I can’t look at the night sky and not think of Pyre. Stars are a fundamental part of the game’s narrative. Not only do they guide your way, they act as a sign of hope. The cosmos lights many paths forward, and in Pyre, looking up affords your allies a chance at freedom from exile. One escapes purgatory through due process: Claim victory in the ceremonial Rites, return home. That’s the only way out. Not all Rites offer liberation, but participation is required to qualify. Therein lies the role of a Reader -- they translate the celestial beacons into a language all their own. Directing your caravan, however, comes with a flood of ethical caveats.
Pyre’s journey begins by throwing you, the Reader, into exile. A group of three fellow vagabonds find you dying in the Downside, an oppressive limbo that’s home to those cast out by the Commonwealth. The three masked wanderers save your life, find out you’ve been exiled for your literacy -- a rare trait in the game’s fiction, and the ride begins. Alongside Hedwyn, a lovable and pleasantly hopeful young man (despite being in exile for years), and his overprotective guardian Jodariel, you’re introduced to Rukey. He’s a mangy cur with a pristine mustache, yet somehow still pales in comparison to some of the more intriguing characters you’ll meet.
From here, every character you encounter -- including the mysterious Voice in the sky that strings you along throughout the game -- refers to the Reader as ”you.”
And “you” have a lot to learn.
via destructoid https://www.destructoid.com/the-prose-of-pyre-s-consequences-493992.phtml