Dragging you back for more.
And that is my gift to you.
But who are you really?
If not a part of me."
That question echoed in my mind from then on.
In underground passageways, looking up will reveal an unnatural starry skyline.
In the silence, you’ll hear far-off whispers.
Every static-dotted sight is obviously beautiful, but also haunting.
Every sign of life is skewered and distorted.
Those eyes I mentioned a moment ago, for instance, look tangentially human.
Step closer though, real close, and their pupils will reveal an empty cosmic blackness.
Corpses are also sewn into the walls, overlapping like a Satanic recreation of Michelangelo’s Catholic paintings.
On my first run, even after whacking and sometimes dismembering these humanoid horrors, they persisted.
After a single death, the ominous text returned: “You reach beyond the veil.
Poking and prodding for something greater.
Some sense of purpose.
What is it you hope to find?”
I found myself thinking the same thing about Mortal Sin after that short-lived, horror-filled first try.
It didn’t take long to answer my question.
Many roguelikes focus on macro character-building choices, asking you to choose between bombastic spells or game-changing equipment.
My first eureka moment came from playing the punchin'-n'-kickin' Monk class.
“A seemingly endless struggle ensues.
Join me in this rhapsody of violence.
And you will find that we are one.”
You go from this cosmic horror’s playdoll to its oppressor.
Suddenly the beasties were trapped in these walls with me, not the other way around.
Those pesky traps were no longer life-threatening hindrances, they were opportunities, environmental hazards begging to be used.
Wanting to taste blood.
And I was happy to oblige.
Maybe this feeling of violent content will pass.
A devilishly good time.
