Купить The Keeper's Path

You keep a house that eats the things it holds.

It was here before you, and it will outlast you: a living house grown from a seed, that takes root where power

runs too deep and binds what cannot be killed. Tyrants, beasts, drowned gods — interred in its barrows, still

breathing, leaking the strength that made them dangerous. That strength runs to you now. You are its keeper.

Every power you bury makes you stronger. Every captive you hold strains against the dark a little harder. And

the longer you tend the house, the harder it becomes to say whether you are protecting the world from the

things in your yard — or simply farming them.

The Keeper's Path is a slow, atmospheric idle RPG about deep time, quiet dread, and the cost of power. There

are no quick wins here. You train your paths one at a time, choose your prey carefully, and watch the yard

glow as the bound feed you across hours and days. Then you abandon it all, carry what you've become into a

harder house, and begin again — stronger, colder, further from the person who planted the first seed.

What you'll do

• Train forbidden paths of power — each one slow to master, each unlocking new prey to hunt and new ways to hold them.

• Bind gods, monsters, and tyrants into your barrows, where they leak power to you for as long as the wards hold — and the strongest never stop trying to break free.

• Hold the line against the dark. Power draws pressure. Pressure breaks bindings. A failed capture wounds you; a careless one frees everything you've caged.

• Complete a deck of named legends — every card a specific being you must hunt down and bury to claim.

• Ascend across ever-harder houses, carrying your whole self forward, climbing toward a godhood you may not deserve.

• Be measured against other keepers — the boards track who has climbed highest, sealed the most, and gone deepest into the dark. A solitary game with a quiet, ruthless edge of competition.

Built to be left running. It plays while you don't. Progress accrues offline; the yard glows whether you're watching or not. Check in, make a decision, let it breathe.

For the patient, a climb measured in days. For the completionist, a deck of legends to bury one by one — and

boards that remember who has buried more. For the cold of heart, a road that bargains with what you've caged.

The path is solitary; the descent is not unwitnessed. Other keepers walk it too, and the dark keeps a record

of who has gone furthest.

There is a way to refuse the climb entirely. There is no way to keep your hands clean.

Custodian, or parasite? The house doesn't care. It only grows.