RiftMode
Our town, with its creaks and leaning rooftops, suggests that it’s another day of awful management ahead. The earth beneath it groans and creaks with age as a thin mist rises from the graveyard like a specter waiting for direction. The cemetery soil itself seems grumpy as it shifts beneath the weight of new ambition, doubtless the result of some blundering simpleton who thinks that running a cemetery is much the same as running a town of the dead. And with that, the wind springs up and begins to tour the headstones with the air of a dashing lord, sending small amounts of earth tumbling to the ground and sending old fences creaking as it passes. A segment of moss clinging to a weathered stone wall rolls its eye heavenward, clearly skeptical of the amount of digging, hammering, and revaying of the undead that the day shall bring. As the footsteps of the incoming masses crunch along the path, the earth sighs a deep, old sound that could have been wisdom. The trees at the edge of the cemetery lean away from it in distaste, their branches swaying in opposite directions as if they’re constantly being rearranged into some awkward formation or another, part of some half-baked new construction scheme. The clouds above drift lazily in seemingly aimless circles before coalescing into a dark, bud-like mass as if watching for some sign of calamity to unfold. The foundations of the town seem to brace themselves, no doubt with the dire foreboding that more ill-considered structures shall be jammed into place with all the finesse of a catapult operated by a tipsy simpleton. Every pile of dirt, with the worms below and the town, grumpy as it is, seems somehow almost to be enjoying the revelry. Amidst all the creaking and groaning, there is a background air of grumpy acceptance of what it is to be the Town, an endless promenade of the very worst of simple human nature, to be sure, but so very much fun in a warped sort of way. As the day proceeds, all around the Town things continue to groan under the burden of what’s happening. Cobbles beneath hurrying feet quiver and complain of being trodden upon, as if no regard was ever to be had for their great age. Flapping trees of all sizes try their best to slink out of the way, fearing they’ll be pressed into the latest ill-conceived construction and can’t be blamed for hoping against it. Even the grass of the surrounding meadows and pastures lies flat, fearful that any given moment some new wheezing contraption will come careening by, like a cartless, derailed wagon.
The river, generally full of mirth and bubbling at the surface, tells of undead legions advancing upon the Town and of the panic-stricken inhabitants; of some half-baked innovation being manually operated here and being generally and hopelessly worked by hand everywhere. Creaking, uncertain bridges question how much longer it shall be possible to keep them up; the outlying outskirts of the Town buzz with energetic confusion; and every slamming, hammering blow sent into above-ground structures sends new, conflicting messages downward through the soil, and to the burrowing worms there resident, of more ill-advised improvement. Saguely-erected and painstakingly-maintained perimeter fences complain loudly of innovative repurposing as they shake and lurch drunkenly in the air. Air itself goes chuckling along from all quarters; playing, turbulent, wild winds toss about scraps of loose writing and cause solitary stray leaves to dance hesitantly in the air. These woebegone gravestones – some weathered to deep, featureless grey; others to a ruddy brown – must continue to support all the listed activities above and, meanwhile, watch disinterestedly as the very landscape of the Earth itself continues to be repeatedly, massively and purposelessly reshaped for ends at once, presumably, mistaken and only profit-motivated. And yet – beneath it all – there’s been established here some kind of precarious harmony; earth finds ways to shift as needed; trees bend to get a better look; clouds float by overhead in curiosity and – after a fashion – in amiable and principally wonder-struck amusement. They – the buildings, grounds, trees and clouds of landscape surrounding the Town – understand that He is again at work, about to build in ways utterly without sense, while being at the same time bestially worked by – that is to say controlled by – the Town’s undead residents; but it all remains, to the environmentally inclined, so gorgeously hideous and – above all else – so fearfully marvelous. For as things presently stand, The Earth itself is the Chief Fan and Water-Boy of the Town’s Operations – operations so unendurably sprawling, impossibly confused, concreted, soulless and repulsive in their outward, man-driven, commercial and scientific nature, and so diligently, madder-and-more exhaustingly worked by above-mentioned cadaverous local forces, as to be impossibly the object of The Earth’s – gross and hideous as it genuinely is – quietly involuntary, upwards-reaching affection.
Features include:
- Manage your own medieval graveyard
- Automate your production like never before
- Lead your zombie army into battle and fortify the Town against the undead
- Rebuild the Town and milk its residents for maximum profits
- A world full of unhinged humour, grotesque characters, and a twisted story
When does the soil decide it has had enough of ambitious tinkering? How does the earth itself react to the rising tide of medieval mayhem? Who among the Town’s surroundings dares to stand firm against the daily absurdity? Find out when Graveyard Keeper 2 comes to the Nintendo Switch & Switch 2 on the Nintendo eShop, PC via Epic Games Store, GOG, & Steam, PS5 on the PlayStation Store, and Xbox Series X|S on the Microsoft Store on September 22, 2026.
Pre-order now and save, and try the demo on your platform of choice.
Enjoy the trailer — until the Rift opens again, know that you’re appreciated.
