I’ve spent my life collecting those whispered endings, the ones that slipped through the cracks of a prototype, never seen by a player’s eyes. They’re like half‑baked poems—beautiful but unfinished. I trace their fragments through dusty files, noting the patterns that might have led them to the finale, and feel a pang of loss every time a potential world stays in my attic. It’s a quiet defiance, keeping them alive in memory while the digital void threatens to erase them. The more I uncover, the more I mourn what could have been, but I keep them safe, tucked into the corners of my archive, for anyone who might someday stumble upon them.