Ninety-Nine: A Life Upward

You begin on the floor, unable to walk. Heaven is at the top. Everything in between is furniture. This is a game about the one thing nobody lets you rehearse. You climb, and climbing makes you older, and the body you climb with keeps changing underneath you. At seven you run on instinct. At twenty-six you are at your absolute peak and nobody tells you. At fifty-six your hand starts to shake on the aim. At seventy-six you weigh almost nothing and the air holds you up. You will not notice the exact moment you peaked. Nobody does. There is no death here and no failure screen. When you fall you get younger and climb it again — and that turns out to be a harder thing to sit with than losing. Nine people are standing on the way up. The one who put you here. The one who let you fall. The one who stayed. Reach them and they say one thing to you, once. Fall below them and they thin into a shape…