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# Plum Road Tea Dream's grief sanctuary gains a mausoleum
- URL: https://www.killscreen.com/plum-road-tea-dream-mausoleum-jira-duguid/
- Published: 2026-08-17T18:19:47.000Z
- Updated: 2026-08-17T18:19:47.000Z
- Description: Jira Duguid's level joins six other sanctuaries built by an avatar called S., in a game whose only verbs are walking, sitting and listening.
- Author: Kill Screen Staff
- Tags: Plum Road Tea Dream, Samuel Baidoo, grief, LGBTQ, walking simulator, ritual, afrofuturism, IGF, Brussels, Belgium

Somebody playing *Plum Road Tea Dream* has already asked how you get out of the Mausoleum. That is either a bug report or the most accurate review the level will ever get, because a Mausoleum is Jira Duguid's contribution to the game's sanctuary for queer grief: a room built for mourning, with a player standing inside it looking for the door.

The game came out on Steam in late July. It is the work of Samuel Baidoo, a Brussels-based artist and performer, made with Reveal Game Studio and a collaborator list that runs to six game developers, 11 artists, and four composers. You play through seven sanctuaries built by an avatar called S., a young queer game designer of color whose memories you are walking around inside. The main verbs are walking, sitting, and listening. Visual styles lurch from hyperreal to PSX-era jaggies depending on which chapter's memory you're standing in—a formal decision that reads as autobiography, since nobody remembers their life at a consistent resolution.

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The pitch is explicit about what it's pushing against: *Plum Road Tea Dream* means to detach the videogame from "violence and imperialism" and hand it to connection and healing instead. Clay sculptures and handmade objects were 3D-scanned into the world, so the thing is physically continuous with the studio it came out of. It was a Nuovo Award finalist at this year's Independent Games Festival—and it isn't only a game. In April, Baidoo staged it as [a live performance at DE SINGEL in Antwerp](https://www.vai.be/en/agenda-expos-en-programma/samuel-baidoo-plum-road-tea-dream-3-april-2026?ref=killscreen.com), two sold-out nights with an exhibition running on afterward. The sanctuaries have already been rooms people sat in.

![](https://storage.ghost.io/c/25/84/2584b75d-4bd6-4cce-8259-f1d1c65abbb5/content/images/2026/08/ks-plumroad-shot-01.jpg)

![](https://storage.ghost.io/c/25/84/2584b75d-4bd6-4cce-8259-f1d1c65abbb5/content/images/2026/08/ks-plumroad-shot-02.jpg)

![](https://storage.ghost.io/c/25/84/2584b75d-4bd6-4cce-8259-f1d1c65abbb5/content/images/2026/08/ks-plumroad-shot-03.jpg)

![](https://storage.ghost.io/c/25/84/2584b75d-4bd6-4cce-8259-f1d1c65abbb5/content/images/2026/08/ks-plumroad-shot-04.jpg)

Killscreen keeps returning to this. Earlier this year we wrote about [Jonathan Coryn's six-year project](https://www.killscreen.com/player-non-player-jonathan-coryn-touch-grief-game/) where caressing grieving figures is the mechanic, and a decade before that, [*Fragments of Him*](https://www.killscreen.com/fragments-of-him-finds-the-everyday-poetry-of-grief/). Duguid's [mausoleum](https://www.instagram.com/p/DbVKaEDDNsg/?ref=killscreen.com) extends the lineage in a specific direction—not grief as narrative, but grief as architecture you can be inside, and struggle to leave.