Evil Nun
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Survive the long night in the Forest!
A tense survival horror where you explore a haunted forest by day, guard your campfire by night and try to endure all 99 long nights on Kiz10.
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Survive the long night in the Forest!
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Horror School DPlay : Survive the long night in the Forest! 🕹️ Game on Kiz10
Rating:
8.00 (151 votes)
Released:
22 Jan 2026
Last Updated:
22 Jan 2026
Technology:
HTML5
Platform:
Browser (desktop, mobile, tablet)
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Whispers between the trees and ninety-nine bad nights 🌲👁️
Survive the long night in the Forest! doesn’t waste time pretending you’re safe. From the first moment, the woods feel wrong. The trees lean a little too close, the fog hangs a little too low, and every gust of wind sounds like someone quietly changing their mind behind you. You’re alone, surrounded by shadows and branches, with a simple, brutal objective stuck in your head: stay alive for ninety-nine nights. Not brave a single jump scare, not sprint through a short corridor, but live with the forest, in the forest, while it slowly learns your habits. Somewhere in there, a monster deer is listening to your footsteps and memorizing the sound of your breathing.
Survive the long night in the Forest! doesn’t waste time pretending you’re safe. From the first moment, the woods feel wrong. The trees lean a little too close, the fog hangs a little too low, and every gust of wind sounds like someone quietly changing their mind behind you. You’re alone, surrounded by shadows and branches, with a simple, brutal objective stuck in your head: stay alive for ninety-nine nights. Not brave a single jump scare, not sprint through a short corridor, but live with the forest, in the forest, while it slowly learns your habits. Somewhere in there, a monster deer is listening to your footsteps and memorizing the sound of your breathing.
By day, the forest pretends to be reasonable. Light cuts through the canopy, birds call from somewhere unseen, and you can almost believe this is just another piece of wilderness. That’s your chance to move. You roam the open world, searching for wood, food, scraps, and anything that looks like it might be useful when the sun bleeds out. Every clearing, every ruin, every abandoned camp is an opportunity and a warning at the same time. The trees remember who walked there last. You’re just the newest name on a very long list.
Daylight chores before the world goes wrong 🔥🕰️
Daytime becomes your checklist. You need logs for the fire, branches for torches, stones for tools, maybe boards and cloth for proper walls. You scout the area, mark safe paths in your mind, and push a little further from camp each morning, trying to stretch your comfort zone without getting lost. Inventory is always too small, the distance to your camp is always a little longer than you thought, and the sun always seems to drop faster when your backpack is full.
Daytime becomes your checklist. You need logs for the fire, branches for torches, stones for tools, maybe boards and cloth for proper walls. You scout the area, mark safe paths in your mind, and push a little further from camp each morning, trying to stretch your comfort zone without getting lost. Inventory is always too small, the distance to your camp is always a little longer than you thought, and the sun always seems to drop faster when your backpack is full.
The rhythm is familiar to survival veterans but tinged with horror. You spot a ruined shack and weigh the risk: do you detour to loot it, or save that trip for another day? Do you chop another tree and risk having to sprint home in the dusk, or do you accept a weaker fire tonight? Mistakes don’t always kill you immediately, but every bad decision leaves an echo that comes back later, usually when you’re gripping a torch that’s about to die.
When the light shrinks and the forest shows its teeth 🌘🕯️
Night is not just a darker version of day; it’s a full personality swap. As soon as the last light seeps out of the sky, the forest stops pretending. Shapes move at the edge of your vision. The wind picks up that strange, layered tone that sounds too much like breathing. Your camp becomes a tiny island of warmth surrounded by a sea of things that hate warmth. The campfire is your anchor, your shield, your countdown timer.
Night is not just a darker version of day; it’s a full personality swap. As soon as the last light seeps out of the sky, the forest stops pretending. Shapes move at the edge of your vision. The wind picks up that strange, layered tone that sounds too much like breathing. Your camp becomes a tiny island of warmth surrounded by a sea of things that hate warmth. The campfire is your anchor, your shield, your countdown timer.
The flames never last as long as you’d like. You watch them shrink, sparks drifting off like tiny pieces of your courage. Monsters are afraid of the light, but the game knows how to pressure you: your fuel pile is finite, your torches burn down, and every second your fire burns brighter is a second your supplies are disappearing. You juggle priorities in real time. Do you throw another log in now, or let the fire dim to save resources and hope nothing steps too close? Do you stay within the circle of safety or step out into the dim path with a torch to check on the perimeter?
That’s when the deer comes.
The thing with antlers that doesn’t blink 🦌❌
The monster deer isn’t a boss you can grind down or a damage sponge waiting for a perfect shot. It’s an answer to one very specific question: what happens if the fire dies? When the last ember fades, when your torch guttered out because you thought you could stretch it just a few seconds longer, the forest stops feeling empty. You feel watched before you see it. Then, between the tree trunks, there it is: a tall silhouette, branching antlers, eyes that glow like burnt coals.
The monster deer isn’t a boss you can grind down or a damage sponge waiting for a perfect shot. It’s an answer to one very specific question: what happens if the fire dies? When the last ember fades, when your torch guttered out because you thought you could stretch it just a few seconds longer, the forest stops feeling empty. You feel watched before you see it. Then, between the tree trunks, there it is: a tall silhouette, branching antlers, eyes that glow like burnt coals.
You can’t defeat it. The game is very clear about that. You don’t “win” by killing the monster; you win by denying it a clean moment to step in. Each night it draws closer, testing your routines, punishing your laziness. Maybe you catch a glimpse of it at the edge of the light on night ten, a fraction of a shape. By night fifty, you might feel it breathing somewhere just outside your vision, circling while you desperately feed your fire with whatever you grabbed during the day. Every time the light falters, you imagine those eyes opening a little wider.
Wood, walls, and tiny pieces of safety 🪓🏚️
You’re not completely helpless. As you gather resources, you can shape the forest into something that feels more like a home and less like a death trap. You build basic shelters at first: a roof to keep the rain off, a windbreak to make your fire more efficient. Then you start thinking in layers. Outer fences to slow intruders. Spike barricades to punish creatures that rush your camp. Raised platforms to give you a better view of what’s moving between the trees.
You’re not completely helpless. As you gather resources, you can shape the forest into something that feels more like a home and less like a death trap. You build basic shelters at first: a roof to keep the rain off, a windbreak to make your fire more efficient. Then you start thinking in layers. Outer fences to slow intruders. Spike barricades to punish creatures that rush your camp. Raised platforms to give you a better view of what’s moving between the trees.
Tools and weapons give you options, not invincibility. A sturdy axe helps you harvest wood faster and defend yourself if something gets too close. Simple ranged weapons let you scare off weaker creatures or finish off something that wandered into your traps. You can’t stand toe-to-toe with the ancient deer, but you can absolutely deal with the lesser horrors that come sniffing around your camp when the sun disappears. Survive long enough and your shabby starter camp slowly turns into a layered fortress built from splinters and fear.
Secrets in the ruins and stories carved into bark 🗝️🌒
The island isn’t just a big green blob; it’s riddled with history. As you explore, you stumble across ruins of older camps, broken shrines, stone circles and wooden totems that were clearly here long before you. Old notes, markings on trees and symbols etched into rock hint that you’re not the first person to notice the deer, or to try and outlast it. Some locations give you resources, others offer clues, and a few simply remind you that this forest has been playing this game for a very long time.
The island isn’t just a big green blob; it’s riddled with history. As you explore, you stumble across ruins of older camps, broken shrines, stone circles and wooden totems that were clearly here long before you. Old notes, markings on trees and symbols etched into rock hint that you’re not the first person to notice the deer, or to try and outlast it. Some locations give you resources, others offer clues, and a few simply remind you that this forest has been playing this game for a very long time.
Those discoveries do more than just decorate the map. They change how you look at each night. Maybe you find a forgotten watchtower that becomes your secondary base. Maybe you uncover a symbol that seems to influence how aggressive the creatures are in a certain area. Bit by bit, you piece together a mythology built from scraps, understanding the rules of the place just enough to feel like you’re improvising your own survival story rather than just ticking off objectives.
Your pace, your mistakes, your ninety-nine nights 📅🔥
Survive the long night in the Forest! is built around endurance, not speedrunning. There’s no audience telling you to hurry; the only real clock is the sun and your own nerves. You can spend a whole in-game day reinforcing your camp instead of exploring. You can wander too far and limp home with just enough wood to keep the fire going for another tense hour. You can have a flawless week where everything goes right, followed by a single reckless day that almost ends your run.
Survive the long night in the Forest! is built around endurance, not speedrunning. There’s no audience telling you to hurry; the only real clock is the sun and your own nerves. You can spend a whole in-game day reinforcing your camp instead of exploring. You can wander too far and limp home with just enough wood to keep the fire going for another tense hour. You can have a flawless week where everything goes right, followed by a single reckless day that almost ends your run.
That freedom is exactly what makes every attempt feel personal. Some players will turtle up, building the ultimate fortress and barely leaving their patch of ground. Others will treat daylight like a dare, venturing deeper into the forest, mapping every path, memorizing where the best resources spawn and where the air feels wrong. However you play, every night survived feels earned, and every new dawn is a small, quiet victory against a place that never wanted you to stay.
On Kiz10, that whole loop is only a click away. You can drop into the forest for a single in-game day, gather some wood, patch a wall and log off, or sink into a multi-night marathon where you find yourself leaning closer to the screen as the fire flickers low. Light the camp, listen to the whispers, and see how many nights you can wrestle away from the deer before the forest finally decides you’ve had enough.
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