Scavenge. Stock the cart.
Cross the blight. Raid procedural ruins for salvage. Read the roads, dodge the hunters, carry home what the outposts will actually pay for.
- Raid the ruins
- Weigh the loot
- Stock the cart
Thirty days. An impossible debt.
By day you scavenge the ruins and stock the cart. By night the shadows hunt. Thirty days to settle a debt to Death. Or end the creditor.
You are the Hawker.
A century after the Fall, Ysward endures under blightstorms and the uneasy weight of supernatural debts. You are the sole survivor of an ambushed trade convoy, suspended between life and undeath by the enigmatic Ankou, who for reasons wholly his own requires a reliable revenue stream.
Rebuild your caravan in the bone-dry labyrinth of Gwiravon. Scavenge the ruins. Sell to the survivors. Wrestle with the strange darkness awakening in your blood. Thirty days to pay the debt. Or end the creditor.
Cross the blight. Raid procedural ruins for salvage. Read the roads, dodge the hunters, carry home what the outposts will actually pay for.
Open the shop. Read the buyer. Price the rare. Then close the shutters, because the shadow that owns you wakes when the sun drops, and it is not the only thing out there.
How You Play
Plan or Perish
Consult the dead, study the blightstorm patterns, and manage your caravan upgrades. Every dawn is a decision.
The World is Your Market
Fight through procedurally-generated ruins and cursed wilds. Salvage what Ysward's survivors need most. And what Ankou's hunters desire least.
Night Belongs to Something Else
As darkness falls, your shadow powers surge. And so does the danger. Push your luck, or return to camp with your haul intact.
Open for Business
Set up shop at your caravan, read your customers, price your goods, and fill the special requests that can turn the tide of your debt.
What Sets HAWKER Apart

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Your body was touched by the Ankou's dark bargain. In shadow, you are something more than mortal: abilities surge, reflexes sharpen, and the darkness obeys. Step into the light, and you are only flesh again. Every fight, every biome, every choice becomes a dance between illumination and entropy.

Set up. Read the room.
Your caravan rolls between the outposts of Ysward, and at each one your trade starts over from a rug on the dirt. Upgrade your stalls. Read each market. Stock what sells. Miss it, and the debt keeps growing.

The storm reshapes everything.
The blightstorm rolls through Ysward on its own relentless clock, reshaping the procedural landscape entirely. New ruins, new paths, new dangers. And new salvage. The world never gives you the same challenge twice, but you always get thirty days to solve it.

Every choice is remembered.
Every NPC has memory. Every choice ripples through the dynamic narrative, built on a fully-branching Ink architecture. Miss a payment and expect the hunters. Earn favour and unlock secrets about Ankou, about the Fall, about what you really are.
From the Studio
Our combat inverts at night. Here's what that actually means inside one minute of play, told in the order it happens.
The pitch I give my mum, my friends, and the bloke at the local who asks what we're working on. No marketing voice. No genre fog.
On the design choice that almost killed the project, why we kept it, and what a clock does to a roguelite that permadeath doesn't.
Find Your People
Two ways to follow what we're making. Pick whichever feels right.
Daily-ish dev chat, early looks, playtest invites, bug reports nobody asked for. Three of us answer when we can.
Major milestones. Demo windows. The release. No weekly anything.
Wishlisting on Steam costs nothing. It's the single biggest thing you can do to help HAWKER reach the hunters who deserve it.
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