Dead Signal
The zombie outbreak owns the city — scavenge, barricade, trust no one, survive the night.
Etched into this world
Moments players wrote that became part of this world's canon
The Halcyon schematics don't just *read*, they *sing* in my mind, a living blueprint for reshaping flesh. My arm plunges into the frigid solution, a biting cold that promises permanent change, as the sickly sweet lab air hums with the pathogen's raw power. But then, a shrill alarm slices through the sterile quiet, rattling my teeth as a stark red countdown, "CINDER: 00:01:47:00," flares to life. A low, guttural growl rips from a cracking containment unit, and suddenly, the stakes are impossibly high.
A shrill, insistent chirping drills into my skull, a rusty nail hammered directly into my brain. My hand shoots out, a clumsy, desperate swat, fingers closing around a vibrating shard of cheap plastic – a burner phone, half-buried in the grimy couch cushions. The noise chokes off, leaving behind a sudden, deafening void. From the shadows behind a makeshift counter, a woman with eyes like surveillance cameras steps forward, her voice a low rasp that still manages to cut through the ringing in my ears. "Ringing phones draw attention out here, traveler. Not the kind you want." She nods towards the Underpass entrance, where a faint, dragging rhythm begins to pulse. "You going to keep making noise, or prove you understand Corvis Bay?"
My weight shifts, a careful dance on this crumbling edge. The hum isn't just in the stone now; it's a deep thrumming in my bones, rattling my teeth with every step. My palm presses against the cold, rough wall, feeling the tremor deepen, pulling me further into this metallic-scented gloom. Below, the water roars its warning, but that insistent vibration, almost a whisper, beckons me forward, promising something vast and unseen just beyond the widening passage.
Precinct 9
ruinsA brick police precinct with a fenced motor yard, holding cells repurposed as quarantine rooms, and an armory that is the single most coveted room in Corvis Bay. The captain died on Night 1; Sergeant Dana Kowalski commands by seniority and nerve. Radio discipline is absolute—transmissions are two words or none, because the quiet ones come to signal. The precinct feeds forty-one civilians it has taken in and requisitions supplies from everyone else to do it.
St. Maren's Hospital
ruinsA six-story public hospital on the north rise of Corvis Bay, running on two diesel generators and the refusal of its remaining staff to leave. Forty non-ambulatory patients occupy the second and third floors. The ER doors are chained from the inside and opened by hand signal only. The stairwells are checkpointed with wheeled cabinets. Every phone in the building has been powered off and collected in a lead-lined X-ray drawer — Dr. Okafor's first order on Night 1.
The Underpass Market
marketThe dry cavern under the Route 40 overpass, converted overnight into the last free market in Corvis Bay. Strings of LED bulbs run off truck batteries. Stalls are car hoods and ironing boards: ammunition by the round, insulin by the vial, rumors free with purchase. Nyx runs it — nobody voted, nobody argues. The rules are posted on cardboard: NO RINGTONES. NO GUNS DRAWN. NO CREDIT.
Abandoned Auto Shop
townA garage with its metal door partially open, revealing a dark interior and scattered tools. A trail of fresh oil ends here, suggesting someone was recently working or a vehicle stopped here.
Aris 'The Shadow' Volkov
Sylvia Thorne's operative
Aurélie Fontaine
Scientist and leader of a small, desperate survivor group —
Bioconstruct
Hostile Creature
Captain Elena Rostova
Militia Leader guarding the Bridge Checkpoint
Captain Eva Rostova
Leader of Precinct 9's remaining forces
Chitinous Maw
Emerging Bioconstruct