[visja]

FORUM POST ||  PLAY DEMO HERE || DISCORD || PATREON || NEW TUMBLR

Hunter, O’ Hunter, your undying body has experienced the seasons wither and flourish in endless perpetuity, the forest scattering its corpses at your feet. Rot to sapling to bloom to death. Through heartbreak and loss, bloodied knives and slaughtered hope, you have persevered.

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[visja]

Your mouth finds theirs again, slower this time. To reclaim, yes. To mark: the beginning and end. The reluctant acceptance of a worrisome path. A knot. A sign, carved in cheek. Here; to drink from, however slow the trickle— a gathering of dew. To be voraciously savored. Salaciously licked from corner to corner. They hold you in a way that feels a little like a secret, held too long. How it stutters in your chest, how it seeps back into foundation. The way the earth siphons rain when it's gone too long.

[louroth]

[UNIDENTIFIED] unlocked codex

LOCATION DESIGNATION: Outer Ring of the Riven Expanse

STATUS: Fractured perimeter zone [Stabilized, contested]

NOTES ON ACCESS: Restricted to authorized Pathfinders and Runners only

“The trees forget the hands that shaped them. Tongue of rot. Tooth of renewal.”

— Anonymous runners diary, salvaged at 89.29891,-21.84670

Suspended high upon the bone-like lattice of ancient trees, the Outer Ring is the last veil of order before the wilderness swells into its endless, unshaped heart.

The walkways rise like a second spine across the forest canopy. They bear the weight of countless Paths taken, countless footprints pressed into salt-streaked planks. Here, Runners and Pathfinders trade whispers and scars, making ready for sorties into the heart of the woods.

Each path is marked by sigils and knots, some official, many unofficial — wards scrawled by desperate hands. All agree upon one rule:

Never walk alone. Never walk at dusk. Never trust silence.

Researcher’s Note: The deep is suspected to operate upon an unknown physical logic. Periodic excursions conducted to map its terrain have yielded no coherent cartography. Teams return fragmented, their instruments rendered meaningless. Occasionally, the forest itself returns fragments of those departed — a boot, a horn, a page from a waterlogged journal — deposited upon the walkways as if to mock the endeavor.

[visja]

[louroth]

Hey nony, :} It is. To me, at least.

You have me a little watery-eyed. I'll share ONE excerpt with you from a far-away, deep-into-it section right before all hell breaks loose, one I haven't even shared with patreons, but one that truly drove this story home for me. Idk if it'll mean the same to you, I am certain it won't, but I hope, in time, you'll see it the same. It all starts to unravel, from here, for our poor pathfinder, for the crew; not knowing their way.

MWAH!!!! thank you for writing me.

[lunchboxpoems]

[louroth]

I've been around the IF scene for decades. I've been lurking on lemmasoft forums since before there was ANY officially released visual novels geared towards women. I've dabbled in all the formats (renpy, twine, cscript), I do understand how difficult it is. I've seen many stories and games come out that were game changers. They were so unique, did something no one else was doing, and changed the way things went going forward. There's Wayhaven with the RO POVs, Our Life with the whole everything they do, ZESH with the full RPG madness, Steamberry studios with the painterly art style and unique worlds, Shepherds of Haven making a beautiful DAO style rpg, and many many more. They all raise the bar and change the landscape of this community. They spark new inspirations in others. I really truly do think that Ouroboros has the potential to be one of those stories that opens all of our minds in a whole new direction, to be possibilities. It's lived in my mind ever since your first demo. Take your time, take care of yourself, and do what you have to so that you can live well- but don't let Ouros disappear into the ether. It would truly be a tragedy. <3

I'm just gonna lay down here. And die.

[louroth]

devlog #38, :3 [revised title: >:3] | Lou Roth

Get more from Lou Roth on Patreon

A little devlog for all of us; to catch you up to where I am at (vaguely, my worm, do try better next time)

And a side-shout-out to @shepherds-of-haven that has me fucking gob-smacked, slacked-jawed in absolute awe. Wraow. Have you seen it? God damn. Bites knuckles a little bit. Mh.

Anyway! Onwards. We'll see it through, won't we?

[louroth]

For a fleeting second, your hand gripping the counter so hard it hurts, digging in, your brain mutes everything— the footsteps approaching, the shuffling of clutter on the floor— until you are back there. Until you feel the smell of wet earth and the rain on your shoulders, your cheeks, so fine it felt like running through a curtain of mist. The brief had been, well, brief, and you had set out to take down a hive just southwest of the outer ring. Easy. The boardwalks were new, pristine, gripping the soles of your boots as you stomped your way forward into the silent night. Light rain— the forest asleep. Huddling. Perfect for eliminating growing threats, the hives of beasts, gestating. Cooing in the dark. You nodded towards the exit your squadron was supposed to take, setting up shop at the junction, counting heads as they passed— smiling lazily as leith passed with a wink and a noisy kiss to the air between you. Sights aimed; all stationed, drop-ropes secured and ready to go: a breath of words passed down from mouth to mouth until it reached you: clear. But something felt off.

You blink, and swallow. A deep breath.

You couldn't have saved them.

They were gone the moment you affirmed the clear.

But.

You could have called it. As soon as you saw the flicker in the corner from your eye, before the ground rumbled from a starting stampede—

you could have called it.

It was only seconds. You've had so many of them.

You could have saved them. And now you can't even save yourself.

[louroth]

You reach the table, where Y takes up a quarter of the seating space. Although he is tucked into the corner by the lace-clad window, he is not afraid to take up space, arms outstretched across the bench that spans your booth, a dreamy half-smile on his face. You slide in next to S, opposite Y, and covertly ask, “Did you drug him?” S laughs; a dozen bells, ringing. “Gods no. I gave him a stiff drink, and the band is setting up. He has always fancied live musicians.” Sure enough, there is a band tuning their instruments among the mingling crowd of the dance floor. Just in the middle of it, a carpet designates the space for a cello, drums, musicians. A microphone is tapped, reverberating with feedback; no one flinches. The volume is high enough around the bar already, but it settles the more organized the band becomes, barhand waving people off, shushing, handing drinks over with mirth coursing through every twitch and turn of their all-aware movements. Drink-tray carrying girls swirl through the crowd like leaves on a current, trilling, the occasional slosh of liquid gleaming in the warm glow of gas-lit fire. Deals pass between mumbling gentry at the back. Glasses clink. The perfume of oil permeates, near rancid.

There’s a whole world here.

A whole world.

[louroth]

All this nervous energy just running off of you as long as you. keep. moving. The adrenaline feels lovely as it surges, past the last set, into another, and a third— you're going for failure, aren't you?

Always.

It is not enough to coast the high of enough. It has to be more. There has to be the tenuous sigh of relief as your body scrambles to survive within the frame you've made for it. Just one more. Another.

The weights fall to the floor with a clatter and your mouth splits into a wide grin of approval as everything— your vision, your limbs, your spirit— trembles, quakes: the good kind of exhaustion. The ceiling is the loveliest view you've ever seen— you did it. The something you can do. Colors dull in comparison to it. As you lay on the mat, tracing worms of fracturing color that twitch with your heightened breath, a face steps in, swirling your vision into whirls of lights and traces of sweat. A smirk, a raised eyebrow— distant, not staring, but aware. He hefts his own weight. Flicks his focus to your red, flushed face. Meets your eyes for a fraction of a second before curling the iron once more.

"A sight for sore eyes."

You, at a lack for words, trace an eye over his form. He rolls his lips. You flick a brow.

And that is all there is to it.

[innerconstruction]

[louroth]

Hello sweetcheeks! Just letting you know that the OUROBOROS old demo is now uploaded here: OUROBOROS ON COGDEMOS

Although... it is not as pretty as the new app, coming to you soon.

:> ❤️

[louroth]

wwgat the hell did you put in id i just scrolled through their tag a bit prompted by your return and i feel so sick and filled with despair bc theyre not real and i cant throttle them in real life (sexual/platonic/romantic/secret fourth thing/etc). literally feel like a wild chimpanzee rn

>:3 What I put in Id? Well.

But really?

a little of this.

of that. and we can't forget:

[louroth]

Hi i love you i read the demo a LONG time ago then completely forgot about it and got to experience everything more or less for the first time and cheer and clap the whole time. Since then every few weeks or so i will remember a random scene from the demo which haunts me/fills me with zest for life/peace and serenity forever. i lvoe you goodbye and good luck im so excited forever and apparently a fan for life👍

ANON :sob: SO KIND TO ME.................

[louroth]

UNPROVOKED LMAO???? went on a whole face journey reading that while riding the bus and then a teen laughed at me. thank you for my life but at what cost.

I missed your asks so much lmao the feeling is unparalleled. helppp.

[louroth]

thank you for the id snippet just last night i had a dream you posted a side story game with id pre mist set in some dingy labyrinth where one of the endings was getting a little handsy but not too much because. dingy labyrinth. if you thought your characters only haunted your mind just know others are still similarly affected by your brainrot

bro.... my brother. broski.......

it's literally a filefolder in my project....... ..........................