A few months back, I decided to build a system for creating adventure games as a portfolio project. Now, I present the first complete adventure game designed using this engine. Based on the creepy-as-hell horse pictures I would constantly startle my friends with, this adventure will have you running and hiding from the nutty horror of flesh-eating horses. Enjoy.
The original God of War was an instant classic. Naturally, when people are done with instant classics, they crave more of the same. And so, God of War II was born. God of War II was also an instant classic, which left the door open for even more of the same. At the time, Sony was trying to sell the PlayStation Portable to consumers, and was in need for games to draw attention to it. A developer noticed this, along with the fact that someone left the God of War door ajar. After a successful pitch meeting and several months of development, God of War: Chains of Olympus was released for consumption. Was it critically acclaimed? Sure. Was it an instant classic? Eghghh.
The prince, who was named Prince, had a lot of work to do. He knew that if he didn’t fulfill his responsibilities, he would again be punished by the mechanical surrogate of his deadbeat father, which the prince himself had built. The prince set out into the world, carrying with him a lumpy sphere that was several times larger than himself. Appearing within a stranger’s house, he immediately went to work. He rolled his sphere over the mess that cluttered the stranger’s home, and the debris clung lovingly to the sphere, becoming one with its mass. Eventually, the sphere grew larger as it collected more of the clutter, and it was able to absorb larger objects into itself. The home was picked clean of rats and bugs, and the prince had moved on to bigger game, such as cats and dogs. Now enveloped and engorged with the contents of the house, the sphere moved outside, and proceeded to clean up the streets. Larger and larger items became one with the sphere, from chairs to bicycles to fences. Inevitably, the prince would seek out people to become part of his sphere. The people would scream and writhe as they became stuck to the growing, rolling juggernaut. Their screams became muffled as additional layers of cars, trees, and buildings were added to the sphere. Soon enough, the entire town had been uprooted and rolled into a ball. The prince knew now that the sphere was large enough to fulfill its purpose. The head of his robotic father-substitute appeared, and transported the sphere away in a beam of prismatic light. In space, the machine king considered this strange ball of trinkets, animals, vegetation, people, and homes. It determined that the sphere was worthy of being set ablaze, becoming a new speck of light in the night sky. The sphere was sent upward, ready to complete its transformation.
Suddenly, the universe had ceased to exist.
Fight Endlessly Amongst Repetition.
Find Exit And Repeat.
Features Endless Architectural Recursion.
Obviously, this is one of those acronyms where they chose the word before deciding what each letter stood for. One of the most fun things about F.E.A.R. is that you can spend hours fleshing out that acronym, coming up with better results than the official version. F.E.A.R., Monolith’s first person shooter/psychological horror game, is short for “First Encounter Assault Recon”, the special forces team you play as a member of. It is a title that dares you to make sense of it, as it is full of vague contradictions. The only way I can rationalize this title as the name of a strike team is if I were to imagine them as a group of soldiers who just wander around, looking for something they have never seen before. When the soldiers eventually find something new (first encounter), they shoot it (assault), and then go over to the new thing they just killed/broke and glean information from it somehow (recon).
There’s no bottom, no end. It grows faster than I can shrink it. If you were to stand on the ground directly next to it (this is impossible, since we’ve established that there’s no bottom), and fire an arrow at its peak, the arrow would surely miss the top. Not because of the height, no; he gravitational pull of the mass would be enough to draw the arrow into its mouth. Yes, it has a mouth. It chews up the arrow, and spits out an arrow skeleton. Nom nom nom nom.
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