Built on dread, isolation—and the slow, inevitable crawl of something watching you.
You are the sole operator of a remote radio station, deep in the mountains. Your job is simple: monitor the storm, log transmissions, and report your findings.
But then—a signal. Not yours. Not local. Not possible.
A voice whispers your name. The static shifts.
You should stop listening.
Somewhere across the lake, a house still waits for someone who never left.
The storm devours the mountains. The peaks vanish beneath rolling clouds. And you are completely alone. Or so you thought.
A Minimalist Horror Experience
The Last Transmission is a first-person psychological horror game, built on isolation, atmosphere, and slow dread. No combat. No escape. Just your tools—and the creeping realization that something is deeply wrong.
Your Tools
The Radio – Track storms. Tune forgotten frequencies. Intercept transmissions that shouldn’t exist.
The Typewriter – Log the weather. Log the voices. Log what’s happening—before it starts logging on its own.
The Phone – Your only link to the outside world. Unless it’s been lying.
Your World
The Station – A remote outpost buried in silence.
The House – Abandoned across the lake. No lights. No footprints. And yet, someone turned on that lamp.
The Storm – Unnatural and alive. Something is inside it. And it’s getting closer.
The Mountains – Vast, cold, and silent. You are surrounded by an empty stretch of alpine wilderness—but there is a red light far in the distance.
A Horror That Listens Back
The storm was never just weather.
The fog isn't just silence.
You follow the signals. They lead somewhere impossible.
You find logs written in your own words—before you arrived.
The transmissions are still broadcasting.
The storm is still watching.
You thought you were listening.
But something has been listening to you all along.
