The world you shape has begun to look back at you. Its people carry thoughts you can read, they call up to you in their need and remember what you do for them, and the seasons turn across the living land. And for a hand that has never shaped a world before, a first valley now waits to teach.
The people, made legible. The souls you keep in your sight now show you what weighs on them — a hunger, a cold season, a life still searching for its purpose — each in its own plain words.
Keep your vigil. Choose a precious few to watch over — a small circle you hold across the ages, follow across the map with a glance, and always find again.
They ask; you answer. A soul in true need can call up to you — and now you can hear the plea, come down to the one who made it, and answer.
The turning seasons. Green wakes across the hills, the dry places parch, the rain-shadow falls behind the mountains — the world's changing moods are yours to witness.
Land that rises before your eyes. Raise a mountain or sink a valley and the ground itself eases upward or settles down as you watch — no longer a thing that simply appears.
A first valley, built to teach. A new god is taken gently through their first acts — shaping the land, keeping watch over a single life, answering a first plea — in a valley made for the learning.
Honest to the last. The leaderboards stay clean: a tampered run can no longer claim them, and a game that cheats forfeits both its achievements and its scores.
New voices for the long ages. A guitar joins the score, with fresh songs for the world's turning — among them an old Spanish romance.
Ages you began before this update carry over — the world simply retells them under its new, deeper rules.