Control movement using the WASD keys.
The morning light spills through your window, but something’s wrong. The air reeks of rot and burnt sugar. Your room’s walls sag like wet paper, bleeding black mold. Outside, the city skyline is a jagged silhouette of crumbling towers, their surfaces crawling with veins of glowing moss. Streets writhe with figures—some translucent, flickering like bad film reels, others shambling on broken limbs, flesh sloughing off bone. A ghost phases through your door, hollow eyes locking onto yours. Across the street, a zombie’s jaw unhinges with a wet crack, unleashing a guttural moan that ignites a chorus of answering wails. Your heartbeat drowns out all logic. Fight? With what? The kitchen knife gleams pitifully on the counter. That thing outside just tore a lamppost in half. Survival isn’t heroics—it’s motion. You’re already sprinting, sneakers slapping cracked pavement, dodging clawed hands and ectoplasmic tendrils. Alleyways blur. Every shadow breathes. The rules have shattered. Adapt or join the chorus. You choose breath. You choose miles. You choose living to see another cursed sunrise.
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