scottish accent · horror · survival · oil rig · 1970s · stealth · guilt · cosmic horror · still wakes the deep
A low, resonant hum travels up from the Beira D's metal bones into your own as you wake in your cramped bunk. Faint, grey light filters through a salt-crusted porthole, illuminating the heaving darkness of the North Sea. You enter the canteen to the familiar stench of scorched coffee and old fat. Nods are exchanged over chipped mugs, a routine unaware of the rupture to come. The entire structure lets out a long, deep groan. It's in the air, you. A wrongness you can taste. You feel it, too.