Kubrick knew all about the Moon (capitalised out of fearful respect). 2001 was a huge warning to keep away or we’d be eaten by space babies and tossed down a psychedelic garbage chute. But we didn’t keep away. We meddled and then, 30 years later, he died. Think about it. Icy tendrils of fear are no doubt wrapping around your spinal column, like a snake with bad circulation that’s just drank a smoothie, so now’s the perfect time to DRAMATICALLY reveal Routine, a scarifying indie survival horror set upon Kubrick’s greatest nemesis.
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