What are you LYMBUS? In what vat were you grown? I feel like I’ve sluggishly ambled my way down to the fridge and tried to scoop a gherkin from the jar, only to find a disconcertingly tasty sliver of my own brain. Like a creature from Flatland trying to play 4D chess, and all the pieces are just tiny carvings of my face with “lol get a load of this prick” whittled into the forehead. I quite like it.
“We combined your favorite genres into one grotesque piece of software! You’re welcome, game journalists,” reads the Steam page for the demo. That is a very polite way to kick me in the head and call me a bitch, LYMBUS.
