You wake in a dim corridor. Your memory is hazy, but there's no mistaking your physical state–you're a wreck. Whatever happened here was pretty serious. Serious and cold. Really, really cold. Your face is nearly frozen to the grate below. With tremendous difficulty, you haul yourself into a sitting position to get your bearings and find that you're in the central vertex of the ship you've called home for the past year. The ship isn't moving, and the weighted silence confirms your worst fear: the life support system is down. Your pain will have to wait. There's not-dying to be done.
Type "INVENTORY" to examine your inventory. Type "HELP" for assistance.