RADIO SILENCE

A hardcore survival horror modpack where rare, lethal enemies hunt you by sound.

The world didn't end in fire. It ended in silence.

A contagion claimed ninety percent of the population, twisting the remnants into something unrecognizable. You were humanity's final gambit—a courier tasked with delivering a synthesized cure to a remote, fortified research facility.

You never made it.

Your helicopter tore through the canopy of a forgotten quarantine zone, crashing deep in a wilderness long abandoned by the living. Now, you are stranded in a rotting landscape swallowed by a perpetual, suffocating fog. The air is heavy with the rot of a dead world, and your eyes will play tricks on you, picking out shapes standing just out of focus in the mist. The things that walk among the pines are scarce, but they are relentless. You will wander for hours in total isolation, spending every waking moment listening.

Because they, too, are listening.

The Hunt

Fear born of emptiness. The conventional terrors of the night have been surgically excised. You will not be ambushed from the shadows, nor swarmed by an endless horde. Only a scarce few horrors stalk this realm—capped at a mere forty across the entire earth. But they possess unnatural fortitude, and they are faster than you. You are not a hero clearing a dungeon. You are the prey.

The Treachery of Sound

Acoustics are the architect of your dread. Every crunch of the terrain, distant thunderclap, and hollow cave drip has been rebuilt to echo with terrifying realism. But the world hears you back. Sprinting, whispering to your comrades, or chambering a round physically travels through the suffocating silence. You may arm yourself with painstakingly crafted firearms, but a gunshot is a dinner bell rung across the wasteland. Every pull of the trigger is a choice weighed against the echo it leaves behind.

The Fragility of Flesh

Mortality is unforgiving. The illusion of a monolithic health bar is shattered; a fractured skull is a vastly different tragedy than a mangled leg. The elements are relentless adversaries—the bitter freeze of winter will stop your heart, while the suffocating drought of summer will bleed you dry. Water must be agonizingly purified, sustenance is a grim labor of butchery, and should you fall, your corpse and everything it carries will rot exactly where you drew your final breath.

The Fellowship of the Damned

A breathtaking, dying world—designed for shared suffering. Open your solitary purgatory to companions seamlessly. Proximity whispers and fragile radio static are your only tethers when the dark inevitably separates you. You must speak to survive, yet speaking draws the hunters. This exquisite tension unfolds across a desolate, dynamically forged landscape. Cloaked in custom, desaturated shaders engineered specifically to run flawlessly on humble machines, the wasteland is as beautiful as it is fatal.