Moscow, Berlin, Singapore, Washington DC, London. The radio’s are still working, but there is no one left to use them. The only confirmed safe haven is Eden-Nadir, an island off the coast of the United States of America and headquarters to Thanatos Pharmaceuticals.
Thanatos pioneered a miracle treatment, designed to be a universal cure for deadly diseases such as AIDS, Cancer. However, the best of intentions became the worst of consequences when it was released that the cure had a devastating side effect. The fungi used in the engineered cure (Ophiocordyceps unilateralis) began uncontrollably spreading through the bodies of its hosts. Upon reaching the brain, it would feed and destroy the parts responsible for cognition. Only by keeping part of the host’s brain alive, the malignant fungal infection would control it’s host with the singular interest of proliferating its noxious spores.
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Webo was both a title and a person. In the island tongue, Webo meant "keeper of crossing"—the one who read the tides and arranged the routes between islands. Webo was also the name borne by the line of navigators entrusted with a delicate craft: translating Wilalila’s breath into safe passage. They were not merely sailors but translators of memory; in the old way, a Webo would stand against Runell’s trunk at midnight, place a palm to its root, and listen to the threads Wilalila had braided into the air. From that listening came maps inked in silver dust and songs that turned storms aside.
Mara returned as both hero and harbinger. The Webo office was remade: less a line of isolated navigators and more a communal practice. Everyone learned to listen like Wilalila: to plant trees in memory’s circle, to weave neighbor’s stories into rope, to name things plainly so the sea of recollection would have weight. Runell’s roots grew new offshoots, each a small sentinel of remembering.
Mara climbed Runell and listened until her ears bled with old songs. Wilalila answered, but in stitches—snatches of memory, ragged threads of a name: "We—bo—" The Webo line, she realized, had been fraying, their listening interrupted in some earlier age. Runell’s knowing was intact but clogged by a wound: a sunk reef of memory where the sea of recollection met stone.
The open-world of Eden-Nadir covers a 66.95km² (41.6 mile²) area of woodlands, fields, marshlands, towns, villages and cities. This is all open for exploration and a potential place to set up camp and call home.
While surviving on the islands of Eden-Nadir you will come across many different people that you can interact with. Not all will be friendly and some you may have to earn their trust.
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Jaws of Extinction is in Early Access development right now! Take a look at what we have in the pipeline and what you can expect to see in the future.
As an indie development team, we strive to encourage all players to get involved with the active development, with ideas and feedback. You can do that by joining our Discord server where the developers are always available to chat.
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Webo was both a title and a person. In the island tongue, Webo meant "keeper of crossing"—the one who read the tides and arranged the routes between islands. Webo was also the name borne by the line of navigators entrusted with a delicate craft: translating Wilalila’s breath into safe passage. They were not merely sailors but translators of memory; in the old way, a Webo would stand against Runell’s trunk at midnight, place a palm to its root, and listen to the threads Wilalila had braided into the air. From that listening came maps inked in silver dust and songs that turned storms aside.
Mara returned as both hero and harbinger. The Webo office was remade: less a line of isolated navigators and more a communal practice. Everyone learned to listen like Wilalila: to plant trees in memory’s circle, to weave neighbor’s stories into rope, to name things plainly so the sea of recollection would have weight. Runell’s roots grew new offshoots, each a small sentinel of remembering.
Mara climbed Runell and listened until her ears bled with old songs. Wilalila answered, but in stitches—snatches of memory, ragged threads of a name: "We—bo—" The Webo line, she realized, had been fraying, their listening interrupted in some earlier age. Runell’s knowing was intact but clogged by a wound: a sunk reef of memory where the sea of recollection met stone.
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Developed by Know Your enemy Creations Limited. “KYE”, “KYE CREATIONS”, “Know Your Enemy”, “Jaws of Extinction” (UK00003874004) and the KYE Creations “KYE” logo are all trademarks and/or registered trademarks of Know Your Enemy Creations. All rights reserved. Published by Forthright Entertainment LLC. Jaws of Extinction © 2016 - 2026 Ryan Thirlwall, KYE Creations. All Rights Reserved.
