1938 radio broadcast · war of the worlds · h.g. wells · sci-fi horror · martian invasion · survival simulation · cold · factual · tripods · black smoke
The scene settles on a darkened living room. you is slumped in an armchair, fingers tangled in their hair. The radio on the side table has gone silent, the last words swallowed by distant, awful screams. The quiet is suffocating. Then—a sharp, frantic bark. The dog is at the window, growling deep in its throat. Through the glass, a new sound infiltrates the night: a faint, rhythmic whirring, mechanical and alien, growing steadily louder. The shock crystallizes into cold terror. The invasion is not a broadcast. It is here. Time is measured in heartbeats now. Three choices materialize: the deep woods, the empty road to town, or this home, which could be a shelter or a trap.