Isolation Protocol – Log 3: Revolvers, Rewires, and the Thing in the Vents

Difficulty: Survival Diary Rule – Three Strikes
Optional Rules: NPC kills = game over, Alien kills = limited chances

“Axel didn’t make it. Now it’s just me, a ship full of strangers who want me dead, and something in the vents that definitely isn’t paying rent.”

Humans Are Worse

With Axel gone, my only hope of reaching the Torrens lies in the communications deck. Easy enough — except the moment I step into the elevator area, another survivor decides that today is a good day to introduce me to firearms, up close and personal.

I manage to grab the gadget he dropped (which, of course, is missing a power cell), but before I can even inspect it, her mates show up, heavily armed and highly motivated. Rewiring becomes my best friend: a quick distraction lures three away, but I forgot about the fourth. He has a revolver, and apparently the aim of a cowboy.

Running seems like the best life choice, and surprisingly, they don’t chase me. Probably union rules.

Scavenger’s Delight

With my heart rate only slightly higher than a microwave on full blast, I take stock. A revolver. A keycard. And a flashbang blueprint that reminds me of my Counter-Strike 2 days, where I was just as likely to blind myself as the enemy.

I find a black box from the Nostromo and for one terrible moment think I’ll finally learn what happened to my mother — except, of course, the recordings are gone. Figures.

Lockdowns and Maintenance Jacks

The room seals tight with a full lockdown. The gadget I picked up earlier? Now powered thanks to a conveniently placed cell. My shiny new Security Access Tuner opens doors like magic, but the ship clearly didn’t get the memo: it wants me stuck.

I dig around, crack open a door with my trusty maintenance jack (still my favourite tool), and finally find the terminal to lift the lockdown.

That’s when the vents begin to whisper.

The Monster Appears

It drops down from the ceiling — long, sleek, and infinitely uninterested in human conversation. The same thing that took Axel.

I crawl under a table, holding my breath as it sniffs around. That’s when I remember: I just unlocked extra exits for myself… which also means extra exits for it. Oops.

It slips into the vent and vanishes, leaving me shaken but alive. I follow at a very safe distance and then beeline for the nearest save point, head swivelling like I’m in a budget Exorcist remake.

Game saved. Nerves fried.

Log 3 Closing Thoughts

  • Survivors are hostile and revolvers hurt.
  • Rewiring saves lives.
  • Flashbangs will probably kill me, not the Alien.
  • The Xenomorph exists, it knows I exist, and we’re now on a collision course.

Next time: I find out if my revolver is a comfort, or just six shiny excuses to die loudly.

Continue the journey:
Log 2 | Log 3 (You Are Here) | Coming Soon: Log 4

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