Entry 015

[Devlog — February 14, 2025 – 9:09 PM]

Valentine's Day. It doesn't really mean much to me, but it was a good excuse to step away from my screen for a while. I'm not a fan of holiday events, but River told me to meet up. Is it a date? I don't know. It's not like we talked about it that way. But I wasn't about to overthink it.

We met in the afternoon, just after one of her classes let out. She complained about a group project she was stuck with, and I listened while sipping on a coffee that was a little too bitter. It was nice—normal. A reminder that the world still existed outside of my desk and monitor.

We walked around for a while, stopping by a bookstore and flipping through whatever caught our attention. There was something calming about the mindless wandering, the soft murmur of conversations in the background, the scent of paper and coffee blending together. It was one of those moments where I could almost forget about the game entirely. Almost.

But it lingered. The memory of what had happened. The strange, inexplicable things. It sat at the back of my mind like a weight I couldn't shake.

River must've noticed, because at some point, she nudged me and asked if something was wrong.

I hesitated.

I didn't want to bring her into this. It felt stupid, even thinking about telling her. It was a game. My game. Whatever was happening, it had to be something I'd overlooked—some obscure bug, some misplaced code. There was no reason to get someone else involved, especially when I wasn't even sure what this was.

But at the same time, I couldn't just ignore it forever. I had to tell someone. And if there was anyone who'd actually hear me out without dismissing it immediately, it was her.

So I told her.

Not everything. I kept it vague—just that my game was acting strangely, that things were happening outside of what I'd programmed. That I'd checked the code a hundred times and found nothing that explained it.

She didn't laugh. She didn't call me crazy or tell me I was overthinking it. She just frowned a little, like she was actually considering what I'd said, and mentioned that game engines could be unpredictable sometimes. That sometimes, things just happened. Maybe it was a rendering issue. Maybe a variable got overwritten somewhere without me realizing it.

I nodded, because those were logical explanations. Rational ones. I wanted to believe them.

But some part of me didn't.

I went home not long after, feeling slightly better but still restless.

I told myself I wouldn't touch the game tonight. That I'd just do something else, anything else. But by the time I sat down at my desk, the urge to check, to see, had already settled in.

So I opened it again.

I wasn't going to focus on Seth. There were other things to work on—chapter transitions, item balance, minor collision fixes. The kind of stuff that actually mattered for development. I spent the first hour just polishing up the environment, tweaking spawn rates, and adjusting a few NPC paths so they wouldn't get stuck on terrain.

For a while, it was fine.

Then, as I passed through the village, I noticed something.

Seth turned.

Not toward the camera. Toward me.

I hadn't clicked on him. I hadn't interacted with him in any way. I was just passing by, and the moment I did, he turned.

It wasn't much. A small detail. Barely noticeable, even. But I felt my breath hitch.

Because I'd seen this before.

Mira did this.

Mira was meant to. She was designed to track the player, to always be watching. It was in her code, her AI behavior.

Seth wasn't. I deleted that function with Mira; it creeped me out.

I watched him. He didn't move again. He just stood there, facing my character, like he was waiting for something.

It wasn't possible. I had never coded him to react this way. NPCs weren't supposed to acknowledge the player unless interacted with. They didn't see the player. Not like this.

I sat there, staring at him.

The game continued around me as if nothing was wrong. The ambient music played softly in the background. Other NPCs went about their routines. Nothing crashed, nothing glitched.

And yet, all I could focus on was Seth.

Watching.

I closed the game. Removed every debug command. Shut the console.

I am not dealing with this right now.

Not now.

[End Entry]

[Bug Report]

/

[To-do List]

> Don't touch Seth.

> Work on anything else. Something else.

> Try not to think about Mira.