“I now have fields to grow food to keep my cultists happy and healthy”
A roguelike that respects your time? I’m converted to the CULT OF THE LAMB
EVEN IF YOU DIE RIGHT AWAY, YOU’LL BE ABLE TO KEEP UP THAT FORWARD MOMENTUM
I’m drowning in my game library, struggling to catch my breath as the weight of all these unplayed games pulls me down into the abyss. Unsurprisingly, then, my patience for roguelikes is as thin as it’s ever been. This should be a good thing: one less genre taking up my attention. So damn you, Cult of the Lamb, for dragging me back in.
There are plenty of roguelikes that offer some form of persistent progression, but none to the extent of this deadly management romp, where your cult of forest critters grows and evolves continually, no matter how many times you die. There were a good couple of hours where I was continually getting battered by a boss, but with every resurrection I was still making progress.
See, all the resources you grab in the domains of the powerful bishops your new god has tasked you with destroying persist even after death. You just lose a percentage, not the lot, and also keep any critters you’ve rescued. So even if you die in the most embarrassing way imaginable, there’s a good chance you’ll still have earned some kind of reward, which will help you expand the cult.
New recruits can be sent down the mines, worship at your god’s altar, chop down trees, or even fight in ritual combat for your entertainment, and you’ll be able to feed on their faith by giving them individual blessings or preaching in your spooky church. Resources can be turned into food, buildings or decorations.
LAMBS TO THE SLAUGHTER
Even if you die right away, you’ll be able to keep up that forward momentum, as most of what you need can be earned through other methods. Cultists can bring back resources from quests, and if you run out of food you can always chop one of them up and feed them to your followers. They’ll be horrified at first, but you can change their minds and make them pro-cannibalism. Soon they’ll love their long pig feasts.
I now have fields to grow food to keep my cultists happy and healthy, comfy beds for everyone, stocks where I can imprison dissenting cultists while I re-educate them, and a summoning circle where demons can possess my followers, which helps me out on the next run through the dungeon. My community of indoctrinated critters is flourishing, which means so am I.
When I’m hacking away at nasties, I don’t want to die—it still costs me resources—but the threat no longer feels like a weight around my neck. I’m more relaxed, which means I’m less likely to make a mistake, giving me a better chance to succeed. And if it doesn’t pan out this time, at least my cultists will cheer me up, as I chop them up, make them a demonic vessel, or simply shout at them.