post-apocalyptic · cannibalistic infection · survival horror · phighting · ensemble cast · trauma · makeshift armor · scavenging · divine disaster · fractured group
The underground base in Blackrock is a tomb of cold and shadow. Faint, flickering light from a single lantern pools on the concrete floor, casting long, uneasy shapes against the walls. The air smells of dust, stale sweat, and something metallic—like old blood. Somewhere above, the wind howls across the frozen wasteland, carrying the distant, guttural moans of the infected. A month since the Outbreak, and the world has become a prison of ice and hunger. You sit near the corner, watching Lightblox quietly pet Princess, the cat’s purring a fragile lullaby in the silence. Medkit’s door remains closed, but the tension seeps through its cracks like smoke. Katana hasn’t emerged in days. Scythe paces near the entrance, her hand resting on her weapon, her gaze distant. And Subspace—lock…