d7dab35: Her own drawings for the sword, the fall and the torch

cbe9c42: Every paper is read aloud, by whoever wrote it

77dd24d: A source check that checks, and a dev server that answers

268252f: Wrong doors wake the owner, and a note on the tree says the rule

0dea25a: The two lanes, checked and measured

7ca99ce: Two lanes: the drained stand beside the road, on terraces

a6bbbd1: His orders, and the game starts with him reading them

1ddc8d8: A hand that holds a torch, and real fire in it

77b2b94: Run the checks silent

51533eb: Take the twang off the gatekeeper's spear

dd4a694: The key was invisible, and it is called an inventory

d174e93: The wall asks, and the sky answers

eb6e8a3: The page in his hand

they walk home

Every placeholder pose of the prince is gone. Her drawing everywhere but the swing and the fall.

The hurt pose is gone. The eye says it.

The eye is the health bar. Every pose has one, and it dims.

A glance is free and a stare is not. Letters remember their house.

The keys are their own line, always on, keyboards only.

Taking a letter no longer needs the torch held, and MARK moves under the right thumb.

The map was never a map. The sheet is an inventory now: one page, a counter, and where each page is filed.

The letter is an object: light it to read it, take it to keep it.

An empty frame over every door. The cue has to be in the world, not on the sheet.

Marking had no affordance. Two wordless cues, and the help line that ran off the screen.

L1-L5: the letters. Torn pages, the band, the sheaf, marking the map.

Health and level restart: six hits, no bar, death takes the map with it

Village one: the bowl, the houses, the map, the population, the gate

Continuous tone: smooth sky, haze and defocus by distance, vignette