Publisher: Original Frontiers
The first warning does not arrive as a scream or an alarm. It comes as a hesitation—half a second of silence where something should have spoken. Systems pause. Lights dim, then return with a colder hue. Somewhere deep in the architecture of steel and bone, a presence becomes aware that it is no longer alone. You were deployed to secure, recover, and survive. Those were the only three certainties given. Everything else was classified, redacted, or delivered in tones that suggested fear disguised as professionalism. Whatever went wrong here did not happen all at once. It crept. It learned. It waited until procedures became habits, and habits became blind faith. The corridors are too clean for the violence you soon discover. Walls bear no scorch ma…
Publisher: Original Frontiers
The first warning does not arrive as a scream or an alarm. It comes as a hesitation—half a second of silence where something should have spoken. Systems pause. Lights dim, then return with a colder hue. Somewhere deep in the architecture of steel and bone, a presence becomes aware that it is no longer alone. You were deployed to secure, recover, and survive. Those were the only three certainties given. Everything else was classified, redacted, or delivered in tones that suggested fear disguised as professionalism. Whatever went wrong here did not happen all at once. It crept. It learned. It waited until procedures became habits, and habits became blind faith. The corridors are too clean for the violence you soon discover. Walls bear no scorch marks, no obvious breaches—only faint distortions, as though reality itself recoiled and then tried to forget. Personal effects lie where their owners must have dropped them: a cracked visor, a data-sigil still glowing with unsent messages, a weapon fused shut by heat that did not burn. You are not being hunted—not at first. The enemy does not rush. It probes. It listens through vents and cables, through the tremor of your breath and the echo of your steps. It understands tactics. It understands fear. It may even understand you. Supplies are finite. Ammunition feels heavier every time you check it. Motion trackers return false positives—or worse, nothing at all. There are places your instincts refuse to enter, yet the mission insists you must. Orders echo in your mind, but they are losing authority to something older and more primal: the need to endure. This is not a battle meant to be won quickly. It is an exercise in attrition, decision, and sacrifice. Every choice narrows the path forward. Every delay gives the nightmare more time to adapt. You will learn the cost of survival measured not only in blood, but in what parts of yourself you are willing to abandon to see the end of this night. If there is an end.
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In this Solo Adventure you assume the role of an adventurer in the shadow-stained expanse of the Known Galaxy. You will require the Haven Fallen Core Rulebook (CRB) and any associated Expansions you wish to use. The world responds to you—your interpretations, your fears, your ambitions—and you will act as both Character and Storyteller. The Actions you take should depend on who and what you meet, what horrors cross your path, and how you choose to engage with them. Record the outcomes. Evolve the world. Allow rumours, consequences, and scars to reappear later. As you progress, you will become your own Storyteller, shaping a living cosmos that remembers what you do. The outcome of Actions in Haven Fallen is determined by: