Other characters pick up the narrative slack, including leaders of the heretics and the afflicted, neither of which put cleanliness high on their list of priorities. This abusive priest, Father Knoll, only appears a few times despite his commanding voice and disturbing sermons. Blake sets out to find his wife amidst the unforgiving and twisted landscape.įar away from civilization, Blake is now a pawn in a game led chiefly by a preacher whose congregation happily kills infants because it was ordained. Lynn vanishes and the pilot has been flayed on a nearby tree by persons unknown. To no great surprise, a disaster sends the chopper crashing into a rocky canyon. He is joined by his wife, Lynn, and they use a helicopter to search the rugged terrain from above. Players take the role of a cameraman, Blake Langermann, who is trying to uncover the secrets behind a Jane Doe found on the side of a road. The same horror mechanics apply-sneaking, sprinting, and dying-so fans of the original will find a lot to like when they are cowering in tall grass, hoping that a crazy man with a knife walks away before the camera battery dies. In contrast to the hallways of a mental asylum, players will spend their time roaming the open air near rundown shacks, barns, and caves deep in the unforgiving deserts of central Arizona. Although set in the same universe as its forebear, it is a new story with new characters and minimal connection to the first game.
Outlast 2 is the latest scare-a-thon from Red Barrels following their successful original horror title that came out four years ago. Marta has a pickaxe to grind, on your rib cage Marta grumbles, unable to follow, but she'll be back-that pickaxe has my name written all over it. With no time to spare, I scramble over and fall to the other side. She runs towards me as the cart finally reaches the gate. Her elongated pale limbs grant her unnatural height and worrying speed. Marta has found me once again, and, out of the corner of my eye, I can see she still has that massive pickaxe resting on her shoulder, partly obscured by her grimy hooded rags. From behind me, a woman's deep gravelly voice makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. A wooden cart nearby will help me ascend, so I start pushing it. I crawl my way along a dirt road to a sturdy gate, but it is padlocked and too high to climb. Now is the time to leave my watery refuge. There is no movement near the old timber houses, nor are there any sounds beyond the fence. Is she out there? I tentatively peak over the rusted rim, take in an overdue breath, and use my camera's night vision to penetrate the darkened surroundings. The blood-tainted water inside this steel barrel makes it difficult to see or hear anything. This hiding spot has kept me safe, but I can't hold my breath any longer.
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