It has rained for 31 years. Everywhere except the Eye: a dry circle three miles wide, ringed by a standing wall of water. Wren grew up inside it, alone, talking to a bent weathervane. Then the ants built a roof over her hut.

Forecasters don't predict weather. They write it. Wren is learning.

A survivor-like with no clock

• No timer. Distance is the difficulty: every ring you walk out from the hut is one step up. Walk further for a harder run, stay close to breathe.
  
• Weapons fire on their own. You move, you pick, you choose where to stand.
  
• Two or three boss areas per map. Clear them all to clear the stage. Minimap and compass point to the next one.

Write weather, not swords

• Three schools: Atmospheric, Terrakinesis, Calamity. Calamity is not learned. It notices you.
  
• 72 weapons, 46 passives, 6 and 4 slots. Hail, Tremor, Bolt, Deluge, Ashfall, Meteor.
  
• Nutrition before destruction: grow a skill before you break with it, or Calamity takes an interest.

Seven books

Seven regions, each with its own ground, light and wildlife: the Eye, the Edge, the Drowned Fields, the Forest, the Highlands, the Coast, and the one place hot enough to boil rain. Ants with a queen. Beetles that drink puddles and grow. A parliament of rats whose Speaker is an office, not a person.

Runs that add up

• Eight tiers from Drizzle to Cataclysm, twelve mutators, Endless. Thousands of distinct runs.
  
• A daily forecast: one attempt, seeded by the date.
  
• The Almanac: every run, won or lost, pays gems toward permanent ranks.
  
• Twenty forecasters to walk out of the hut, and a hundred pets to walk out with them.

Made to be read

HD pixel art, lit in 2D. Text size, high contrast, a colour-distinct palette, screen shake and lightning toggles, four volume bars.

Everyone says "please stop the rain." The question is whether she should.