S.N.A.P.

** S.N.A.P.** is a first-person survival horror hidden-object game set inside a rotting roadside dark ride built by a cannibal carnival family.

It starts the way bad things always do: with a road you should have never taken, a house that should have burned years ago, and the feeling that something inside is already waiting for you.

A simple job, that is how traps like this always sound. Search the ride. Find the cursed objects on your list. Photograph every last one before the third loop runs out. Each object holds the soul of someone who never made it back out. Miss one. Waste your shots. Read the room wrong. The house will finish what it started.

No two rides go down the same way. The souls change. The places they hide change. The house changes with them. Rooms you thought you understood come back wrong. And whatever is living in there with you never stays still long enough to become familiar.

The house gives you choices. That is how it gets you. Small choices. The kind you make when you still believe you are in control. Go a little farther. Turn back for what you missed. Risk a little more time, a little more luck for one more soul, one more second before the place decides it has had enough of you.

The house’s other inhabitants do not behave the same way twice. Some stay quiet until you forget they are there. Some make themselves known too late. Sometimes it is only a twitch in the corner of your eye. Sometimes it is the sudden realization that something in the room has been watching you far longer than you have been watching it.

You sweep your light across rooms packed with blood, filth, broken mannequins, bad memories, and things with nothing good left inside them. You read the clipboard. You frame the shot. You pray your hands do not move at the wrong moment. Panic wastes pictures. Flash and noise can get you noticed. Hesitation has a cost, and this house is always collecting.

At first, the house feels wrong in the way old houses sometimes do. Later, that feeling begins to turn on you. And eventually, the house stops pretending it only wants to scare you.