Autonomous is a survival and rebuilding game, isometric and low poly. The old world has stopped: no power, no oil, jammed roads. Two survivors leave the road and find a river, trees, and no one else. You lay out the building sites; they do the rest, day after day, season after season, generation after generation.
From camp to village
Two settlers arrive at the edge of a map drawn from a seed: a river, a ford, forests, scree, sometimes a pond. You lay out the first cabin; they fell the trees and build it log by log. Then come houses in several models, workshops, a school, a dining hall, baths… up to a village of about forty villagers, for now.
Four seasons of eight days
The days grow shorter, the trees turn red, the snow falls. In winter nothing grows; on cold nights every house burns wood; frost destroys any crops left in the field. Summer prepares for winter, and it is short.
Feeding everyone
Berries, fishing with a spear, a cast net and traps, fields dug, sown and watered (even irrigated by canals), a smokehouse, an oven and bread. Fish runs out, fresh food spoils: you have to store, vary and plan ahead.
Real people
Each settler has a temperament, a morale, friends and rivals, sometimes a partner. Children are born, grow up and go to school; the elders tell stories, then pass away. Everyone ages a year each season.
Survivors who arrive
Some mornings, someone is waiting at the gate: welcome them or turn them away, sometimes with a whole family. Mason, weaver, mechanic, electrician, forester, fisher, herbalist, doctor, teacher… each key trade unlocks buildings, and the know-how leaves with the last one.
The ruins
Beyond the map: farms, a gas station, a town, a supermarket, a hospital… You send a team there on a map drawn in ink, with food for the road. They come back with canned food, seeds, remedies, steel tools, scrap, and sometimes what it takes to repair a van.
Power from the ruins
No new oil: everything comes from the ruins. Solar panels, batteries, motors, wind turbines, a bike generator, a radio… the electrician hooks them up. On the river, a paddle wheel turns a mill.
A chronicle
The village keeps its memory: a log of events, a chronicle of the year with its curves, a year-end card, graves with their epitaphs. You name the village; the river, the fords and the fields have names of their own.