A gravity rescue. A love letter to the 16-bit lander classics.
Something calls every 41 seconds.
Not everything that answers should be trusted.
Fly a small dart over hostile terrain, land gently beside the stranded, and ferry them home to the mothership. All the while, the game is teaching you to distrust what you rescue. And later, what you see on the ground.
Seven sectors, three hidden Hollows, multiple endings — and one oath that is scored, not just quoted.
No auto-land. No aim-assist crutch. Just thrust, gravity, and a landing you have to earn.
Your hull health is a live ECG trace, with haptics tuned to the game's own pulse — not generic buzzes.
Optional caves reward the curious and the careful with a second layer of story beneath the surface.
Primum non nocere. First, do no harm. Clear a sector without firing for the Hippocratic bonus.
A remix rotation and a fresh daily flight give you runs that never play the same way twice.
Watch how they wave. Listen to what boards. The red quarantine bay exists for a reason.
The neon-glow flight HUD, rendered like a hospital terminal readout in a dark void.
If you grew up steering a lander through cramped 16-bit caves, fighting gravity one careful thrust at a time. Trying not to crash. Trying not to lose the cargo you came for. This is built in that lineage. Hollow Oath is a spiritual successor to games like Oids (Atari ST, 1987), Thrust, and Gravitar. Original code, art, story, and names throughout, unaffiliated with any of them, but built by someone who loved them.