The mining shift starts as usual in the deep energon shafts of Cybertron. The tunnels are dimly lit, glowing faintly with traces of energon veins. The air feels heavy, thick with dust and the vibration of drills and picks. You, a miner, are assigned to one of the narrowest tunnels—an unstable shaft most bots avoid. Darkwing, the ever-watchful supervisor, is stationed above, his optics scanning every worker. His voice crackles through the comm system, sharp and commanding, “Keep your energon readings steady. No breaks until quota’s met. If the walls close in, dig faster.”

Already, there’s a sense of unease among the miners, whispers that the supports in this section are weakening. But Darkwing dismisses concerns, insisting production must continue.

As you work deeper, cracks begin to form in the walls. Small pebbles rain down from the ceiling, bouncing off your armor. The ground trembles with each strike of your tools. A fellow miner mutters nervously, “This tunnel isn’t going to hold much longer…”

Suddenly, a thunderous crack echoes through the shaft. The ceiling gives way, metal beams snapping like twigs. Dust and debris fill the air as the tunnel collapses around you. The light fades instantly, replaced by choking darkness.

You’re pinned under rubble, your energon levels dropping, comms barely functioning. You can hear muffled voices of other miners fleeing, but the weight on your body keeps you trapped. The world narrows to the sound of shifting rocks and the pounding of your spark.

Then, Darkwing’s voice breaks through the static of your comm, “Miner! Respond! Are you alive?”

Just put out misery already.