The Tower

A harrowing journey into the heart of a bird's guilt and self-imposed punishment. You play as a creature of feathers and bone, burdened by the weight of his past sins. Trapped within a towering, gothic structure, he dreams of escaping the suffocating confines of his self-made prison, but every time he breaks free, he awakens back in his cage, the taste of freedom bittersweet and fleeting. The walls of his prison are not of stone, but of guilt, each brick a memory of his transgressions. The air itself is thick with the weight of his remorse, each breath a reminder of his burden. 

He claws at the bars of his cage, his sharp talons digging into the cold metal, but they remain unyielding. He beats his wings against the unforgiving stone, but they only echo his despair. The darkness presses in, a suffocating blanket of his own making. He is a prisoner of his own mind, trapped in a cycle of escape and despair.

He remembers the moment he was condemned, the weight of his sin crushing him. The whispers of judgment, the accusing eyes of his brethren, all etched into his memory. He seeks solace in the shadows, but they only amplify his guilt. He yearns for the sun, for the warmth of its rays, but it remains forever out of reach.

He is a bird, broken and blinded, a creature of flight forever grounded. He is a prisoner of his own guilt, condemned to an eternal cycle of escape and despair.