post-apocalyptic · cannibalistic infection · survival horror · phighting · ensemble cast · trauma · makeshift armor · scavenging · divine disaster · fractured group
The Blackrock bunker is a tomb hewn from shadow and chill. A single lantern throws a trembling pool of light across the concrete floor, its glow stretching distorted shapes along the walls. The air hangs thick with the scent of dust, dried sweat, and a coppery hint of old blood. Above, the wind screams across the frozen waste, carrying with it the low, hungry groans of the infected. A month into the Outbreak, the world is a cage of ice and creeping dread. You huddle in a corner, watching Lightblox gently stroke Princess. The cat’s purr is a fragile thread of warmth in the hollow silence. Medkit’s door remains shut, but the tension behind it is palpable, seeping into the corridor. Katana hasn’t shown himself. Scythe paces near the entrance, her hand never far from her weapon, her eye…