The forest is contaminated. The cats survived. You probably won't.

Breathe While You Can — Your campfire is the only safe zone. Step into the forest and your oxygen bleeds out. Starve, and it drains faster. Two meters, both falling. Always.

Daylight Is Borrowed Time — Explore. Scavenge. Hunt the infected for meat and materials. Cook at the fire for full effect. Craft gear, raise barricades, reinforce your camp. Daylight is short.

Night Belongs to Them — When the sun drops, they swarm. More of them. Faster. Stronger. They hit harder every night. Your walls buy time. Your fire buys safety. Feed it or lose it — but it can be relit if you're fast enough.

It — Most infected can be fought. This one cannot be killed. It has no name. It stalks anyone caught outside the firelight. When it shows up, panic doesn't feel simulated. It feels like yours. You run. Everyone runs.

Move With Your Hands — You don't glide through this forest. You pull yourself across the ground, claw over rocks. Every chase is a scramble for survival.

Fall and Stay Down — You drop right where you stand — face in the dirt. Your squad can revive you, but reaching you means leaving the fire. Nobody comes? You start over. From nothing.

Nine Players. One Forest. — Split roles. Share resources. Cover each other. Communication isn't optional — it's oxygen. Solo? You can try. The forest doesn't mind.

You'll choke before anything gets the chance to kill you.

Night is coming.

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