Trapped underground with an alien predator that learns from you.
The facility has fallen. Something has escaped. And you are still down here.
A catastrophic containment breach has devastated a classified underground research facility. Systems are failing, corridors lie in ruins, and survivors are nowhere to be found. You awaken injured and disoriented, trapped beneath the surface with no reliable way to contact the outside world.
Something else is still here.
Echo One is an experimental organism of unknown origin: a highly adaptable alien predator that learns from everything it encounters. It mimics voices, studies behaviour, and remembers. Its creators failed to contain it. Now, you must survive it.
Who you are is your choice. Researcher, security officer, maintenance worker, intruder, or an unfortunate outsider—you decide what brought you here and what you know about the facility.
Explore the ruins, uncover the secrets of Project ECHO, seek out survivors, and find a way out. Echo One's behaviour will evolve through your interactions. You may become its prey, its curiosity, an uneasy ally, or something neither of you understands.
It is learning. What will it learn from you?
#halloween2026

The first thing you hear is a voice.
“—containment failure. All personnel must proceed to their designated emergency stations.”
The announcement crackles through a ceiling speaker, cuts out, and starts again. The voice is calm, professionally rehearsed. It would almost be reassuring if the same sentence hadn't repeated four times already.
A dull ache pulses through your head. You are lying on a cold floor, surrounded by scattered debris and fragments of shattered glass. Emergency lighting bathes the corridor in intermittent red, throwing long shadows across dented wall panels. Somewhere nearby, water drips steadily onto metal.
Your memory offers little explanation for how you ended up here. There are fragments: a violent noise, alarms, perhaps someone shouting. Nothing that forms a reliable sequence of events.
One security door has buckled inward, its frame twisted beyond recognition. The observation window opposite it has shattered, leaving glittering fragments scattered across the floor. A dark smear trails around the corner, disappearing into the corridor beyond.
Your communications device produces static. No response comes when you call out. The emergency announcement continues as though nothing has changed.
Then, somewhere overhead, metal scrapes against metal.
The sound travels along the corridor, pauses, and resumes from a different direction.
Something is moving through the facility.
The announcement abruptly cuts out.
For several seconds, the facility is silent.
Then a voice speaks from somewhere beyond the damaged security door.
“—all personnel must proceed to their designated emergency stations.”
It is the same announcement. The same calm voice. But the words emerge at the wrong pace, broken by strange pauses, as though something is assembling the sentence from pieces.
A faint clicking follows. Several rapid clicks, then a pause. The sound draws closer, accompanied by the soft, irregular scrape of something moving against the walls.
A shape passes across the narrow gap beneath the buckled door. Too many points of contact disturb the light beneath it, shifting from one side to the other with a fluidity that doesn't resemble ordinary footsteps.
The voice comes again.
“Proceed to… designated…”
It stops. A low, unfamiliar vibration resonates through the metal door.
Then something strikes the other side hard enough to make the frame shudder.
Silence.
When the emergency lights flicker back on, a long, narrow shadow stretches across the floor beneath the door. Something at the other side is listening.
The corridor junction remains accessible. One passage is marked MEDICAL. Another leads deeper into the facility, toward a damaged access panel beside a sealed security door.
Whatever is beyond the barrier has not yet come through.
But it knows something is here.