SpliceBorn

Silence is survival. Humanity’s last attempt to cheat old age ended in catastrophe. An experiment with stem cells and a so‑called “youth vaccine” gave birth to a hive organism that consumed cities and people. Those who merged with it aren’t your typical zombies. They’re part of a network: grotesque, cunning, and hypersensitive to sound.

You are a Supplier — a scavenger who ventures beyond the walls in small teams of 1–4, searching for medicine, food, tools, and rare contract items. Every expedition is a gamble: shattered glass, collapsing shelves, chains whispering in the dark. Every sound could summon the swarm, and one wrong move draws the hive’s attention.

Stealth comes first; improvisation comes second. Guns exist, but they’re loud and dangerous to use. Each shot is a risk: is the noise worth it, and can you escape with the loot before they close in?

Move, distract, lure, plan, and adapt. Survive long enough to extract, and you’ll carry home valuable gear, medicine, and resources. Fail, and you lose everything you carried.

The Hive Listens. It Watches. It Learns. Different enemies share one mind: Listeners react to the faintest sounds; Watchers sense light and movement; Swarm-born connect them all, spreading the alert through a living network. Make too much noise, and they’ll surround you from every direction. They evolve their tactics and never stop.

Objects make noise. A dropped bottle or a bumped shelf can expose your position. They hunt by sound, not sight alone; even the quietest movement can draw them in.

Co-op is everything. Each mission demands teamwork: one sets traps, another hauls supplies, a third covers the retreat. Silence, patience, and smart decisions keep you alive. The survivors aren’t the strongest — they’re the quietest.

Beyond the walls, the world is a ruin shaped by the Hive. Cities lie in husks, neon flickers, rain slicks along rusted rails, and corridors echo with distant, whispering chains. Exploration threads you through claustrophobic halls, dim clinics, and collapsed stairwells where light is scarce and sound is currency. The slightest touch— a clinked bottle, a whispered step—can betray your position. Move with care, listen for distant scuttles, and map routes by feel and memory. Shadows can hide you, but they conceal loot too; calm, quiet rooms store medicine and supplies if you ride the hive’s rhythm rather than fight it.

Each successful extraction fills your pack with gear, medicine, and resources. Rare contract items appear as coveted rewards, nudging you toward riskier routes. With every run you improve your kit and unlock new tools, traps, and movement options, letting you adapt to shifting hive tactics. The more you survive, the sharper your team’s coordination becomes.

Co-op remains the core: one sets traps, one hauls supplies, one covers the retreat, and roles can rotate between runs. Silence is the team’s compass; patience and precise timing beat brute force. The hive’s omnipresent vigilance forces you to plan every step, to communicate without words, and to trust your partner’s instincts.