The digital countdown ticked mercilessly on Isaac's wrist display: 23:45:13.
"So this is how it ends," Isaac whispered, his voice echoing through the empty corridor. "The final hours of our creation, and I'm the only one who cared enough to show up."
The overhead lights flickered, casting rippling shadows across the polished metal floor. Isaac traced his fingers along the cold wall as he approached the elevator that would take him down to the dungeon floors. The sensation of steel beneath his fingertips felt unusually real tonight—more textured, more present.
The gentle hum of the ventilation system was the only sound besides his footsteps, creating an eerie symphony that heightened his sense of isolation. He'd spent months collaborating with others to build this place, and now they couldn't even be bothered to witness its final moments.
The infiltrators who'd attempted to conquer their creation had never made it past the sixth level. The elevators, disguised as natural formations within the cavern walls, had been a stroke of genius—a way to blend Weyland-Yutani's clinical precision with the organic nightmare of the xenomorph hive.
Standing before the elevator's holographic interface, Isaac's eyes darted between the options. Each button pulsed with a soft blue glow, each representing a location from the Alien franchise that his team had painstakingly recreated.
"Ah! There it is!" Isaac's eyes lit up as his finger hovered over the button labeled 'NOSTROMO.' The name alone triggered a rush of memories—late nights coding with colleagues, arguments over xenomorph anatomy, the shared euphoria when they'd finally perfected the motion sensor mechanics.
His finger pressed the button, which depressed with a satisfying click. The doors slid shut with a pneumatic hiss, and the elevator began its descent. The cabin lights dimmed momentarily, replaced by emergency red lighting that bathed everything in a crimson glow. A subtle detail they'd added to enhance immersion—to make players feel the mounting dread of descending into the unknown.
The elevator's subtle vibration against his feet felt unnervingly authentic.
When the doors finally opened, Isaac stepped out into the meticulously crafted Nostromo deck. The corridor stretched before him, its ribbed ceiling arching overhead like the interior of some massive organism. Condensation dripped from pipes, landing with audible plops against the metal grating below. The space was vast—though not vast enough to house the entire ship they'd modeled it after. The air carried a distinct metallic tang mixed with something else... something organic.
"I wish we had been given a chance to actually create the areas, but we have already broken too many rules. The players will think the developers are being unfair," Isaac said, gazing at the area as he recalled the plans and layouts they had developed before everything was scrapped.
Rather than relying on the same scenery and iconic locations from the films, we were compelled to create our own environments. These areas are predominantly dimly lit corridors or cargo holds, featuring concealed entrances that shelter the xenomorphs and synthetics currently guarding them.
"Oh, how surprised the players were when facehuggers and xenomorphs suddenly appeared!" Isaac reminisced, chuckling softly.
"I didn't even have the time to explore the capabilities of my own creation, as infiltrators only reach the sixth floor before perishing... and now, I may never witness it at all," Isaac said, his voice trembling with emotion.
Isaac's boots made hollow metallic sounds as he moved through the corridor, each step reverberating through the structure. The emergency lights cast long, distorted shadows that seemed to move independently—an effect they'd spent weeks perfecting. He approached a seemingly ordinary wall panel and pressed his palm against a specific sequence of rivets.
The panel responded with a series of mechanical clicks before sliding open with a rush of escaping air, revealing a hidden entrance. The smell hit him first—antiseptic chemicals overlaid with something primal and musky. The laboratory beyond was a stark contrast to the ship's aesthetic: brilliant white surfaces, surgical steel tables, and glass containment units.
As Isaac descended the stairs, the temperature dropped noticeably. His breath formed small clouds in front of his face. There they were—his creations—dormant in their containment pods. Xenomorphs of various developmental stages, their obsidian exoskeletons gleaming under the harsh laboratory lights, limbs folded against their elongated bodies like sleeping predators.
"Beautiful creations," Isaac whispered, his voice filled with reverence. He approached the nearest specimen—a fully developed Drone—and circled it slowly. The creature's carapace caught the light in hypnotic patterns, revealing subtle textures that most players would never notice unless they came dangerously close. Its inner jaw was partially extended, frozen in mid-strike, showcasing the painstaking detail they'd put into the model's animations.
Isaac extended a tentative hand, stopping just short of touching the xenomorph's elongated head. "The perfect organism," he murmured, admiring the deadly elegance of their design. "We spent three months getting your acid blood physics just right."
Isaac walked toward the far end of the underground lab designated for the Nostromo area. As he passed by the various creatures created by his colleagues, he reached the airlock doors. He opened them using a keycard, a device specifically issued to members of the team.
"My precious!" Isaac's voice echoed through the chamber as the massive airlock doors parted with the scream of hydraulics. The room beyond was cavernous, with vaulted ceilings disappearing into darkness above.
The sight that greeted him stole his breath away.
Towering in the center of the chamber was the Xenomorph Queen—fourteen feet of nightmarish biomechanical perfection. Her massive crested head nearly scraped the ceiling, and her secondary arms flexed unconsciously. The egg sac—partially rendered and attached to her abdomen—pulsed with an unsettling rhythm. Around her stood the elite variants: Warriors with their ridged heads gleaming under the spotlights, a Predalien hybrid with its distinctive mandibles and dreadlock-like appendages, and the hauntingly pale Deacon protomorph, its pointed skull reflecting blue in the chamber's eerie lighting.
Further back, arranged in clinical precision, stood the synthetics. David 8's perfect posture and piercing blue eyes gave no hint of his artificial nature. Ash stood with hands clasped behind his back, that unsettling half-smile frozen on his face. Bishop, the most human-like of them all, maintained his eternally patient expression. Behind them, rows of various Company synthetics waited in standby mode—service models, combat units, and scientific advisors.
Isaac moved among them, running his fingers over their surfaces, marveling at the textural differences his colleagues had programmed. The synthetics' skin had a subtle elasticity that differed from human flesh. The xenomorphs' exoskeletons felt like hardened resin mixed with carbon fiber.
Standing before the Queen again, Isaac tilted his head back to look up at her fearsome visage. A nervous laugh escaped his lips, echoing off the chamber walls. "The stature and height will always be a source of wonder," he said, feeling like a child beside a skyscraper. Her massive claws could crush him with a casual gesture. Her inner jaw extended longer than his entire arm.
"Imagine if she moved like a real predator in this game; I wouldn't even be able to approach her out of fear," Isaac joked, shivering slightly at the sight of this creature coming to life.
He opened the description of the Xenomorph Queen, which detailed her nature—ruthlessly protective of her hive and vicious toward any intruders. As he scrolled down, he noticed the final line of text.
"Though powerful, they will never betray those who created them. They will follow their orders with the utmost respect and loyalty," Isaac read, laughing at the description.
It was proposed that this must be included in each NPC's description. Since they are all deadly and these creatures were not particularly fond of their creators, the members were somewhat on edge. Therefore, this specific line was added to reassure the creators.
"I suppose it's almost time... I'll just stay here and admire my creation until the very end," Isaac said, sitting down on the ground as he watched time slowly come to a close.
23:59:55
23:59:56
23:59:57
23:59:58
23:59:59
...
00:00:00
00:00:01
00:00:02
00:00:03
00:00:04
"What?" Isaac stared at his wrist display in disbelief. The numbers continued their relentless advance past midnight. 00:00:05... 00:00:06... "Was this all just a prank by the developers?"
His voice seemed unnaturally loud in the sudden silence. The ambient sounds that had been constant background noise—the hum of systems, the dripping of condensation, the distant metallic groans of the structure—had all ceased at once.
Then, something changed.
A vibration ran through the floor beneath his feet, subtle at first, then intensifying until the entire chamber trembled. The dormant xenomorphs in their containment units began to twitch. Their limbs uncurled with jerky, insectile movements. Their elongated heads lifted.
"A creator is present." The voice that broke the silence was smooth, cultured, and entirely too real. "All units respond!"
The sound of movement erupted around him—clicking exoskeletons, the whisper of synthetic clothing, and the measured cadence of artificial footsteps. A cold sweat broke out across Isaac's forehead as he spun around, taking in the impossible scene.
The synthetics had abandoned their motionless poses and now stood at perfect attention, their previously glassy eyes now alert and focused on him. More disturbingly, the xenomorphs had arranged themselves in a semicircle, their aggressive postures replaced with something alien yet unmistakable—deference. Their sleek heads were lowered, deadly tails curled inward rather than poised to strike.
Isaac's heart hammered against his ribs as pure, primal fear flooded his system. The NPCs were moving. Without commands. Without triggers. Without players. Moving with purpose and coordination that went far beyond their programmed routines.
The synthetics moved with liquid grace, positioning themselves in a protective formation around Isaac. Their movements were no longer the slightly mechanical animations they'd coded—these were fluid, natural, impossibly real.
"Is there a problem, Creator?" David 8 asked. As the most advanced model, he felt it was his responsibility to confront or speak up.
"N-Nothing is wrong! A-All of you stay here until f-further notice," Isaac squeaked, recalling the line of code he hoped was integrated into their programming at that moment.
"As you wish, Creator." David bowed slightly, followed by the other synthetics. Even the Queen seemed to acknowledge the command with an eerie stillness.
Isaac nodded and hurriedly scanned his keycard. The doors opened, and he quickly ran out, staring at the xenomorphs in fear as they looked back at him with their eyeless, gleaming heads.
"What on earth just happened?" Isaac muttered to himself, breathing heavily as he stared at the now-closed door. He turned around, only to be confronted by a Drone Xenomorph, which drained the color from his face in fear.
"This is a nightmare!" Isaac shouted, sprinting down the hallway teeming with the creatures he had created.
Isaac quickly ran to the left. Seeing no monsters in that direction, he sat down to catch his breath. Suddenly, the door behind him burst open, knocking Isaac off balance. Regaining his composure, he stood up to face a massive Crusher xenomorph, its enormous armored head gleaming in the dim light.
"Holy shit!" Isaac exclaimed, sprinting for his life as he heard the dreaded hissing of the creature behind him.
Isaac saw the stairs leading out and quickly ran, not even bothering to look back, as a single glance at that horrific creature would petrify him. He ascended the steps and immediately closed the door behind him. He could hear its scratching as the door shut. Isaac sat down beneath a nearby ventilation duct and held his head in confusion.
"This is a nightmare! Why is this happening to me?" Isaac shouted, overwhelmed by the situation. His dream had been simple: to recreate a universe he loved. Now, he found himself trapped with creatures intent on killing him.
"I-I need to contact the developers. There must have been an internal issue! I don't want to be stuck here!" Isaac exclaimed, attempting to open the menu to reach the developers.
But nothing happened. Isaac tried repeatedly, but to no avail. His next course of action was to contact another player, yet still, nothing occurred. He couldn't chat with anyone and was slowly losing hope.
"Huh!? I'm not stuck here, am I?!" Isaac asked himself, wracking his brain to determine what action he should take next.
"Wait, they called me 'creator'? Does that mean the code worked?" Isaac asked, eager to control the powerful creatures but too frightened to ever return there again.
He stood up and walked around, trying to weigh his options. He could go outside and ask for help, but he was uncertain about what awaited him. Alternatively, he could return indoors and attempt to command the creatures, but a mistake could cost him his life. He also realized that he could smell the environment, feel the textures, and that his movements were more erratic than they had been in the game.
"Alright! Pull yourself together, Isaac! I created those things and can control them!" Isaac said with determination. He marched toward the concealed entrance once more and opened it.
He was grabbed from behind by a Xenomorph drone that had been waiting for him. All his courage wavered as it grasped him. However, instead of impaling him with its inner jaw like in the films, it drew him closer to its face and simply held him, as if examining him.
It would have been almost curious if it weren't such a terrifying creature. He smiled slightly, relieved that he wasn't going to be killed.
"Alright, inspection time is over. Please put me down now," Isaac requested. The Xenomorph complied and set him free.
Isaac, now feeling more confident, walked through the halls filled with Drones, Warriors, Runners, and other variants. He strode with courage, much like one would walk past a wild animal, as fear often provokes them to attack. Once again, he found himself facing the door. With trembling hands, he retrieved his keycard and scanned it. The door opened to the sound of the synthetics in heated discussion.
"Your prioritization of scientific discovery over safety protocols is precisely why Weyland-Yutani has suffered so many containment breaches," Ash argued, his synthetic voice unnervingly calm.
"I guess they fear me more than I fear them," Isaac thought, bringing a measure of comfort to the man.
"Oh, please! The pursuit of knowledge requires calculated risks. The Company understands this better than anyone," David 8 retorted, his perfect posture betraying his artificial nature.
"Analysis. Defense. Analysis. Defense." I hear Bishop repeat in his precise manner as he observes the debate between the other synthetics.
The Queen sensed my presence, her massive head turning sharply in my direction. She made a clicking sound that immediately silenced the room. "Creator has returned," David 8 announced without hesitation.
The synthetics all turned their attention to me before returning to their previous positions, adjusting themselves to appear presentable before their creator. I walked through the center, and the synthetics stood at attention while the xenomorphs backed away respectfully.
"Would you please stop behaving like this; it's uncomfortable," Isaac said. They all quickly relaxed their postures, looking at each other to see who would act next.
David 8 spoke up. After the other synthetics, Ash and Bishop, argued in front of their Creator, he took it upon himself to speak first before more unworthy actions could be witnessed.
"What are your instructions, Creator?" David 8 asked in a measured tone, careful to maintain a respectful distance.
"Umm... Bishop, please send a few facehuggers to scout the upper levels," Isaac ordered, observing whether he would comply with his request.
"As you wish, creator," Bishop said in his precise manner before leaving the room. After a few seconds, I hear the skittering of facehuggers as they crawl out of the secret entrance and begin their ascent up the floors.
"Head to the command center. I need to gather you all there for headcount," Isaac ordered. They nodded and began to leave. "Oh! And David, please fetch Bishop and the facehuggers after they finish scouting," Isaac requested.
"Consider it done, Creator." He nodded, which slightly irritated Isaac, but he chose to overlook it. Isaac walked outside and entered the elevator.
"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!" Isaac screamed, banging his hands against the metal walls. "That was nerve-wracking!" he shouted before calming himself and pressing the button for the top floor.
He once again waited, preparing himself as he rode the elevator for the upcoming meeting with dangerous individuals who would have killed him by now if he weren't their Creator or if that text in their description didn't exist.
"Alright. Alright. I can do this. I can do this!" Isaac motivated himself as he jogged toward the main room.
Isaac walked inside and observed the control panel. It essentially governs every aspect of the dungeon, including the doors, traps, and the entrances through which creatures can be released. Isaac cannot perform traditional magic because he secretly altered his race to that of a Xenomorph-Human hybrid, enabling him to utilize its adaptive capabilities to create additional minions. Isaac embodies all the Xenomorph strains within a single form. Although he is barely human anymore, he is grateful to have retained his emotions and sanity.
"Ah! There's the P.A. system," Isaac said, pointing at the microphone. It was used to summon the members operating on each floor for meetings or special occasions. Now, it would be used to call upon the NPCs.
Isaac walked closer to the device and turned it on. "Would all subjects please head to the command center? We are having a meeting of some sort, as well as a headcount," his heart racing faster than ever. After turning off the microphone, he sat down in an office chair, physically sweating from the stress of the situation.
"Wait, why should I be scared? I'm a hybrid too, and I'm stronger than all the subjects. I'm all of them combined," Isaac said, morphing his hands into razor-sharp claws similar to those of a Xenomorph Warrior.
"But still, I wish I could suppress my emotions like the synthetic characters do," Isaac lamented, unaware that another guild was thriving alongside him in this new world.
Without warning, David 8 and two Drone Xenomorphs suddenly appeared in front of Isaac, causing him to shriek in fear. They stared at him oddly, prompting Isaac to stand up straight and pretend that nothing had happened.
"What is it? And please give me a warning before appearing in front of me like that," Isaac requested. He might have a heart attack from all the unannounced appearances.
"We found a human lurking outside!" David 8 reported with clinical precision. Bishop entered the room, accompanied by several facehuggers skittering around him, carrying a man dressed in commoner's clothing. Isaac knelt down.
"Are you a player? Like... a newbie or something?" Isaac whispered. The man looked at him as if he were crazy. "I guess not," Isaac said, standing back up.
"I apologize for the aggression displayed by my subjects. I'm Isaac Hawkins," he extended his hand for a handshake. "All of you, head down to the lowest floor; I'll meet you there," Isaac whispered to his subjects. They all nodded and departed.
"I'm James Woods," the man introduced himself, shaking Isaac's hand before letting go. "What is this place? I'm a traveler, and none of the places I've seen compare to this." He continued, pulling out a notebook and pencil.
"You don't mind if I document this, do you?" James asked. Isaac had no time to respond, as James immediately began writing in his notebook, noting both the appearance of the location and the creatures he observed.
"I don't mind," Isaac said devilishly as he observed him documenting the creatures. He walked out of the room and into the kitchen. "A brave man. Not even afraid of eyeless monsters or emotionless androids. But arrogant," Isaac mumbled while taking out two glasses.
He took some water out of the dispenser and began pouring it into two glasses. Looking back, he saw James in the control room, still recording what he was observing at that moment.
"Now, let's test whether we are still in the game or if we have been transported to a whole new world," Isaac said, feeling something stir within him. Perhaps it was the hybrid DNA in his body or his insatiable drive to learn more.
Isaac formed a small embryo in his palm before placing it in the glass. He walked back into the room and donned a false smile, despite his disdain for the man present. Isaac handed the man his drink before sitting down himself; not even a thank you was uttered.
"What are those things? Is that some kind of new technology?" James asked, looking at Isaac with curiosity. Isaac responded with a half-hearted smile.
"Yes! Indeed, it is. It was advanced robotics for the androids and some biomechanical engineering for the creatures," Isaac lied. The man smiled in wonder before gulping down his drink in one swift motion.
"That is refreshing, but there was something solid in there," James said, a worried expression on his face.
"Don't worry, that was just the ice I put in there," Isaac replied. The man, his curiosity satisfied, stood up and extended his hand.
"Well, I've seen all I can here. I suppose I have to go," James said, shaking Isaac's hand. He walked out, and Isaac didn't even turn to look at him.
James had barely reached the threshold when he stumbled mid-step. A strangled gasp escaped his lips as he clutched at his chest, fingers clawing desperately at his shirt. He collapsed to his knees, eyes bulging in confusion and mounting terror.
"Something's—something's moving inside me!" he managed to choke out, his voice escalating to a shriek as he doubled over.
Isaac remained seated, watching with clinical detachment—and growing fascination. "I suppose we are no longer in the game," he mused quietly, tapping his fingers rhythmically against the arm of his chair. "My embryos would only affect NPCs and enemies in the virtual world, never real players."
A devilish smile spread across his face as the implications crystallized. This was real. All of it.
James' transformation accelerated with horrifying speed. His spine arched backward at an impossible angle as violent spasms wracked his body. Sweat poured from his reddening skin as he tried to scream, but only managed a series of wet, gurgling sounds. The fabric of his shirt began to strain outward, as though something beneath was pushing against it.
"H-help... me..." James pleaded, his eyes locking with Isaac's. Blood began to seep through his shirt, spreading in a rapidly widening crimson stain.
The first crack was audible—a wet snapping of bone that echoed through the control room. James' ribs were giving way from within. His flesh bulged outward, stretching unnaturally as something fought for release.
With a final, blood-curdling shriek that abruptly cut to silence, James' sternum burst outward in an explosion of crimson. Bone fragments and viscera sprayed across the floor in a steaming arc. From the ragged hole in his chest emerged a writhing, serpentine form—sleek, eyeless, and covered in his blood.
The chestburster raised its dripping head, its teeth gleaming under the harsh lights. It swiveled toward Isaac, its posture alert and questioning. For a heartbeat, creator and creation regarded each other across the blood-spattered room. The creature emitted a high-pitched screech that sent shivers down Isaac's spine—not of fear, but of pride.
It slithered from the corpse with obscene speed, leaving a glistening trail as it disappeared into a ventilation shaft.
"It seems I have created my own Xenomorph from this human," Isaac whispered, rising from his seat to approach the still-warm body. The metallic scent of blood filled his nostrils as he crouched beside the grotesque remains. "I am more powerful than I ever realized." He dipped his fingers into the pooling blood, examining the vivid red coating his skin with wonder.
"Go to your respective floor and join your brethren," Isaac ordered. The newly born creature looked at him with what seemed like recognition before quickly crawling away.
"Alright, all my subjects should be on the top floor," Isaac said as he stepped back into the elevator and pressed the button for the command center floor.
He waited once again. When the elevator reached the top floor, he heard murmuring outside. As the doors opened, Isaac was greeted by all his subjects. It was noisy, so he knew he had to take action.
"Silence! We're conducting a headcount, so everyone group together according to the floor you're from!" Isaac shouted. Everyone turned to him and began to organize themselves accordingly.
"Alright, please come to the front if I call upon your floor," I instructed. No one is standing at attention, which suggests that David 8 has already conveyed the information.
"Second floor," Isaac called. Everyone stepped back, and Ellen Ripley walked forward, still wearing her Nostromo jumpsuit.
"Poor Ripley, we didn't manage to save the rest of her crew since they didn't survive the original scenario. Perhaps in the future, when I have mastered my abilities, I can recreate them using my hybrid DNA," Isaac thought, feeling pity for the woman alone on the second floor.
"Fourth floor," Isaac called. Ripley stepped back as Carter Burke, Charles Bishop Weyland, and several Colonial Marines walked ahead.
"Fifth floor," Isaac called. The group stepped back as the Engineers walked forward.
"Oh yeah, these are the ones we debated about adding or not. Engineers are essentially the creators of the xenomorphs and humanity itself." Isaac reminisced. The majority agreed to include them, as they still retained a humanoid appearance despite their ancient origins.
"Sixth floor," Isaac called. Elizabeth Shaw, Peter Weyland, and several Weyland-Yutani scientists stepped out.
"Ah yes, the infamous sixth floor. The creators of these NPCs always boast about being the protectors. However, the truth is that the infiltrators are simply exhausted and weakened by the other enemies they must face." Isaac laughed, noting how the creators of the NPCs constantly battled to prove that their creations were more powerful.
"Seventh floor," Isaac called. Walter, David 8, and several advanced synthetics walked forward.
"Lord, David 8 and Walter meeting face-to-face. That's going to be one hell of a confrontation," Isaac thought, envisioning how two identical models with dramatically different programming would react to one another.
"I really shouldn't have brought them all together..." he mumbled, shaking his head at the brewing battle among the group of creatures and synthetics. He felt that once he stepped inside the elevator, all hell would break loose.