O escritor promissor Eiji Tanabe se refugia no isolado Azami Inn, nas montanhas nevadas de Hakuba, para reacender sua criatividade estagnada. Ao longo de seis dias, ele conhece a severa proprietária Miss Kakiuchi e sua enigmática filha Reiko, cujo fascínio o atrai mesmo contra sua vontade. Este simulador free-to-play se desenrola como uma kinetic novel sem escolhas, permitindo que os jogadores acompanhem a obsessão de Eiji por Reiko como possível musa.
Arte de personagens realista combinada a cenários belíssimos define este título para PC, com trilha sonora original e prosa ornamentada. A narrativa de 35.000 palavras é perfeita para fãs de visual novels lineares que apreciam histórias introspectivas de obsessão e romances desbotados.
In the dim and distant past, Tanabe Eiji was a promising young writer, well-known for his poem Fireworks, which detailed the beginnings of his youthful and idealistic romance with his wife, Sachiko.
Twenty years later, however, Eiji's life has lost much of its shine. His poems, save for Fireworks, have fallen into obscurity, while his first (and last) novel was critically panned for being too depressing. Worse still, his relationship with his wife has started to stagnate.
In a desperate attempt to rekindle his lost creativity, Eiji embarks on a journey to the snowy mountains of Hakuba.
During his six day stay at the Azami Inn, an old and lonely building in the middle of nowhere, Eiji meets the inn's proprietress, the stern and indomitable Miss Kakiuchi, and her unwordly daughter, Reiko.
Eiji isn't sure why, exactly, but something about Reiko catches his attention. Though he tries to resist, he finds himself drawn to her charms all the same.
Could Reiko be his muse, who will inspire him to pen another masterpiece? Or will his obsession with her ruin the both of them?
- Around 35,000 words
- A kinetic storyline with no choices
- Realistic and softly rendered character artwork
- Beautiful backgrounds
- An entirely custom soundtrack
- An ornate and overwrought writing style
in progress...
