I have apparently escaped from the Organaut Inquisition, emerged from the Transdimensional Meat Escalator and into a hellish and absurd glitch RPG: Hellscapes 7-8. I’m nothing more than a Salary Man with an esoteric rifle, an urge to survive and a demented determination to explore.
It took me a few hours of running into neo-mammals who reproduce glitch-sexually (through a titillating ceremony of data corruption) and subtle societal satire, but I have now declared myself triumphant. I have successfully murdered Angels of Slaughter and used JRPG techniques on Angels of Torture. I have looked into vaguely naughty red things and kept my sanity. I have endured the Poet’s Tower and marveled at the noise of the ungodly music.
All I can now do is lure new travelers into the alienating wastes of Hellscapes 7-8. And, maybe, just maybe, bake me a cookie.