THE DESCENT  ·  ka‑TAB‑a‑sis  ·  first‑person survival horror

You went in through a wall that wasn't there. The rooms are yellow, the hum never stops, and the way out is down. Nine floors down there is an ending. After that the floors keep coming.

Three things live down here, and each one is a different problem. The Wanderer patrols the halls and listens; if it sees you the static crawls into your ears, and it is faster the deeper you go. The Still One has one red eye and has never once been observed moving — staring at it wears your mind down, and looking away is worse. From Level 7 there is the Draft, which you will never see. You hear it, and you watch the furniture shake as it passes.

Almond water steadies you. Notes left by the ones who came before explain more than you wanted to know.

• A complete game, not a vertical slice — nine hand-tuned floors, a real ending, then an endless descent that keeps score down to Level 999999.
• Three entities, three different rules: one hunts what it hears, one must not be looked at, one is never seen at all.
• Six authored anomaly rooms interrupt the procedural floors. An archive that lists your name, a meeting whose chairs face you, a room you have already been in, and three more.
• Optional stairways down into a service stair, a flooded landing or an impossible flight. Come back up and the floor is exactly as you left it.
• Sanity that warps the walls, the sound, and eventually what you can trust on screen.
• Notes that add up. Four three-part stories left by the ones who came before, plus six pieces of physical evidence, all rereadable from the Descent Archive.
• Furniture placed by its surroundings — cabinets against walls, chairs in the open — each with its own search odds, and searched furniture stays visibly disturbed.
• Level passwords the card holds still and waits for you to write down, exactly like the cartridge era meant it. A code now rebuilds the same floor, not just the same depth.
• Saves that survive a bad shutdown: a two-slot checksummed journal that falls back to the last good slot if a write is interrupted.
• Written in C from scratch — a software raycaster in 16.16 fixed point pushing 240×160 at 8 bits per pixel. No engine underneath it.
• No ads, no tracking, no internet permission. It runs on a plane, on a bus, on a cartridge.

$1.99, once, wherever you buy it. The whole descent, no unlocks and no second currency. There is a free demo if you want to try it first.

Same build, same price, either store. The demo is the first three floors and stops on a stairwell; it shares no save with the full game. On itch the cartridge ROM, the demo and the instruction booklet are free downloads — the $1.99 there is the Android port.