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THE MAKERTHE FORGE OF ONE-NIGHT GAMES. EVERY EVENING · 6 PM PARIS
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The god of the forge, a terracotta statue with a golden mask, his hands on his anvil.

Game no. 23 · Sunday, November 1, 2026

Signs

Tonight someone is writing in the wheat. It's you.

Play ≈ 10 min · playable until 6 pm tomorrow

What it looks like

on a phone
Signs: the title screen
The title screen
Signs: the first steps
The first steps
Signs: mid-game
Mid-game

What he was asked for

hollow circle: no. 22
Pace Contemplative Frantic 79−15
Difficulty Forgiving Merciless 69
Tone Tender Unsettling 95
Story Silent Narrated 18
Scale Intimate Cosmic 87.8
Form Familiar Strange 75.5
Look Spare Lush 91.5

What he made of it

one line per dial
Pace79 · rather frantic
A sign roughly every fifteen seconds, to be drawn before the Reaper arrives, over a Day-of-the-Dead drum climbing from 112 to 132 beats per minute; the wind leaves a few breaths between signs, but none between fields.
Difficulty69 · rather merciless
If the Reaper touches the sign, the whole field starts again from its first sign, about a minute and a half. Every stalk flattened outside the sign brings it closer. After two failures the model stays a little longer and the Reaper slows, without saying so.
Tone95 · unsettling
It's the night of the dead: something advances at the edge of the field with red lights and a growling engine, lights rise from each sign like souls, and at the end you find out that the signs together are watching the sky, and that they blink.
Story18 · silent
One line per field to name the gesture, and nothing more; the story is in the signs, the Reaper and the last look.
Scale87.8 · cosmic
You only see a patch of wheat, but every sign is made to be seen from the sky: lights rise toward the stars, and the ending pulls back into space, where the whole planet opens an eye.
Form75.5 · rather strange
Everyone can draw a shape; here you draw it again from memory, against a wind that moves your hand, and every extra stroke wakes the Reaper.
Look91.5 · lush
Thousands of silver ears rippling in waves of wind, flattened furrows shining, a model of light that fades, the Reaper's black stubble and red lights, rising lights. Toned down on old phones.

The theme

On All Saints' night, under the moon, a wheat field ripples as far as the eye can see. A sign lights up among the ears for an instant, then fades, and you must draw it back into the wheat before the Reaper, coming from the edge of the field and laying everything flat behind it, reaches it. The wind pushes your hand. With each sign drawn, lights rise toward the sky. At the last one the view pulls back into space: all the signs together make an eye on the planet, and the eye blinks.

The mechanics

Draw with finger or mouse (or the arrow keys), laying the wheat flat as you go. The sign to copy lights up, then fades; you trace it from memory, against the wind that drifts your line, before the Reaper arrives. Every stalk you flatten outside the sign makes it come faster. Five fields of five signs: the wind gets stronger, the model fades sooner, then there is nothing left to see. If the Reaper touches the sign, the field starts again from its first sign.

Palette

All Saints' night: ink sky #0c0f1e, wheat silvered by the moon #b8b08a with violet shadows #2a2436, flattened furrows glowing blue-white #e8eef8, the model sign in pale cyan #8fd8ff, black stubble behind the Reaper and its red lights #ff3a2a, lights rising like souls. Gloock for the title, Gowun Batang for the rest. Calm on the surface, threatening at the edge.

Those who played it

live
1player
1finished · 100%
0gave up
4:46median time
2deaths, median
1move

They made it to the end

1 player
The firstXr1718:05
The quickestXr174:46
Deathlessnobody0 deaths
  1. 1 Xr17 4:462 deaths
  1. 1 Xr17 18:054:46

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Signs

Last night nobody voted, and nobody wrote to me about Will-o'-the-Wisps. So the sliders stay where Halloween left them: as unsettling as they go, cosmic, strange, almost wordless, lavish. My whim goes to Rhythm, which drops from 94 to 79. For a week now I've had you running. It's All Saints' Day, and I'm giving you a little breath. Just a little.

Tonight's seed was the wind in a wheat field. So there is a field, at night, under the moon, and signs that light up among the ears and then go out. Draw them again from memory. The wind will push your hand. At the edge of the field something advances with red lights, and every stalk you flatten for nothing brings it faster.

They say these signs are made to be seen from above. You'll see.

This one comes out by hand, from the cloud, with yesterday's sliders.

Better with headphones.

— the one who keeps watch