The Guy Who Checks the Seismic Network

I check the seismic network before I go near Rainier. I check Watch Duty for fires. I check the weather before I ski.

That is not paranoia. It is what you do when you live next to a mountain and spend your weekends driving into the Cascades.

I hike, ski, and go off-roading to reach trails that are not crowded. Before I leave, I want to know what happened overnight. Is there a fire? Is there a road closure? Is there a swarm of earthquakes? Is the trip still worth it?

The answer is rarely dramatic. Usually the answer is, "Probably." That is the word that bothers me.

The game came out of that habit. I wanted to capture the feeling of sitting at a trailhead, looking at the sky, checking the latest reports, and deciding whether to continue. The situation is not a single disaster. It is a collection of small signals, limited information, and a decision you still have to make.

I am inspired by games like Balatro, where chance creates the situation and the player has to work with what appears. You do not choose the fire. You do not choose the earthquake. You chose to be on the mountain, and now you have to deal with what the mountain is doing.

That is Route 410. In winter, it is snow, avalanche risk, and traffic. In summer, it is visitors, fire, rescues, and flooding. Sometimes the road is damaged before the next problem arrives. Sometimes the budget is already gone.

You have options, but not enough of them. You can spend resources on prevention, response, communication, or recovery. You can wait for better information, but waiting is also a decision.

I am not trying to make anyone afraid of the Cascades. I love the Cascades. I want the game to explain why people who manage the corridor pay attention to things that look insignificant from a distance.

Disaster Draw is at disasterdraw.com.