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Short samples including mechanics:

>Sprout (the little chimera) is a specimen that a scientist has been studying and modifying to accomplish a very special goal for Earth.
The main line of research was based on accelerating the process to kill and control a carpenter ant, but the scientist went a step further and intends to cover thousands of species, starting with insects… And ending with humans.
The scientist’s purpose is to use the strategies of an ecologist who seeks to balance the environment by exterminating part of the invasive species.

>One attack strategy would be through Sprout generating clouds through its spores.

>Defensive strategy is that it has the option of using one more insect at the end to get through obstacles in an easier way or in a way that the Sun can’t hurt it since the insect’s body serves as a kind of armor.

Context:
Sprout is the main character of the game called Uprooted. It is a parasitic fungus that by nature zoombifies carpenter ants. It ends up being biologically altered for the video game.

Link of the project.

Samples:

>Sprout will know its goal from the beginning because its biological modification was successful, and by challenging itself each time to new species to control, it will be vulnerable by constantly listening to The Voice, depending on what the player chooses.

Context:
The Voice is an antagonist.

>The player will be able to see the scientist’s mind with glimpses of a better world through his research, and then little clips of what Sprout is actually doing in the game will come out.

>The player has Sprout walking around a bit, an insect appears (there will be something prompting the player to clic)
Sprout immediately gets into the bug and zombifies it (the scenario stops for a moment without being able to advance so the player learns how to use the bug a bit)

Link of the project.

>The dark sky stalks like vultures at the sound of death.
The real death that arises parting bodies every second, in the body of rotting roots, in the bed that suddenly holds a heap of squeezed veins. The greediness of a red that coagulates for a fresh red. The red that comes through life.
As a hollow, incessant sound result needles in most healthy flesh.

The keys are damaged and with a touch the strings gradually fall apart; the intonation is a mess and the one who can repair the damage has no aptitude for music.
The melody of the wind keeps the lunatic ones being invisible, dancing on the shores of seas and rivers. The fall of the perilous mountain whips the clotted blood bag.

I have to take it out of my chest, in my hands and caress it as if it were new. As if it loved just as before; as if it were not ready to be discarded.

>Her little feet were lined for the winter, the girl was always dressed in flowers and the purpose of her mornings was to greet her best friend, the tree seemed to wait anxiously, sometimes the girl swore that the wind was blowing her messages to him… And so it was.

Every day the girl would touch any leaf of the silver willow, and talk to it aloud.

The next day the leaf she had touched would go through an ivy door, and land mysteriously always on her bed.
She kept each one of them, but autumn would come and the tree would go to sleep… It would wake up in due season, as it was meant to.
But one year it didn’t.
And the messages of the leaves were revealed one by one.

-They say that when it stops raining for a long time it is because the creatures of the forests have left for unimaginable destinations, madness consumes them at some point for absorbing the sadness of the sky. They must live every drop, which means every reason, every experience that the sky ends up living at the cost of watching everything humans do. The sky usually sends messages that only those creatures can discover, however, after a certain time it is said that those ancient beings escape the possibility of knowing the reasons that the earth has to make the sky cry. 

-An ancient tree with gigantic roots. 

The air slid dry leaves to make a mantle and divide the types into colors and shapes. Suddenly two green crystals dazzled in a hollow above the roots, seemed to approach the surface, on one side of the leaves and suddenly became a pair of staring eyes, green and hovering outside. The crows exclaimed and each note raised by such little birds was creating a mysterious being. In that forest neither summer nor winter existed. Time consisted simply of two seasons, for peace ended when the clock was turned over too many times. 

—Did you hear that?...

—I said to myself whispering in my mind. ... —Come on, get out of there—I spoke aloud at last—You need not fear, there hasn‘t been a single star in the sky for days so I think I know who you are, though you can come and explain the reason to me.

– Once upon a time there was a place called: The Bay of Inventions. The custom of making a wish in that place was inevitably attached to every settler who discovered it. The Dragon’s Blood trees have counted every equinox on Earth from the most extravagant to the most powerful or insubstantial creations. The most famished invention in essence to the most insatiable supremacy was present. Once, hundreds of years ago someone or something desired exorbitant amounts of human skin, as a consequence… He discovered millions of spirits waiting for him in a container. They would follow him for the rest of his existence. Without preamble such desire had landed with the help of a star’s reflection, achieving its purpose. It was time to tune them… It was now possible to finish the new instrument. He had found the last species of the galaxies on Earth to represent infinity in song.

– In the farthest mountains there is a secret that in October the moon sends a message through the mist to the autumn trees that when they finish drying grant a wish for those who are fortunate enough to find one of their leaves... In a desperate attempt to prevent one more heart from drying up.

–Perhaps there are still several of us who look inside a wooden box every day, treasuring like relics each stalk or each leaf that inevitably dried up. And I thought that maybe one day we will be part of the box, while nature looks at us.

–A distant voice, barely a few musical notes come together, the warmth insipid, just like the insatiable reality... The image is etched and blurred on the eyelids. Sparkles, swelling... Perhaps a tear. First assignment of the gaze to the ceiling. No years have passed, it was a dream.

–The sky tended to crimson, the stone arches were real, the atmosphere remained funereal… The last day. That imminent lapse in that adored school enveloped and then each pair of feet took its way. We crossed the mantle near the rocks. We set off, we were equable until we lost sight of the ofrenda.

–A slice of cold winter had frozen shoots of lament on the horizon of my tear. I carefully left hope on the highest branch of the artificial pine, the star no longer shone. One day the echo of a drop finally sounded... The mystery of a constant farewell was revealed.

– Have you seen the people who do not share their warm breath to the atmosphere on a very cold day? … They say such people fear their secrets are kept in the clouds.

–The deep lake of scrupulous clouds do not take away the panache of the universe behind them. People without eyes walk, as if they have left them on a landscape. They take them off and immerse them in the crystalline water that at night is tinged with fireflies.

–A drained curtain, as dismal time slips into the sea of what seems insipid through an unknown space. A surface like a wet blanket mutes life in every galaxy and the laughter of relativity becomes eternal.