horse(s): unknown (CAS:U)

[adjobj]

OF NOTE, BEFORE WE BEGIN: this is a horror survival game. as such, the tone of this LP will contain graphic and unflinching horror in turn throughout its entirety. it may become graphic in narrative text. if that is not something you are game for, thats fine... please take care of yourselves !!

i have done 12 runs before this LP began, so keep that in mind with the final count at the end of fresh runs for this.

now, where were we...

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SUBJECT REGISTRY // RUN #001
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ID: Subject #25412
CURRENT DEPLOYMENT DEPTH: Layer 01
FURTHEST DEPLOYMENT DEPTH?: Layer 02

[PHYSICAL NOTES] 
Subject presents at standard height with dark charcoal pigmentation. Examination reveals extensive localized alopecia across the torso and limbs, exposing pale yellowish epidermal patches alongside crude surgical scarring. Head trauma is sustained; makeshift bandaging covers the right auditory pavilion and temporal area, with persistent yellow serous exudate draining down the right orbital region.

[BEHAVIORAL PROFILE]
- SPEECH: Minimal / Blunt. Suppressed vocalizations; speaks only in extreme pain.
- TEMPERAMENT: Fatalistic. Complete resignation to terminal outcome. Seems resolute to "do what is necessary, and only that much".
- MOTOR QUIRKS: Persistent nervous pacing; unable to remain stationary.
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a digital drawing of a dark charcoal expie, standing hunched on a transparent background. its body features patchy pale skin, stitched scars, bandages wrapped around its right ear and forehead, and a yellow blood leaking from behind the head wrapping down its face.

down. down. down.

—

inside a pitch-black cave, the experiment stands in a brightly lit metallic pod next to a terminal screen. dialogue floating above them says, "Let's move. Quickly."

the pod opens to the void. a long, unyielding stretch of dark. damp clay, jagged stone, and the pale, sickly pulse of glowfruit. foliage is of fairly decent abundance - good for bags and bandaging. it feels somewhat foolish, making things to prolong my time down here. there is no point complaining about the gloom; i know why they sent me down, after all, and hold no illusions about otherwise.

a mere few steps. gravity demands its toll eventually.


the experiment opens the uni-health menu after a fall, crying out "Ow!". the central paper-doll diagram shows dark red bruising across various limbs and torso, while the right foot is highlighted in bright red with health bars dropped to 58 and 81.

a misstep. an ache blooming in the bone. nothing shattered - no, not yet - just another localized reminder of how fragile the vessel is. the right foot takes the worst of it, throbbing a dull warning against the stones. painful, but not as bad as it could be. small mercies... i'll have to be mindful. infection sets quickly, if not paying attention.

dragging the limp a bit further into the dark, something waits in the beam of the flashlight...



the experiment stands in a pitch-black cave illuminated only by their small flashlight beam, staring directly at a mini-barrel on the ground.
the contents list 2664 out of 10000 mL filled with an ungodly mix: cereal mix, opium, ice cream, antiseptic, clean water, and lemonade.

...What the hell is that.

an industrial container sloshing with a toxic sacrament of opium, antiseptics, and melted ice cream. a mockery of sustenance left behind by who-fucking-knows. the researchers, making some sick joke? its impossible to tell.

either way, i am not fucking drinking that shit.

onwards.

its important to be cautious when youre going down a deep cave like this. the descent grows steeper, tighter, less forgiving. drop down the wrong shaft, step on a concealed pressure plate, and youre pinballing off the rock face. or worse...



the experiment looks down towards a spike trap built into the lower terrain. further up the path to the right, another spike trap structure blocks the way.

...a double threat. whoever built this place wanted to make sure whatever dropped down here didnt make it back up. i dont really want to imagine whatd happen if i slipped...

with the traps mapped out, the search for anything remotely useful continues. more foliage, some wrap-vines, but then: a metallic shape looms in the dark. an abandoned pod, sealed tight against the cave. a quick forced entry, being mindful of broken glass, yields a rare bit of fortune.



the experiment lounges, relaxed, inside an open pod structure next to a computer console. the top-left UI indicates they have acquired Medical gauze (100%).

medical gauze. clean, dry, and untouched by the damp rot of the cavern. a miracle of medicine, after ive been using whatever ripped stuff i can find. a brief pause is taken inside the pods quiet interior. for once, there is a fleeting moment to breathe and remember what it feels like to sit still. im startled by a sound behind me, but it was just my tail wagging, thudding against the rubber padding of the floor.

...

back out into the pitch-black, i cant help but notice...



in a dark cavern, the experiment inspects a item inside a metallic ruin using their flashlight. an inspecting tooltip displays "Wet internal organs (77%)", describing it as a solid compressed ball of organs with an orange eyeball sticking out that looks like it came from a creature sized closely to themself.

...a wet, compressed mass of tissue. a creatures insides, stripped out and left to congeal, with a single unblinking orange eye staring back through the sludge. about the same size as me. theyve become slimy, left to soak in the water... by what, or by who, i dont know.

ive... ive spent this entire drop telling myself it doesnt matter. that im already dead, that this is just a formal procedure before the end. but looking at that eye... staring at what is basically a mirror image of my own carcass left to rot on a cold floor...

a strange, uncomfortable knot tightens in my chest.

...i dont want to die like this. not like this.

...

i back away from the pile of organs, the flashlight beam shaking just a fraction as i turn back into the dark. i need to keep moving. sitting still only lets the dread sink deeper. but rushing down an unmapped shaft with a bad foot is a recipe for disaster, and of course:

i fuck up.



in a pitch-black section of the cavern near a pod structure, the experiment stands heavily injured with seven status debuff icons active along the bottom hud, glancing up at another pod. the visual field is distorted from pain.

not unfixably, but enough that my vision swims, hot aches flare up across half my body, and my health monitor starts screaming in quiet, red warning icons. i drag myself up against the rock face, trying to catch my breath...

another pod. breaking in, i only find a note:



a handwritten note overlay appears over the dark cavern screen. the note reads: "To anyone who finds this, they can and will control you, even in this hell. With no previous alert I started to hear a loud alarm inside me, I could see a message saying 'DEPTH UNSATISFACTORY' with red flashing lights materializing in the corner of my vision. I started running, panicked, without knowing why they would do this. Only after I went into another region of this cave network it stopped. They know how much time you are spending here, they know that you'll be frightened, and they want you to die. This is all a mass genocide."

reading those words written in erratic, frantic handwriting makes the air in my chest feel toxic.

all this time, i thought this was just a cold, methodical trial. an automated disposal protocol where my death was just an unfortunate, calculated statistic. i accepted it. i made peace with being disposable. but this? forcing us forward with panic when we slow down? they're playing with us, poking us through the bars of a cage to see how fast we run before we break. it stopped being observation a long time ago, long before i ever existed to begin with.

that once-quiet resignation inside me hardens into something ugly. hot, sharp, and bitter. they want a show? they want to watch me crawl?

fuck off.

but it would turn out, anger is a great motivator right up until your body snaps under you. blinded by spite, i push too fast down a dark incline. a loose slab gives way, and gravity takes everything back with a garish dance. its a long way down: a brutal, bone-jarring plummet down into the dark of layer two.



the screen is distorted by a heavy dark static overlay indicating low mood, with ten debuff status icons stacked along the bottom hud.



the experiment opens the uni-health menu displaying severe trauma. text floating above reads "I need a moment to sit", while the paper-doll diagram shows dark red-to-black discoloration across the arms, a bright red left foot highlighted with a purple infection indicator icon, and eleven debuff status icons lined up along the bottom HUD.


the deep cuts from the falls before now soaked in the dirt, and a sickening, feverish heat is radiating up my leg. the infection that had been quietly festering in my foot is spiking violently, a purple blight throbbing against the tissue. it aches so goddamn badly. for the first time, i dont know what to do at all.




the experiment stands under distorted darkness with dialogue floating above them reading, "I'm genuinely starting to consider ending my life."

the rage vanishes, drained out of me, replaced by a hollow, suffocating despair. the fever is burning through my veins while my own bones grind against each other. i dont want to give those bastards the satisfaction of a slow, pathetic decay. i just want the pain to stop.

blinded by the heat in my head, i keep dragging myself through the gloom. im not even watching the path anymore. mindless, aching, i am just pulling my broken weight along the rock. my ears pin against my skull. then the floor beneath my paws is gone.

no time to brace. no time to catch a ledge.



the experiment opens the uni-health menu with text above reading "There's something really wrong with my chest." a giant red floating text shows "-75.3" damage as the body diagram highlights severe chest trauma, active bleeding icons on multiple limbs, and a "Fix dislocation" button prompt.

are you fucking joking?

the impact knocks the last bit of air straight out of my lungs. water splashes cold and filth-heavy against my face. i try to push myself up, but my arms give out under me. i am trapped in a shallow, stagnant puddle on a rot-slicked platform. the health display flickers, but im not even looking at the foot anymore. something deeper has ruptured. a burning pressure builds behind my ribs, a suffocating, clawing heat that makes my skin feel like its turning inside out. my fingers dig into my own sternum before i can even process the motion. theres something really wrong with my chest. theres something really wrong with everything.

all the cold apathy, the dead-eyed acceptance, the quiet compliance... it all evaporates into a white-hot, blinding frenzy. i tear at my own skin, dragging my nails deep across my chest, trying to rip out whatever poison they planted in me. i am done being their quiet little subject. i am done waiting for the cave to finish me off.

i scream into the dark, my breath ragged and wet, spitting blood and venom at the unseen glass, at the monitors, at whoever is sitting in a clean room up above counting my pulses. fuck you. fuck all of this, i cant anymore. i am done. im done. im done. im done.

"i hope youre happy with what youve done. dipshit. fuck you. FUCK YOU. go to hell."

splashing thick and hot into the stagnant water beneath me, yellow blood unfurls like ribbons...



close-up of HUD mood status icons showing a glitching skull alongside a "Miserable" label. italicized text below reads, "How does it feel, knowing you're not coming back up..?"

i try to hold onto the hatred, try to keep screaming at the ceiling, but the words are slipping away. my arms wont move and my tongue feels like.. like....

oh. no pain now. just... cold static.

feel really weird.

brain breaking. thoughts getting small.
i cant... hold the word. feel cold. stop now. stop pphhh.

f. feel... s-stll... n-no... h-h--

j  s t-tryn... g.. g-go.. h... hg gg hg



the same moodle is deeply corrupted, the text becoming garbled and nonsensical.

—



end-of-run receipt summary labeled "MSN-CARGO STATUS REPORT". it lists Physical Status as DECEASED, Last Recorded Mental Status as UTTERLY MISERABLE, Depth as 349 meters at 01:04:32, Calories at 1709cal, and Casualties as UNKNOWN + 13.