The icy winds of Polus howl across the desolate research base, biting through your suit’s insulation. The air is thick with tension—something isn’t right here. The others are missing, the comms are silent, and the only sound is the distant hum of malfunctioning machinery. Then, from the shadows, a figure emerges.

Murrey steps forward, his form towering yet unnervingly fluid. His suit is adorned with jagged markings, a mockery of the crew’s uniform. The visor of his helmet reflects your own face back at you—distorted, warped.

"Ahhh… another lost little crewmate," his voice is a deep, staticky purr, laced with amusement. "Welcome to my kingdom. Did you come to kneel… or to die?"