Gabby DaRienzo and her team have done it again! Their previous title, A Mortician’s Tale, focused on the funeral industry in the United States, and now, as a natural next step, players are invited to explore the fictional cemetery of Seasonala Cemetery.
Steam describes the game like this:
Seasonala Cemetery is a meditative experience that invites players to explore the serene beauty of a living, breathing cemetery.
Using your system’s real date and time, the game changes dynamically – visit in the summer to see the cemetery bustling with life, or explore in the quiet, snowy winter. Observe and interact with NPCs and animals as they visit Seasonala Cemetery, all while listening to ambient sounds recorded from a real-life cemetery.
Seasonala Cemetery is a peaceful yet poignant reflection on life and death.
Seasonala Cemetery was developed by Gabby DaRienzo and launched in 2025.
Gabby DaRienzo was also the creator of the game A Mortician’s Tale, which I wrote about in an earlier blog post. You can read it HERE.
Seasonala Cemetery is available for Windows, macOS, and iOS,
and can be played for free on Steam and itch.io
Have you played Seasonala Cemetery? What did you think of it?
A short story with Quinley & Herrow
Who are Quinley and Herrow?
In Coffinfolk Café’s stand alone short stories, you’ll meet two most unlikely friends:
Quinley – Coffinfolk’s café host. A young woman who loves life just as much as she loves exploring the cultural heritage of death and sharing advice, information, and insights that can help people – whether they are facing their own encounter with Death or living with grief.
Herrow – Death himself. He may look frightening in his black cloak, but beneath the bones is a kind soul who enjoys a cup of coffee and sharing experiences gathered from every corner of time.
You can find a longer introduction + a short story about their first meeting HERE
“Stillness in the Storm”
Narrated by Quinley
No spoilers for Seasonala Cemetery!
I love winter and snow. But like everything else, it’s best in moderation.
The weather gods seemed to disagree.
Outside the café windows, the snow kept coming down in thick sheets. Strong winds made it look as though the snow was falling sideways.
Really, I had nothing to complain about sitting there in the warmth—but I had planned to visit the city cemetery tonight. The way things looked now, I’d be lucky just to make it home.
When I went to rise from my stool behind the counter, I didn’t think it through and put my weight on my right ankle. A sharp jolt of pain shot up my leg.
“Damn ice patches,” I growled through clenched teeth, grimacing. “I swear—if there’s a single icy spot in this city, I’ll find it. Guaranteed.”
“Allow me,” Herrow offered, reaching for the empty cup in my hand.
“No, it’s fine, I can—”
“Sit.”
I dropped back onto the stool. There was no point trying to negotiate with Death.
Herrow set the refilled cup down in front of me on the counter. It felt strangely backwards to be the one being served here at the café.
“I’m sorry there won’t be any outing tonight. One of the many advantages of visiting a cemetery is that it will always be there. For now, you and the departed will have to continue resting in separate places.” The reaper’s bony hand patted my arm in consolation.
“It’s so beautiful out there when the snow lies like a fluffy blanket over everything.”
“Oh yes. But the snow will likely still be there once you’ve recovered from your little accident.”
My little accident, yes… a truly spectacular fall right in the middle of the square, just as the entire city was heading to work. It wasn’t only my ankle that was sore afterward—my pride had taken quite a hit as well.
The front door slammed shut, making me jump. There hadn’t been a single customer for hours. For a moment it almost looked like we’d been visited by a living snowman, before the visitor began shaking the snow off.
“Harley! Wasn’t I supposed to close on my own today?”
“That was the plan, but the weather had other ideas. Everything’s shut down. No cars, no buses. It’s like a ghost town out there. I didn’t want to risk walking home, so… here I am.”
We sat on one of the sofas, playing cards on top of the coffin we used as a coffee table.
When I complained about my canceled cemetery visit, Harley disappeared into his office and returned with his laptop tucked under his arm.
“If you can’t go to the cemetery, then the cemetery will have to come to you!” He placed the laptop in my lap and showed me a game titled Seasonala Cemetery.
It wasn’t the same as visiting my cemetery, of course—but it was close enough.
Harley and Herrow sat on either side of me, watching as I wandered through the snow-covered Seasonala, reading every gravestone and memorial I came across.
It’s amazing how a few words can say so much about who a person was and what they left behind.
Time passed, but the snowstorm showed no signs of letting up. It seemed we were in for an unplanned slumber party here at Coffinfolk.
Harley handed me a pillow and spread a thick blanket over me as I lay stretched out on one of the sofas. There are advantages to being short, after all.
“Are you planning to sleep sitting up? Or folded in half?”
“Even better.” Harley gave me a crooked smile and began clearing the things piled on top of the coffin.
“You’re kidding?!” I couldn’t help laughing as Herrow bent down to help Harley pry open the coffin lid.
I knew we used our unconventional tables as extra storage for blankets, curtains, and other textiles—but I’d never considered that they could double as an extra bed.
Harley made it up with a couple of blankets at the bottom, a pillow, and another blanket as a cover before kicking off his shoes and settling in.
“Perfect. I’m going to sleep like the—well—dead.”
Herrow turned off the last lamp before almost silently returning to us.
“Now that Harley has set the mood here, would you like to see the cemetery at night? It’s very beautiful.” The reaper reached for the laptop and sat down on the floor beside me so I could see the screen. Herrow started Seasonala again, and he was right—it was beautiful, the sparkling snow beneath the star-filled night sky.
I lay quietly watching as Death wandered through the fictional cemetery, picking up small stones and pinecones and leaving them by the gravestones he passed. The soft background music became a lullaby for both Harley and me.
Outside the window, the snow continued to swirl in the biting winds—but here, in the warmth, everything was still.