Dammit

The river lends. The river collects.

You are a beaver, and you are in debt.

Every season the spirits release the water, and every season they come to collect.

Dam the valley, hold the river where you want it, and let the meadows drink — they

pay their rent in saplings, and saplings are the only thing keeping the spirits

from your door.

HOW IT PLAYS

Dam a living valley. Drop logs, stones and mud into a hand-painted 3D stream.

Every course you lay holds the water a little further back up the basin.

Read the water before you commit. The pool you see while building is the pool you

will get — it is solved exactly, not estimated. The preview never lies to you.

Feed six meadows. Drown none. Too shallow and they stay thirsty. Too deep and they

drown, and the spirits take the difference out of your purse.

Survive five seasons. Thaw, Bloom, Swelter, Harvest, Freeze — each with its own

cruelty. A flash-flood rides higher than the dam you built. A drought starves the

valley until no dam can fill it. A frost makes your timber hold less than it should.

Rest at the lodge. Between seasons, take one upgrade from three: reinforced timber,

a spillway to bleed off a flood, deeper winter stores, a kinder ledger.

Pay the toll. Or come up short — once. The spirits allow a single kindness in a

run. After that they close the ledger and take the lodge.

WHAT IT LOOKS LIKE

A 1930s rubber-hose cartoon pressed into a worn storybook: faded pastels, aged-paper

grain, wobbling hand-inked outlines, and a cel-shaded river that finds every gap you

leave. Every mark in the game is drawn by hand — there is not a stock icon in it.

QUIET THINGS

No ads. No in-app purchases. No account and no network — it plays on a plane.

Autosaves at every step; put it down mid-season and pick it up where you left it.

One hand, portrait, tap to build.

A soft folk bell and the sound of moving water, both synthesised as you play.

"A dam is only a promise about where water is allowed to go."