Staying breathing

Light & the dark

Darkness isn't just the absence of light here — it's an invitation. The echoes grow bold in it and the Man reads it better than you ever will.

• Keep a flame. Torches, lanterns, campfires — light is the one resource that always spends. Build toward it and carry it.
• Never let the last one go out. A camp goes from safe to lethal the moment it goes dark.
• Don't follow lights you didn't light. Anything glowing in the deep dark is bait.

Sanity

The Hollow gets into your head. Being watched, standing in the dark, or feeling the Man close all fray your nerves — and a frayed mind starts hearing and seeing things that may or may not be there.

• Fire is sanctuary. A lit fire is where you steady yourself and claw sanity back. Make camp, sit with the flame, breathe.
• You can't sleep it off. The nights here don't let you — there's no skipping to dawn. Fire is your reset, not a bed.
• Low and falling? Get to light and people. The whispers get loudest when you're alone in the dark.

The rot

The world is being eaten. Ruins, corpses, and the remains of whoever came before are scattered across the Hollow — scavenge them, because nothing here regrows the way it should.

Read what you find. The journal fills in as you recover torn pages from the dead: crafting, the nature of the rot, and the long way to end it.

The rules for the Man

One creature out here can actually kill you. When the static rises to a scream, these are the only things that matter:

• Don't fight. Nothing you can craft means anything to him. Running is the whole game.
• Break line of sight. Corners, walls, doorways. He loses you when he can't see you.
• Use the dark against him — carefully. Going still and unlit can shake him, but the dark has its own price.
• Outlast. Survive the hunt and the signal fades. Then move — he remembers where you were.

Small mercies

• Find a friend. A tamed dog is an early-warning system with a heartbeat — it notices things before you do.
• Anchor your camps. Waystones tie the map together; a fixed, lit refuge you can run to is worth more than loot.
• Death isn't the end of your gear. Your body keeps your things where you fell — if you can make it back.
• You get a breath after respawn. A short grace to get your feet under you. Don't waste it standing still.

Cold open, no instructions, no name. That's intended. The Hollow teaches by killing you — this guide just shortens the lesson.