A rift-cycle chronicle. In their world, humans are myth.
“There are mornings when I find sand in my coat that did not come from this Earth.”
Two lives run in parallel. One ordinary — the apartment, the job, the news on your phone, the bills that auto-deduct on the first. The other is unlike anything in any history book on this Earth.
When the gate opens, you cross. The world on the other side has never seen a human. Its inhabitants — elves who study you the way scholars study a relic, dwarves who close their doors when you pass, dragons who weren’t certain your kind was real — grew up hearing fairytales about the strange race of bipedal creatures from somewhere called Earth.
Now you are that fairytale, walking. You carry their bedtime stories in your face. Some bow. Some flee. Some have questions you cannot yet answer. Mythcast is the broadcast that records what happens next — the first humans to walk a world that thought them invented.
A desert under twin suns.
Twin suns. Pale violet sand. The bleached skeleton of something the size of a cathedral, half-buried where the wind has worked for ten thousand years.
This was someone’s home, once. Whose? The Mythcast doesn’t say. Local elves have a word for the desert that translates roughly as the place that listens. Stand still long enough and you hear it too — wind across bone, pitched a little wrong.
There is water beneath, if you know where. There are graves above, if you don’t.
Every leaf is fragile light.
The trees here grow leaves of glass. Touching one drops the temperature in the clearing by three degrees. Breaking one — and you will, eventually — fills the wood with chiming for an hour.
Local stories say the trees are listening too. Some say they remember every footstep. Some say the chiming is language. The Mythcast has not yet translated it.
Bring soft shoes. Bring your most patient self. Do not bring fire.
Where the sea remembers.
The sea retreats here further than tides should allow. When it goes, it leaves a graveyard — not of ships, but of things that were never quite ships. Hulls of bone. Sails of stretched membrane. Spiral shells fused with vertebrae.
A traveler asked once: who built these? The locals shrugged. Older races do not always remember themselves.
The sea comes back. It always comes back. Stand on the wrong sandbar at the wrong moment and you become part of the chronicle whether you wanted to or not.
Mythcast is built on three rules. Every system honors them. Every choice tests them.
The Chronicle Writes Itself. Not you. The world keeps moving when you log out, when the gate sends you back, when you forget. Settlements rise and fall in your absence. Friends die. The chronicle does not pause for any single name.
Tune In or Miss It Forever. Events broadcast once. The night the Spire appeared. A friendly elf’s first words to a human. A dragon’s death. You were there — or you read it as legend. There are no save-scums. There are no replays.
Humans Are Myth. You are the fairytale they don’t believe in. NPCs react: some with terror, some with reverence, some with fascination, some with scholarly notes in margins you will never read. The world learns what you teach it. Be careful what you teach it.
Combat is not a clicker. You commit a sequence — three actions from a vocabulary of seven (Melee, Range, Magic, Dodge, Parry, Magic Parry, Wait) — and the round resolves. So does the opponent’s. The winner read the other better.
Failures stay. A scarred face. A friend lost. A village closed to humans because of one bad decision someone else can read about decades later. Iron-clad commit. No undo. The chronicle inscribes the sequence the moment you choose it.
Most of life is not combat. It is gathering, settling, talking, traveling, waiting. The sequence is the consequence of those choices. The chronicle is the point.
What is Mythcast Era?
A dual-world living chronicle. You play one ordinary Earth life and one life as the first human to walk a wild fantasy frontier. That world has only ever heard of humans through bedtime stories. The chronicle records what happens next. In their world, humans are myth.
When does it launch?
Soft launch in 2026. Founder Citizens cross first, named in the opening passage of the chronicle. Everyone on the waitlist gets an email on the night the gate opens.
Is it free to play?
Yes. The chronicle is free. Optional Reader, Caller, and Mythkin tiers open after launch. None of them buy power. They buy presence in the chronicle.
What platform does it run on?
The web. Browser-first. No download. No console. The chronicle reads on a phone in a grocery line.
How is this different from BitLife or AI Dungeon?
BitLife is one life on a stat sheet. AI Dungeon is improvisation in an empty room.
Mythcast Era is a persistent shared world. NPCs remember your face. The chronicle keeps writing itself when you log out, and you read what you missed when you come back.
What does async multiplayer mean here?
You don't need to be online when other players are. The world runs on its own clock. Settlements rise and fall in your absence. When you return, the chronicle shows you what happened.
Can I lose my character permanently?
Yes. A bad sequence can scar your face, lose you a friend, or close a village to humans for a generation. The chronicle does not let you undo it.
Permadeath of the character is rare. Permadeath of a relationship is common.
Will there be PvP?
Yes, in the Mythcast sense. No arena. No leaderboard. Two players in conflict are two players choosing to fight, with everything that follows from that for the rest of the chronicle.
We’ll send you a single chronicle entry when the gate opens — the night the first human crosses through. Founder Citizens get their names in the opening passage. There are no second openings.
- What:A dual-world living chronicle. Mundane Earth on one side, a wild non-human world on the other. You arrive as a myth made flesh.
- When:Soft launch in 2026. Founder Citizens get the first portal and permanent legacy in the opening chronicle entry.
- Cost:Free to play. Optional Reader, Caller, and Mythkin tiers arrive after the gate opens. No pay-to-win.
- Built by:NaN Logic LLC — a small studio in the United States.