Tusk&Quill - Library

''Game Overview'' This is an [[interactive text fiction game]]. In this game, your core objective is to go back to the past. How will you do that? By exploring and reading. In the vast, magical library you will find yourself in, you must... * ...find and read'' 3 Key Books''. After reading a Key Book, you are awarded a ''Key''. * ...collect all 3 Keys and you will be able to unlock your way back to the past, where ''your goal is to take critical climate action to help save the planet'' from the bleak future you currently live in - a dying world ravaged by the consequences of climate change. ''Game Details:'' * Genre: Single-player, interactive text fiction * Content Warning: Climate Change, Natural Disaster, Death * Time to Complete: 30 minutes - [[Let's get started.]] - Read the [[Credits]]

''What Is Interactive Fiction? '' Interactive fiction, adventure games, and hypertext stories are all versions of the same thing: text-based stories where the primary method of play is choosing what to click on, and reading the outcomes. (link: "To learn more about this type of game, click here.")[(goto-url: 'https://www.ifwiki.org/Interactive_fiction')]

You’ve finally found it, the famed library at the end of the world. You almost can’t believe it’s actually real. But you don’t have time to marvel at its existence, you have a mission to complete. You made a vow to persist until you found the treasure within: the mythical book that allows its reader to go back in time. //“Well, I don’t plan on leaving unless it’s by way of the past, anyways.”// This present, in all of its bleakness, can be avoided. You intend to join the ranks of the many of who have read the book before you, to do your part, to steer this world in a different direction. (align:"=><=")+(box:"X")[<img src="images/Exterior FIN.png" width = "850" height = "500" />] - [[Go inside the Library]] - [[Explore outside]]

Upon entering the Library, you’re immediately overwhelmed by a wave of vertigo as dusty, cob-webbed bookshelves tower above you. Every inch of the library is stacked with high wooden shelves and precarious stacks of books - nearly from floor to ceiling! You feel a sudden pit in your stomach as you realize the enormity of your task. (align:"=><=")+(box:"X")[<img src="images/Entering the Library.png" width = "850" height = "500" />] To find a special book like the one you’re looking for, amidst all of these, will be like trying to find a needle in a haystack. //“Well, it’s not like I don’t have time now...”// Yes, the oceans churn and roil like acidic stews and wildfires and droughts have parched most of your homeland, but another casualty to the consequences of climate inaction, an unintended and surprising one, was how the smog-choked atmosphere seemed to absorb and swallow up time too. Everyone’s doing their best to survive, so there’s no real need to rush about anywhere. Besides, if you find this book, you’ll have all the time you need. //“I should get started then.”// You look around, noticing several tables and chairs askew in the center of the room - old wrappers and bottles are nearby, the remains of a past sojourner. To your left and right are narrow, twin corridors winding through shadow-cloaked bookstacks. - You decide to [[Go left]] first.

You decide to scope the place out for a bit. You find a long-abandoned leather satchel in the dirt, burned through in several places, most likely by several years of heavy acid rain showers. You see some papers poking out from the inside. Curious, you reach inside and pull out a small red notebook. - [[Read the journal]] - [[Go inside the Library]]

You turn left, drawn toward a precarious stack of books so tall it forms a shadowy arch, teetering on the edge of collapse. The weight of the Library’s sanctity settles over you, and instinctively, you hold your breath, tiptoeing beneath the towering spines. Motes of dust swirl in the slanting golden light filtering through cracks in the glass ceiling high above, illuminating the worn covers in a soft reverent glow. (align:"=><=")+(box:"X")[<img src="images/Go Left.png" width = "850" height = "500" />] Reaching out, you trail your fingers along the dusty edges of the shelves on either side. Your fingertips come away gray with dirt, but you do not mind. The path stretches endlessly ahead. Tens of thousands, no, hundreds of thousands of books line the walls, vanishing into the dim heights of the Library. And this is only one corner of it. Tilting your head back, you try to recall the Library’s origin, piecing together scraps of lore you have heard before. It is a place of mystery, built not by accident but by intention. Whispers tell of an underground network of griots and archivists who smuggled books for decades, safeguarding them from loss, destruction, and time itself. They knew what so many had forgotten. Knowledge is fragile, and its power only grows in scarcity. A vibration stirs beneath your feet, rising into your legs like an awakening hum, and a sudden breeze rushes through the cracked glass dome above, stirring the stillness. From the corner of your eye, you catch movement. A single dry leaf flutters, caught in the draft. It drifts downward, then quivers between two books on a nearby shelf. The setting sun ignites the golden lettering on their spines, making them glimmer in the fading light. You hesitate, then step closer. Something about these books is calling to you. You can feel it. The only question now is, which one to read first? - [[Read "Preserving Memory: Heroes of the Dunes"]] - [["The Storyteller’s Revolution: Games and Media in the Fight for Earth's Future"]]

You walk straight ahead, and the Library opens into a vast study space. Long wooden tables sprawl across the room, their deep brown surfaces like thick slabs of chocolate, squatting low in the amber light. (align:"=><=")+(box:"X")[<img src="images/Go Straight.png" width = "850" height = "500" />] The sun is sinking fast now, its last streaks of gold stretching long shadows across the floor. A flicker of unease crosses your mind as you think of the approaching night wind, and how it howls and bites with frost edged teeth. You tug your thick double layered socks higher and remind yourself that the Library's stone walls will take the worst of it for you, and if all goes well, you won't be here much longer to be too worried about it anyway. Most of the tables are untouched, their surfaces bare save for the thick coats of dust settled like old snowfall, but two places stand out, different from the others. They're not abandoned, instead, they are lived in, visited, maybe even haunted - as if the ghosts of past Library wanderers never truly left. At the heart of the room, a small circular table, more like a pedestal, holds an ornate wooden box. It is the kind of beautiful that unsettles. Dark wood, smoothed by time, carved with intricate keyholes along its surface, while a faint glow flickers from within. Tiny flecks of light slip through the deep set keyholes, peeking through like curious embers vying for a chance to observe you. Nearby, the largest conference table is a mess of small, strange details. Crumpled bits of foil and wax paper are scattered across its surface, littered like forgotten remnants of someone in a hurry. A worn backpack slumps beside them, its canvas stiff and concave, as if whatever once filled it has been taken abruptly. It holds its shape only because the fabric has stiffened that way, and the result is it looks like something sad and sagging - waiting on something to hold again. A breeze stirs through the room, too gentle, too precise. You can almost hear it rustling between the tables, shifting in the empty spaces. Something was here. Maybe still is. - [[Examine the box on the table]] - [[Examine the trash on the table]]

You turn right, stepping into the narrow, suffocating passageway, the air thick with the dust of forgotten worlds, a smell that makes your chest tighten with a bitter kind of fury. The shelves, looming like silent sentinels, are filled with memories: stories of better days, of times when the earth was green and the air was clean. The faint light overhead flickers weakly, as though it too, is losing the battle against the darkness that has consumed this place, this world. Your fingers curl into fists at your sides as you walk, the injustice of it all rising in you like a tide. The world outside has burned, choked, and died, and yet here you are, surrounded by the remnants of the past: so many words, so many lessons, all forgotten. This is the reality of the world now: a heap of discarded knowledge, a carcass of a planet long gone. The anger surges like fire through your veins. Then, you spot it, a faint gleam at the bottom of the shelf, like something trying to hide. You kneel down, hands shaking, not from fear, but from the burning anger that’s been building inside you, the weight of the world’s destruction pressing down. You shove aside the dust and old books, revealing two worn leather tomes, their covers faded but still faintly glowing, like they’re holding on to something that’s slipping away. One has a labyrinth on it, the other a strange symbol. These aren’t just books; they feel like a challenge, like they hold something you need, something tied to the world you’ve lost. The weight of that loss hits you hard, right in your chest. Before you can reach for them, a shelf above you groans in protest, then crashes down in a violent avalanche. Books, paper, dust - everything falls, and it’s as if the entire Library is crying out in anger with you. The force of it knocks you back, but you don’t flinch. You’re done flinching. You pick yourself up, and looking down, see the two books laying open at your feet, as though the universe itself has handed them to you. You reach down, instinctively, drawn to them. Which do you read first? - [[Read "Shifting Winds of Time"]] - [[Read "Echoes of Tomorrow: Behavioral Alchemy and the Future of Climate Action"]]

The journal's pages are yellowed and aged–it seems to be a handbound notebook, stitched together with homemade paper made up of pulp and paper matter. Each page is slightly lumpy with faint lines and brown specks from the paper-making process. You open the journal and are greeted with a neat, looping cursive. (text-style:"italic")["''There was a wall. It did not look important''. It was built of uncut rocks roughly mortared. An adult could look right over it, and even a child could climb, it. Where it crossed the roadway, instead of having a gate it degenerated into mere geometry, a line, an idea of boundary. ''But the idea was real. It was important''. For seven generations ''there had been nothing in the world more important than that wall''..."] You paused slightly before you continued reading - there was something about that text that seemed familiar, and certain aspects of it had been bolded in the writer's hand, the letters smudged slightly with dark ink. //"It's an old book, one that Dad left behind. I read it over and over until it began to fall apart. Which is saying a lot, as you know how it looked when we got it! The glue was already coming undone in its spine. Anyways, it's funny that after all this time...after everything, I finally made it here...the famous Library and all I can think about is that old book and its author. I think her name was Ursula? The cover was stained pretty badly, so it's hard to tell for sure... I don't know how she knew it, but the thing that I dreamed about for years, this place...as magical as it is...on the outside, it's just a few rocky walls and right angles. All minerals and geometry...but man, what it stands for...what so many died for...it's alive inside. The idea is still alive...even from out here, I can feel it. Oh, if only I had the strength to go a little further. I think the best I can do is just admire it from here. I'll just take a small rest for awhile. Dad, I made it."// You place the journal back where you found it and pause for a few moments in silence - honouring the memories of the person who was here - of their palpable hope and inspiration that seemed to lay down and rest right where they did, some time ago. - [[Go inside the Library]]

You've done it. Somehow, impossibly, you've gathered all the keys needed to unlock this box. This thing, ancient and humming with quiet power, sits like a noble, wooden toad on its pedestal. There were no instructions, no guide to follow, and yet, you know. You *know*. This is it. This is the portal. The answer. The thing you've been fighting and searching for all this time. And now... you're about to open it. (align:"=><=")+(box:"X")[<img src="images/Chest_No_Orbs.png" width = "850" height = "500" />] You steady yourself, inhaling deeply as you slot the first key into place. Then the next. They look nearly identical, but each demands precision, each must fit just right. One by one, you turn them, each lock surrendering with a deep, resonant *ka-chnk*, the sound vibrating through your bones like a distant drumbeat. With the final key, your breath catches in your throat. Something shifts. For the first time, you feel the weight of this moment, *the reverence of it*. The end of one journey, the beginning of another. You exhale, deliberately, steadily, and with both hands, flip the lid open. Light explodes outward, swallowing the dimness of the Library. It is blinding at first, a living current of swirling brilliance that spills over the edges of the box and cascades down like a thick, tinted mist, pooling at your feet. The air shimmers with it, humming with something ancient, something knowing, and there, floating just above the mist, are three luminous orbs. (align:"=><=")+(box:"X")[<img src="images/Chest_With_Orbs.png" width = "850" height = "500" />] They hover effortlessly, bobbing slightly as if caught in the tide of the energy now thrumming through the space. As your vision adjusts, your eyes widen. Each orb bears a name - *Behaviour. Culture. Technology.* The three domains of climate action. The ones you've read about, studied, *felt* calling to you. They wait. Expectant. Your fingers twitch as you reach out, heart pounding, yet your hand falters mid-reach. *Which one?* - [[Behaviour]] - [[Culture]] - [[Technology]]

(align:"=><=")+(box:"X")[<img src="images/Orb_Behavior.png" width = "400" height = "400" />] After reading about behavioral change, you find yourself drawn to this domain, not just as an abstract concept, but as a tangible path for action. You’ve always been fascinated by the why behind human decisions, the invisible forces shaping habits, choices, and movements. Maybe you’re the kind of person who loves dissecting patterns, analyzing data, or uncovering the motivations that drive people to act (or not act). Maybe you thrive in research, deep dives into psychology, or strategizing ways to nudge societies toward change. It makes sense. Climate action isn’t just about technology or policy, it’s about people. And the way we think, behave, and respond to crisis is just as important as the science behind it. You realize this is exactly where you want to focus your efforts: understanding behavior to shift systems, turning insight into impact. Confirm your decision and [[Go back in time]] or...humour yourself, and review the other domains. This is a big decision after all, it wouldn't hurt to take a little more time to consider things. - [[Culture]] - [[Technology]]

(align:"=><=")+(box:"X")[<img src="images/Orb_Culture.png" width = "400" height = "400" />] After exploring culture, you realize that storytelling is more than entertainment, it's a force that shapes reality. You've always understood the power of stories. Whether through film, art, music, or games, you know that narratives shape the way people see the world, what they fear, what they hope for, and what they believe is possible. Climate change isn't just a scientific crisis, it's a crisis of imagination, of culture, of collective will. And you refuse to let it be a story of inevitable loss. Maybe you're an artist, a filmmaker, a game designer, or a writer. Maybe you've always been drawn to myths and legends, knowing that the role of the storyteller is as ancient as humanity itself. The griots, the bards, the poets were the ones who preserved knowledge, who carried the truth when others tried to bury it. You see yourself as part of that tradition. You understand that people don’t just respond to facts; they respond to feeling, to connection, to stories that spark something deep inside. For you, climate action is about breaking the silence, shifting the narrative from doom to determination, from paralysis to play. You see the power in bringing climate storytelling to every medium; through video games that let players experience different futures, children’s shows that introduce the next generation to activism with joy instead of fear, and films and books that remind us we're still writing this story and the ending isn’t set. You know that if people can imagine a better world, they can fight for it. And you're here to help them see it. Confirm your decision and [[Go back in time]] or...humour yourself, and review the other domains. This is a big decision after all, it wouldn't hurt to take a little more time to consider things. - [[Behaviour]] - [[Technology]]

(align:"=><=")+(box:"X")[<img src="images/Orb_Technology.png" width = "400" height = "400" />] After exploring technology, you realize that solving climate change isn’t just about knowing the problem, it’s about building the solutions. You've always been drawn to how things work, the gears behind the machine, the structures beneath the surface. Maybe you're an engineer, a scientist, a systems thinker, or an inventor. Maybe you were the kind of kid who took things apart just to understand how to put them back together, always searching for better, smarter, more efficient ways to make things run. For you, climate action is about reimagining the world from the ground up. The energy grids, the supply chains, the materials we use, the fuels we burn, every piece of infrastructure that keeps society moving needs to be transformed. You see the challenge not as an obstacle, but as a puzzle, an equation waiting to be solved. Where others see limits, you see possibility. How do we scale renewables to power entire cities? How do we make carbon removal efficient and reliable? How do we create a world where sustainability isn’t just an option, but the foundation? You are the architect, the one who designs the pathways others will walk. Whether through cutting-edge research, breakthrough engineering, or rethinking the systems we take for granted, you are part of the effort to decarbonize our future, and not just by reducing harm, but by building something better. Technology isn’t just about tools; it's about shaping the way we live. And you're here to create the blueprint for a world that works with the planet, not against it. Confirm your decision and [[Go back in time]] or...humour yourself, and review the other domains. This is a big decision after all, it wouldn't hurt to take a little more time to consider things. - [[Culture]] - [[Behaviour]]

(align:"=><=")+(box:"X")[<img src="images/Portal FIN.png" width = "850" height = "500" />] As you grasped the orb of your choice tightly in your hand - the others dissolved into dust. You begin to feel a strange sensation as the Library starts to dissolve around you, the towering shelves and golden light giving way to a shimmer of something unplaceable, something like stardust, like memory. Your breath catches as your body begins to slip away, unraveling thread by thread. Your backpack, your flashlight, even your shoes scatter like fallen leaves, left behind in the quiet of the Library. You glance down one last time at the place where you sat, where you studied, where you made your choice. Your belongings remain, a soft echo of your presence, as if the Library itself refuses to forget you. You are being pulled now, stretched thin, impossibly thin, toward infinity, toward something both past and future, history and destiny entwined. And yet, even as the edges of yourself blur, you find clarity in the thought. //Ah//, you muse, a quiet smile forming. //So that’s what happened to the last guy. // The irony is not lost on you. In your attempt to go back in time, to change the course of history, all that remains of you in your own timeline is a halo of scattered belongings, a trace of existence as fleeting as a footprint in the dust. It seems, after all, that even in trying to save the world, there is no escaping the pollution of being human. ''THE ~~END~~ BEGINNING''

''Illustration:'' - Caelan, @halcaeon ''Narrative Design:'' - Roshelle P. ''Editors:'' - Nimayi Dixit, Mary Garavaglia, Natasha Patel ''Audio:'' - Desert ambient music by ZHRØ -- https://freesound.org/s/686838/ -- License: Creative Commons 0 - Back to [[Tutorial]]

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''The Storyteller’s Revolution: Games and Media in the Fight for Earth's Future'' The world of climate action is often dominated by images of policymakers, scientists, and activists standing on podiums, charts in hand, but a quieter, more immersive revolution is happening in unexpected places - inside video games and on children’s screens. The culture of climate storytelling is shifting, not by debating the existence of climate change, but by engaging people, young and old, in solutions, emotions, and action. Jenifer Estaris and Suzie Hicks are two creatives leading the charge in their respective fields, using play, imagination, and education to normalize discussions on climate change and inspire a new generation of climate-literate citizens. ''Games Don’t Just Tell a Story, They Let Players Live It'' (align:"=><=")+(box:"X")[<img src="images/JenEstarisMonument.png" width = "842" height = "417" />] For Jenifer Estaris, climate action happens in pixels and player choices. A game director at (link: "ustwo games")[(goto-url: 'https://ustwogames.co.uk/')] and an active member of the (link: "UN-facilitated Playing for the Planet initiative")[(goto-url: 'https://www.unep.org/explore-topics/education-environment/what-we-do/playing-planet')], she is dedicated to embedding climate consciousness into the gaming industry. “I create experiences that challenge and hopefully change perspectives,” Estaris says. “At their core, games are about systems, interactions, and player agency. The designer creates a world with rules, and the player explores, learns, and shapes that world. This mirrors our relationship with the environment: we live within complex ecosystems, our actions have consequences, and the choices we make can either sustain or disrupt the balance.” Her work includes Monument Valley 2: The Lost Forest, a petition for forest conservation, and Monument Valley 3, which launched in December 2024 and explores recovery and resilience after a great flood. She’s also written an ecopunk tabletop role-playing game (TTRPG) with her 11-year-old child, blending activism with play. “Games require participation. They let players experience consequences firsthand, whether it’s guiding a sea turtle through an ocean filled with jellyfish and plastic bags, as in one of my early Nick Jr. games, or navigating a world in recovery post-flood, like in Monument Valley 3.” Despite the potential, Estaris acknowledges the barriers to integrating climate themes into games, particularly when it comes to making the business case. “Budgets are tightening, and sustainability initiatives can sometimes be seen as non-essential. But the data tells a different story,” she explains, citing research from the (link: "2022 Playing for the Planet Green Game Jam Survey")[(goto-url: 'https://www.playing4theplanet.org/project/green-game-jam-player-survey-2022-first-steps-to-understanding-our-audiences')], which found that more than 81% of video gamers want to engage with more green messages in games, and that more than two-thirds have considered changing their behaviors, such as eating less meat, as a result of in-game messaging. She also points to (link: "Playing for the Planet’s 2022 Annual Impact Report")[(goto-url: 'https://www.unep.org/resources/report/playing-planet-alliances-2022-annual-impact-report')], which revealed a record-breaking year: over 30 gaming studios facilitated the planting of more than 2.5 million trees, reached more than 600 million players with environmental messages, and encouraged 54% of Alliance members to commit to decarbonization goals. For Estaris, this data underscores a powerful case for action. “The numbers highlight an opportunity: sustainability isn’t just a moral imperative, it’s also a strong engagement driver,” she says. “If we can prove impact, we can turn skeptics into supporters.” ''Rooting Climate Education in Love and Gratitude'' (align:"=><=")+(box:"X")[<img src="images/SuzieHicks.png" width = "560" height = "440" />] For Suzie Hicks, climate communication starts with storytelling, music, and puppetry. A filmmaker, children’s author, and climate educator, she created Suzie Hicks the Climate Chick, (link: "a YouTube show")[(goto-url: 'https://www.youtube.com/@SuzieandSprout')] that teaches kids about climate change through humor, socio-emotional learning, and music. “I always start with why I love living on Earth,” Hicks says. “This is the best place ever. All my friends and family live here…my cats live here too! I list all these fun silly things that I love about living on Earth, like YouTube and theatre. Then I ask kids, ‘Do you think humans are bad for the environment?’ It’s a litmus test to see what they’ve already absorbed.” Hicks emphasizes that the climate crisis isn’t about an inherent flaw in humanity, it’s about choices made over the last 500 years. “People have lived in harmony with Earth for thousands of years. It’s not humans that are the problem, it’s the systems we’ve built that exploit land and people.” Hicks sees her work as part of a long tradition of using media to educate and empower young audiences, drawing inspiration from trailblazers in children's programming. “I’m a student of Fred Rogers and Sesame Street - during the Civil Rights Movement, they were doing integrated shows,” she explains. “They tackled death, divorce, racism…,” topics that were often absent from traditional education but essential for helping kids understand the world around them, and as education becomes increasingly politicized, Hicks believes informal learning spaces like YouTube are more vital than ever. “YouTube removes barriers to access,” she says. “Even if kids can’t learn about climate in school, they can watch it at home.” ''Finding Strength in Community and Collective Action'' Both Estaris and Hicks emphasize that no one fights climate change alone. For Estaris, the Playing for the Planet Alliance and the IGDA Climate Special Interest Group (SIG) provide a pathway for game developers who want to make a difference. “We have an active Discord with monthly video meetings to share our learnings, garner support, and celebrate our achievements,” she says. “Community care is the lifeblood of our SIG culture.” For Hicks, joining existing movements like the Sunrise Movement or Extinction Rebellion was a turning point in her activism. “The lowest point in my climate journey was when I was trying to do it all by myself,” she recalls. “It’s not amplified enough how many people are already doing the work. The wheel has already been invented, it just needs more people pushing it up the mountain.” ''The Future of Climate Storytelling'' When asked about the future of climate storytelling, Hicks points to The Wild Robot, a recent film that left her in tears. “That movie is a perfect film,” she says. She’s also energized by the rise of local climate hubs and events like the Hollywood Climate Summit. “There are now spaces for people to talk about climate in the media, and that’s awesome.” For Estaris, the potential of games remains untapped. “Games don’t just tell a story, they let players live it,” she says. ''Breaking Climate Silence Through Play and Media'' Whether through immersive games or puppet-led lessons, Estaris and Hicks are proof that climate conversations don’t have to be dominated by doom and gloom. They can be playful, joyful, and deeply human.“The work is exhausting, but it’s meaningful,” Hicks says. “And at the end of the day, it’s going to be friendship and community that saves us.” (align:"=><=")+(box:"X")[<img src="images/Orb_Culture.png" width = "400" height = "400" />] As the last page of the book turns, something metallic catches your eye - a small, oddly shaped ''key'' wedged between the final leaves. It feels unnaturally hot to the touch, as though it has just been pulled from a fire, and you hesitate for a moment before slipping it into your pocket, wondering what secrets it might unlock. - [[Read "Preserving Memory: Heroes of the Dunes"]] - Keep moving, and [[Go straight]]

''Preserving Memory: Heroes of the Dunes'' //An Excerpt from the Journal of Mara Atar, Memory Keeper// The wind is fierce in the Dunes. The sky, once a deep, ever-changing blue, is now a sickly ochre, the color of dust churned into a permanent haze. Here, where the ancient forests once stood, all that remains are the bones of trees, bleached white and scattered like forgotten relics of a time we will never truly know. In the distance, the last whispers of what was once green curl up in the air like smoke from a long-dying fire. We are the Keepers of the Dunes, the storytellers, the curators of memories. Where others see nothing but sand, we see the ghostly shadows of the land that was, and we carry its echoes in the palm of our hands. The Túre, that’s what we call ourselves, named after the wind that sweeps across the barren soil, pushing us forward from one parched horizon to the next. I remember, though I was just a child, the stories my grandmother told of the great forests. Stories of tall pines and thick oaks that stretched so high, their tops were lost to the clouds. The waters ran deep, and the air smelled of green life. There were berries that burst with sweetness and flowers whose petals painted the earth in colors we can no longer dream of. But now, the land is hollow. In the deep folds of our caravans, we keep the archives: small, mobile archives of a lost world. Glass jars filled with miniature terrariums, each one a careful replica of the ecosystems that once flourished here. With each passing season, we add more. More of the smallest roots and the smallest shoots, all grown from the precious heirloom seeds we carry, passed down from ancestors who foresaw this day when the earth would crack open, and the life we once knew would retreat into the past. These seeds are the heartbeat of our mission. We protect them, tend them, whisper to them as we move from place to place, searching for safe ground to cultivate what remains. It is said that one day, the winds will change again, and the forests will return. We must not forget. The Túre are no mere wanderers, we are the keepers of a fragile future. Every stop we make is a chance to plant something new, to remember what was lost. We sing the names of the trees, and we pray to the old spirits of the forest, asking them to guide us in these desolate lands. I’ve seen their faces, those who follow us, those who have forgotten, lost in the dust. When they meet us, they stare at the glass, at the tiny worlds we hold in our hands, and they tremble. They don’t know the names of the trees anymore, and they’ve never felt the cool shade of a forest, or watched the first buds of spring open. They only know the heat, and the dust. Sometimes, I wonder if we are fighting a battle that cannot be won. I always -- The page ends abruptly here, the ink streaked with what seems like water stains. The binding creaks as it shifts, and something rustles within the folds of the journal. --- You flip the next page, but it’s missing. Just a ragged tear, as if someone, or something, ripped it away in haste. You carefully tug something from between the remaining pages and find two small black seeds, dappled with white, nestled within an old fold of cloth. They feel heavy in your palm, ancient, yet pulsing with something unfamiliar. Without thinking, you slip them into your pocket. - [["The Storyteller’s Revolution: Games and Media in the Fight for Earth's Future"]]

At the heart of the room, a small circular table, more like a pedestal, cradles an ornate wooden box. It is the kind of beauty that unsettles, drawing the eye with an almost magnetic force. The dark wood, polished by time and touch, gleams with a strange, living luster, as if it has been smoothed not only by hands but by the weight of centuries. Carved with intricate patterns and designs, it feels less like an object and more like a piece of a forgotten story, frozen in time yet full of promise. (align:"=><=")+(box:"X")[<img src="images/Chest FIN.png" width = "850" height =500"/>] Three keyholes, each distinct in shape and size, are embedded along the lid, their edges sharp and deliberate, as though they were made not merely to hold a lock but to conceal a truth. And within the chest, a faint glow flickers, a soft, flickering light that seems to pulse with something alive. Tiny flecks of light slip through the deep-set keyholes, glimmering like embers, each one flickering briefly, as if watching you, waiting. Somehow, you feel it, this chest is important. You can’t quite place why, but there’s a pull, a magnetic hum in your chest that tells you this is no ordinary object. It’s involved in something much bigger than itself, something beyond the confines of this crumbling library, beyond the limits of time itself. You can almost hear it whispering in the back of your mind, its presence unfolding in the space around you, as if it has been waiting for this moment to arrive. Suddenly, as you step closer, a faint voice brushes against your ear, so soft it might be a trick of the wind. (text-style:"smear","expand","sway")[//Yes.//] You freeze. The words settle in your bones, too real to be imagined. Your heart skips a beat, and instinctively, you whirl around, eyes searching the room, pulse quickening. But there’s no one there. Just the same abandoned silence, dust motes swirling lazily in the pale light. The weight of the voice hangs in the air, thick and unshakable. You turn back to the chest, the flickering glow within still dancing in those mysterious keyholes. As your gaze settles, a shiver runs down your spine. The brass keyholes, once merely functional, now seem to form a strange pattern, almost like a smile. A coy, toothy grin, mocking and knowing, stretched across the chest as if it recognizes something within you. Something familiar. Something inevitable. The quiet hum resumes, this time deeper, more resonant, vibrating through the floorboards beneath you. It pulls at you, urging you to come closer, but you hesitate, as the faint flicker of light seems to beckon you, just out of reach, yet undeniably close. And once again, you feel the chest's gaze on you, timeless, knowing, waiting for the next step. - [[Examine the trash on the table]]

The trash felt misplaced in this sanctified space, an intrusion upon the quiet reverence of the Library. And yet, it was an undeniable tether to the humanity that had built this place, the same humanity that had nestled a collective civilization's knowledge safely within these walls. The same fragile humanity you carried within yourself, treading through the shadows like a flickering flame. Your wick burned low, the weight of exhaustion pressing in, but some flicker of determination still held you upright, still kept you moving. The debris had no discernible pattern. A torn sandwich wrapper, perhaps once cradling dried meat, lay crumpled and forgotten. A speck of salt clung to its edge, and for a fleeting moment, you felt the absurd urge to touch it to your tongue. (align:"=><=")+(box:"X")[<img src="images/Examine the Trash.png" width = "850" height = "500" />] You refrained, though you were hungry, and you had no way of knowing how long it would take to find the portal out of here. Your rations were thin. You had to hold onto what you had and keep focused on the main goal. Still, the salt glistened mockingly, and the slight smell of your own tightly wrapped food curled into your stomach, reminding it of its emptiness. Nearby, a sliver of foil caught the dim light. The remnants of an old nutrition bar, perhaps. Your breath hitched. Had it once held chocolate? It had been years since chocolate was lost. The thought twisted something deep inside you, a hollow longing for a taste that no longer existed. For family that no longer existed. For the trade passed on down your ancestral line of ceremonial cacao manipulations - twisting spirit, legacy and earth into chocolate used in important rituals...a practice you would never get to partake in. You shook your head. It was pointless to dwell on such things. An impulse arose in you, maybe spurred by the flash of rage that replaced your nostalgia - to clean up, to restore order, to rid the Library of this jarring imperfection, but something in you hesitated. The trash did not belong, but maybe, like the journal outside, it was a marker of some kind, a sign that someone had passed through before you. A trace of a life lived, however briefly, within these walls. Sometimes, even the most ordinary things become memorials. - [[Examine the backpack]]

''Shifting Winds of Time'' //A Chronicle of the Waning Routes of Old// Long before the age of steel hulls and satellite navigation, the world’s great trade routes were etched by wind and wave, traced in salt and sail. Across the Mediterranean, Phoenician galleys once skimmed the waters, their curved prows laden with purple dye, olive oil, and cedar. In the Indian Ocean, dhows caught the monsoon winds, carrying spices, silks, and stories between the Swahili Coast, the ports of Arabia, and the markets of Gujarat. And along the South China Sea, junks of ancient design ferried porcelain and tea, their crews guided by the stars and the wisdom of the tides. These were the arteries of early civilization, entirely fluid, changeable, yet reliable in their rhythm all at once. Traders learned to listen to the wind’s whisper, to sense the moods of the sea. Empires rose on the strength of these connections, from the mariner kingdoms of Southeast Asia to the sprawling Silk Road’s maritime arm. Port cities like Alexandria, Malacca, and Calicut thrived as crossroads of goods, languages, and beliefs. But even then, the winds were never truly tamed. There were years when the monsoon came late or too strong. Droughts parched once-flourishing river deltas. Storms, fierce and unseasonal, scattered fleets like leaves. And still, the sailors pressed on, building their calendars around the sky, their destinies around the wind. Then came the Great Disturbance, that slow unraveling of the patterns that had guided men for millennia. The trade winds, once faithful, began to falter. The Indian monsoon lost its rhythm, driving merchants to port too early or trapping them at sea for weeks. The North Atlantic, cradle of the triangular trade and the Norse explorers alike, turned wild and unpredictable. Cyclones battered the Bay of Bengal out of season, and the once-safe routes along the Red Sea became perilous and strange. In time, the old maps were no longer true. The famed Spice Route, that golden web from Zanzibar to Java, was shattered. Pilots who had sailed it all their lives found themselves becalmed in lifeless seas or driven aground by rogue gales. Even the mighty Chinese treasure ships of old legend, whose sails once darkened the horizon, would have been humbled by the new chaos. Ancient ports withered. Once, the harbor of Tyre was lined with ships; now it sits half-buried in silt and salt. The trading outposts of the Malabar Coast, once fragrant with pepper and cardamom, were drowned beneath rising tides. Mariners spoke of ghost currents, of winds that seemed to mock them, of omens in the clouds. And so the Age of Sail came not to a sudden end, but to a drifting fade. The vessels grew fewer. The seafarers aged or vanished. The ocean, once a bridge, became a barrier again. Where once a thousand ships might cross the horizon in a single month, now the coasts lie quiet, the docks rotting, the cranes still. Yet the old names linger, whispered by the waves and remembered in the bones of sunken hulls. Alexandria. Ternate. Mombasa. Names that were once shorthand for distant wonder, now echo through time as faded sighs of a world where the wind could be trusted, and the sea, though vast, was knowable. But the winds have shifted. And those who remain must find new paths, or be lost in the silence of waters that no longer speak as they once did. --- You close the book with a heavy heart, feeling the weight of the loss in your bones. The world is not what it once was, but perhaps the winds have not yet finished their course. There's still time, still hope, but it will take more than just remembering the past. You rise, the book in your hand, and prepare to face what comes next. - [[Read "Echoes of Tomorrow: Behavioral Alchemy and the Future of Climate Action"]]

''Echoes of Tomorrow: Behavioral Alchemy and the Future of Climate Action'' In the ongoing battle against climate change, the gap between knowledge and action is one of the most significant obstacles we face. While most people understand the urgency of the crisis, their day-to-day behavior doesn’t always align with their awareness. (align:"=><=")+(box:"X")[<img src="images/Sophielohmann.jpg" width = "300" height = "300" />] This dissonance, often referred to as “stealth denial,” is something Sophie Lohmann, Senior Researcher at (link: "IREES GmbH (Institute for Resource Efficiency and Energy Strategies)")[(goto-url: 'https://irees.de/en/home-en/')], tackles head-on in her work. As a social scientist specializing in behavioral change and climate action, Sophie is at the forefront of using behavioral science to drive sustainable practices. Her research explores the crucial intersection between technology, energy efficiency, and human behavior. While new technologies hold significant promise, they often fail to gain widespread adoption because of the behavioral barriers that individuals and businesses face. “Most individual people, and even a lot of companies, want to be sustainable, they're in favour of climate action…it's just there are barriers in the way..." and people find it hard to commit to, as Sophie explains. This phenomenon is not an issue of ignorance but rather a deeply ingrained mismatch between intention and action - a critical piece of the puzzle in combating climate change. ''Understanding People, Not Just Problems'' Sophie’s work in climate action isn’t just about numbers and strategies—it’s about people, their behaviors, and their deeply rooted values. As someone who’s spent years studying social psychology, Sophie understands that when it comes to tackling the climate crisis it’s about shifting minds, not just systems. “The things that I’ve learned about energy and climate in the last couple of years, together with what I’ve been focusing on for a longer time - is that it’s all about humans, really,” she explains. One key area of her work is understanding how to increase public acceptance of emerging technologies like green hydrogen and energy-efficient buildings. (align:"=><=")+(box:"X")[<img src="images/BehaviourChangeGlobe.jpg" width = "570" height = "360" />] Framing sustainability in a way that aligns with people’s personal or business interests is critical. Whether it’s about saving money, improving quality of life, or protecting local communities, sustainable choices need to be positioned as both necessary and desirable. In fact, Sophie has found that this is the best way to engage with the public–to communicate in ways that resonate with their existing priorities. Sophie’s focus on public participation in the energy transition is evident in the projects she’s spearheading. One example is her ongoing work with hydrogen projects, where she tracks how citizens in hydrogen development areas perceive these initiatives. “I’m currently preparing the second wave of a survey I’ve been running for the past years, exploring what citizens in hydrogen development areas think about those developments,” she says. By collecting feedback through surveys and interviews to track how people’s acceptance and opinions evolve over time she can help ensure that developers and policy-makers are attuned to the concerns of local communities. Her role also involves investigating the barriers people face in adopting sustainable technologies. She says, “...for things to stay as they are, a lot of things will have to change…upholding the status quo won't just happen automatically, if we want to keep our current levels of comfort... we need investments into our current life to keep our future life in line with what we're envisioning…”. Many people may not recognize or acknowledge the extent of change necessary to align with a sustainable future, possibly due to their comfort with the current system. This can be a form of "stealth denial," where individuals fail to recognize the urgency of the problem because it requires a significant shift in their lifestyle or investments. But not all barriers are always about a lack of willpower, they’re often about practical obstacles, especially financial ones. ''The Cost of Change: Navigating Financial Barriers'' One of the key barriers Sophie has seen time and again is cost. Take, for example, heating systems. “Heat pumps are expensive at the moment, so are gas and oil,” Sophie explains. Even when it’s clear that the long-term savings would make sense, the initial cost makes it a non-starter. Sophie explains that while “the more sustainable option will make more sense, likely even pricing wise,” in the future, right now “it doesn’t make sense” for many. She acknowledges that the money needed for such transitions “has to come from somewhere,” which is where the role of government, funding agencies, and innovative policy solutions becomes vital. ''Communicating Climate Action: Making Sustainability Relatable'' Beyond the technical and financial challenges, communication plays a huge role in how people engage with climate action. Effective communication, Sophie explains, isn’t just about pushing a message, it’s about understanding the audience and crafting messages that resonate. “What I do is social psychology,” she says, stressing that research into people’s values is at the heart of her work. She explains that, “If we can make people aware of different advantages that they may not have been as aware of before, especially with this future perspective where at least in the EU, there’s a carbon price that’s fixed EU-wide,” you can start to shift behaviors. It’s about reframing sustainability not as a nice-to-have, but as something people can realistically incorporate into their daily lives. This shift in perspective, Sophie notes, doesn’t have to be monumental. Even small changes in how we approach sustainability can have ripple effects. She reflects on a personal experience: “Some people came back to me and said they decided to spend their vacation nearby and not fly because you actually inspired me to take the train instead.” Small, everyday actions, she believes, can slowly build towards bigger societal changes. ''The Power of Personal Action'' Sophie emphasizes that personal action is one of the most powerful tools we have in shifting societal norms around sustainability. “Making people aware that there are people who care about this and having conversations with others who maybe aren’t on the opposite end of the value spectrum from you,” she suggests, “you’re contributing to societal norms.” Conversations, she believes, can be just as impactful as policy decisions. This idea of creating change through conversation is something Sophie feels deeply passionate about. After all, it’s these small interactions, whether it’s over a cup of coffee or in a casual workplace chat, that plant the seeds for larger shifts. She recalls, “I’ve been getting more and more people asking me how they can make a difference and how they can help,” a testament to how her own engagement with others is inspiring change. ''Hope on the Horizon'' Despite the many challenges in the climate space, Sophie remains optimistic. The shift is happening, even if it’s sometimes slow. “The thing that gives me the most hope was just entering this field,” she shares. Being in a position where she can witness the proactive efforts of utility companies and government agencies is a daily reminder of how seriously people are taking the climate crisis. Sophie points to the ongoing efforts to find (link: "solutions for heating without relying on fossil fuels")[(goto-url: 'https://irees.de/en/2023/12/01/sustainable-cold-and-heat-supply-to-urban-areas-using-district-cooling-and-district-heating-networks/')], adding, “Utility companies are preparing for how people will heat their homes, and how they can supply them with heat when there’s no longer gas running through the pipelines.” These steps show that the transition to a more sustainable world is already underway. Sophie also sees hope in the growing consensus among the public. “Most people care about the climate, and most people are doing what they can,” she affirms. The loud voices of climate deniers, Sophie insists, do not represent the majority. It’s the quiet, consistent efforts of everyday people that will move the needle. And with each person who takes action, whether by speaking out or making small changes in their own life, we’re one step closer to a more sustainable world. (align:"=><=")+(box:"X")[<img src="images/Orb_Behavior.png" width = "400" height = "400" />] Hidden within the last pages of the book, a small key, its surface rough and grainy, slips free as you close the book. The texture of it feels alien, gritty like sandpaper, yet you wrap your fingers around it, pocketing it with an inexplicable sense of purpose, unsure of what it will reveal. - [[Read "Shifting Winds of Time"]] - Or go back and finally [[Unlock the box.]]

''The Shifting Flames: Decarbonization as a Catalyst for Tomorrow’s World'' (align:"=><=")+(box:"X")[<img src="images/RossKenyon.jpg" width = "400" height = "400" />] Ross Kenyon didn’t set out to save the planet. In fact, seven and a half years ago, climate change wasn’t even on his radar. But as fate would have it, he fell deep into the world of carbon removal and he’s never looked back. “The initial drive towards carbon removal was, what if we could actually reverse climate change and fix it rather than just make it less bad?” Kenyon tells me, his voice laced with the curiosity and urgency that have defined his career. As a co-founder of Nori, one of the world’s first carbon removal marketplaces, Kenyon helped carve out a space for the idea that carbon removal wasn’t just possible - it was necessary. Now, as an advisor for Acadia Climate, AirMiners, and ClimateKaren, he continues to push the boundaries of what’s possible in climate tech, focusing on innovative financing solutions and scaling strategies for deep decarbonization. But as he sees it, the road to success is littered with barriers. Some are technical, some financial, and some purely cultural. ''The Money Problem in Carbon Removal'' Kenyon is quick to point out that while technological solutions for decarbonization are accelerating, the money to scale them isn’t flowing as smoothly. “There's a lot of frustration at the dominance of venture capital in carbon removal because the common line for this is that they're moving atoms rather than bits,” he explains. “Bits are really easy to scale, right? You build it one time, and you can sell that SaaS platform a million times. It’s not true for atoms.” For carbon removal startups, the challenge is clear: securing funding that doesn’t demand unrealistic, Silicon Valley-style growth trajectories. “The reason why venture is so risky is that, out of 100 investments, only a couple are going to super-perform and do 100x or 1000x. Most just die,” Kenyon says. And when those investors don’t see quick returns, the money dries up fast. In fact, philanthropic funding, once a reliable lifeline, is also showing signs of retreat, in part reflecting the broader realignment of sustainability priorities that has followed the U.S. withdrawal from key climate commitments under the current administration. “The Bezos Earth Fund said they're no longer going to fund SBTI (Science Based Targets), and a lot of companies are pulling back their climate commitments.” ''The Decarbonization Toolkit: What’s Working?'' Despite these financial hurdles, Kenyon remains excited about the technological advancements in the field. One of the most promising? Biochar. “If you take a type of biomass, like wood, and burn it without oxygen, it produces a very specific type of carbon that is not going anywhere,” he explains. “Meso and South American indigenous people made this in the Amazon, and it’s still there, thousands of years later.” Beyond its durability, biochar has unexpected applications, some of which veer into the downright bizarre. (align:"=><=")+(box:"X")[<img src="images/Biochar.jpg" width = "300" height = "300" />] “This is disgusting, hope you're ready for it,” Kenyon warns with a chuckle. “Biosolids. It’s not good stuff, you don't wanna be involved in that industry, but it's important! You can make biochar out of it, which is pretty gross, but there's a lot of problems with forever chemicals in wastewater treatment facilities like PFAS.” The upside? Biochar effectively neutralizes PFAS, making it an unsung hero in both decarbonization and environmental cleanup. Still, not all carbon removal strategies are universally embraced. Direct air capture (DAC), for instance, has become a flashpoint in climate discourse. While some hail it as a necessary technology for meeting net-zero goals, others, like Al Gore, remain skeptical. “Al Gore has been really hard on it,” Kenyon notes, referencing a presentation Gore gave at the (link: "TED Countdown Summit in Detroit")[(goto-url: 'https://www.ted.com/talks/al_gore_what_the_fossil_fuel_industry_doesn_t_want_you_to_know/transcript?language=en')]. In his 2023 TED Talk, Gore criticized DAC as a "moral hazard," arguing that it offers fossil fuel companies a justification to continue oil production without meaningfully reducing emissions. Beyond high-profile debates, the most significant challenge carbon removal faces may not be technological or financial, it’s cultural. ''The Public Perception Problem'' “The main rival for carbon removal is indifference,” Kenyon states bluntly. The general public, he argues, simply doesn’t know enough about it to care. And when they do hear about it, misinformation often muddies the conversation. Take the case of a biochar project in upstate New York, (link: "recently covered by Grist")[(goto-url: 'https://grist.org/health/biochar-sewage-new-york-upstate-moreau-climate-experiment/')]. “The local town got really mad and protested it for environmental justice reasons, saying ‘we don’t want you putting PFAS in our air,’” Kenyon recounts. “I think on the technicalities they were wrong, it wouldn’t have endangered them in any way, but they were a town that had been lied to previously, and chemical companies did bad stuff there in the past. They’d been burned.” Specifically, the town had been scarred by (link: "contamination from the GE Moreau site")[(goto-url: 'https://cumulis.epa.gov/supercpad/SiteProfiles/index.cfm?fuseaction=second.cleanup&id=0201858')], where General Electric disposed of industrial waste between 1958 and 1968, severely polluting the soil, surface water, and groundwater. Although cleanup efforts concluded in 1990 and no current exposure risks remain, groundwater contamination persists, fueling the community’s lasting mistrust. “...with direct air capture and the links with oil and gas,” Kenyon says. “...people just don’t like pipelines. Pipelines often come with eminent domain and curtailing people's property rights, so it's just not popular.” Given the track record, it’s hard to blame them. In South Dakota, (link: "fierce landowner resistance")[(goto-url: 'https://apnews.com/article/summit-carbon-solutions-carbon-capture-pipeline-midwest-lawsuits-landowners-6c410dad59ce4d5d6de5ff4962dd0913')] to Summit Carbon Solutions’ proposed carbon capture pipeline led to a statewide ban on the use of eminent domain for such projects. In Iowa, farmers and rural communities are locked in similar battles over fears of land seizure. The memory of protests like Standing Rock, where Indigenous groups fought to defend sacred land and clean water from the Dakota Access Pipeline, still shapes public consciousness today. These fights reflect real grievances: a long history of broken promises, environmental harm, and disregard for community consent. But even when carbon removal projects aim to serve the public good, they’re stepping onto a landscape shaped by deep mistrust, and without trust, even the best-intentioned projects can struggle to move forward. ''Where Do We Go From Here?'' If there’s one takeaway from my conversation with Kenyon, it’s that deep decarbonization is as much a cultural challenge as it is an engineering one. The technology is improving. The business models are evolving. But mistrust, political friction, and a long history of broken promises mean that scaling these solutions won’t just be a matter of better science or cheaper costs. Until both the public and private sectors recognize the urgency, and earn the public’s trust, the road ahead will stay rocky. Still, Kenyon isn’t deterred. If anything, he seems energized by the messiness of it all. “I think we're all pretty worried about policy, and a lot of the voluntary demand has been drying up on the buying side,” he admits. Yet after years spent navigating the collision between climate ambition, political resistance, and real community fears, he’s not giving up anytime soon. The question now isn’t whether we have the tools to decarbonize the planet. It’s whether we have the courage and the patience to deploy them in a world that doesn't always want to listen. (align:"=><=")+(box:"X")[<img src="images/Orb_Technology.png" width = "400" height = "400" />] The last chapter ends with a strange click, and you notice a small, cool ''key'' tucked within the folds of the book’s spine. When you pick it up, its icy chill sends a shiver through your fingers, but despite the cold, you slide it into your coat pocket, feeling an unspoken promise of something hidden. - [[Examine the box on the table]] - Or continue on and [[Go right]]

Despite its unremarkable appearance, you decide to check inside the backpack anyway. Reaching in, your fingers close around something slim and solid. You pull out a thin book, its cover simple, black, unassuming, but embedded in the dyed leather is something unexpected: a glittering fragment of a motherboard, its metallic veins glinting in the dim light. You run your fingers over the intricate circuitry, tracing the delicate pathways like a map to a lost world. You pause, turning it over in your hands as the shining metal pieces glint in the dying light. Cobalt. Your mind drifts to the thought of scavengers, prying apart devices for every scrap of the dwindling metal. It had become an exclusive commodity, a ghost of its former abundance since the lion’s share of cobalt mines in the Democratic Republic of the Congo became untenable. The relentless droughts stretching across sub-Saharan Africa had made extraction impossible in many places, drying riverbeds that once cooled machinery, and parching the hands (some of which were small, children's hands) that once dug deep into the earth. And now, here it was...an echo of a vanished industry, embedded in a book cover, waiting to be read. [[Read the "The Shifting Flames: Decarbonization as a Catalyst for Tomorrow’s World"]]