peace of eternity.

TL;DR

Göring, who works for the Ahnenerbe institute (a propaganda piece for the Nazis during WW2), accidentally discovered stories of some form of ancient energy at an archeological site in the Atlas Mountains, but couldn’t fully understand what from the fragments. What they didn’t know was that the site that they visited was one of the many that shared the same prospects as the tales were speaking about (a place where you go through a trial for adulthood). However, the greatest of them all, the remnants of an ancient crash (satellite), deep within the crust of the Earth, was the very place a poor sailor found themselves after a storm. They fell into the water and were dragged down by the currents, and were lost in the depths. Gradually sinking deeper, getting crushed by the forces as nature seemed to change around them: The sea behaves differently, the water shimmers from the cold when it's near the warmer surface making it impossible to see, millions of bubbles burst with bright light causing harm in their way as they pop, while an otherworldly land awaits in the depths, surrounded by domed shaped monuments that reach into the ground and seemingly endless voids of crates around them (seen in outer space), as cold as it can be (in the universe). And from these stones, that are out of tune, these phantoms that can use their voice to attack, harm anything in their way. Wreaking havoc on the sailor(s).

Currently, what I had in mind is that this place at the bottom of the ocean (part of an extraterrestrial world) is sort of a passage of rite where people learn their true identity, as to why they seek, why humanity is always seeking the unknown. Because that’s our purpose, engraved in every part of our body, and we can learn and communicate with/understand what this phenomenon is through these sites. Problem is that these sites were neglected, and fell from grace: Turning into a pit of hate and destruction, never to be touched again as these spirits linger around.

Not entirely sure how this would be shown to the player in the game, as there’s no visible outside for anyone to see, and can only rely on audible cues (like the burst from cavitation). Would be fun thought to experience it in action!

Addendum:

Also started testing working towards a better capsule image, which is giving me the headache, not just for the composition, or the assets, but the lighting as well; would need an atmospheric composition, something that's technically impossible to achieve on this machine. Probably what will happen is that there will be new models made for this very purpose, because the ones used in the game look bad this close (the submarine is tiny in game, which shows when blown up to real size, and the diver feels odd too). So here's a test render:

Super dark and empty, even though there's scenery behind (the valley seen in the main menu). The lighting is off too, 2000s it is not! Also, working with volumetrics gave me a flashback, when I spent 2 weeks making a cubemap for a game a few years ago. All the effort was worth it as it looked really cool by the end, but man it was pain to make (on this slow machine)!