Once upon a time, in the year 1999, a young, impressionable child was introduced to a video game. He didn't like this game, it scared him. It was dark, bleak, and there were giant demonic heads that would rush at him from behind. He didn't get very far, he was terrified to try. The friend who had the game moved away, and the now scarred child moved the memory of the game to the darkest recesses of his mind, where it festered, grew, and took over his subconscious. Without realizing it, his dreamworlds were directly inspired by the game, causing him to spend his entire waking life looking for ways to piece together what it felt like for him to dream. Any time a game reminded him of his sad, forlorn dreams, he clung desperately to them, even if they were cheap imitations. LSD Dream Emulator, Majora's Mask, Yume Nikki, Silent Hill, Niko Through The Dream, NaissanceE, and others all were similar to this idea that plagued him incessantly, this feeling, this tone, this universe that seemed to be his and his alone, but none scratched the itch perfectly. Unable to find peace, the now adult man combed the internet searching for the obscure, forgotten game that had somehow shaped his entire life, from his taste in art and music to his religion and philosophy.
He found it yesterday. And he's been playing it today. The man is horrified at how levels he has never seen pervaded his every dream, and yet he is also comforted to once again be united with his own heaven and hell, to find the source of his torment. The name of the game is Saints of Virtue, and I don't know how or why this beautiful, terrible, awe-inspiring, mediocre, terrifying, serene game has had such a permenant lifelong effect on me. But the developers closed shop and I can't seem to contact them.
It's a game I highly recommend playing (in windowed mode, fullscreen has a bizarre color glitch). It's like a mix of Doom and The Theatre.
I'll go into more detail in other posts if you want, I just don't wanna hit the character limit.
