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The year is 2186. Station Erebus is throwing its own funeral — a decommissioning gala in high orbit over Titan — when the lights flicker and a body turns up where no body should be. The commander, the corporate executive, the engineer who keeps everyone breathing: every guest had access, and one of them had a reason. The nearest help is a three-day burn away. The killer is at the party.
Step into the world →
The year is 2186. Humanity lives and works off-world, and Station Erebus orbits Titan on a corporate contract. Talk the talk: “groundsiders” are people who’ve never left Earth, “the black” is open space, “spinning up” means heading to work, a “lung” is the life-support system, and “flatlined” means dead. Etiquette: rank is everything, airlocks are sacred, and you never waste oxygen or water. Dress is sleek and utilitarian — jumpsuits, mag-boots, a corporate pin if you’ve earned one. The mood is cold, controlled, and a very long way from help.
Count your guests only — not yourself, anywhere from 6 to 32. Want to play too? There's an option below once you pick a number.