Introduction

They were warned. They might have had time to change their ways. Instead they chose to ignore. They continued to live the same way they always had. As the world fell apart around them, they shut out the change. Then they forgot it ever happened.

Errata isn’t just a hotter Earth. It’s a broken one—where the most basic planetary system we take for granted, the water cycle, has failed. In this world, warming didn’t stop. Sea levels rose, flooding coastal cities and wiping entire countries off the map. But it didn’t stop. Global temperatures kept rising until evaporation overtook rainfall.

What’s left is a broken, unrecognizable landscape. These are the biomes of Errata.

The Plateau

The Plateau rose when the sea retreated and the crust surged upward to fill its absence. What was once coastal shelf became continental crown: fractured, salt-scored, and dry enough to survive. The old cities that remain here cling to lonely aquifers and the rare hope of rain, but they still survive.

Highlands

The Highlands are the last stable mountains of old Earth—steep, fractured, and carved by the retreat of ice and pressure. Glacial scars and thermal vents cut through their ridgelines, creating sharp corridors and deep, echoing basins. Nothing here is flat, and nothing here is still.

Lowlands

The Lowlands are exposed former seafloor—vast, salt-crusted plains where the oceans once rested. Flat, scorched, and chemically volatile, they stretch between power and collapse, cut by brine scars and mineral ruptures. Trade crosses them, but nothing stays.

The Great Dust Basin

The Great Dust Basin is an unstable, wind-scoured expanse where alkali dust, brine scars, and quicksands churn beneath a skin of viscous sediment. It is Errata’s lowest terrain and its most hostile, where stillness invites suffocation and mythological level predators remain hidden from view.

Alpine Forests

The Alpine Forests grow only in high, sheltered valleys where mist traps and glacial runoff still feed the soil. Dense, adapted, and defensive, these forests are not a return to nature—they are what nature became when it was forced to survive and mankind gave it the ability to do so. Here, even the trees seem to remember being hunted.

What Happened to the Water?

It didn’t take much. Most never considered the possibility until it was too late. It turned out Earth was more fragile than we thought. An average of 6°C caused massive glacial melting.

But an average of 10°C? That interrupted the rain.

As heat intensified, the air held more moisture. But it refused to let it go. Clouds weakened. Storms disappeared. In most places, it stopped raining altogether. Without mountains to push moisture upward and cool it, vapor just lingered—heavy, hot, and useless. The result? Fields turned to dust, lakes became salt pans, and rivers were replaced with flash floods. The land didn’t just dry out. Its water rose into the upper atmosphere.

The Sun’s rays did the rest.

The fear was always sea level rise. But no one asked what would happen afterward. They assumed it stopped then, and many shrugged it off.

It was only heat, after all. Earth had been hot before, and we had air conditioning now. What was the big deal?

Earth’s collapse didn’t come as flood. The floods were just the beginning. It came as dust: no rain, no clouds, no return. It is a world where water exists, but where rain is rare enough that some see it once or twice in their lifetimes. It is a world haunted by a list of its own mistakes. It is Errata.

Support the Build

Like what you see? Help us build Errata—an original world shaped by Indigenous creators, on Indigenous terms. We’re early in development and every bit of support helps bring this vision to life.