The Ventureweaver

A personal reflection by Kenneth Hawkins, creator of The Labyrinth of Time’s Edge

Lately, I’ve been battling through a rough stretch with my health.

There are moments when even standing upright feels like defiance. Moments when my hands tremble at the keyboard. And yet… I keep going. Not because I’m stubborn. Not because I’m chasing attention. But because I know what I’ve made-what I’m still making-matters. The Labyrinth of Time’s Edge is not just a game. It is the culmination of everything I’ve ever had to say, even when I didn’t have the strength to say it aloud. And in this current chapter of pain, I see more clearly than ever: this is my purpose. This is what I was meant to leave behind. The world we live in today is broken-not just politically, not just economically, but creatively. We are a generation starving for real art in a world stuffed with algorithms and cheap dopamine. We are watching the death of risk. The death of soul. The death of meaning.

But I refuse to stand by and let that be the last chapter of our story. One of the areas in The Labyrinth of Time’s Edge that resonates deeply with me-especially now-is the Withered Orchard. It’s more than just a location in the game. It’s a metaphor. A warning. A haunted reminder of the fragile dance between life and death. There is something deeply unsettling about an orchard that no longer bears fruit. Where every tree once bloomed but now leans inward like it’s ashamed to still exist. The Withered Orchard is quiet-too quiet. And in that silence, you don’t find peace. You find truth.

Because life, no matter how beautiful, ends.

And what’s left behind? Rot. Regret. Echoes.

But also… reflection. Here’s a glimpse into what the player experiences there:

///

–ROOM 2213 START–
The Withered Orchard
0,2214,0,2212
You wander onto an old, forgotten trail. The cold darkness grips you tightly, refusing to let go.
–ROOM 2213 END–

–ROOM 2214 START–
The Withered Orchard
2213,0,2215,0
The twisted remains of trees reach toward the sky like brittle fingers. No birds sing. No insects stir. Just the crunch of bone-dry leaves beneath your boots.
–ROOM 2214 END–

–ROOM 2215 START–
The Withered Orchard
2214,0,2216,0
A tree with a split trunk stands alone. Something hangs from its branches. A child’s ribbon? Or a warning best left untouched?
–ROOM 2215 END–

These aren’t just spooky settings. These are echoes of a dying world-mirrors of our own spiritual decay. The Withered Orchard exists because it has to. It’s there to show you what happens when the fruit of creation is no longer tended to. When beauty is abandoned. When art is no longer fed. And yet, you press on. Because the game, like life, is not about where you begin. It’s about what you carry forward. About the light you keep lit. The Labyrinth of Time’s Edge is the largest text adventure ever created in QBasic. Over 2,000 rooms, each handcrafted, each layered with atmosphere, emotion, and story. But its size isn’t what makes it great. What makes it great is that it was made in defiance of a world that says nothing like this should exist anymore. That art must be short, shallow, and profitable. That heart must be edited out.

I say: no.

Let this game stand as my response. My resistance. My rebellion.

Because when I walk through the Withered Orchard-when I write those dead branches and hushed winds-I am reminded that while everything in this world fades, meaning does not.

So yes, I am in pain.
Yes, I’m exhausted.
But I’m still here.
And I will finish this.

Because what I’ve made is not just for me. It’s for you. It’s for everyone who’s ever felt forgotten in a world that worships speed and spectacle. It’s for the artist within you who still believes in depth. It’s for those who understand that code can be sacred.

[[[ Join Me

If you haven’t played The Labyrinth of Time’s Edge yet, I invite you-no, I urge you-to step into it. Not because it’s free. But because it’s real. Play it. Explore it. Let it sit with you. And know that somewhere, a man-aching and awake-is still adding to it. Still believing in it. Still fighting for what matters. Let the world wither if it must. This orchard still has roots. And the fire has not gone out.

The Ventureweaver

Let the lantern guide your way.