This may not be a game in the traditional sense; it feels more like an act of my own. Here, there are no monsters chasing you, no sudden jumpscares, and not even a single puzzle to solve. Your only right is to quietly pass through a liminal space built from endless white tiles, the sound of rain, and swimming pools.
The logic behind how these spaces are forcefully stitched together might seem clumsy. One moment you push past a humid corner of the pool, only to be confronted by a heavy snowstorm over old Soviet apartment blocks. Another moment you are still wandering through a midnight labyrinth of elevated highways, and the next second, reality dissociates, abruptly plunging you into a pixelated body of water. But none of this matters. Water is not a resistance; it is merely the medium that connects these fragmented dreams.
At some point, you will find that sign marked "EXIT". Click, exit, the program closes. You return to a more realistic environment—leaving the screen, shutting down the computer, and going to sleep.
On the surface, you have gained nothing, completely empty, just like most things we experience in reality. Yet, when you wake up to the daily routine the next day, at the very moment you re-encounter this world, you might just find that the imprint has already been left in your heart.
If you just want to find an empty pool to sit by, watching the water, listening to the rain—then, welcome to dive into fibbtry.
May begonias appear in your dreams.
