Undervein

The old miners never came back up.

They left their lanterns burning, their machines still warm, and a seam of ore that hums back when you strike it. Somewhere far below, past the last of the gold, an ancient door is waiting. Pick up the pickaxe where they dropped it. Dig.

ONE MORE SWING

It starts with a single pickaxe and a sound you will learn to love: that small, bright clink when the vein gives way. Soon ten kinds of hands are digging for you. Apprentices with shaky swings. Mine carts. Steam borers. And somewhere near the bottom of the list, a Quantum Drill that nobody quite understands. The numbers climb, the tunnel sinks. Topsoil, coal, fossils, gold, crystal, lava. And under all of it, The Portal.

WHAT THE OLD MINERS LEFT BEHIND

Five machines sleep in the dark. A seed that sprouts from nothing and strikes on its own. A lamp that turns the shaft to daylight. A sonar that listens for the vein's pulse. A dwarf who knows every rock by name. And a key to the mountain's heart. Feed them Ancient Ore and they wake up and work.

Then there is Fanor. Hooded, patient, smelling faintly of lamp oil. He will not take your gold, only Ancient and Cursed Ore, and his best deals come sealed in stone. You will not know what is inside until you break it open. That is rather the point.

A DOOR THAT KNOCKS BACK

At the edge of the cave stands an arch older than the mountain's name. Every fifteen minutes its gap starts to glow, and it wants to play. Hammer the beavers. Snag gold with a swinging hook. Ping the rock for hidden veins. Win, and it pays you in Cursed Ore. Lose, and the mountain takes its cut.

Sooner or later you will want to start over, on purpose. Each prestige carves a new rune into the arch, fifty in all, and every descent begins a little stronger than the last.

Keep an eye on the seam, too. Once in a while the Ancient Bat drifts past. Catch it, and for one glorious minute everything you mine is worth four times as much.

SOMETHING IS SLEEPING IN THE STRAW

In a corner of the mine lies a black stone egg on a bed of straw. Faintly warm. Faintly humming. It likes pink crystals. Strike enough of them, bring Fanor's obsidian tablet, and one day the shell cracks. What comes out is small, sleepy and entirely yours: Larug. Raise it from a hatchling into an ancient dragon with wings the colour of old gold.

THE FROG KNOWS

Every fifteen minutes a green-blue gas creeps up from below and your income starts to cough. Luckily the mine has a keeper: an old frog in a dented helmet who swallows poison the way you and I drink tea. Wise. Calm. Unbothered. Mostly.

WHAT WAITS DOWN THERE

A relaxing idle miner in cozy pixel art, happy to hum along on your second screen

Ten tiers of diggers, five ancient machines and a five-branch technology tree

Seven layers of stone, fifteen hundred metres down to The Portal

Fifty runes to carve into the Ancient Door, one prestige at a time

Three mini games behind the door, a bat worth catching and a gas worth fearing

A dragon to raise from a stone egg

A mine that keeps digging while you sleep, with up to twelve hours of ore waiting for you

Undervein is being dug out by a very small studio, one pixel at a time. If the mine calls to you, a wishlist helps more than you might think. Thank you. Really.