Zitat von http://www.freebirdgames.com/quintessence.html#Story
The genre of the story is adventure, drama, and fantasy. Instead of a synopsis, here is the opening of the written version of the game's story. While the scene is not directly implemented in-game, the events surrounding it are.
Act I
1327, 3rd month, day 5
Second hour and seventeen minutes past midnight
The vase met the ground with a loud clash as the young man dashed by. With trembling hands, he reached under his grass-sewn bed sheet and retrieved a notebook, a quill pen and a bottle of clear, oily liquid. Dampening the quill in the bottle, he flipped to the blank page, fleetly trotting down the words as sweat dripped down onto the tawny pages.
1327, Month 3, day 5
I knew something was out of place, but not like this. . .
What does it mean? No, I cannot state this here, for it is not safe.
But it is still her. In either case, it has been this way for who knows how long now, and nothing has yet happened. Perhaps I still have time.
Perhaps, just perhaps, I still have a chance.
He took a deep breath and wiped the sweat off his forehead. Redampening the quill in the chipped bottle, he signed briefly at the bottom of the page as the rough handwriting gradually faded into the thin air.
Reivier Wirt
The exhausted figure pushed himself up and darted through the opening of the leathery tent. He paused for a moment and stared into the dim lit night, only to hear the wind whistling through the trebled leaves. Dim, silvery moonlight sprayed upon the rustling branches, brushing gently against the autumn night's air. With another sigh, he began to saunter silently onward, but the sound of soft footsteps upon the grass made him stop in his track and turn around.
Turn around to face the familiar figure that was now a stranger.
"Why are you still up at this nightly hour?" The figure spoke softly, with a tone that Reivier had embraced countless times. "Do you not wish to have a restful sleep?" It added after a brief pause.
Reivier's brows lowered as he took a small step back. His trembling hand instinctively reached behind his belt for his hunting knife, but it was too late.
Under the cloaking shadows, the figure swiftly lashed out something colorless, shimmering in the reflection of the guiding moonlight.
Powders, perhaps.
But that was the last thing he saw.
...
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