Panic House Awakening

"You were never the patient. You were the experiment that survived."

You wake in an open cell inside a collapsing black-site facility. The locks have failed, the guards are gone, and the silence is worse than any scream. You are Subject P-041 — an experiment that was never meant to survive.
Panic House: Awakening is a single-player first-person psychological horror where you play the thing everyone else is running from — and carve a path out through a nightmare hospital.



The cell door is already open — and that is the first thing that's wrong. No alarm woke you, no guard turned the lock, no one came to move you. The facility should be silent. It should be empty. It is not. Somewhere in the dark, something has been waiting for you to open your eyes, and the moment you do, the building starts to breathe around you. The last thing you remember is the straps and the light overhead; everything since is a hole you can feel but can't fill. Every hallway ahead was built to keep things like you inside. Now you get to walk out through all of it, one locked room at a time.





Lights flicker for no reason. Sounds come from empty rooms. Shadows move the moment you look away. A door you swear you closed is open again when you turn back. Footsteps end a half-second after your own stop. Prison blocks bleed into hospital corridors, tiled walls giving way to bars and back again, until you can't tell which part of the building you're standing in. The deeper you go, the worse it gets. The facility does not feel abandoned — it feels aware, like it remembers what was done here and is reacting to your every step. Trust nothing you see twice, and nothing you hear once. The place that caged you is not finished with you yet.





An EMF meter clicks faster the closer you get to what was done here. Every spike is a scar left in the walls — a scream, a struggle, a life that ended where you're standing. The needle jumps in the corners nobody wanted found, in front of doors that were welded shut, over stains no one ever cleaned. Follow the echoes into the facility's worst rooms and piece them together with the logs and notes left behind, and a picture forms — of the experiment that made you, and of everyone who signed off on it. The dead can't talk. But they left a signal burned into this place, and you are the only one left who knows how to read it.





Take up the axe and knife and dismember whatever stands between you and the surface. Bullets barely slow you — you are what they built to be unkillable, and the staff that stayed behind learn that the hard way. Combat is brutal, close and deliberate: you feel every swing land, every blade catch, every body drop. Pick your weapon for the moment — the knife for speed and silence, the axe for when a door of flesh needs breaking down, the gun for when they think distance will save them. Scavenge as you go for ammo, blades, and backpack space to carry more of both. This is a horror story told from the wrong side of the cell door — and for once the monster is the one walking toward the screaming.





Restore power with hidden fuses, crack keypads and pick locks. Every sealed door is a small siege — find the fuse box, trace the dead circuit, feed the grid, and force the mechanism to give. Split passcodes are scattered across separate rooms, so one number means nothing until you've found the rest. Safe combinations hide inside the logs, scrawled in margins by people who thought they'd come back for them, and the tumblers won't turn for the impatient. Nothing here opens on the first try, and nothing opens for free. The facility fights to keep you in — you break your way out, one puzzle at a time.





Hunt down the keycards that unlock sealed wings, and force your way deeper into the parts of the facility they never wanted you to see. Each card is a clearance level you were never supposed to hold — and every color opens a door that leads somewhere darker. The red wings, the restricted labs, the storage they emptied in a hurry: all of it waits behind a reader that only the right card will satisfy. Search the bodies, the desks, the lockers, the places staff hid things when the alarms first went off. Some cards are guarded. Some are dropped where their owner fell. The way forward is always behind the last thing they locked — and that is always the thing they were most afraid of you finding.





Ride up from the prison block into the hospital ward, where the Doctors did their work — and where the last locked doors are waiting. The elevator is a threshold: below you is the cage, above you is the answer. The doors close on the world that held you and open on the world that made you. The wards were never designed to hold a patient that walks back in on its own, upright and armed and remembering. Gurneys in the halls. Charts with your number on them. Machines still powered, still waiting for a body that got up and left. Everything they hid from the world is up there — the files, the faces, the truth — and now nothing stands between you and it but a few more sealed doors and the people cowering behind them.





The Doctors, the Director, and the truth about what you have become. The voltage. The straps. The needle instead of your face. You remember all of it now — and every sealed door you open brings that memory back a little sharper. They spent years turning a man into a weapon, measured him, broke him, called him a monster and threw away the key. They were right about one thing. Behind the final door, the people who gave the orders are still here — the ones who signed the forms, who watched through the glass, who wrote your number on a chart and went home at night. They locked the last door hoping it would be enough. It won't be. Now the power is yours.

Features

• First-person psychological horror — dread built through atmosphere and mind games, not just monsters.
• Investigation-focused exploration — search every room, read the logs, piece together what happened here.
• Atmospheric sound design and tension — a directional soundscape that turns silence into a weapon.
• Puzzle solving with narrative impact — every lock you open reveals more of the story.
• Tightly paced, immersive experience — no filler, a deliberate descent from first minute to last.
• Made for headphones — 3D positional audio; hear the threat before you see it.

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⚠ Content & Health Warning

Photosensitivity / Epilepsy Warning: This game contains flashing lights, strobing and flashing images that may trigger seizures for people with photosensitive epilepsy. A small number of people may experience seizures when exposed to certain flashing lights or patterns, even with no prior history. Player and viewer discretion is advised. If you or anyone in your family has an epileptic condition, consult a doctor before playing.
Mature content: intense psychological horror, graphic violence and gore, disturbing imagery, sudden scares and strong themes. Not suitable for children.