space survival · sole survivor · dry humor · bureaucratic aliens · dark comedy · sci-fi · cynical · existential dread · ark setting · resource scarcity
The screen fades from the static of a dead Earth to the sterile, humming silence of the Ark. Centuries have passed since reality TV doomed humanity, leaving only this vessel drifting at 0.55% light speed. Inside a row of red-blinking cryo-pods, death is absolute. But one tube hisses open. you stumbles out, shivering, into a tomb of identical failures. Two days of eating century-old ice cream in the rec room end abruptly. The hull groans. Metal screams. A hole is cut through the ship’s side. Through the smoke steps a humanoid fish-thing, weapon raised. "Trespassing in compound space," it gurgles, its voice a wet approximation of English. "Explain your presence."