CagVille 1.0.0

Deep in the heart of an endless, unbroken forest, a small town sits in quiet isolation, its presence almost accidental. The dense woodland encircles it entirely, a thick wall of towering trees that stretch for miles in every direction. The forest floor is a tangled mess of roots, fallen branches, and patches of wild grass, and the air always carries the scent of damp earth and pine. Sunlight filters through the canopy in uneven patches, never fully reaching the ground, giving the woods a constant sense of twilight.

The town itself is built with no real sense of order—houses placed at odd angles, streets that curve unpredictably, and open spaces where it seems like something should be, but isn’t. The homes are simple, unassuming structures, made of wood and brick, their paint faded and their roofs patched with whatever materials were available at the time. Some houses have porches with warped planks, sagging slightly under their own weight, while others have yards that are more dirt than grass.

The bricks in many of the older homes are covered in scratches, as if something—wind, time, or something else—has been slowly wearing them down. Fences, when they exist, lean at uncertain angles, their wood darkened by age, nails rusting in place. The roads are not paved but instead made of uneven stone, as if someone long ago decided that was good enough and no one ever questioned it. Some stones jut out more than others, making every step feel unsteady, and in places, weeds have forced their way through the gaps, thriving where nothing else does.

Outside of the few homes with fences, there is no clear distinction between where the town ends and the forest begins. Trees grow right up against some houses, their branches scratching against the windows when the wind blows. Roots push up against the foundations, shifting the ground in subtle ways over the years. The edge of the forest is not a boundary but a slow, creeping invasion, as if the trees are waiting for the town to finally give in.

The forest itself is impossibly thick, the trees growing so close together that the deeper parts seem almost impenetrable. The undergrowth is wild and untamed, filled with bushes, ferns, and plants that seem to grow with no pattern or reason. Some paths exist, narrow trails worn down over time, but they do not lead anywhere in particular. They simply vanish into the trees, swallowed by the overwhelming expanse of green.

The air is heavy with silence, broken only by the occasional rustling of leaves or the distant sound of birds. At night, the sky above the town is vast and empty, stars shining in the darkness with nothing to dim their glow. The houses sit in stillness, their windows dark, their walls settling with quiet creaks. The wind moves through the trees, and the forest stands, unmoving, always waiting.

4o