The Last Transmission

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.

You play a radio host trapped in a remote station, using a radio, phone, and typewriter to make sense of what’s happening as reality slowly unravels. It’s narrative-driven, minimal, and built around slow-burn dread, just that creeping sense that something’s deeply wrong. Atmospheric. Subtle. Twisted.

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 is not just weather.
The fog isn’t just silence.

You listen. You log. You follow the signals.
But the logs already have your voice.

The calls never end.
And someone, or something, has been listening to every word.

Even the ones you haven’t said yet.