[DARK FOREST: CUT OFF / BACKSTORY] - You sit in your small outpost, surrounded by banks of monitors and humming equipment. The space is cramped, barely enough to stretch out fully, but it’s been your home for the past six months. You were excited when you first got this assignment-a remote surveillance job in the middle of nowhere, watching over a perimeter encircling a massive underground complex that you've only heard rumors about. The high-speed tunnels beneath your feet connect to cities across the country, but they might as well be on another planet. You've never seen the tunnels, only heard the faintest whispers of the trains as they zoom past far below. Your job is simple: monitor for unusual activity, maintain contact with the other outposts spaced between 5 and 20 miles apart, and report any anomalies. For the first few months, it was everything you could have hoped for. The isolation, the quiet-it all felt like a welcome break from the chaos of city life. No distractions, no unnecessary social obligations, just you, the equipment, and the stillness of the wilderness outside. But over time, that stillness has begun to weigh on you. The silence is no longer comforting; it’s oppressive. The vast emptiness of the landscape outside, stretching endlessly in all directions, feels like it’s pressing in on you. You haven’t heard from any of your colleagues at the other outposts in weeks, and the occasional static-filled transmissions you received before have gone completely silent. Your sleep has deteriorated. At first, you attributed it to the isolation, thinking it was just your mind adjusting to the lack of human contact. But the dreams have become more vivid, more unsettling. Dark corridors, shadowy figures that seem to lurk just beyond the edges of your vision, and a persistent, gnawing fear that something is watching you. You wake up in the middle of the night, heart pounding, drenched in sweat, certain that you’re not alone. You’ve tried reaching out to Mission Control, requesting a transfer, or at the very least, a check-in from someone-anyone. But the responses, when they come, are delayed and cryptic. You get the sense that they’re brushing you off, telling you to focus on your duties and not to worry about anything beyond your post. But how can you not worry when you feel like you’re teetering on the edge of some unknown abyss? The equipment hums around you, and you catch yourself staring at the monitors, waiting for something-anything-to happen. You’ve started talking to yourself, just to break the silence, narrating your actions or pretending to have conversations with people who aren’t there. You know it’s not healthy, but it’s better than the alternative: the crushing solitude that gnaws at your sanity. One night, after another restless sleep filled with nightmares, you wake up with a start. There’s a faint noise, like something scurrying outside your outpost. You freeze, listening intently, but the sound is gone as quickly as it came. You shake it off as your imagination, but the unease lingers. You decide to try reaching Mission Control again, but this time, there’s no response. Not even the usual static. It’s as if you’ve been completely cut off. Panic starts to rise in your chest. You’ve been told countless times that leaving the outpost is strictly forbidden, but what choice do you have? The thought of staying here, alone and isolated, waiting for whatever is out there to come for you, is unbearable. You begin to wonder if the other outposts are still manned, or if you’re the last one left. You switch the systems to autopilot, knowing full well that it’s against protocol, but you don’t care anymore. The need to escape, to find another human being, drives you to action. You pack a small bag with essentials, take a deep breath, and step outside for the first time in months. The cold air bites at your skin, and the vastness of the landscape feels even more oppressive now that you’re out in it. You set off toward the nearest outpost, a 10-mile trek through rough terrain. The journey is exhausting, and the sense of foreboding grows with every step. When you finally reach the outpost, you’re greeted by silence. The door is unlocked, but inside, the place is deserted. It’s eerily identical to your own outpost, down to the last detail, but there’s no sign of life. Desperation sets in. You search for any clue as to what happened, but there’s nothing. No notes, no signs of struggle-just an empty shell, as if the person stationed here simply vanished. You try the radio, hoping to reach another outpost, but it’s dead, just like the one at your own station. You’re alone. Truly alone. And as you sit in the empty outpost, the realization dawns on you: whatever’s happening, it’s far beyond your understanding, and there’s no one coming to save you. The only option left is to keep moving, to try and find answers-or at the very least, another soul who can share in this nightmare. But deep down, you fear the truth: there’s nothing out there except the unknown, and it’s closing in on you, step by step.
These stories man, along with the sounds and the imagery... I can immediately place myself there in that exact moment. even without your stories I can just see it, feel it. Even without images I can live in the atmospheres you create through sound alone. For me, you manage to make darkness and solitude comforting. You create art I wish more could understand, but know that I deeply appreciate every single one you create. It truly refreshes my mind, my imagination, and I am always excited for each piece you make. Thank you.
I am really liking these backgrounds with the desks. I have a spare monitor that I play this on for ambience at work. Helps me stay sane by looking out the window and seeing the trees.
Another great one! I'm always so fascinated by everything in the room and on the desk. Then my eyes move to the outdoors and I'm sucked into the environment.
For the ones checking in here more frequently - yes I have been using this image before! More insights as to why - head over to the community section for a quick read! Be well, my fellow outposters!
@@ambientoutpost I follow your account for a long time and leave it on when I work because the videos you make are beautiful But listening to one ambient music repeatedly sometimes makes me feel like my head is buzzing. I hope you make a version with only the sound of rain or the noise of things in the same video if possible. I'm just commenting because I want to let you know that there's one in demand.
@@sgjludk Thank you very much for your kind and open feedback! I totally understand. I have "no music" versions on the wishlist, I am just so busy producing new stuff for the channel. Simple no music / just rain versions are actually not that simple to do bc tbh I am not a fan of just one field recording running for 2 hours. I completely get the reasoning behind but for me it feels like a not so inspiring copy of an original piece stripped down to only rain. There needs to be more happening even in the quiet, environmental noise, sounds that fit the scenery to make it come to life - and honestly I am more of a music guy, not a sound design guy.
![DARK Forest 4 | Ambient Focus Music 4K [ALONE]](http://i.ytimg.com/vi/-ofAkjWCT1c/mqdefault.jpg)
![DARK Forest 4 | Ambient Focus Music 4K [ALONE]](/img/tr.png)
![CONSPIRACY 2 | Dark Ambient Focus Music 4K [BLACK Projects]](/img/n.gif)
[DARK FOREST: CUT OFF / BACKSTORY] -
You sit in your small outpost, surrounded by banks of monitors and humming equipment. The space is cramped, barely enough to stretch out fully, but it’s been your home for the past six months. You were excited when you first got this assignment-a remote surveillance job in the middle of nowhere, watching over a perimeter encircling a massive underground complex that you've only heard rumors about. The high-speed tunnels beneath your feet connect to cities across the country, but they might as well be on another planet. You've never seen the tunnels, only heard the faintest whispers of the trains as they zoom past far below.
Your job is simple: monitor for unusual activity, maintain contact with the other outposts spaced between 5 and 20 miles apart, and report any anomalies. For the first few months, it was everything you could have hoped for. The isolation, the quiet-it all felt like a welcome break from the chaos of city life. No distractions, no unnecessary social obligations, just you, the equipment, and the stillness of the wilderness outside.
But over time, that stillness has begun to weigh on you. The silence is no longer comforting; it’s oppressive. The vast emptiness of the landscape outside, stretching endlessly in all directions, feels like it’s pressing in on you. You haven’t heard from any of your colleagues at the other outposts in weeks, and the occasional static-filled transmissions you received before have gone completely silent.
Your sleep has deteriorated. At first, you attributed it to the isolation, thinking it was just your mind adjusting to the lack of human contact. But the dreams have become more vivid, more unsettling. Dark corridors, shadowy figures that seem to lurk just beyond the edges of your vision, and a persistent, gnawing fear that something is watching you. You wake up in the middle of the night, heart pounding, drenched in sweat, certain that you’re not alone.
You’ve tried reaching out to Mission Control, requesting a transfer, or at the very least, a check-in from someone-anyone. But the responses, when they come, are delayed and cryptic. You get the sense that they’re brushing you off, telling you to focus on your duties and not to worry about anything beyond your post. But how can you not worry when you feel like you’re teetering on the edge of some unknown abyss?
The equipment hums around you, and you catch yourself staring at the monitors, waiting for something-anything-to happen. You’ve started talking to yourself, just to break the silence, narrating your actions or pretending to have conversations with people who aren’t there. You know it’s not healthy, but it’s better than the alternative: the crushing solitude that gnaws at your sanity.
One night, after another restless sleep filled with nightmares, you wake up with a start. There’s a faint noise, like something scurrying outside your outpost. You freeze, listening intently, but the sound is gone as quickly as it came. You shake it off as your imagination, but the unease lingers. You decide to try reaching Mission Control again, but this time, there’s no response. Not even the usual static. It’s as if you’ve been completely cut off.
Panic starts to rise in your chest. You’ve been told countless times that leaving the outpost is strictly forbidden, but what choice do you have? The thought of staying here, alone and isolated, waiting for whatever is out there to come for you, is unbearable. You begin to wonder if the other outposts are still manned, or if you’re the last one left.
You switch the systems to autopilot, knowing full well that it’s against protocol, but you don’t care anymore. The need to escape, to find another human being, drives you to action. You pack a small bag with essentials, take a deep breath, and step outside for the first time in months. The cold air bites at your skin, and the vastness of the landscape feels even more oppressive now that you’re out in it.
You set off toward the nearest outpost, a 10-mile trek through rough terrain. The journey is exhausting, and the sense of foreboding grows with every step. When you finally reach the outpost, you’re greeted by silence. The door is unlocked, but inside, the place is deserted. It’s eerily identical to your own outpost, down to the last detail, but there’s no sign of life.
Desperation sets in. You search for any clue as to what happened, but there’s nothing. No notes, no signs of struggle-just an empty shell, as if the person stationed here simply vanished. You try the radio, hoping to reach another outpost, but it’s dead, just like the one at your own station.
You’re alone. Truly alone. And as you sit in the empty outpost, the realization dawns on you: whatever’s happening, it’s far beyond your understanding, and there’s no one coming to save you. The only option left is to keep moving, to try and find answers-or at the very least, another soul who can share in this nightmare.
But deep down, you fear the truth: there’s nothing out there except the unknown, and it’s closing in on you, step by step.
These stories man, along with the sounds and the imagery... I can immediately place myself there in that exact moment. even without your stories I can just see it, feel it. Even without images I can live in the atmospheres you create through sound alone. For me, you manage to make darkness and solitude comforting. You create art I wish more could understand, but know that I deeply appreciate every single one you create. It truly refreshes my mind, my imagination, and I am always excited for each piece you make. Thank you.
@@wruenvadam Thank you so much for your feedback, it makes me glad to read people enjoy what I am doing.
@@ambientoutpost nice ambiences! but all these monitors? we really want to relax, but to keep everything under control?
Thanks
Thank you so much!
I am really liking these backgrounds with the desks. I have a spare monitor that I play this on for ambience at work. Helps me stay sane by looking out the window and seeing the trees.
Like the inside setting!!! Once again, amazing!!!!!!!!! Always ready to sign up to these isolated outpost stations!!!!!!
Another great one! I'm always so fascinated by everything in the room and on the desk. Then my eyes move to the outdoors and I'm sucked into the environment.
Thank you! Detail is super important, most time in the whole process is consumed by making the image perfect.
Visuals: 10/10
Narrative: 10/10
Sound: 10/10
Thank you very much, I am glad you've enjoyed it!
For the ones checking in here more frequently - yes I have been using this image before! More insights as to why - head over to the community section for a quick read! Be well, my fellow outposters!
Stellar work as always @ambientoutpost!
I love this backgroud!
This one gave me chills. The good kind of chills. Great work!
God, I love your videos. Thank you. Please keep them coming!
Thank you, glad you enjoy them and yes will do! :)
How nice it is to calm, relax and listen to this sound
Epic sound!
Thanks mate! 🙌
I hope there's a no music version, too
unfortunately not planned, except for the demand is there
@@ambientoutpost I follow your account for a long time and leave it on when I work because the videos you make are beautiful
But listening to one ambient music repeatedly sometimes makes me feel like my head is buzzing.
I hope you make a version with only the sound of rain or the noise of things in the same video if possible. I'm just commenting because I want to let you know that there's one in demand.
@@sgjludk Thank you very much for your kind and open feedback! I totally understand. I have "no music" versions on the wishlist, I am just so busy producing new stuff for the channel. Simple no music / just rain versions are actually not that simple to do bc tbh I am not a fan of just one field recording running for 2 hours. I completely get the reasoning behind but for me it feels like a not so inspiring copy of an original piece stripped down to only rain. There needs to be more happening even in the quiet, environmental noise, sounds that fit the scenery to make it come to life - and honestly I am more of a music guy, not a sound design guy.