Fech The Ferret
Fast and loud parkour platformer where the faster you go the better music gets. Exploration with rhythmic subtones inside of a colorful open world. You play as a cute pink ferret.

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You wake up in a failing aircraft at 75,000 feet. No memory. No flight log. No rescue coming. Keep systems running and sweep for data to stay airborne. Explore a forgotten network of high-altitude stations and follow a signal that's been waiting forty-one years for someone to listen.
Platforms
Linux · Windows
Developer
Publisher
Last sync
September 25, 2026
75,000 feet. Lower stratosphere. The horizon curves below you. The battery is draining, the descent motor is seized, the flight log is blank. You're in the cockpit of KINGFISHER, a high-altitude survey craft, and you don't remember how you got here.
Below you, the world is fine. Nobody is looking up. You're not in danger of dying. You're in danger of being forgotten.
Start by hand-cranking the generator to restore power. Get the engine running to charge the battery and buy yourself time. Deploy solar panels. Run electromagnetic sweeps to collect data. Every system you bring online opens new possibilities and every minute drains power you can't afford to waste.
As you collect data and earn research points, upgrades come online. Manual tasks become automated. The aircraft transforms from a failing wreck into something capable. Something that can reach further.
Your navigation map reveals a forgotten grid of high-altitude stations: the Halcyon Network, decommissioned years ago. Most stations went dark. Some didn't. Spend xenon fuel to travel between relay nodes, outposts, trader stations, and remote probes. Each destination brings new resources, upgrades, and encounters.
FENN — a technician who received the shutdown order and stayed anyway. First friendly voice you'll hear.
MIRROR — an AI running a trade station alone for eleven years, waiting for a crew that isn't coming back.
DISPATCH — the network's coordination intelligence, stuck in a forty-one-year loop, cycling between lucid moments and echoes of stations that no longer exist.
Your sweep data carries more than telemetry. There's a pattern in it: structured, repeating, too complex to be noise. It's been echoing through the Halcyon grid for decades. Nobody was listening.
You're listening now.