Mythmaker is a Lost and Found game about playing the villainous monster from legend. You are the Challenge a hero must overcome to achieve greatness. You decide what sort of fiend you are like The Warden, The Calamity, The Deceiver, and through three acts, you tell the tale of three heroes and if they were worthy opponents.
Game Content WarningsThese are content warnings that are from the game prompts and are present in all playthroughs.
Playthrough Content WarningsThese are content warnings specific to this playthrough only.
Word Count: Played:
Purpose: Why do you always relive, punish and ravage, why would a Challenger desire to stop you?
Feast on the corpses of humans and all beings. I crave their destruction to feed myself. They cannot stop me and it is amusing to see them try. Hunting them is a game and I will gladly feast upon them and their entire village once they’ve perished.
They seek to put me at bay by tossing their dead to me over the side of the mountain. Sometimes this satisfies me, but I bide my time and soon I will attack their fragile little villages again and again.
Enormous, 5 mile long wingspan
Bird-like, capable of flight
Minbort lived when their people had not settled and I hunted them gleefully. Each night and day I relished their screams as they saw my shadow pass overhead. They traveled desperately around the mountain, hiding in caves and praying to gods that did not hear them.
Minbort studied under the healer and apothecary, brewing stronger and stronger poisons each day. They knew that they could never defeat me in battle, I am too strong and too large, so they turned to deception and trickery.
The mountains were harsh and brutal; many of their people died not by my hand, but still I ate whatever corpse I could find. Pulling them apart, swallowing them whole, and putting on my best display for whatever tiny creature was watching.
I should have known it was a trick when the bodies were laid out in perfect little rows for me. It was an offering and I ate those poisoned bodieds without a second thought.
Minbort was also a proud and arrogant human, and as I lay paralized on the ground they approached me and flaunted their victory. They mocked me for falling for their trap, but it is I who will have the last laugh.
“I will be back, little finch,” I echoed through their mind. But they did not believe me, and plucked the feathers from my head as their trophy.
I died that night, but I was a Decided beast, and I will rise again. As wretched as this little finch was, they were worthy.
Gallant and Good
They find themselves in a position of power; how are they seen by the people of their kingdom?
Minbort became the next leader of their people. Believing me to be dead, they felt safe enough to take up roots and build a village in the mountains. They built themselves a feathered throne and were beloved by their people.
You are bound to this kingdom, what do you dream of beyond it?
This village is small, tiny, but I see in the distance the lights of other civilizations. If I could, I would crush them. A large city means more people fear me and more bodies to eat.
You discover a new painful sign of wear. What is it? How long does it take to become normal?
When I again arose from the dirt and snow and filth that had covered my body, my head had not regrown its feathers. It was a sign I could be stilled, and one that would never regrow.
I had arisen thirty years since Minbort had poisoned me and again I returned to hunting. Their village once again in tatters and their members forced to flee from my presence.
A hunter and a guardsman, Selphtil was the leader of all who took up arms in the village. He was overconfident in his skills, but known for felling even the largest of the beasts of the mountains.
Stories were told around the campfires of his hunting expeditions and all the warriors wished to be as brave as him.
He boasted that he would slay me, and when taken seriously, he was given the best arms to hunt me. He prayed each night to the god of rewards, asking for a victory, and etched his sigil upon the sword he carried. He didn’t remember that Thulious was also the god of consequences.
Selphtil scoured the mountain for signs of my presence before he found me asleep at my nest. He was silent and fast as he moved to strike my neck. I awoke instantly as the sword became wedged into my flesh, and I, unable to remove it.
I clawed at it, and scraped it against every and all rocks but it was too small for me to pluck it with my talons.
Selphil thought himself victorious and cried “I have killed you, Vulture!”
But I echoed forth in his mind, “This is your end little falcon,” and crushed him easily under my foot.
But I found I could not swallow with the sword in my throat and so I waited for it to rust and fall before I could eat again. His victory was shallow and small and he was unworthy.
Broken and Beneath
You release them from their troubles, what do you say to one another?
What do they call you? How do you feel about it?
My feathered head is plucked clean, and I eat their dead in reverie, and so they have named me The Vulture. I had no true name when I arose from the dreams of a long dead god, and I find it amusing that the mortals attempt to understand me.
Enaphaer, a devoted priest to the God of Connections, prayed for six days and six nights straight before seeing a sign at the top of the mountain. She led their people up to the top of one of the peaks where they found the Aerialed Bridge. It was a two mile long bridge of natural stone that stretched high above a vast and yawning chasm.
Her people refused to cross because they did not know what was at the end and they were completely exposed to me. She pleaded and begged her people but they would not move until she had agreed that she would become a distraction for me.
She stood up top a large and exposed rock, waiting for me to find her. But I had become wise to the trickery of humans, and so I landed, towering over her and brought my face to hers.
She did not flinch or back away but stood firm in her stance and faith that her god would protect her. She screeched prayers and verses at me, as if it would keep me at bay.
I laughed at her and echoed, “Life and Death are connected, Warbler, as are the hunted and the hunter.”
She paused, fear in her eyes for the first time as I swung my beak horizontally and sent her flying off of the rock.
Her skull had cracked and her arm broke, but still she lived to rejoin her people. She would teach people to still fear me and I deemed her worthy.
Gallant and Good
They have become wiser and restrained
Enaphaer found her people across the Aerialed Bridge deep in a winding and twisting cave. She spoke of her escape and, as I had predicted, instilled a fear of me into those who would listen. She preached that gods both give and take. She has learned both pray and look before she leaps.
What would be a worthy end for you?
The gods are all afraid of the winds that change and consume. I know that I too could be eaten alive from within by these demons. It is not worthy, it is not poetic, but it is the only way I know to die.
Decadence and Downfall
The kingdom expands into previously unmapped resources, how does it affect you?
Within the walls of the caves the humans, in their determination and cunning, have trapped, grown and domesticated giant spiders for their use. They are fast and skittering beasts and prove much harder to catch and eat than before.
They do not fear me as much as they have grown to hate my presence. Still I hunt those who venture out into the open, and feast upon the dead that they send over the side. I have become a scavenger more than a hunter.
A being, a creature I do not know, but wears the flesh of a man, approached me in my nest. It was long since the mortals fled below the surface into their burrowed nation to hid away from my terror. I still feasted upon the dead they send to rest over the side and my claws sometimes found purchase along the sides, but it has been a long time since a worthy challenger has crossed my path. The Wren, the Sparrow, and the Robin were small and met their ends at the mountain and not my hand.
“Tell me, Jay, what are you?” I echoed into their mind.
They laughed and sat at the rocks beside me. “No one of consequence, Vulture,” they paused then asked me of my tale.
I laughed at them, but still my tale was one that should be told. I spoke to them of the beginning--how I arose from a time when the obelisk was still visible. I spoke to them of the mountain--how it housed the birds hunt and how it shackles me to it’s edges. Then I spoke to them of the champions--the ones who tricked and felled me.
They told me of the world outside the frozen mountains. A story from an island that held a nacred bridge to the sea. They told me of the ghosts that haunt a forest, a former Shadow that had been split and cries to find itself among the trees. And lastly they told a story of a forest, one that also came from a dream and housed unimaginable creatures and things.
We looked to the horizon and saw the sun dip below the earth. It was a long time before either of us spoke. I asked them if they remember the world before, when creatures like me were still being made.
They nodded and paused before speaking, “There will be no more like us. Such has been Decided.”
“All things will come to an end, and you will find a way for me to be remembered,” I leaned my beak close to the Storyteller.
“One cannot go against their nature,” replied the Jay, a challenger of true worth. They stood and left down the snowy path leaving me to my silence.
Gallant and Good
You depart as equals, what advice do you give them?
A symbol of your purpose has become tarnished
The feathers on my wings have begun to molt. I am losing them and soon I will no longer be able to fly. Before they have grown anew, but something is wrong. I can feel it, something is changing and I am no longer the being I once was.
Disaster Strikes after omens of ill portent. What is the cause?
The end is here. The humans have caused the end. I can see it on the horizon, they war with one another and have destroyed all which was once sacred. The winds are coming, with their twisted faces and endless mists. How soon will it reach me? How soon until I too fester with the mists and slough off this physical form?
He came in a metal box that traveled through the sky like it was a ship upon the waves, and landed on the rocks and snow. He did not see me as I approached, barely able to fly, feathers and skin stretching and ripping, falling and melting.
I landed and fell, face in the snow and dirt, unable to lift myself. It had been more than thousands of lifetimes since I had seen a mortal.
He screamed and hid until I called for him. “A Dove, little dove, from where did you come? Why return to this wretched place?”
He told me he was from the stars, a vast expanse in an unknown sea. I laughed, all the gods were dead and heaven is no more.
He asked me what had happened and I did not have an answer. “I am bound,” I echoed deep in his alien mind, “I cannot leave this mountain. Tell me do you know of me? I am the Vulture…”
He did not, he had not heard of this world, this mountain, this place. I was a strange and dying creature. He stayed with me for a day, asking questions and I gave any answer I could.
My body would not move and my tongue grew thick in my mouth before I closed my eyes. I would not die but I was trapped in a prison until my flesh was consumed. The stranger left in the same metal box as quickly as they had arrived. Perhaps he was worthy, but I am no longer able to judge.
Gallant and Good
You give them what they want and they disappear just as quickly.
What would be a worthy end for this kingdom?
Worthy or not, the end has come. The gods have been eaten inside out by the demons that ride the winds. The people of this world too have been eaten, transformed, into a trascendental amalgamation.
What would be a worthy end for you?
I think back to all the little birds who tried to hunt me. To die in battle against a bird who had been worthy… But instead I rot inside this body at the top of a frozen mountain. I wish that I could sleep.