JER'S MEDIA // INDEPENDENT GAME STUDIO
BREACH PROTOCOL is a 16-player attack/defense FPS about network intrusion. Red team breaks into a neon data centre and races a five-minute clock. Blue team makes them pay for every corridor. It is live right now, in your browser.
No install. No account. The next match is one click away.
// THE GAME
Red team breaks in. Blue team holds. The attack gets a window of about five minutes, and taking objectives is the only way to stretch it. Blue doesn't have to beat you. Blue just has to bleed you until the clock dies.
The campaign ends at the core. The final burn takes two operators holding a beam together, out in the open, while THE SYSADMIN — the level's boss, and the best teammate blue ever had — comes for both of them. Everyone else is holding doorways, trading rooms for seconds, watching the clock.
And the floor is never quiet. Bots fill every empty seat, push and flank and hold like a squad — and stand up the moment a human wants to sit down.
// THE CAMPAIGN
One intrusion, told in order: get a badge, steal a signature, own the floor.
LEVEL 1 // INITIAL ACCESS
One gun on the whole level, and red holds it. You cast lures from a sealed pier, through a glass wall that lets shots through and stops bodies; blue fields no weapons at all — just a patch beam and the nerve to stand in the lane. Land your credentials before the window closes, or watch the clock beat you. Sides swap at the half. Everyone gets a turn on the rod.
LEVEL 2 // ESCALATION
You're inside, but nothing ships without the root signature. Four key shares open the signing ceremony — two sitting in ground red already owns, two locked in a cleanroom blue can cover without leaving home. Then the hard part: a two-operator beam on the vault, across a bare antechamber with nowhere to hide, while THE NOTARY defends it.
LEVEL 3 // RECON
Four objectives, spread too far apart for one squad to hold. Red has to split up. Blue has to choose what to bleed for. Take all four and the burn begins — two operators on the beam, THE SYSADMIN on the field, and every capture you banked buying you seconds.
SIDE OP // DUST
Off the campaign: a desert relay compound — streets, stairs, a catwalk — where both sides rehearse on ground neither owns. It is also where SKIRMISH lives.
// THE BOTS
The bots play like people, on purpose. They have to notice you before they can fight you: they turn at a human speed, hesitate the way humans hesitate, fight from cover, and reload when the magazine runs dry. Come in quiet, directly behind one, and you have seconds before it knows you're there. Come in loud from the front and you have almost none.
One promise has held since the first day of the bot work: they never got better aim. Their game sense — when to push, when to rotate, when to cut their losses and go home — was earned across a day and a half of nonstop matches against themselves. Everything they learned went into their decisions. None of it touched their trigger finger.
Bot count and skill are live dials in OPTIONS. Turning skill down makes them slower to notice you and slower to turn — never worse shots, never better — so an easy match feels like fighting a clumsy squad, not a blind one.
The no-aimbot rule, the training campaign, and the numbers — on the engineering page. →
// TAKE COMMAND
Each side can seat a commander: a player who runs the whole arena from a top-down map, never spawns, can't be shot, and doesn't cost the team a combat slot. The chair's intel is earned, not given — an enemy shows only while a teammate has eyes on them, then fades to a ghost of where they were, then to nothing. Nobody in this game sees through walls. Not even the chair.
The chair's other lever is a budget the operators earn by fighting, spent on two zone calls. SMOKE SCREEN blocks sight and nothing else, and blinds both sides without allegiance. RED TAPE slows and softens whoever stands in it — it never stops anyone cold. Every call is telegraphed on the floor before it lands, and both teams see the marker. If the enemy commander drops smoke on your lane, you have time to be somewhere else.
// THE LABS
The SOUND LAB can replace any sound in the game with a generated take, live, for the whole server. The storyline is editable the same way — rewrite the briefing, and the next player to join reads your version. AVATAR//LAB is a voxel editor for the operators and for THE SYSADMIN himself, right down to his hit points; its FIGHT tab edits the match while it runs, and warns you in amber before you touch anything. A whole second identity for the game — theme, cast, voices, rules — installs as one THEMEPACK, and deleting it puts everything back exactly the way it was.
The official server keeps its dials pinned, so public matches stay fair. Run your own server, and every dial is yours.
// DEPLOYMENT
Browser. breach.jers.media, right now. Best in a Chromium browser, which lets the game claim CTRL+W — so crawling forward doesn't close the tab.
Desktop. The desktop app packs the whole game into one window: double-click and you're in the campaign against six bots. It's also your own private server — friends on your network join your match from a browser while you play. Logs stay on your disk, nothing uploads, nothing phones home. It works on an airplane.
Steam. The groundwork is real: the app is registered, friends can join your game, achievements fire. There is no store page yet and no date to give you. When there is, it will be here.
Jer's Media is an independent studio run by Jeremy Richards. It makes one game and ships it continuously. BREACH PROTOCOL grew out of an earlier multiplayer experiment, now-fps, and kept that project's best habit: writing everything down. If a number appears on this site, somebody measured it — the engineering page shows the receipts.
Sixteen slots. The bots will make room.