THE MACHINES

Catch them. They catch you.

A haunted creature-hunting RPG. Choose a starter, cross five vast regions of a code-drawn world, battle and bind wild Dreadmon, topple the five masters and reach THE GATE. Progress saves itself.

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Thirty stops. One fare.

Board the night line — thirty haunted landmarks on a detailed 2D map, a different ride between each, and a timed trial at every stop. Punch your fare at the boarding pass: four difficulties, seven line modes, seven optional curses, daily seeds. Clear all thirty to reach THE GATE.

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They hunt your light.

A spark of light lost in a pitch-black maze. Collect 6 sigils to open the exit while three kinds of entities track your glow through the dark. Neon-vector maze-chase horror.

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The city glitches at 3AM.

An endless run through a corrupting city skyline. Jump the static pits, dodge whatever leans out of the windows. The faster you go, the louder it gets.

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Six channels. One way out.

Channel-surf a cursed television. Each of the 6 channels is a 15-second micro-game. Survive every broadcast to escape the room. Fail one and the static takes you.

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It learns what you type.

Parser horror on a haunted terminal. Survive an entity that adapts to your commands — hide too often and it starts searching, run too often and it cuts you off. Reach the transmitter.

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Keep the rhythm. Keep it down.

Rhythm horror. Strike notes on the beat to keep something buried under the floor. Every miss loosens the dirt. If the burial meter empties, it comes up.

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Sing to see. Be heard to die.

A flooded, lightless cave. Hold to sing a sonar ping that briefly lights the walls, the bell-chimes, the exit — and tells the Deep Thing exactly where you were when you sang. Collect five chimes, find the grate, and never sing from the same place twice.

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It bottoms out somewhere. Not tonight.

An endless rope descent into a brick shaft. Alternate hands to climb, hold to slide on a draining grip, kick off the wall to dodge the pale hands, and keep the lantern fed with oil flasks. Depth is the score. The hands only reach when you're near the light.

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Cup the flame. Feed the dark.

A single candle against a room of reaching wisps. The flame's warmth circle unravels whatever it touches — but the flame is always shrinking. Cup it (hold) to shelter it from the gusts at the cost of reach; release to let it blaze bright and deadly and vulnerable. Snatch passing embers to refill the wax before it gutters out.

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54 stops. One conductor.

A microgame gauntlet through a haunted dark-ride. Every stop is a five-second trial with a single shouted command — clear all 54 across five accelerating zones, then face THE CONDUCTOR in a three-phase finale.

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Three wars. One plague.

A haunted grand-strategy tetralogy in one cabinet. Command Rome's last legion, Antarctica's last coalition, the Terran Remnant, or the Red Frontier across a living campaign map — recruit, build, march, and fight real-time battles. But every soldier who falls on either side rises again for the horde.

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The bones remember being warm.

A graveworm tunneling through a mass burial. Chew through bone shards, collect calcium deposits, and avoid the buried hands that reach up from below. The deeper you dig, the more the soil remembers.

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The board answers back.

A spirit board session where the planchette drifts on its own. Guide it to spell answers to the questions the board asks. Wrong answers make the spirit restless. If it reaches GOODBYE, the session ends.

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Rock it gently. Do not stop.

Something sleeps in the cradle. Rock it in rhythm to keep it asleep. The sway meter shows the cradle's momentum — keep it in the green zone. Disturbances break your rhythm. Survive the night.

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Four cameras. One flashlight. Six hours.

You are the overnight security guard at a facility that should not exist. Monitor four camera feeds. Things move in the corridors. When a thing reaches the door, switch to that camera and shine the light. Power drains with each use. Survive the night.

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The body is not done.

You are the night coroner. The body on the table keeps moving. Perform the autopsy procedure — incisions, organ removal, documentation — while the body twitches, grabs, and reacts. Keep your steadiness. Complete the procedure.

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Dig deep. Day is safety. The dark has teeth.

A hand-built world of grass, stone and buried light. Mine with mouse or keys, place what you dig, drop torches into the dark, and follow the ore veins down. Day is safe. Night walks. At the very bottom, something beats — break its heart.

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