👁️ The Sentinel — A Climb Into the Unknown
Echoes of classic challenge: A modern retelling inspired by an Amiga-era masterpiece
Standing at the base of a relentless geometric landscape, you feel the weight of purpose settling over your shoulders. A solitary figure etched against a sky pulsing with silent menace. The world is watching, but from somewhere far above, an inhuman presence stirs. A sentinel whose gaze does not forgive curiosity, nor reward ambition. Every move upward is a victory snatched from the edge of defeat, each rotation revealing new risks and rewards. Yet, as you rise, a question trails your ascent: what happens when the summit is no longer just a goal, but a trap set by a power that sees all? The answer is waiting at the top, hidden behind the Watcher’s unblinking eye, and every step forward casts a longer shadow behind you.
The Sentinel — Based on an Old Amiga Game
The moon’s sickly glow bathed the chequered landscape in an unnatural pallor. Towers of fragmented stone jutted from the void like broken teeth, their edges sharp, unforgiving.
Rowan was no longer flesh and bone—he was something else. A Synthoid, a hollow vessel filled only with his lingering consciousness. He had begun at the lowest point, an insignificant piece in this shifting world. The Sentinel stood above, silent, unmoving—but watching. Always watching.
Rowan’s form remained rooted in place; he could not walk, nor could he run. Movement was an illusion here. Instead, he absorbed the remnants around him—scattered energy in forgotten objects—and used it to build, to grow. Slowly, he constructed boulders, forming precarious towers that reached toward salvation. With each climb, he abandoned his old shell, transferring his mind into a new one.
But he was being hunted.
The Sentinel saw everything. It lingered atop the highest platform, surveying Rowan’s every decision, its presence an oppressive force that gnawed at his thoughts. He knew that if it turned its gaze upon him, if he remained exposed for too long, he would be eradicated—his consciousness devoured by its omnipotent stare.
He had nearly reached the top.
Rowan materialised once more into a new shell, shifting his awareness to the highest structure. The Sentinel loomed before him now—closer than ever. The pulsing cathedral beyond it flickered, its crimson light calling to him. He reached out, energy thrumming beneath his synthetic skin.
The Sentinel moved.
Not physically—but its gaze shifted. For the first time, Rowan felt it lock onto him, dissecting him from the inside out.
He had made a mistake?
His vision blurred. His consciousness trembled.
Oh no — he was being absorbed.
The world began to unravel. And in the final moment, as he felt himself slipping into oblivion, he read the message scrawled across the altar, etched in something dark and undying:
“You were never here to win.”
Then, the darkness took him.