Three thousand years of Ethiopian civilization. One sacred duty: carry the record through.
Before archives had names, there were people whose duty was memory itself. In Keepers of Memory you walk the roads of four great eras — from the incense ports of D’mt to the courts of the Solomonic kings — as a sacred record-keeper: witnessing, writing, and deciding what survives. Every location is a real archaeological site. Every road is a choice. What you carve is what the future gets to know.
The temple of Yeha. The first script. A kingdom learning to write itself down.
Stelae taller than Rome’s obelisks. A port the whole ancient world knew by name.
Churches carved downward into living rock. Faith as architecture, architecture as record.
Chronicle halls and mountain fortresses. The age when keeping memory became statecraft.
Caravan, river or coast — each route carries its own dangers, encounters and knowledge. No two journeys keep the same record.
Villages where water is carried from the well and herders chase strays; ports where porters work the docks. Talk to healers, priests, merchants and kings.
Your journal counts everything — sites walked, records spoken, curiosities found. At each era’s end you choose what goes into stone. Stone is what the future reads.
Bois Caïman, August 1791 — one of fifty-two woodcut plates painted for the record.
Keepers of Memory is in private beta — small, deliberate, and shaped tester by tester. We are gathering Founding Keepers: the first circle of players whose eyes decide what this game becomes.
An hour in the browser, desktop or phone. Walk the sites, speak with the keepers of knowledge, carve your first stone. And if you find the old door — open it.
What broke, what bored you, what moved you. One honest email outweighs a hundred silent plays — every build of this game answers a tester by name.
Founding Keepers are carved into the Roll of Keepers when the game ships — the first names in the record. Your progress is yours to keep: one Keeper Code backs up your whole journey, on any device.
Hidden inside Keepers of Memory is a second game. Across the outer game’s four eras lie eight broken stones — the carved justifications of Keepers who broke the order’s first law: witness, don’t intervene. Gather them, or speak the old code, and the Convocation opens.
RECORD WHAT WAS — or — CHANGE WHAT WILL BE
Seven cells. One memory. Six playable campaigns across seventeen centuries — twenty-eight endings, and the network remembers every one. Your record in one century changes how the next one greets you.
Aksum 316 CE · Kongo 1483 · the Swahili Coast 1497 · Timbuktu 1591/2012 · Adwa 1896 · Saint-Domingue 1791. The seventh route was not chosen by any Keeper.
Before any hand is raised, the Archive requires the reading of what history built through these lives.
Survived the wreck at Adulis, tutored a prince, converted a king — and became Abba Salama, father of a church that counts forty million members seventeen centuries later. One man. One shipwreck. One of history’s heaviest hinges.
Returned to Tyre and told the story once — to a historian. Every word the world knows of this hinge exists because he lived to speak it.
The first king on earth to strike the cross on gold coinage. His conversion made Aksum one of the first Christian states in the world — taught, patiently, by the man the sea delivered.