The Ventureweaver

There are moments in life when you look back and realize just how far a dream has carried you. For me, it began in the faint hum of an old IBM PS/2 computer, its screen glowing that soft bluish gray of Windows 3.1. I still remember the sound of the disk drive clicking, the flicker of that first QBasic 1.1 window opening up—a place where imagination met logic, where creation was born out of simple text and endless curiosity. I didn’t have much then: a text file, a line of code, a notebook of scribbles, and a wild, unshakable belief that something extraordinary could come from it.

The earliest days were humble. I’d sit before that machine, fingers tapping keys long into the night, creating tiny worlds out of words and symbols. A few rooms, a few choices, a few echoes of stories that would someday become entire realms. I didn’t know it then, but those first few lines of code were the seeds of a grand labyrinth, a place not bound by pixels or graphics, but by imagination itself. The Labyrinth of Time’s Edge became more than a game; it became a companion, a lifelong creation, and in many ways, a reflection of myself. Years passed. The machines changed, but the dream did not. Through patience, persistence, and an unwavering love for storytelling, what began as a handful of rooms grew, slowly, methodically, lovingly, into something vast and alive. Each description carved from thought, each interaction placed with care. And now, after countless nights and an endless stream of inspiration, I find myself standing at the threshold of a monumental milestone: the 4000th room.

Four thousand handcrafted moments. Four thousand steps into a world that lives and breathes within lines of code and words on a screen. Each one built not for fame or fortune, but for the joy of creation itself, for the thrill of seeing a world unfold before my eyes and knowing it was born from a spark that began so many years ago. In truth, reaching this point feels like standing atop a mountain built one stone at a time. It’s humbling. It’s surreal. And it fills me with gratitude, not just for what’s been made, but for everyone who’s walked even a few steps of the labyrinth alongside me. Lately, I’ve been taking a moment to recharge the batteries, to breathe, to reflect. Because the next step, the next world, feels like venturing into something truly otherworldly. The next portion of the game takes place within a vast, haunted castle, where the realms of the living intertwine with the realms of madness. A place where memory and nightmare blend, where the very walls whisper secrets long forgotten. It’s unlike anything that’s come before in The Labyrinth of Time’s Edge, a place that tests not just the adventurer, but the dreamer behind it.

Even after all these years, I still sit before a keyboard with the same excitement I felt as a kid on that IBM. That same spark that said, “You can make something great, something that lives.” And though the world may have changed, that feeling has never left me. The journey is far from over. In many ways, it feels as though it’s only just beginning again. For every line of code and every description written, I rediscover why I started all of this in the first place: because creation is joy. Because storytelling is timeless. Because somewhere out there, someone will stumble upon this game, this strange, beautiful labyrinth, and feel the same wonder I did when I began.

To those who’ve followed, supported, played, and shared this dream—thank you. You’ve made this journey brighter than I ever imagined. And as I prepare to open the gates to the next realm, know that the heart of this project beats stronger than ever.

The Labyrinth grows on. And with it, so do I.

The Ventureweaver