Destructoid’s Indie Gems – Edition 2: Cosmic horror on the apartment floor
A city sheltered, there's something cosmic brewing outside. Dark clouds loom over, unmoving and unshaken, as if they house a darker secret above their vast layers. The uncertainty of tomorrow has spread across the locals. We're 45 days into something we don't understand. The air is poison, or so the authorities say. Only the Church is trying to do something about it, but can we really trust them? There's a crack in the wall. It's been there for a month now, and it's only getting bigger, so is that gnawing feeling that the situation will only get worse. How can you stay positive when everything is telling you—these are our last days? Screenshot by Destructoid Funeralopolis | Last Days is a truly underrated indie horror gem that was released last September on itch.io. Heavily text-based with walking sim elements, games like these demonstrate you don't always need voice acting to deliver lore or a believable setting. With a one-hour runtime, the worldbuilding in this narrative-driven story shines all by itself. The story is where the horror lies, bubbling with each passing day, as the promise of tomorrow becomes more and more uncertain. Confined to an apartment floor, fear spreads among the residents, all of whom are affected by the ongoing epidemic differently. See hope fester through the peephole, look back out into the world you're too hesitant to explore. A cosmic enigma that calls your name Screenshot by Destructoid An overarching mystery is constantly pulling you in. What are the Churchmen up to? Is there something nefarious going on with their quarantine camps? It's a wonder whether this is real or if it's all just mass hysteria, caused by the official reports that the inexplicable clouds are making people ill. What is that pitch black hole in the kitchen, and why can we only see it on one side? The few residents that you're supposed to look after as the apartment overseer have so many concerns and questions, none of which you can answer. Some don't even want to step foot outside of their apartment. The city is cold, grungy, and greyscale, with the apartment interior feeling comfortable in its warm glow. Stories of biohazardous materials we've never seen before keep popping up on the Church's private frequency. A channel you're not supposed to be tuned into. Everything is quiet; from the environment and its terrified people, to the horror. It's an unsettling feeling that never leaves you. You'd think everyone would be panicked, yet we comply and stay silent in hopes that the monsters will just leave us alone. There's anxiety as society is being pulled taut, like this is all a test to see if you'll give in and go outside. There's a single choice you can make, and it determines which ending you'll get. A Lovecraftian nightmare as the sky turns red Screenshot by Destructoid Like something out of Stephen King's The Mist, Funeralopolis is a cosmic horror with clear inspiration from H.P. Lovecraft's fear of the unknown. The apartment setting is reminiscent of Silent Hill 4: The Room. The otherworldly terror perfectly captures that dread and incomprehension for something out of this world, that's seeping into our own. The isolation and uncertainty for the future are direct links to the 2020 pandemic, as we were forced to stay indoors and listen out for news in hopes that something would change—something means everything can go back to normal. You feel as though your life is holding on by a thread that could be cut any moment by the terrifying words spoken through the television and radio. But in Funeralopolis, no such hope is given. A story-rich world I want to rent a room in Screenshot by Destructoid The slow build of Funeralopolis is tied to the information you learn from radio broadcasts each day, and observed through the cracked wall that spreads open like worry. You're given bits and pieces of the lore that's developing by the day, making the story perfectly paced, with just the right amount of intriguing information making you want to press on. The cutscenes only make the horror more immersive, like you're an active participant or a detective trying to solve the mystery. Tension and anxiety are created through the brooding soundtrack and old-school art design. You feel as though you are actually the overseer of this world, where the apartment residents are yours to take care of. Does anything you do truly matter in a situation so hopeless, against a threat inconceivable to mankind? You try to do the right thing, but what does it amount to? Actions have consequences, yet in Funeralopolis, your inactions are just as important. Regardless of your choices, time moves forward, life goes on, yet the nightmare's only just begun. The post Destructoid’s Indie Gems – Edition 2: Cosmic horror on the apartment floor appeared first on Destructoid.
A city sheltered, there's something cosmic brewing outside. Dark clouds loom over, unmoving and unshaken, as if they house a darker secret above their vast layers. The uncertainty of tomorrow has spread across the locals. We're 45 days into something we don't understand. The air is poison, or so the authorities say. Only the Church is trying to do something about it, but can we really trust them?
There's a crack in the wall. It's been there for a month now, and it's only getting bigger, so is that gnawing feeling that the situation will only get worse.
How can you stay positive when everything is telling you—these are our last days?
Funeralopolis | Last Days is a truly underrated indie horror gem that was released last September on itch.io. Heavily text-based with walking sim elements, games like these demonstrate you don't always need voice acting to deliver lore or a believable setting. With a one-hour runtime, the worldbuilding in this narrative-driven story shines all by itself. The story is where the horror lies, bubbling with each passing day, as the promise of tomorrow becomes more and more uncertain. Confined to an apartment floor, fear spreads among the residents, all of whom are affected by the ongoing epidemic differently. See hope fester through the peephole, look back out into the world you're too hesitant to explore.
A cosmic enigma that calls your name
An overarching mystery is constantly pulling you in. What are the Churchmen up to? Is there something nefarious going on with their quarantine camps? It's a wonder whether this is real or if it's all just mass hysteria, caused by the official reports that the inexplicable clouds are making people ill. What is that pitch black hole in the kitchen, and why can we only see it on one side? The few residents that you're supposed to look after as the apartment overseer have so many concerns and questions, none of which you can answer. Some don't even want to step foot outside of their apartment.
The city is cold, grungy, and greyscale, with the apartment interior feeling comfortable in its warm glow. Stories of biohazardous materials we've never seen before keep popping up on the Church's private frequency. A channel you're not supposed to be tuned into.
Everything is quiet; from the environment and its terrified people, to the horror. It's an unsettling feeling that never leaves you. You'd think everyone would be panicked, yet we comply and stay silent in hopes that the monsters will just leave us alone. There's anxiety as society is being pulled taut, like this is all a test to see if you'll give in and go outside. There's a single choice you can make, and it determines which ending you'll get.
A Lovecraftian nightmare as the sky turns red
Like something out of Stephen King's The Mist, Funeralopolis is a cosmic horror with clear inspiration from H.P. Lovecraft's fear of the unknown. The apartment setting is reminiscent of Silent Hill 4: The Room. The otherworldly terror perfectly captures that dread and incomprehension for something out of this world, that's seeping into our own. The isolation and uncertainty for the future are direct links to the 2020 pandemic, as we were forced to stay indoors and listen out for news in hopes that something would change—something means everything can go back to normal.
You feel as though your life is holding on by a thread that could be cut any moment by the terrifying words spoken through the television and radio. But in Funeralopolis, no such hope is given.
A story-rich world I want to rent a room in
The slow build of Funeralopolis is tied to the information you learn from radio broadcasts each day, and observed through the cracked wall that spreads open like worry. You're given bits and pieces of the lore that's developing by the day, making the story perfectly paced, with just the right amount of intriguing information making you want to press on. The cutscenes only make the horror more immersive, like you're an active participant or a detective trying to solve the mystery. Tension and anxiety are created through the brooding soundtrack and old-school art design. You feel as though you are actually the overseer of this world, where the apartment residents are yours to take care of.
Does anything you do truly matter in a situation so hopeless, against a threat inconceivable to mankind? You try to do the right thing, but what does it amount to? Actions have consequences, yet in Funeralopolis, your inactions are just as important. Regardless of your choices, time moves forward, life goes on, yet the nightmare's only just begun.
The post Destructoid’s Indie Gems – Edition 2: Cosmic horror on the apartment floor appeared first on Destructoid.
