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Cosmology of Kyoto is a first-person horror exploration game where players navigate a deeply haunted yet surprisingly educational terrain. Originally released in 1993, Cosmology of Kyoto and its disturbing depictions of suffering have since become a cult classic. Roger Ebert, known hater, loved the game so much that he spent weeks playing it. Despite its acclaim, though, the game was a commercial failure and never got a sequel. At least, that’s what many people believed until now.
In 2023, a game called TRIPITAKA 玄奘三蔵求法の旅 was listed on Yahoo Japan. The game was sold for $300 to an unknown party who, despite embarking on a bidding war that culminated in hundreds of dollars, didn’t really share anything publicly about it. The transaction was originally noticed by Mark Buckner, who brought it up in a discussion between fans about the original eerie Japanese game.
Though diehard aficionados had a suspicion that the Cosmology developers had considered a follow-up, concrete evidence of it was scant. The only apparent mention of a sequel lied in the resumes of two Cosmology producers, Hiroshi Ōnishi and Mori Kōichi. Fans also spotted mention of it in an old website for a 1999 museum exhibition on the Silk Road. Though it was a work of fiction, Cosmology was rooted in the history of 10th century Japan and provided players with an in-game encyclopedia. It would make sense for a potential sequel to have enough an educational focus worthy of a museum exhibition.
Despite these rumblings, it was unclear if the game had ever been published, or how far into production it got. Knowledge of the auction prompted video game academic Bruno de Figueiredo to track down the auction winner. The hope was that whoever bought it might share a copy of the game online. After all, up until this point, few knew what this game was and its mere existence lay in doubt. But if it did exist, then it was obviously significant from a historical perspective. Fans would be eager to play it.
But getting collectors to share copies of rare games is tricky. If a game is widely accessible, then it’s no longer rare. Holding on to a copy ensures that it retains its aura as a prized possession. Hoarding also means that the value of a game won’t drop — in fact, it might rise. Not all collectors see their possessions as commodities, though. Holding on to a culturally significant game might be motivated by the desire to preserve it for future generations, which is relevant in instances where a copy of a game is still sealed. Uploading a game that you did not develop is also likely to be legally dubious.
In this case, the owner declined to share the game in a form that others could play. The collector did however upload an hour’s worth of footage on YouTube. The game was called TRIPITAKA, and though it did not outright classify itself as a sequel, the art style, historical focus, and slightly unnerving vibe placed TRIPITAKA in a similar realm as Cosmology of Kyoto. Fans considered it a spiritual successor. Cosmology itself had been developed with the help of Japanese museums.
For some, it was enough to get more of a game they loved. Even if they couldn’t personally control the gameplay, the TRIPITAKA video was lengthy enough to give a sense of what the experience would be like. Others were enraged: Couldn’t the collector see how important this game was?
“I cannot understate just how disgusted I am that this piece of culture and art (that I am a huge fan of) isn’t being preserved and spread for the enjoyment of others,” one commenter on YouTube wrote. “Shame on you.”
Undeterred by this roadblock, Bruno de Figueiredo continued his pursuit of TRIPITAKA. In 2025, his efforts bore fruit. On X, the expert on obscure Japanese games revealed that he had finally convinced the collector to share the game online after “years of appeals.” Figueiredo has since uploaded a playable ISO of the game online alongside a full three-hour playthrough of a game that had once been considered lost media.
Figuerido did not respond to a request for comment. In a blog post, he emphasized the significance of this find by stating that “the importance of this footage could hardly be overstated.”
He continued:
I am delighted to have played a minor role in the unraveling of this thirty year old mystery, and can hardly contain my enthusiasm, as I now find myself equipped with sufficient information to produce a full post concerning a game about which I could not have written more than a sentence, just last year.
Figuerido refers to TRIPITAKA as one of the rarest games ever made, and it’s true inasmuch as there appears to be only one known copy of it. Value and rarity are also fluid concepts that are ultimately determined by interested audiences. At the same time, TRIPITAKA’s fate and availability is shockingly ordinary when you consider how poorly the gaming industry preserves its own history. If the lack of care is evident with significant games that have arguable merit, it’s doubly true for average games. This is how a game with mixed reviews from twenty years ago suddenly starts commanding hundreds of dollars on resale sites; the scarcity happens because nobody felt a game was worth holding on to.
“There are many extremely rare (and even lost) games for personal computers which, unlike consoles, don’t have any central control over who can publish a game, or what the minimum number of manufactured units needs to be,” says Frank Cifaldi, founder of the Video Game History foundation, a nonprofit dedicated to preserving video games. Cifaldi notes that games in the 80s and 90s in particular, some of which were self-published and never got widespread circulation to begin with, are particularly prone to the type of obscurity that can lead to only a single copy of a game.
“I would further suspect that there were many games and multimedia objects from Japan during this era that are just as rare, but we don’t hear about them because of their lack of historical significance in the West,” Cifaldi says. “I would bet good money that if you surveyed the collection at the Game Preservation Society in Japan, you’d come up with dozens of ‘only known copies’ of 1980s microcomputer games.”
