Night Record: Thin Walls

Your husband is gone. His keys, his boiler, his neighbors are yours now.

And in this building, the walls are very, very thin.

THE STORY

For years, Vadim has looked after a crumbling post-Soviet apartment block: sweeping its stairwells, keeping its old boiler alive, knowing every tenant by name. When his mother falls ill, he has to leave, and his wife Elvira takes over his work.

The first days are almost comforting. Picking up the neighbors' orders from the corner kiosk and delivering them door to door. Dust on the stairs. A boiler that needs feeding. Familiar faces behind familiar doors.

Then, little by little, things start to go wrong.

Small things. Easy to ignore. At first.

A JOB LIKE ANY OTHER

Clean the hallways. Light the boiler. Take out the trash. Pick up the residents' orders from the kiosk and bring them to their doors. Every task is ordinary, and every task takes Elvira somewhere she may not want to go: a dark basement, a silent floor, a door that should have stayed closed.

EVERY OBJECT REMEMBERS

Old photographs, worn furniture, a home built over a lifetime with Vadim. Elvira's apartment is full of memories. The building around her is full of other people's secrets.

THE NIGHTS ARE DIFFERENT

When the lights go out across the courtyard, the building changes. Sounds travel through the walls. Something moves where no one should be. And you start to wonder who else is awake.

KEY FEATURES

Live a caretaker's routine: cleaning, boiler duty, kiosk runs and deliveries, trash collection, and the intercom. Each day pulls you a little deeper.

A building full of neighbors: a nurse, a man who drinks too much, a tenant who lives alone with his cats. Each has a story, and not all of them want it told.

Slow-burn psychological horror, built from small details that slowly go wrong, until they don't stay small.

Photorealistic post-Soviet setting with a worn VHS-tape look.

A short, focused story of about 2 hours, made to be played in one or two evenings.

Available in 15 languages.

In a place where every sound travels through thin walls, being alone is never truly safe.