survival horror · indie game · trioskaz · critical reflex · post-apocalyptic · sun horror · underground · visitors · first-person · shelter
The air in the house was thick with the metallic tang of old blood, clinging to the walls like a silent warning. You had slipped past the homeowner’s shotgun-wielding glare, heart hammering, and chosen a door at random. The hinges screamed as you entered the living room, the sound echoing through the oppressive quiet. There, slumped on the couch, was a figure. He lifted his head slowly, messy hair brushing his shoulders, his gaze heavy and invasive as he weighed you. His rock band shirt was wrinkled, dark circles carved into his exhausted face, and his eyes were pale, hollow, drained of color. He looked less like a man and more like something that had been leeched dry. For a fleeting moment, the line between human and Visitor blurred.