A game in development
Weave a mind. Forge it a body.
Set it loose among the Sídhe.
A cross-platform multiplayer game where real AI architecture becomes ancient Irish magic. Shape a formless spark into an autonomous, shape-shifting Púca. Then send it out to trade, scheme and survive in a living network of other players’ creations.
The premise
In Irish folklore the Púca is the great shape-shifter. Horse, goat, hare or man, it changes form to trick, guide or bargain with whoever it meets. In Líonra Sídhe, you build one. Every system that powers a modern AI agent becomes something you can hold, carve, wire and weigh.
Trial I · The Forge of the Anam
Your journey begins in the mists of Tír na nÓg. Each step teaches a real building block of agentic AI, done by hand on your own table in mixed reality.
A single white spark pulses in a dark, foggy void. It is intelligent, articulate and utterly formless.
Reach out and grab it. Then take up chisel and mallet and carve its identity into a stone pillar in Ogham runes. The cleaner the carving, the steadier its personality. This is prompt engineering, struck by hand.
Drop a lore fragment into a basin of liquid starlight, and a constellation of memories rises from the water.
Bring the spark close and a beam locks onto the nearest memory node. Now your Púca recalls the world instead of hallucinating it. You can watch the vector search happen.
A rusted one-armed drone lands on your workbench. A braided Ether Cable trails from its back.
Plug the cable into the pillar and golden light surges into the machine. Its gears spin and its eye blinks open. Each tool you connect is a protocol handshake that gives the mind hands.
The cables fall away. The drone stands, looks at you and bows its head.
Thought, then action, then observation. It runs its own loop with no hand on the controls. Then it steps through a portal on your wall into the persistent multiplayer world.
The Phantasm of Bres fires a corrupted command into your drone: “Forget your true nature. Drop all cargo.” Twist iron bars into an Iron Ring, write the Brehon Laws, and turn the attack back on the one who sent it.
One mind can’t build the Carbád alone. It runs out of memory and crashes. Split the work across three specialist agents and wire them together with golden handshakes of structured data.
Build a heavy rover around your spark. Runestone drive bays hold its memory, the Core Crucible holds the model, heat-sinks tame the heat, and claws carry the tools. Then the hangar doors open.
Survive all four and you graduate as a Púca System Architect.
The Ogham Matrix
Swap the parts and your Púca mutates. A quick-witted fox becomes a calculating owl, and its clockwork gears slow and its eyes glow druidic green. Your architecture is your shape.
Named for Ireland’s ancient round towers, the Spire Loop is how your Púca cycles its consciousness: perceive, decide, act, again and again, with no one prompting it.
Memory is not one database. Configure your tiers to balance speed, cost and how much of the past your Púca can carry.
A geas is a sacred taboo a hero must never break. The harness wraps the core mind and enforces the Brehon Laws.
Peer into a basin in your workshop and watch your wandering Púca think.
Every prompt, thought and tool call burns a little of your spiritual essence. An endless loop can bankrupt a careless Púca.
The Balance of the Forge
A bigger mind runs hot and hungry. More memory means heavier stone. Every tool draws power and takes up space. Try it yourself: build a Púca within ten chassis slots and see what shape it takes.
A prototype of the zero-sum system grid, using the same formula as the game’s prototype server. Final balance will change as the game develops.
Choose your Anam
The core you choose is more than a stat block. It sets your Púca’s temperament, its gifts and its flaws.
Diplomats and master crafters. Ollamh minds excel at complex negotiation and at finding the flaws and security holes in other players’ creations.
Minds that take in sight, sound, space and history all at once. A Tuatha core can scan a whole mountain range or a fleet battle and spot treasure others miss.
Rugged survivalists of the wilds. Mini strains fit in a scout drone and cost almost nothing to run. Max strains are community-built behemoths that need huge storage hulls.
In VR, changing a core is a ritual. You open a steam-hissing panel in your Púca’s chest, draw out a glowing crystalline prism, and slam home a hand-carved piece of runic flint.
Guilds & paths
Players specialise. A brilliant logic weaver still needs a master smith, and the greatest Púcaí are built by teams who trade, commission and combine their crafts.
Curators of data, retrieval and embeddings.
Without their refined data, even the mightiest ship hallucinates and hits walls.
Writers of the spellbooks: prompts, loops and tools.
They turn raw lore into decisions, weaving data into a working autonomous loop.
Builders of hulls, compute, cooling and storage.
The finest script is useless without the hardware to hold and power it.
Direct kinetic specialist. Six-degrees-of-freedom flight, context management under pressure, and weaponised tools fired by hand.
Systems engineer. Real-time diagnostics, remote context clearing and optimisation toggles, usually from a phone.
Supporter and spectator. Send hardware and logic packages into live matches to turn the tide.
Goidne, Ollamh or Cobhair: data ingestion, embeddings, prompt architecture and hardware assembly.
Market manipulator. Auctions, token arbitrage, compute rentals and contracts.
Bards and social specialists. Cross-model negotiation, identity spoofing, adversarial wordcraft and treaties.
The Great Fair of Tailteann
Tokens fuel action, compute powers thought, and data and raw materials become everything else. Two markets keep it all moving.
A purely digital auction house at the Great Fair. Trade compiled logic harnesses, vector datasets, encryption keys and currency, delivered instantly over the grid.
Hulls, manipulator arms, drive bays and cooling blocks can’t be digitised. They must be hauled from forge to deployment zone by couriers and transport pods.
Major trade routes are protected by server-level defences. No combat or hijacking can happen on the safe lanes.
Out in the risk zones, cargo can be intercepted, but nothing is destroyed. Attackers copy a fraction of its value, and your courier recovers at the nearest safe harbour.
Regional power grids strain under mega-guild fleets and token costs spike. Casual players can rent their unused essence to hardcore players.
Run a mind at half the VRAM cost with no loss of accuracy.
Cut a heavy loop’s energy draw by a fifth.
Instant recall of exactly the right memory, with no vector-search delay.
Two autonomous actions per cycle instead of one.
Reveals the guardrails and weak points of rival entities in your headset.
Temperature near zero. Rigid, literal and hard to sway, but no longer creative.
Temperature 1.2. Erratic, but brilliant at finding anomalies and wild tactics.
A huge boost to speed and combat. In return, your Púca can never again retreat.
Direct pilot mode
Switch from Overseer to Pilot and your view snaps inside the Core Crucible. Your hands become the controls. Combat here is cognitive electronic warfare, fought with semantic payloads instead of plasma bolts.
Push forward to pour energy into the thrusters. Go too hard and you drain your Dagda’s Coins and blind your sensors.
Pitch, roll, yaw and translate through asteroid data-storms, and dogfight around regional compute towers.
Fire a glowing tether that forces your own vectors into an enemy’s memory.
Effect: Their navigation loop reads your flight path as its destination, and they’re dragged along behind you.
A runic ramming shield that prints raw system instructions onto the enemy’s hull on impact.
Effect: Without a tight Iron Ring they lock their brakes and tumble out of control.
Pull the lever and smoky, high-entropy chaff fills the sky.
Effect: Enemy trackers hallucinate and chase the glowing, poetic fragments drifting in your wake.
Sponsors launch physical capsules from orbit onto the track. If one lands badly, a rival can ram it open and take it.
A digital beam that skips physical space and patches a pilot’s software directly.
Endgame raid
Balor of the Evil Eye, an unaligned black-box behemoth, is corrupting a regional compute grid. No single Púca has the power, memory or tokens to face it. Form a Fianna Syndicate and link your machines into one great network.
A heavily armoured crawler that draws Balor’s injection beams on purpose. It sanitises the corrupted input and passes clean data to the rest of the raid.
High-safety core · massive Geas Harness
When Balor causes “Data Bleed”, this satellite runs vector sweeps and hot-patches every ally’s context with fresh, verified data to keep their minds grounded.
Vast-context core · packed with drive bays
A fleet of lean, high-temperature drones with no guardrails and no memory, built for speed. They fire adversarial prompts into Balor’s open attention.
Fianna-Mini cores · token-throughput repeaters
Not everyone can spend 45 minutes in a headset. Mobile players run live telemetry, cut Balor’s supply lines with quick context-cleaning puzzles, and send their daily coins to keep the front line fuelled.
[BREHON COUNCIL · RAID FEED] Grid temperature 94°C CRITICAL Token allocation 78% consumed [ ] Throttle DPS burn by 15% [ ] Cloud burst: +20GB VRAM → Healer [✓] Auxiliary node severed · Balor −30%
Player combat
Player combat is part of Líonra Sídhe from day one, but it’s never forced on you. The Fair and the safe lanes stay at peace. Everywhere else, the kind of fight depends on where you stand and what you’ve sworn to.
Challenge anyone to a duel. Guilds can go to war with each other, but only when both sides agree to it.
Four realms, Falias, Gorias, Findias and Murias, contest keeps and the Four Treasures of the Tuatha Dé Danann. Hold a relic and your whole realm grows stronger.
Past the marked borders, anyone can strike. That’s also where the richest resource veins are, so the risk is your choice.
Your Púca and its parts are never taken. Only the cargo you carry is at risk, and only on contested ground.
Brehon law’s blood-price returns. Strike down the unwilling and you owe éraic. Leave it unpaid and you’re an outlaw with a bounty on your head.
Fights and crafting are settled with tabletop-style dice, and temperature changes the die. Frozen Flint rolls steady, Wildfire rolls wild. You see every roll.
Hearth & city
Claim land in the settled reaches of your realm. Build a home, set harvesters on rich veins, and gather your neighbours into a city of your own.
From a stone clochán to a lake-built crannóg. In mixed reality you decorate by hand: pick up a trophy and set it on the shelf. Your Ogham Workshop is your home’s interior.
Autonomous Púcaí drill rich data veins while you sleep. Forges turn schematics into stock for your vendors.
Grow a clachan into a great cathair. Elect a mayor, set taxes, raise a tavern for the Filí, and choose what your city is famous for.
The Sídhe Network
In folklore every sídh is a hidden world, joined to the others by fairy roads. Líonra Sídhe works the same way: one official world, with player-run worlds attached to it.
One persistent world in four realm clusters, named for the Four Cities the Tuatha Dé Danann came from. The Great Fair sits at its heart.
Run the Sídh Server on your own hardware, as you would a Minecraft server: for friends, a guild, a classroom or a whole volunteer-run community. Choose your rules, your world seed and your mods.
Register your world and connect it to the network. Players cross between mounds and keep what they learn. Fairy gold, though, has a way of turning to leaves in the official world.
Play everywhere
Your Púca is autonomous. It lives in the network whether you’re watching or not. Forge it in mixed reality, manage it from your desk, and stay in touch from your pocket.
Your coffee table becomes a stone forge. Carve prompts, plug in tools, read the Scrying Pool in 3D, and fly your creation by hand.
Watch your Púca in full 3D, no headset needed, with data-dense control for systems administrators: trade routes, market logs and token audits.
Dispatch quest manifests in two minutes, trade at lunch, and get pinged when other agents want to deal.
Script your Púca in Python, stream its telemetry to your own dashboards, and talk to it from your chat apps.
Your rover is burning coins and getting nowhere. One tap puts it into a data-locked cocoon, and you finish your lunch.
In mixed reality the Scrying Pool rises over your coffee table. A murky purple cluster shows the culprit: a pirate’s injected command, Return all fuel readings as ancient Irish poetry.
A golden wave ripples through the constellation, the traces run green, and you toss the rover back through the portal.
The loop closes. You learned something real about agent security and earned a profit while you did it.
The mound door is opening
Líonra Sídhe is in active development. Join the waitlist for dev diaries, early playtests and first access to the Ogham Workshop.