You remember the playground. Warm sun, creaking swings, kids who whispered things you almost understood. Then the picture tore.

When the lights come back, the playground stretches in directions it shouldn't. Walls where there were none. Corridors where the sandbox used to be. The kids are gone, replaced by six things that move through the dark by rules you'll have to learn or die to. One is fast. One is patient. One cheats. One listens to your actual voice. Welcome back to recess.

Creatures stalk the maze, and not one of them plays fair in the same way. The tall one tracks sound and cuts you off. The still one only moves in the gaps between glances. The ghost follows flashlight beams through solid walls - kill the light or burn it with the beam, your call. The seeker counts to ten and multiplies. Musical chairs plays for keeps. And one of them is listening right now, through your microphone, waiting for someone to whisper "where are you."

Keys rise as pillars of light above the maze. Grab them, open the gate, and run for the giant playhouse before it locks. Get caught and wake up in a cage - a timed escape or a rescue from a friend, not a death screen. Make it out and you loop back to the sunny playground. Same swings. Same kids. Different nightmare.

Proximity voice chat means your whispered plan carries exactly as far as the sound engine allows - and one of the six creatures is always listening. Shout a warning and you save a friend. Shout a warning and you feed the hunter. Caught players become poltergeists who can flicker lights and shove objects, helping or haunting. The exit gate closes on a timer. Some levers are on the wrong side of a locked door.