Eine Welt wartet.
Mach sie zu deiner.

The wheel gives you a power at random. You get exactly one chance to spin it again.

The gods never stopped walking the earth. The angels never stopped keeping the peace. You have just been pulled into the middle of both.

The time-travel gene was supposed to skip you. It did not. A stranger from a secret society already knows your family better than you do.

A god's seat has fallen vacant. You're one of a fixed few candidacies - every other seat must be formally refused.

You know exactly how this story ends for your character. The problem is, you are living it now.

You died two hundred years ago to end a war. You don't remember agreeing to come back.

The war ends the day you marry a dragon you have never met. Nobody asked if you wanted peace this way.

You wake up alone on a damaged ship, no memory of how you got here - and the ship's AI knows more than it is saying.

You are the last investigator this city still trusts. That is not saying much anymore.

Two kingdoms, one war, and a marriage neither side wants to fail. You are the peace treaty. So is he.

One moment you are home. The next, you are not - and something here already knows your name.

Everyone else gets handed a common skill. You get to pick your one SSR.

The crew says this job is simple. Nobody in this business has ever meant that.

You died. Now a warm, oddly amused voice hands you 100 points to build whatever comes next.

The time-travel gene was supposed to skip you. It did not. A stranger from a secret society already knows your family better than you do.

The wheel gives you a power at random. You get exactly one chance to spin it again.

A god's seat has fallen vacant. You're one of a fixed few candidacies - every other seat must be formally refused.

The outbreak came faster than any warning. You are one of the few left in a city nobody controls anymore.

Noble heirs duel for honor. Commoners duel to be allowed in the room at all. The steel doesn't care where you're from.

Everyone else is born with a Blessing. You're the only person who has to earn one.

You died fighting the final boss after years of grinding. Now you are back at day one - and you remember everything.

A kingdom summoned a legendary hero to save them from ruin. The ritual grabbed you instead.

Crew of a smuggling airship, running cargo and secrets across the ashes of a broken empire.

The gods never stopped walking the earth. The angels never stopped keeping the peace. You have just been pulled into the middle of both.

You inherited a dying magic shop, a town that forgot what it is for, and no idea what you are doing. Neither did the last three owners.

Ordinary people are suddenly developing powers. Yours does not match any known category - and that makes you a problem.

An imperial academy of sword and sorcery, seven centuries old - and you are about to take your oath.

The bonding rite was supposed to choose a familiar. It chose something that is not supposed to be able to want anyone back.

A tower appeared over the city overnight. Climbing it is the only way up - literally and otherwise.

An invitation to a masquerade you don't remember requesting - and a host who already knows your name.

Your village paid its debt to the Demon King the old way - with a person. He did not expect you to still be this much trouble.

Your unit is gone. You are alone in hostile territory, and every choice from here has weight.

An imperial academy of sword and sorcery, seven centuries old - and you are about to take your oath.

You died. Now a warm, oddly amused voice hands you 100 points to build whatever comes next.

The time-travel gene was supposed to skip you. It did not. A stranger from a secret society already knows your family better than you do.

Ordinary people are suddenly developing powers. Yours does not match any known category - and that makes you a problem.

You wake up alone on a damaged ship, no memory of how you got here - and the ship's AI knows more than it is saying.

The gods never stopped walking the earth. The angels never stopped keeping the peace. You have just been pulled into the middle of both.

The time-travel gene was supposed to skip you. It did not. A stranger from a secret society already knows your family better than you do.

Your village paid its debt to the Demon King the old way - with a person. He did not expect you to still be this much trouble.

Two kingdoms, one war, and a marriage neither side wants to fail. You are the peace treaty. So is he.

You inherited a dying magic shop, a town that forgot what it is for, and no idea what you are doing. Neither did the last three owners.

The bonding rite was supposed to choose a familiar. It chose something that is not supposed to be able to want anyone back.

The war ends the day you marry a dragon you have never met. Nobody asked if you wanted peace this way.

A god's seat has fallen vacant. You're one of a fixed few candidacies - every other seat must be formally refused.

The gods never stopped walking the earth. The angels never stopped keeping the peace. You have just been pulled into the middle of both.

Noble heirs duel for honor. Commoners duel to be allowed in the room at all. The steel doesn't care where you're from.

You died two hundred years ago to end a war. You don't remember agreeing to come back.

An invitation to a masquerade you don't remember requesting - and a host who already knows your name.

A kingdom summoned a legendary hero to save them from ruin. The ritual grabbed you instead.

Everyone else is born with a Blessing. You're the only person who has to earn one.

Everyone else gets handed a common skill. You get to pick your one SSR.

The wheel gives you a power at random. You get exactly one chance to spin it again.

Crew of a smuggling airship, running cargo and secrets across the ashes of a broken empire.

The crew says this job is simple. Nobody in this business has ever meant that.

Your unit is gone. You are alone in hostile territory, and every choice from here has weight.

You wake up alone on a damaged ship, no memory of how you got here - and the ship's AI knows more than it is saying.

You are the last investigator this city still trusts. That is not saying much anymore.

You know exactly how this story ends for your character. The problem is, you are living it now.

The outbreak came faster than any warning. You are one of the few left in a city nobody controls anymore.

Ordinary people are suddenly developing powers. Yours does not match any known category - and that makes you a problem.

A tower appeared over the city overnight. Climbing it is the only way up - literally and otherwise.

You died fighting the final boss after years of grinding. Now you are back at day one - and you remember everything.

One moment you are home. The next, you are not - and something here already knows your name.

You died. Now a warm, oddly amused voice hands you 100 points to build whatever comes next.

An imperial academy of sword and sorcery, seven centuries old - and you are about to take your oath.