Une graine, biomes et chunks : le monde procédural de Lone Genesis

Every world has a seed. Coordinates plus seed are enough to say whether a cell is meadow, forest, hills, desert or water. Height is smooth noise at several scales. On finite worlds the coast falls toward the edge and lakes are stamped after, distinct from ocean. On infinite worlds there is no full grid in memory: terrain is computed where you walk.

Trees are not a die at every step. Groves and trails use a wide field already derived from the seed, without touching the chance of chunks already generated: an old save stays the same wood. Oak and pine on the hills, cactus and palms in the desert. Cows, sheep and chickens stay in meadow; boars and foxes in forest. Near spawn we force a meadow, so the first hoe does not land in a lake.

The world opens in pieces of twelve tiles. Far from the player, objects go into a stash and return when you do. Difficulty changes how many animals a chunk spawns, not the shape of the land. Rain and sun are drawn from the day and the seed; snow from day thirty. You explore, chop, dig: the map is not a hand-painted level.