Earth has antibodies, you are one of them.
Aliens have landed on Earth. Their bodies are not adapted to our world. One small predator carries something they cannot survive, a virus.
Echo Pandemic is a stealth game played from inside the senses of a bat. You see the world through sound a sketchbook drawing that fills in around you as your chirps reach it and falls away to outlines when they don't. Color exists only when you scan for infection. Every visual is information.
Each night, you slip into an occupied town. You find a host. You bite. Then you vanish before the screaming starts because once a civilian sees you, the patrols come out.
A stealth game where your weapon is a disease
One bite seeds an outbreak. What happens next is up to you.
Engineer strains. Trade lethality for spread. Delay symptoms so a carrier walk through a gathering before the cough starts. Mutate to outpace alien vaccines.
Spread happens without you. While you rest, the disease moves through the town on its own — through gatherings, contact, contamination. You wake up to a different world.
Strains coexist. Old infections keep their old strain. The town becomes an ecology of diseases you authored, each with its own behavior.
Hunt by echolocation
Three vision systems, one bat. Long-range rod vision for navigating in the dark. Chirps that fill in the world around you in tonal pencil shading. Scan pulses that paint infection status in the only color the game allows itself to use.
Sound is a tradeoff. Chirps are how you see — and how the military hears you. Going silent makes you safer and blinder at the same time.
Hide flush. Tuck into vents, perch in the rafters, vanish into a roof gap. If they can't see you and you're not chirping, you don't exist.
A town that responds to you
Civilians scream. Screams bring patrols. Patrols bring radios. Radios bring the rest of the base.
Revisit a town you cleared early and find it transformed with quarantine tape, medical tents, fewer civilians and more soldiers.
Alien command develops vaccines against the strains you've used. Stop mutating and the outbreak dies. Mutate too fast and you burn through XP.
A handmade visual language
Every frame is rendered as ink and pencil on paper. The black-and-white sketchbook isn't a filter — it's the bat's perception, driven by the same shader math that powers the stealth system. When you see color, it means something. When the world fills in around you, that's a sound wave landing.
