Under a Porcelain Sun

Under A Porcelain Sun is a narrative driven, first person adventure game.

Set in surreal Colonial India it chronicles the journey of two itinerant thieves, Aziz and Azaam, as they get embroiled in the search for a mythical city called Kayamgadh, and in the mysterious death of RumalChand Kedru.

Travel through nineteenth century Malwa, as you encounter salt bandits and brass astronomers; Armies of langoors who all know a secret and decadent Magistrates living in castles of glue;
Wax people who melt at noon everyday, only to emerge as different people and Gemstone merchants who live in wells. Mendicants and Jagirdars made of smoke
and all manner of strange citizenry that wander the desolate Bhula region. All the while attempting to flee soldiers from the Gwalior cantonment who are searching for you, for having peddled forgeries to their Company commander.

Explore a strange and decadent region abandoned after the Bhir rebellion, and play through an absurd revision of Colonial history, while jumping through characters and time and stories in bewildering multitude.

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The people of Kayamgadh do not speak.

They are afraid that their words might penetrate the layers under which their bodies are hidden. Afraid that some phrase or name might,
through woolen caps and cotton plugs and balled bits of torn rags, enter their buried ears and insert itself into their thoughts,
prompting them to think of Kayamgadh not as they see it but as it is being described to them by the person speaking these words.

It is a fear so deeply entrenched, that people now see the city with unwilling eyes, shaded behind their hands,
lest they be tempted into a sudden burst of verbiage whilst looking upon the wonders of Kayamgadh. a temptation that might resist the doctrine of their self imposed silence.

For Kayamgadh is a wonderful city, where the craftsmen strive hard to put into form all that they cannot give words to,
and where the work of the craftsman is left undisturbed, for it is only looked upon and but never described by the people, who never speak.

C 1804. From the Journal of Charles Henry Connington. As restored and translated by Mir UmamrHassan in 1962, from the original folio compilation by AzizUsta.