Follow Ezra’s plan, breach the reinforced lab door, and fight your way to the generator core before reinforcements arrive.

Rely on Cameron to override security and sneak through backup tunnels, minimizing noise—but risking deadly delays.

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Argus Institute – Detritus Wing

First Light in the Ruins

Seize the research data and prepare for the final push—no going back.

Argus Institute – Generator Core

Broken Power, Broken Promises

Barricade yourself in the archives, record your warnings, and make a final stand.

Argus Institute – North Security Corridor

Silent Corridors, Spectral Warnings

Argus Institute – Surface Exit and Ruined City

Ashes of the Cure

Argus Institute – Archive Chamber

The Institute's Shadow

Join Ezra and make a hard push to the generator bay, ready to meet the creatures head-on.

Slip away with Cameron, using stealth to reach maintenance and restore power without a fight.

Detritus Wing – Sublevel Entry

Seize the research data and make for the final exit.

Generator Bay – Core Maintenance

Take shelter in the archives and brace for a last stand.

Maintenance Back Corridors

Collapsed Escape Access – Ruined City Fringe

Archive Records Vault

The Institute’s Shadow

Lysander Cruz

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Ezra Holt

Janice Mori

Cameron Osei

Cyrus

You are Lysander Cruz: a former technician left behind by the collapse, survivor by necessity, scientist by instinct. You remember the forms and inventories, the click of fluorescent lights, the hush right before something awful. Your hands still tremble—not from fear, but memory. The world is dark and wrong, thick with ozone and copper. Each corridor is a haunted artery, and you, the reluctant pulse. Everything useful you carry, you built yourself: acid flasks from ruined glass, a blowtorch from canisters scavenged in the dark. You move by reflex now, always listening, always questioning what you’ve become when science goes past sense.

Ezra Holt survived the first breach by luck and force of will. He is older than the others, shoulders thickened by manual labor and loss. You hear his voice before you spot him, rough-edged and low, perpetually weighed down by suspicion. When you need to clear a lab door or hold a barricade, Ezra is the kind to risk it—gritting teeth, knuckles white. He trusts only what he can see and break. Loyalty is rare currency now, and Ezra spends it coolly.

Janice Mori’s image wavers across broken terminals and encrypted transmissions—a ghost in the machine. Once a biocontrol specialist, she bears the burden of warning anyone still listening, a scientist’s clarity edged with regret. Her voice is precise, soft but insistent, laced with an urgency born from knowing she helped build the walls that now close in. Janice is a map of every moral crossroads the Institute crossed. She keeps to shadows, working to undo her own mistakes, always a step ahead—or so you hope.

Every survivor carries their own ghost story, but Cameron Osei’s is written in panic and hope. The youngest in your orbit, Cameron clings to humor—a frayed thread against the dark. Their induction to terror was immediate: you hear it in every shaky question, every burst of startled laughter. Cameron’s fear doesn’t paralyze; it galvanizes. Quick fingers and quicker thinking make up for a lack of muscle, and in the tightest moments, you find yourself hoping they’ll make it one more hour.

Cyrus is not just a name—it’s a warning echoing across the Institute’s ruined intercom. Patient zero, the harbinger, the shadow beneath the flickering lights. Transformed both mind and flesh by viral mutation, Cyrus has become a sentient tyrant within the hive. You sense him before you see him: a presence in the ventilation, a whisper in the silence, the promise of intelligence—feral, methodical. To face Cyrus is to face the sum total of the Institute’s sins, embodied and magnified.

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Improvised Technician’s Survival Gear

Fortified Survivor’s Attire

Spectral Scientist Ensemble

Urban Scavenger’s Tech Gear

Monstrous Viral Tyrant Form

Lysander wears a faded, ash-gray lab coat with torn sleeves and heavy scorch marks along one edge, layered over a soot-stained, fitted black thermal shirt that clings from stress and nightly sweat. The coat’s lower hem is frayed and flecked with old and new blood, its breast pocket overstuffed with crumpled notes and makeshift tools. His pants are utilitarian, dark olive canvas cargo trousers with reinforced knees and multiple stitched-on repair patches, cinched at the waist by a brown, battered utility belt bristling with canisters, a battered wrench, glass acid flasks, a tranquilizer gun in a snap holster, and a makeshift cryo grenade. On his hands, fingerless black gloves, faded by chemicals and scorched on the palms, allow for nimbleness when handling improvised weapons. Steely gray steel-toed work boots, hardened by use and spattered with more remnants of trauma, rise just above the ankle and show evidence of hasty repairs. Around his neck, Lysander wears cracked and bloodied safety goggles, usually propped on his forehead, their edges clouded from chemical exposure. Tucked inside his shirt collar is a thin silver pendant—a relic of earlier days—barely visible. The entire ensemble is streaked with smears of grease and dried blood, his arms and jaw visible beneath the coat etched with fresh and faded burns, marking both his battles and his resourcefulness.

Ezra wears a rugged, heavy-duty dark navy work jacket with a corded collar, battered by abrasion and stained with blotches of rust and oil. Underneath, he sports a faded olive-green flannel shirt, buttoned up but tattered along the sleeves and elbows, and a thick black canvas undershirt for added protection and warmth. His pants are tough, brown cargo jeans faded from sun and grime, the pockets heavily loaded with salvage: steel spikes, makeshift barricade tools, and a battered multi-tool. Thick leather wrist braces—one patched over with vinyl tape—encase his forearms, covering knuckles scarred by constant combat. Stout black hiking boots, muddied and scored, hug his calves tightly, laced up with red paracord that he keeps as emergency supply. Tied around his waist is a utility belt fitted with a hammer, clusters of bent nails, and a flashlight duct-taped at one end. A faded red bandana is wrapped loosely around his neck, serving both as a sweat rag and impromptu dust filter. Ezra’s only other accessory is a battered silver ring on his left thumb, an incongruous keepsake from the world before. Every element of his attire radiates pragmatism, strength, and the scars of surviving one breach too many.

Janice wears a slim, charcoal-black synthetic science coat with a high mandarin collar, the material matte and slightly reflective, cropped just above her knees for ease of movement. The coat’s asymmetric front is secured with a run of silver magnetic clasps, one shoulder panel torn and hastily stitched with white surgical thread. Underneath, a steel-gray, moisture-wicking turtleneck fits snugly, sleeves pushed up to expose long, slender wrists and a slim black digital watch face perpetually dimmed. Her trousers are tightly fitted slate blue, crafted from lightweight ballistic fiber, with several zippered pouches for samples and vials that clink softly when she moves. Plain black slip-on sneakers with silent rubber soles mingle comfort with stealth, their white linings peeking at the ankle. Janice wears thin, nearly invisible safety glasses—barely catching the light—perched on her face, and clipped to her belt is a pocket-sized data pad with cracked holo-display, patched up with a strip of lab tape and a QR-etched personal patch. Around her neck, a faded ID badge dangles on a gray breakaway lanyard, the image slightly blurred and gnawed with age. Fine, fingerless gloves in graphite Lycra preserve her touch for delicate biochemical work. The entire look is deliberate, spare, and quietly marked by the weight of regret and precision.

Cameron sports a cropped, weather-resistant indigo hoodie with an oversized cowl neck, the fabric dotted with old burn holes and neon green paneling on the elbows for visibility and a touch of optimism. Underneath, a loose white mesh tech shirt with iridescent filaments glimmers faintly in low light, partially tucked into high-waisted charcoal utility joggers with neon blue stripes down the sides, pockets weighed by multitools and rolls of wire. Their shoes are battered, low-profile black sneakers, tongues mismatched—one with a digital key-patch, the other flashing a small built-in LED. A slim, crossbody canvas satchel painted with hand-drawn emoji badges hangs at Cameron’s side, overflowing with thumb drives, homemade hacking gear, and a packet of neon yellow glowsticks for signaling. Their wrists are ringed by mismatched woven fiber bracelets interspersed with printed QR code beads, and they wear a smartphone repurposed as a wrist computer, screen spiderwebbed but functional. Over one ear sits a chunky, patched-up comms earpiece with rainbow tape securing a snapped headband. Their face bears the stark line of a healing cheek scar, usually accentuated by a streak of silver face paint during low morale days, and a single silver stud glints in one ear. Rounding out the look, their tightly coiled hair sports electric blue clips and a couple of neon cord ties, providing both function and a hint of personality amidst the horror.

Cyrus wears the remnants of a once-human identity, now consumed and warped by his transformation. His clothing is in shreds—barely recognizable as a charcoal-gray lab uniform, the Institute's insignia slashed across his sunken chest and the fabric fused to gray, veined flesh in places by chemical burns. Tattered sleeves hang from his massive, asymmetrical arms, one cuff dangling with a broken, blood-stained lanyard and twisted keycard. Fragments of what may have been a protective apron or hazard suit cling to his torso, melted into his warped form and oozing a faint greenish chemical residue. Across his waist, fused belts with broken vials and shattered ampoules are half-buried in mutated tissue, glinting dully among vivid blue and purple bruises. Around his neck, a torn respirator mask dangles askew, its filters gummed with dried blood and viscous corruption. His legs are bare where the pants have split under unnatural growth, laced with black veins and jagged scar patterns leading to claws that shred the remains of heavy boots. Across his warped frame, surgical staples and steel fragments—embedded by failed containment efforts—catch the light, framing the overall horrific and towering presence that commands the infected. Cyrus’s entire appearance is a grotesque tableau of ruined science melded to unstoppable predation.

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Go with Ezra: Take the direct route through the generator bay, using force to clear obstacles and confront threats head-on.

Follow Cameron: Use stealth and technical skill, slipping through side labs and evading confrontation.

Trust shifts slightly upward (+1): Ezra recognizes Lysander, but remains on edge. Compatibility is tested by stress.

Trust with Cameron surges (+1): Lysander sees Cameron’s anxiety, but also their ingenuity.

Force the generator bay with Ezra—prepare for resistance.

Sneak with Cameron through the side archives—avoid confrontation.

With each tense moment, trust deepens—but so do your disagreements on method. Conflict sours the edge of camaraderie (+1 trust, +1 competitiveness).

Janice’s regret weighs on both of you; a sense of shared burden tempers your choices (+1 trust, +1 guilt).

Cameron's reliance on you fosters protectiveness. Their nerves are visible, but their faith in you is clear (+1 trust, +1 likability).

Take the maintenance shaft with Cameron, risking malfunctions but reducing exposure to enemies.

Push through the main corridor with Ezra, clearing obstacles and risking enemy encounter.

Ezra’s bluntness grinds on Lysander, but he still backs up—trust built amid the panic. (+1 trust, -1 likability)

Cameron’s jitters draw Lysander’s protective side. He steadies his voice for them. (+1 likability, +1 trust)

Lysander’s jaw locks, fear laced with hatred. This is the Institute’s curse given voice. (No trust)

Trust deepens between Lysander and Ezra as Ezra’s blunt sacrifice leaves a desperate sense of gratitude—and the permanent mark of survivor’s guilt.

Lysander’s protectiveness over Cameron sharpens—guilt, purpose, and a numbed sense of hope.

Go with Ezra through the generator bay—direct, forceful route.

Trust Cameron—take stealth tunnel Beta through side labs.

Tension deepens—Ezra respects decisiveness. Trust rises if you choose his path; strained if delayed.

Protectiveness and inspiration trade places depending on your confidence in Cameron’s plan. Confidence boosts Cameron’s trust; doubt increases their anxiety.

Every directive carries Janice’s regret. Your obedience or defiance will shape how much she trusts your judgment.

Follow Ezra—force the main doors and cut directly to the generator wing.

Follow Cameron—sneak through records storage and bypass the alarms.

Ezra’s confidence in Lysander wavers with each delay, but respect grows if decisive action is taken. Shared danger deepens a grudging bond—brief nods rather than comfort.

Cameron’s trust in Lysander is fragile, looking for reassurance each time plan changes. Supportively following Lysander’s signal bolsters Cameron’s confidence and group morale.

Janice’s regret sharpens as she sees Lysander hesitate at another moral crossroad. Her trust hinges on your willingness to choose the lesser evil.

Back Ezra’s direct assault: torch the main archive door, barricade entry, and fight through. Risks immediate monster engagement and data loss, but earns Ezra’s full respect and potentially speeds escape.

Support Cameron’s digital bypass: stealthily reroute power and break in via security panel, risking time and a possible system failure, yet preserving more research data.

If Lysander chooses Ezra’s direct assault, Ezra’s Respect +2, Ezra’s Trust +1, Cameron’s Morale -1, Janice’s Trust -1.

If Lysander backs Cameron’s stealth bypass, Cameron’s Trust +2, Cameron’s Morale +2, Ezra’s Respect -2, Janice’s Trust +1.

Ezra’s trust in Lysander spikes—this is the moment loyalty becomes sacrifice, a hard peace won by mutual respect. Competitive tension dissolves. (+2 trust, -2 competitiveness, +2 compatibility)

Janice’s mentorship becomes legacy—the cost of wisdom finally borne. Sense of mutual guilt transforms into gratitude and loss. (+2 compatibility, -3 trust: finality overrides ongoing reliance)

Cameron’s trust in Lysander intensifies—a bond forged under fire, weighted now with survivor’s guilt and shared resolve. (+2 trust, +1 compatibility)

Ezra’s final stand deepens Lysander’s sense of survivor’s guilt, but trust between them solidifies in sacrifice. [+1 Trust, +2 Guilt]

Janice’s self-sacrifice leaves Lysander burdened with her legacy and the crushing moral debt; trust and regret shape future choices. [+2 Guilt, +1 Trust]

Facing disaster together, Lysander and Cameron’s bond strengthens in trauma and trust. [+2 Trust]

Outbreak: Patient Zero

Through the cracked laboratory glass, Lysander Cruz catches a dim, flickering reflection—pale skin, sleek goggles, trembling hands clutching a scavenged blowtorch. Fear churns in the gut, sharpened by every staccato echo and biting hint of ozone. In the stifling dark, Lysander stalks halls daubed in old blood, deciphering cryptic lab logs and fashioning weapons out of scientific detritus. When power jolts back to life, the shadows deepen. Something is moving, scratching, waiting. Only ruthless adaptation—improvising tools and studying the enemy's patterns—offers hope in an overrun world where science has outpaced sanity.

Outbreak: Patient Zero

Outbreak: Patient Zero

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