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You need parts. Your ship is dying. You have to go in. You are not safe. The derelict is dark, silent, and whatever got it might still be inside. First-person survival horror in the haunted ruins of a dead solar system.
No offers tracked in PLN yet.
Scavenge derelict ships, keep your systems running, and survive the haunted ruins of a collapsed solar civilization. First-person survival horror with immersive sim depth and roguelite replayability.
Manage a fully physical ship — electrical systems, life support, air quality, engines, fuses, airlocks, pressure doors and more. If something breaks, you find it, you fix it, or you die.
The port engine is still running somehow. You had to replace the fuse with a strip of metal. There is an odd smell on the air. Life support might go next. You tell yourself you'll sleep when you reach the next waypoint. You won't.
Dock with wrecked ships, abandoned stations and dangerous strangers to scavenge the parts and resources keeping you alive. Every hull you breach is unpredictable — structurally, environmentally, and in what's waiting inside.
The distress signal was three weeks old. The airlock cycled fine. There was still power, which should have been the first warning. Someone had failed to barricade the airlock from the inside. You weren't the first through here.
Weapons are a luxury you don't have. Use tools, jury-rig traps, turn the ship's own systems against what's hunting you. The airlock, the ventilation, the smoke, the dark — everything is a weapon if you're desperate enough.
That sound again. You check the camera to make sure, slam the button, and pray the jury rig holds. The airlock cycles. The alarms fade one by one. Then, from somewhere deeper in the ship, the sound again.
The colonies have theories. The factions have agendas. Survivors, zealots and raiders — everyone agrees the deluge wasn't natural, nobody agrees on anything else. The truth is scattered across dead ships and the last words of people who got too close to it. Every derelict has a story. Not all of them are safe to know.
The trader spoke freely after the third drink of what smelled suspiciously like Dyesol. The official story was a lie, she said — everyone knew it. She had a theory of her own. They all do out here. You didn't tell her yours.
High-fidelity visuals and sound design that put you inside a world of chunky CRT displays, flickering fluorescents, analog dials, and the constant groan of metal under pressure. Every ship has a history you can feel in its walls.
A Luna tug, old enough to predate the deluge. Someone welded military-grade plating on it, retrofit plasma shields onto a frame never designed for deep space. No crew quarters — it was never meant to come this far. But to your surprise, it's airtight.
Roguelite structure means no voyage through the dying solar system is the same. Different ships, different derelicts, different horrors — and different truths about what really happened when the sun died.
This doesn't seem right, you thought. You looked down the silent corridor, expecting company. Glancing at an unfamiliar terminal, your hands knew what to do before your mind did. The dread wouldn't leave — even here, even now. How do you know all this? You've never been on a Jovian freighter before. You're almost certain of it. Small things. Probably nothing.
Some say the space near Earth is haunted. Nobody brave enough to check has ever come back to say otherwise.
