The Rift yawns, and the world fractures around you.
The ground beneath your feet is no longer stone or soil, but broken mirrors stretched into infinity — jagged shards reflecting versions of you that twitch, smile, or bleed when you do not. Some show you still standing; others show you already gone.
Ahead, the Mirror Gates rise from the chasm, impossibly tall and impossibly old. Two arches of black stone curve upward, their surfaces rippling like trapped liquid.
Carved into them are hundreds of hands, all frozen mid-reach — some clawing to escape, others pulling inward as though desperate to drag someone with them.
None ever meet. The space between them is a wound in the air itself, where crimson mist coils and swallows every sound. Sometimes it parts, revealing glimpses of twisted corridors, broken skies, or shadows that wait patiently on the other side.
The hum begins then — a low, pulsing thrum that echoes like a heartbeat beneath your ribs. It rattles the glass beneath you, distorting the reflections until you’re not sure which version of yourself is real. The hum falters. Silence swells. And in that silence, you hear the whispers:
Your own voice, repeating words you haven't yet spoken. The Riftwarden steps forward. Their presence bends the air, their words falling like stone into water, heavy and unyielding:
“The gates do not open for the solitary. They recognize no strength of the individual, no pride of the lone. To pass through, you must choose another. Bind your fate to theirs. Reach for them, or remain behind.”
“But beware…” the Rift seems to breathe with them, “…the gates are liars. They may show you what you wish to see, whisper what you hope to hear. Only trust, spoken and returned, will open the way. Buzz your partner forth — and let them buzz you in return. Fail to reach… and the glass will shatter beneath you.”
The hum rises again, a thunder that shakes the mirrors until your reflection is unrecognizable. The arches groan as though alive, hands seeming to flex in the corner of your vision. The crimson mist curls outward, and the Riftwardens’ decree lingers in your skull:
“No one enters alone. Choose, and be chosen. Or sink into the abyss together.”
The floor trembles. The reflections press upward.
The Mirror Gates are waiting.
The Riftwarden stands before the obsidian arch, their voices heavy as stone:
“No one enters alone. Pair, or perish.”
To pass through the Mirror Gates, you must bind yourself to another. Every player must choose a partner, and once chosen, that bond cannot be undone. You will be able to create private threads with people, and talk in the general channel, any other communication is prohibited, so are screenshots.
The gates demand proof of trust. once you have found a partner, To enter, you must each buzz your partner in. The command is simple: -buzz partner. But it can only be used once. If you waste it, if you hesitate, if you place it in the wrong hands, the gates will not open for you. Both partners must buzz each other in for the passage to accept you. A single-sided buzz is not enough. The gate will flicker, hesitate, and then swallow you into the abyss.
The rules are absolute: each player has only one chance to buzz, and each may only choose one partner. Time will not wait for the indecisive. Those who remain unpaired when the final hum falls silent will be left behind, shattered among their reflections.
Clear the game by reaching across the mirrors, by choosing, and being chosen in return. Fail, and the floor will break beneath your feet, dragging you down into the dark.
The Riftwardens'’' words linger in your skull as the gates begin to tremble:
“The Mirror Gates demand trust. Reach, or be devoured.”
Find a partner and pass through
Fail to find a partner to go through the gates with.
3 echoes if the game is a full GAME CLEAR
Everyone receieves +3 echoes upon full GAME CLEAR