• video games.,…………….

    Probably the only thing I like as much as I like role playing games is skateboarding. I love skateboarding, man. I had skated here and there before, but I started really and truly learning how to skate sometime in 2020 along with seemingly everybody else in the world at the time, and for a few years it was one of the only things I thought about. Skateboarding to me felt like freedom: from shame, from pain, from feelings of helplessness and hopelessness. When I first began skating, I thought of it in a similar way that someone might think of yoga. For me, skating had me thinking of my body in entirely different terms than I usually do. It’s all about dexterity and precision, and just a couple centimeters difference in foot positioning can totally make or break a trick you’re working on. In this way, despite style being so important to skateboarding, improvement is often found not in others perception of you but instead in what feels natural. Finding the most natural way to do a trick that works for you is a meditative process. Skateboarding asks of you to have a very specific attention to and control of your body, and to center yourself in that attention and presence. I would call it an escape, but it’s almost the opposite. It’s something that completely grounds you in your body, and requires of you a mind-body connection that can be difficult under normal circumstances if you’re prone to dissociation or feeling distant from yourself like I am.

    What I’m saying is that I know how to do a kickflip. I mention this not to brag — I do not at all have bragging right-level skills when it comes to skating — but instead to make known my familiarity with the topic, as today I seek to answer probably the most important question in the history of skateboarding itself.

    Is Tony Hawk’s Underground a role playing game?

    It’s hard to say. I mean, it’s a skateboarding game from a lineage that would fit perfectly into an arcade cabinet. The Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater games typically are score chasers, usually played in two minute challenge runs where you collect SKATE letters and try to get the high score. There are little hints of RPG elements in there, like the distributable stat points you could always invest to get higher ollies, more air time, easier grinds and manuals, and so on, but that’s not really what the games were about. They were about ripping. The absolute absurdity of the lines you can pull off are physically impossible, and it all exists in service to having fun in a silly and arcadey setting. The Underground series though, developed by the now-defunct Neversoft, doubles down on its RPG aspects, and makes this a little more of a difficult question to answer.

    Tony Hawk’s Underground is a much more narratively focused game than the earlier Tony Hawk games. Unlike in the Pro Skater games, Underground has you create your own skater, and follows the story of your created character and their rival Eric Sparrow as they travel the world, shoot videos, join competitions, and try to become professionals. It tells the story of you and Eric, beginning as New Jersey locals and becoming global pros, the friendship between the two of you fracturing along the way due to your different goals with skating. Your player character want to be a pro because you love skating, but Eric wants to be a pro because he wants to be rich and famous. Eric’s a sellout, man. He’s not into real soul skating like us. The narrative focus on the game changes the game’s structure completely; where once you were stuck on the board and only able to play two minutes at a time, Underground wants you to step off the board sometimes and really exist as your character in this cartoonishly skateable version of the world Neversoft created. Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater 4 was the game that began this shift in the series, as that was the game that first got rid of the two minute timer and introduced NPCs into the world that would give you challenges to complete. Underground fully completes this shift by adding real narrative, a greater focus on your player created character, and eventually choices of which actual skate team you want to join (including Girl, Element, Zero, Birdhouse, and a couple more real skate teams). The character creator is weird and fun, and at the time you could even send in a picture of your face to Neversoft so that they could scan it and give you a passcode that you could enter, putting your actual face onto your character in the game. This is a game in part about your character’s individuality, and they wanted you to be able to express your player character both through skating and through its many customization options.

    Throughout the story of both Underground games, you travel from city to city completing specific challenges that the people you meet will ask you to do, and doing so gets you closer to progressing the story. Some of the challenges are unique, like the one in the beginning of the game where you have to “take a dog for a walk” (grab hold of the dog’s leash and skitch behind him while he runs down the streets) while others just have you collect a bunch of points and move on. You can do these in almost any order you’d like, ignoring as many of the ones that suck as you want. I like the challenges that ask me to do specific grinds, or tricks I don’t usually do. I hate the challenges where you have to drive a car, so I never do those if I can avoid it, but if you like awkwardly steering around a big stupid box that feels bad and isn’t fun, you can go ahead and find those first too. The player’s choice is important here; the Underground games want you to have your own adventure through this deeply weird, extremely made-in-2003 world. In a way, it’s sort of all about making the game your own experience, with all of this and the trick creators and level editors. They want you to experience your version of Tony Hawk’s Underground and find your story of what it means to skate until you become pro. It really is an incredibly tight and fun skateboarding game. Is it realistic or simulator-like in the way Skate or Session or any of those others are? Definitely not. But building a combo in these games and maintaining it is challenging in the right way, and can almost be meditative in the way I had spoken about skating in the beginning. It is good to be forced to lock in by something you enjoy.

    lol so i cant capture images from my playstation 2 so im using pics i took of my CRT set up. forgive me but i do think its funny

    With the interest in narrative comes a stronger focus on the weird RPG elements present in THPS. In the series before Underground, you would be able to increase your stats only by finding stat points hidden in hard to reach places around the world. Here, though, they’ve changed the system completely, and you can now only level up your character by accomplishing certain goals related to each stat. If you want better and faster flip tricks, you have to start doing several flip tricks in one combo to earn it. If you want an easier time balancing on rails, you’re gonna have to first hold a grind for fifteen seconds straight, or do three nose grinds in one combo. If you wanna get better at skating switch, you’re gonna have to do a lot of different tricks and probably start doing the impossible: actually skating switch. All the stat upgrades come like this, meaning the game will reward you for trying to improve your specific skills. If you’re like me and not trying too hard to unlock all the skill points, this also means that your character is naturally going to be better at the style of skating that you as a player gravitate toward the most. I like street skating, and love grinds and slides and manuals and technical flip tricks, so that’s what I ended up with most, but someone more into vert or transition skating might find that their character ends up with more air time or better lip tricks. I didn’t remember this skill system from when I played this game when I was younger, so when I first found out about it, I thought, “oh yeah, it’s almost sort of like Skyrim‘s skill system!” Actually, though, this came about half a decade earlier, so if anything, Skyrim is sort of like Tony Hawk’s Underground (and if we’re being pedantic, we could even say Tony Hawk’s Underground‘s progression is sort of like Final Fantasy II lol).

    Perplexing all of these weird mechanical things going on with the game is the tone and story itself, especially in Underground 2. This second game as a narrative is more about slapstick comedy than it is about skateboarding. Bam Margera being such a big feature in Underground 2 somehow entirely shifts the already unserious tone to a straight up Jackass movie. There’s already a huge overlap between slapstick stuff and skating in the real world, but this completes the comparison. The game literally opens with you being kidnapped by Bam and threatened with a chainsaw while you and other pros are tied to a chair as a prank. Eric Sparrow pisses and shits himself in the chair. From there it’s all farts, dicks, boobs and bikinis pretty much for the rest of the game, occasionally moving its focus to make fun of the disabled or other marginalized folks. Also reflecting this cultural time period is the soundtrack, which is very of its time; it includes songs like “No W” by Ministry, which opens with a sample from a George W. Bush speech about “fighting a war against evil.” Like I said, it’s extremely 2003, warts, wars and all.

    here’s “mayor jed,” the mayor of tampa, florida. lol

    So there’s a character creator, lots of player choice surrounding how you might approach the game and its many obstacles, deep customization options, narrative focus, a hero and a villainous rival, character statistics that reflect who you play and how you play them… but do all of these make it a role playing game? I’ve been doing some digging trying to find the language the developers used during the marketing of these games, and in a 2003 IGN article by Douglass Perry, the company president at the time Joel Pewett says: “It’s an adventure game. It’s different from anything we’ve ever done in the series.” What he actually means by this isn’t completely clear in the article. When I think of adventure games, I think of something like the Monkey Island series, and this is certainly not anything like that. It is an adventure, but is it an adventure game? And if it’s a role playing game, why? What is a role playing game anyway?

    Like all genres, this is incredibly tough to define, and as I was starting this blog I actually struggled with this a lot. The question of what a role playing game is, especially in the context of video games, haunted me when I began, and so many people have arrived at so many different answers that it boggles the mind. You could say it’s any game that involves lots of customization and character progression, but then that has to include certain sports games where people might disagree like Tony Hawk’s Underground, or NBA 2k25. You could say it’s any game that involves player choice or other agency over the story, but that would exclude certain games that obviously are role playing games like some entries in Final Fantasy or Dragon Quest. And with some of these definitions, you’d have to include Zelda. I’ve heard it said that role playing video games are games that replicate the systems used in tabletop RPGs, but those systems are so diverse and often not even reflected in many of the role playing video games we have today. What tabletop game plays the way an action RPG like Final Fantasy 7: Rebirth does and don’t say Queen’s Blood? (I’m sure there’s lots, including the TTJRPG Fabula Ultima but you get the idea.) You could even just say, “well, I don’t care, I know a role playing game when I see it,” and like sure, but then how do you talk about the genre if you can’t articulate what it’s made of? It’s really a pretentious and stupid socratic dialogue sort of question. Can you define a chair in a way that includes all things that are chairs and excludes all things that aren’t? “Can you define a role playing game in a way that includes Baldurs Gate, Final Fantasy, and Dark Souls, but doesn’t include Zelda?” Shut up!!!!!!!!!!!

    What you can do is identify common themes: they typically (but not always) have stories and setting which make up a large focus of the game, where one or a party of player characters take actions whose effectiveness is determined by statistics, and involve expressive decision making in any one of many different ways. There are sometimes (but not always) dice, NPCs, usually battles, and character progression reflected in the character’s statistics. As much as this is generally (but not always) true, there’s also so many ways where each and every one of these “rules” can be broken as long as it maintains some sort of aesthetic similarity or lineage through inspiration. Sometimes a game might follow none of these rules and still be a role playing game. Maybe you can even follow most of them and still end up somewhere else in genre space. A genre isn’t always a thing you are, it can be a thing you use: I think Tony Hawk’s Underground and Tony Hawk’s Underground 2 are interesting because they are their own unique experiences, dabbling into lots of game genre spaces yet reflecting their own place in the series, in the world culturally, and in gaming. It’s a score chasing arcade cabinet, yes, but it’s also a long adventure-like story where you level up through experience and challenges, and progress by interacting with NPCs. It’s also a game with lots of weird little RPG elements, and it’s a Jackass movie starring Bam, and it’s a park builder game, and it’s a window into the culture of gaming and maybe skating at the time… It’s a lot of things! It’s hard to say that it’s just any one of them. Besides, there are elements of role playing games in seemingly everything now. In Call of Duty‘s multiplayer (or at least the ones I played for a short while on the Xbox 360), leveling up granted you access to more perks, more equipment, more weapons, which in turn changed the way you interfaced with the game. You can get prestige levels, too, which means choosing to reset your level to zero and do the whole thing differently. These are pretty straightforward RPG elements punched right into the game to give a sense of character progression to your multiplayer ranking. Does that make Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 2 an RPG? Like, no, or I mean, not really, not if you’re being serious. But that doesn’t mean the influence isn’t there; that stuff doesn’t happen without a long history of role playing games and role playing systems being implemented into other work. It’s not just RPG heads that like to see the numbers go up.

    I guess my point is that if Tony Hawk’s Underground isn’t an RPG, then there’s a lot of RPGs out there that also aren’t RPGs. But if it is, then everything else kind of is too. And that’s the thing: everything kind of is an RPG, as long as the thing wants it to be. A journal can be an RPG, or a coin flip, or a table full of candles, or a skateboarding video game. Plus, in a world where so many games now have level up systems, and weapons or skill trees that give you silly bonuses like “+2% poison damage on rainy days except when equipped with poison weapons” or whatever, it’s all moot. It’s all role playing man. We’re all just sitting here playing pretend together. So I’m just going to continue my life on the assumption that it’s a role playing game, and therefore it’s fine for me to cover it on my blog. I don’t even have to be right! I can do whatever I want! It’s my website! I own it! Nothing can stop me! I can make the text as

    big and red and ugly as I want and nobody can do anything about it.

    So that’s where I’ve landed on Tony Hawk’s Underground. The question of what it is doesn’t really matter, I realize. Underground is its own thing, a game that likes skateboards and statistics and points and cars and women in bikinis. Hard to blame them. For the most part, even though I prefer Pro Skater 4, I did enjoy it! So that’s it. Your homework today is to go skate in the real world if possible. Cleanse your palette.

    thanks for reading

  • big content warning for sexual violence and rape. some spoilers below

    Fear and Hunger is messy, spiteful, broken, unpleasant, and unlike anything else. I went through a period of my life where I was unemployed, and naturally, briefly obsessed with it. I’ve played through the first game until I’ve gotten a couple different endings, and I’ve rolled credits on the second game twice now. Developed mostly by Miro and sometimes members of the game’s community, it’s a game with an intoxicating and oppressive atmosphere which even after a couple of playthroughs manages to make me unsettled and tense at my desk. It’s also a game that hates me, and will hate you all the same.

    Let me just briefly explain my introduction to this game:

    I saw a mutual of mine on twitter a couple of years ago who posted a screenshot from Fear and Hunger, raw, no caption. The post is lost to the inexorable march of time and the death of Twitter, but I’ve replicated the image I saw here.

    this is often what it’s like to find what you’re looking for in fear and hunger

    Fear and Hunger, I soon learned, is a deeply grim dark-fantasy dungeon crawler made in RPG Maker. It’s controversial, cruel to the player, hateful even. I do a very minimal amount of digging while trying to avoid spoiling myself, but the Steam page catches my eye. Both explicit and iconographic depictions of terrible violence, physical, mental, and sexual litter the discussions of this game online. The Steam page features our protagonists cutting their own limbs off with bonesaws, walking in dark rooms knee deep in black bugs, standing in misty fields surrounded by corpses. It markets itself as oppressive and relentless, unforgiving and unique. Some of it makes me roll my eyes just a little, but another part of me makes me lean closer in to my monitor. There is something about this seemingly nihilistic violence that I can’t look away from.

    I make my character, reading the character intro for the mercenary and answering the questions. It asks me questions that sound like “at a young age, you had to choose between being a pickpocket or a burglar,” and when I answer, it says things like “you learned steal.” It tells me about my visions of the ancient city of Ma’habre, all the terrible things I see. It tells me I’m hired by the kingdom to find and rescue a man named Legarde inside the prison called the dungeons of Fear and Hunger. These are the kingdom’s own dungeons, and for some reason they have to hire mercenaries to go in there. The character intro says “something is clearly not right about this mission.” That tension hangs in the air, but my mercenary, like me, willingly goes.

    Then the game begins and I’m at the gates. There’s a light mist in the air. A dead horse, some crates, and a stone wall with a dark passage in the center. I decide to check out the crates, but pretty immediately, dogs start barking behind me, loud and close. I make the mistake of lingering too long and those dogs come at my mercenary from the bottom of the screen, much faster than I am. (in my character intro, I didn’t learn dash). I wonder if I could possibly walk any slower, and they chase me down before I ever enter the dungeons, snarling and growling ravenously the whole way. We start combat and on one of the first turns the game prompts me to make a coin flip. Like an idiot, I think: tails! I am immediately killed and devoured by a pair of wild dogs.

    Then I’m on the main menu and I’m making my character again. I redo it all, quicker this time, but this time I choose differently and learn the skill “dash” in the intro. I head straight for the wide and ominous front gate. I’m greeted with an enemy named the guard, a hulking man with a giant appendage between his legs called the “stinger.” I’m swiftly defeated. Turn one, he cuts my shield arm off; if I survive this encounter, I’ll likely never use a shield in this playthrough again. Turn two, I’ve managed to cut off a leg of his, but it’s not enough. He cuts me down, and the game fades to black, followed by a graphic scene of my mercenary being the victim of this guard’s sexual violence in a dark prison cell. This humiliation, this disempowerment, I realize, is what Fear and Hunger is about.

    Here’s how I really feel: I think there’s a lot of places where you could say this game is lame and tasteless and I’d agree. Fear and Hunger has a lot of sexual violence in it, and in my opinion it’s often unsuccessful at anything besides shock value. There are moments where it’s sort of hard to tell if its violent sexual content is intended to be funny or not, and it’s simply not something that works for me. Which is a shame because there are times where the shock and discomfort caused by this stuff is really putting in overtime to sell the tone of the game. There’s a spider-like enemy called the Harvestman that will later be able to kidnap a little girl that can join your party. You’ll be able to find her again, unharmed, except that she’s being pet like a dog by the perverted creature. Losing a fight to this enemy triggers a violent yet delicate scene of sexual violence towards the player that is all the wrong kinds of creepy and scary and humiliating, almost existentially so. It’s deeply uncomfortable and frustrating to experience as a player and I think a more emotionally normal person would just stop playing if it ever happened to them. To be clear, I hate it! But I’m not positive I would change much about it. I guess I wouldn’t generally be in the position where I would create that scene, but still, it makes me wonder where I draw the line, and how artificial these lines are. For some reason, I actually prefer the Harvestman scene to something like what happens with the guards because it’s creepier, stranger, and in this way even more upsetting. But going back and seeing the guard’s exaggerated proportions, I struggle with how childish it all feels! I start to think that Fear and Hunger would be a better experience for me if they just removed a little bit of this persistent sexual violence. But I also think: this is a game about all the most terrible actions of humanity. More importantly, this is the game that Miro made. For better or for worse, this was the vision he had. I can’t change that.

    I can make judgments about what it is, though. Fear and Hunger is a game that often fails to deter a pretty vile online presence. I know there’s an official Discord community out there that seems pretty chill, but Fear and Hunger posters are all at great risk of becoming incredibly annoying and volatile. Sorry for being explicit here, but it’s worth mentioning examples of where I think this game is childish and lame: there are certain “situations” which can give you an “anal bleeding” status effect (incurable without dark ritual sex magic). If ever there was an audience who finds “anal bleeding” to be a funny idea, Fear and Hunger has found them. Looking online for examples of these events in the game (because I don’t care to recreate it), you’ll see that YouTube has managed to remove a good deal of it. The only ones that remain are “rape speedruns” posted by people naming themselves after Homestuck characters. Draw your own conclusions: what I’m saying is that no matter what you feel about the contents of Fear and Hunger, there are certainly dark elements of its community, and sometimes the game seems to encourage them. So while I don’t think it necessarily makes the game “problematic” or anything, it does… complicate recommendation. There are of course mods to remove some or all of this if you’re looking to play it without that slimy discomfort, but I just feel wrong using them. The slimy discomfort is sort of part of it, and playing the game I find myself feeling two contradictory things. I shouldn’t have to mod it because it shouldn’t be like this at all! But then, like I said: this was the vision! It’s clearly in the game deliberately, who am I to say what should be? If I’m really feeling that strongly about it, what am I still doing here, stepping on rusty nails and dart traps? And then there’s this third, equally contradictory part of me that somehow finds a lot of appreciation for how openly and unabashedly sicko it is, even when it disgusts me.

    After my first couple of deaths, I step away from the game, satisfied that I don’t need to see any more. There is nothing for me here. In a sense, that’s a normal and correct response. Nothing is gained by diving deeper into the dungeons of Fear and Hunger. Still. A few days later, I find myself at my laptop again, outside the main gate of the dungeons, with those horrible and frightening dogs screaming from my speakers. Is it the depravity of the sexual violence that I can’t look away from? The dark allure of what other terrible fates are hiding in the dungeons? That’s certainly a part of it. Just as there is a darkness in the community, in the game, in the dungeons, there is also a darkness in me, a sick and twisted pervert in my heart born deep from probably my own sexual trauma that just can’t look away from this. I won’t ignore that part of me. But still, in many ways it’s also this: from my limited experience, I can already tell that by knowing this place, intimately and deeply, I can master it.

    this surely is something i can master with this child and dog

    The trick of Fear and Hunger is that it is punishing, unrelenting, dark, and ultimately conquerable. That impenetrable darkness might be the thing that draws some in, but by continuing to stay in these dungeons, I begin to understand it, shining a dim torchlight on every corner and crevice. I learn where I should go back to and where I shouldn’t, what risks to take and what to run from, where and how I can become stronger. I begin to see these things ahead of time too; play more cautiously, with sharper awareness, and I slowly but surely learn how to pre-empt so many of these unfortunate deaths. I am no longer stepping on rusty nails, or letting myself get surprised by guards. I realize that with enough time I can begin to understand how it works on an instinctual level. You have to very quickly learn to be cautious, pay attention, and know the world deeply. Once you can do that, the game opens up to you.

    There are lots of ways you can do this, and the first is that you’ll generally want to interact with everything. Crates, barrels, sword stands, armor sets, bookshelves, pots, corpses, and anything else that might vaguely be considered a container. Each one will typically have a randomized item, each item having a chance to be something incredibly useful. You pretty much never want to be finding dirt, but finding an explosive vial can open crucial paths for you or make enemies trivial. What you’ll also learn is that you do not have to fight all the time, and you should often be wary of fighting at all. Most enemies will kill you if you’re unprepared, some will kill you even if you are, and often the best thing to do during an encounter is to run or avoid it entirely. And it all works out this way thanks to the incredibly difficult saving system. You can save by resting at beds placed around the dungeon, but resting at almost any of them prompts a coin flip. Call the coin flip wrong, and instead of pulling up the save menu, you may be interrupted in your sleep by a powerful enemy. Starting an encounter without proper equipment and a plan can be run ending, and the scarcity and danger of save points turns most saves into both a valuable resource and a huge risk. Saving will almost always cost you something. It becomes an even tougher choice when you learn that many of the enemies you can defeat will often take entire limbs from you (incurable without dark ritual sex magic) or give you status conditions that are difficult to heal. Plus, defeating these enemies grants you no experience points, and often very little valuable loot. This is not a game where you will ever level up. There is a progression system, but it mostly revolves around equipment, and later on, skills you can only learn by finding certain items, souls, and being in the good graces of the Old Gods. What this means in practice is that most of the time, you want to avoid encounters with these freaks like the plague. Why fight the guards who will kill and defile you when you can just run the other way and come back with help and better equipment? Why fight the Crow Mauler at all? If it sucks, hit da bricks!

    fun turn based combat where one of my party members — a little girl — is permanently killed by a single attack. you may notice the broken bone statuses: permanent debuffs that are incurable (except by dark ritual sex magic).

    That said, they did make a really neat turn based battle system, so you won’t be able to avoid it entirely. I just mentioned that you can have your limbs permanently removed during combat, but this road goes both ways. Each turn, when you attack or use an ability, you can choose to target either the enemy’s torso or any of their limbs (including the stinger, if you’re fighting the guard). Cut off a guard’s sword arm, and they will no longer be able to hack off your limbs with their giant butcher knife. Sever both of his legs, and the guard loses balance, allowing you to target their squishy and vulnerable head much easier. This is the engine that drives the games combat forward, and certain enemies become little order of operations puzzle boxes for you to solve. With the guards, I tend to have my main character go for the sword arm first, and the rest of my party target the off hand. Then, having protected myself from any limb damage or coin flip attacks, my party targets the stinger while I target the torso for a turn or two until the guard falls. Ghouls require a different strategy: these sunken looking, shambling zombies can and will give you infected wounds, and without the right resources on hand, infected wounds can force you to sever your limbs with a bone saw or else eventually kill you. Otherwise, they’re very weak and it’s often best to just not overthink it and focus the torso from the start to end the fight quickly. You can also use the “talk” skill to tell the ghoul that they are a product of necromancy, which causes the spell to fail and the ghoul to collapse. Every enemy has different strategies needed to defeat them, and almost none of the important encounters are lacking in depth.

    The trick to mastering this game, then, is much less about mechanical advancement, and much more about the things you learn from prolonged exposure. This applies to the layouts of the dungeons, the habits of the monsters inside, and the structures of the game itself. Fear and Hunger is a pretty buggy RPG Maker game, and it sometimes feels like it’s threatening to break at any point of weird level geometry or uncommon mechanical interaction. With enough time though, you’ll also learn the very clever and intended ways it instead flexes and bends in your favor.

    For example, one of the stronger weapons you can find in the game is a sword called ‘Blue Sin’. it’s a one handed sword with +85 attack, making it incredibly useful and versatile early game, the strongest one handed weapon by far, and the best non-cursed weapon you can get. This is an invaluable find. The only problem is that it’s buried blade deep in a stone wall in the mines, and pulling the sword out causes the mines to collapse on top of you, suffocating you and your entire party under stone and leaving you dead and buried deep under the dungeons. I believe this was intended as a little joke! In the original release of the game, you actually weren’t able to get the weapon legitimately. However, after seeing somebody try a particularly neat method to get the sword, Miro went ahead and added it in officially.

    i took this gif from the fear and hunger wiki page, but used this sword in my most recent run. it trivializes certain early game encounters, but even armed with it you’ll never stop needing to play smart

    After you draw the sword from the stone, the caves around you begin to rumble and you have a brief moment where you’re able to pause the game. Pausing the game allows you to access the inventory, and if you happened to have found a book called “Passages of Ma’habre,” you have just enough time to open this book. Reading this book teleports you for just a few minutes to Ma’habre, the ancient city of the gods, allowing you to to avoid the cave in, keep the sword, and explore the city for a bit to get some items and see an environment wholly unlike anything you’ve seen in the game so far, right before you’re eventually brought back safely to what is now a devastated tunnel blocked off with piles of stone. There are tons of weird little quirks like this in the game that you can use to become stupidly powerful; all things that are certainly intentional but have a sort of game-breaking quality to them. You can later find certain items or skills which grant you the ability to teleport several tiles at a time, or walk on water, or turn water into wine (which will give you unlimited mind recovery if you use it right). There’s also items called “empty scrolls” that you have a small chance of finding in most bookshelves which, if used properly, can teach you any ability or give you any item in the game. There are only one or two hints to the fact that you can do this in Fear and Hunger; it’s just something you have to figure out yourself or find through the community. All of these little mechanics carry with them huge sequence breaks if you’re that type of player, and what I’ve mentioned here so far is only beginning to scratch the surface on the weird exploits hiding in the dungeons. 

    this is one of the only hints in the game that show you can use empty scrolls for something. the first time i found an empty scroll, i wrote something like “mercenary man, i love you, my son”

    There is an alchemist you will meet deep in the dungeons: Nosramus, who has used the knowledge in this place and the power the gods have here to make incredible discoveries and do incredible things. Nosramus is an androgynous, long haired fellow who looks similar to the dark priest we have the option to play as, and he gives you playful hints and foreshadows certain revelations throughout the game whenever you encounter him. It is implied that Nosramus has become enlightened through the dark knowledge hidden here, and has used that enlightenment to gift himself the otherworldly power and everlasting life needed to pursue his academic interests. Deep in the darkness of this place, among all the blood and gore and torture, he has used the secrets of Fear and Hunger to reach immortality. Nosramus is an echo of the player character in this way; somebody who was lead to this dungeon under unfortunate circumstances, but has used his experience with it to gain total control over it, rendering its horrors into his playthings.

    The hurdle of this game is the same thing that draws you in. It is tough on you. It wants to kill you. It barrages you with constant horror, loss, violence, death, sickness and injury, all oftentimes incurable or otherwise permanent (except by dark ritual sex magic). This is why people come to this game, and why people come to these dungeons: knowingly or not, they come here to be hurt, badly. The players of Fear and Hunger want the suffering and the cruelty, and they want it brazenly on display, uncensored and unfiltered even by one’s own creative restraint. That pain, and your ownership and eventual mastery over it, is so intoxicating and satisfying that it demands you delve deeper. Past the dungeons, past the mines, through the impossible ancient city and into the rotting body of an Old God.

    Yet Fear and Hunger, despite all the mastery it allows for, is ultimately a fatalistic and cruel game about four unlucky adventurers who are doomed before the game even starts, before any of them even meet one another. They were doomed, all of them, the moment the visions of the ancient city of Ma’habre began to appear in the dark recesses of their minds. The dungeons of Fear and Hunger are a place where people go and are forgotten, go and do not return, go and die, or much worse. If you’re a player who doesn’t want your characters to be defiled, dismembered, killed, and forgotten at the bottom of a toilet in the most evil place on earth, you might not want to delve too deep. I, for some reason I can’t math out, am drawn to this darkness, and will continue to come back to this hateful place.

    thanks for reading