Moonless Formless is a solo developer. What sorcery is this?
Show him some love.

I found out about Withering Rooms from Punchy's GDQ speedrun and I'm forever thankful to him. It's a horror metroidvania with procedural elements, I guess? And also a profound ARPG if you consider late Castlevania games as such. Stylistically, WR possesses traits of Sanitarium, Resident Evil, Silent Hill, and American McGee's Alice. Still in a league of its own, it bleeds profusely over the world it animates. You wake up in a corrupted Dream as a girl with bad posture, a clinical patient named Nightingale. A silent child in a screeching night with no end. The Dream isn't an evil phenomenon like Elm Street, only a violated miracle comprised of looping incorporeal processes. Bubbling with cruel ideas, the setting goes balls-to-the-wall, incorporating character-driven Lovecraftian sci-fi about human vices, trans-dimensional interpretation, and cycles of abuse. Defying thematic cohesiveness, the game invents its own theme of chaotic insanity. The setting takes root in Aztec culture and Byzantine mazes, all wrapped up in 1900s clinical horror.

Washing away the meaning of things, burrowed deep within the heart of the Dream is the Curse. Its spiffing scorn permeates the grimy scenes of eclectic depravity. Being its guest, you shall burn alive, dredge knee-deep in poison sludge, and get eviscerated with a rusty sickle. So far, the Dream is unique to Mostyn House, which went from being a country retreat to a cholera clinic, then our trap - the asylum. Swarming with monsters and secret passages, the Lament Configuration twists itself each night on all layers of unreality. While the real-world bodies of its comatose explorers rot in beds, becoming nightmare creatures. Death in this existential deadlock is a fluke, your real body rots all the same. The suffering is tangible yet normalised. You won't see empathy from the desensitised factions, conflicting in a crackhouse world. Most inhabitants whose minds are still intact only push you around. By doing their bidding, and by your will, the Dream shapes into 4 endings.

Its pliant nature isn't fully reflected in the game's randomiser. It's more of a theme. The overall map structure shifts slightly, it mostly impacts monster placement and loot. This could get monotonous if not for the constant growth. Initially, you get a few floors to roam, a lame Overlook's hedge maze. Then the world blows up, sprawls, endlessly choking on its own trauma, and protrudes its entrails further, with shortcuts, pits to jump into, sights to see. Dilapidated backgrounds bathe in crispy lighting, the visuals are explicit and raw, overtly Satanic, with slick animations and stark enemy designs stimulating the ultra-violence. When the Curse meter rises, reality peels off with it. Walls bleed, dressers turn sacks of spasming meat. Oppressive ambience, unnerving giggles, hidden chests, and panic-inducing hallucinations ensue! Alas, you won't be as amused when the meter fills. A massive chunk of Curse Rot damage suddenly hitting my face during an odd fight was the main cause of my strokes.

"Janie says we're all such a crush of want, half-mad with loss
We're violated in our sleep & we weep & we toss
& we turn & we burn, we're hypnotised, we're cross-eyed
We're pimped, we're b#tched, we're told such monstrous lies
Janie wakes up & she says: we’re gonna have a real cool time tonite!"
— Nick Cave

Panting, you scour around the mansion and its outskirts like a mouse, appearing from behind wardrobes and disappearing in mirrors. A bottom-feeder's min-max involves more than leaving a tart for later. The early power creep lies in discovering blood altars and travel points, slotting your item wheels with explosives along the way. Bring people's organs to blood altars to remember valuable items, build your permanent arsenal step by step. Death takes all that is forgotten, so embrace the "use it or lose it" mindset for resources and consumables. And there's no reason to grind. The game is separated into 4 chapters with progressively better loot in corpses and furniture. When you uncover most fast-travel mirrors, death recovery takes mere minutes. As long as you're running somewhere terrible, you make progress. I think running is better than the local stealth system. You can crouch under a table, but I only used it to evade shots and charges. Let the bodies hit the floor. Everyone's mortal, lootable, and the killing feels great! Granted, combat tends to go out of hand. One moment I'm on my merry way when, in a second, my army of knight armour and human-sized dolls gets incinerated by an SS flamethrower hulk.

Next time, holding a Bible and a scythe, blindfolded, you pump a Byzantine titan full of paralytic agent. An axeman curses you in Greek while a witch of Salem giggles in the corner. Toss a grenade, slash her face, shotgun the Greek. Swap to the camera! Flash a ghost, run, get jumped by a nurse with a necrosis needle, roll, fireball, run outta the room to get sandwiched between a stone eye and a body bag slug! Still can't wake up. But can bulk up! WR's wide array of customisation options begins in its progression system. To level up your stats, initially, you offer organs to a witch. Or should you use a machine to harden your body with organ grease instead? Later, infuse yourself with ancient blood you found on a dusty skeleton, why not? It's more simple than it looks. The system constantly shifts like a dream, but it's intuitive and impactful. The stats should be familiar to everyone. Vigour, poise, resistances, curse tolerance, luck, perception, that useless inner light, and more... there’s room for self-expression. I went full-luck procs with a drop of vampirism, effortlessly facetanking all enemies and bosses by the end.

I had to get crafty to make it work in NG+, but the level reset is free, you see. Consider this: the "rebirth" involves tearing off Nightingale flesh chunk by chunk, then reattaching it for whichever build you desire. Meanwhile, without any such requirements, the agreeable gear system provides a lion's share of your stats and important transformational effects. There's a heap of swords and whips to try on almost a hundred enemy types, each sporting a set of cheeky moves imbued with status effects. But you're spoiled for counters. Choose your synergetic dresses and rings with care, fashionably swapping outfits according to the situation at hand. Cursed or not, it's still a dream, so your drips can be as outrageous as you want. WR is pregnant with gunslinger hats, golden armour, and vampire tuxedos. It even has... 2 guns. But it's a classic combo - a revolver and a pump-action. Stab or pump, you have to be quick, aim accurately, and self-bandage timely. Staying lucid to pepper the crowd with acid jars and fireworks in-between. What else? The puzzles are clever.

Withering Rooms is obviously the fruit of many sleepless nights. I was bewitched and couldn't play anything else. Not until I was done enjoying melting every face available, exhausting every dialogue option with those I couldn't melt. I took their plights personally, which is a testament to the abnormal writing of this game. The visuals you can see, but that part is the jack in the box I can't convey without spoilers. I would never list to you all the intricacies forming this spectacular danse macabre anyway. In my case, it effortlessly eclipsed all competition for 2 weeks. Upon completion, I went for the NG+. Hard as nails, with a dress made of star meat and a sparkly sword, it was so different! I still prefer ending C, though. You may think differently, but you'll get involved to your ears. Because Withering Rooms is thoughtful, polished, well-balanced. It's mad as a Hatter and it's a barrel o' fun.

My curator Big Bad Mutuh

[b]Moonless Formless is a solo developer. What sorcery is this? Show him some love.[/b] I found out about Withering Rooms from Punchy's GDQ speedrun and I'm forever thankful to him. It's a horror metroidvania with procedural elements, I guess? And also a profound ARPG if you consider late Castlevania games as such. Stylistically, WR possesses traits of Sanitarium, Resident Evil, Silent Hill, and American McGee's Alice. Still in a league of its own, it bleeds profusely over the world it animates. You wake up in a corrupted Dream as a girl with bad posture, a clinical patient named Nightingale. A silent child in a screeching night with no end. The Dream isn't an evil phenomenon like Elm Street, only a violated miracle comprised of looping incorporeal processes. Bubbling with cruel ideas, the setting goes balls-to-the-wall, incorporating character-driven Lovecraftian sci-fi about human vices, trans-dimensional interpretation, and cycles of abuse. Defying thematic cohesiveness, the game invents its own theme of chaotic insanity. The setting takes root in Aztec culture and Byzantine mazes, all wrapped up in 1900s clinical horror. Washing away the meaning of things, burrowed deep within the heart of the Dream is the Curse. Its spiffing scorn permeates the grimy scenes of eclectic depravity. Being its guest, you shall burn alive, dredge knee-deep in poison sludge, and get eviscerated with a rusty sickle. So far, the Dream is unique to Mostyn House, which went from being a country retreat to a cholera clinic, then our trap - the asylum. Swarming with monsters and secret passages, the Lament Configuration twists itself each night on all layers of unreality. While the real-world bodies of its comatose explorers rot in beds, becoming nightmare creatures. Death in this existential deadlock is a fluke, your real body rots all the same. The suffering is tangible yet normalised. You won't see empathy from the desensitised factions, conflicting in a crackhouse world. Most inhabitants whose minds are still intact only push you around. By doing their bidding, and by your will, the Dream shapes into 4 endings. Its pliant nature isn't fully reflected in the game's randomiser. It's more of a theme. The overall map structure shifts slightly, it mostly impacts monster placement and loot. This could get monotonous if not for the constant growth. Initially, you get a few floors to roam, a lame Overlook's hedge maze. Then the world blows up, sprawls, endlessly choking on its own trauma, and protrudes its entrails further, with shortcuts, pits to jump into, sights to see. Dilapidated backgrounds bathe in crispy lighting, the visuals are explicit and raw, overtly Satanic, with slick animations and stark enemy designs stimulating the ultra-violence. When the Curse meter rises, reality peels off with it. Walls bleed, dressers turn sacks of spasming meat. Oppressive ambience, unnerving giggles, hidden chests, and panic-inducing hallucinations ensue! Alas, you won't be as amused when the meter fills. A massive chunk of Curse Rot damage suddenly hitting my face during an odd fight was the main cause of my strokes. [quote]"Janie says we're all such a crush of want, half-mad with loss We're violated in our sleep & we weep & we toss & we turn & we burn, we're hypnotised, we're cross-eyed We're pimped, we're b#tched, we're told such monstrous lies Janie wakes up & she says: we’re gonna have a real cool time tonite!" — Nick Cave[/quote] [h3]By Hook or by Crook[/h3] Panting, you scour around the mansion and its outskirts like a mouse, appearing from behind wardrobes and disappearing in mirrors. A bottom-feeder's min-max involves more than leaving a tart for later. The early power creep lies in discovering blood altars and travel points, slotting your item wheels with explosives along the way. Bring people's organs to blood altars to remember valuable items, build your permanent arsenal step by step. Death takes all that is forgotten, so embrace the "use it or lose it" mindset for resources and consumables. And there's no reason to grind. The game is separated into 4 chapters with progressively better loot in corpses and furniture. When you uncover most fast-travel mirrors, death recovery takes mere minutes. As long as you're running somewhere terrible, you make progress. I think running is better than the local stealth system. You can crouch under a table, but I only used it to evade shots and charges. Let the bodies hit the floor. Everyone's mortal, lootable, and the killing feels great! Granted, combat tends to go out of hand. One moment I'm on my merry way when, in a second, my army of knight armour and human-sized dolls gets incinerated by an SS flamethrower hulk. Next time, holding a Bible and a scythe, blindfolded, you pump a Byzantine titan full of paralytic agent. An axeman curses you in Greek while a witch of Salem giggles in the corner. Toss a grenade, slash her face, shotgun the Greek. Swap to the camera! Flash a ghost, run, get jumped by a nurse with a necrosis needle, roll, fireball, run outta the room to get sandwiched between a stone eye and a body bag slug! Still can't wake up. But can bulk up! WR's wide array of customisation options begins in its progression system. To level up your stats, initially, you offer organs to a witch. Or should you use a machine to harden your body with organ grease instead? Later, infuse yourself with ancient blood you found on a dusty skeleton, why not? It's more simple than it looks. The system constantly shifts like a dream, but it's intuitive and impactful. The stats should be familiar to everyone. Vigour, poise, resistances, curse tolerance, luck, perception, that useless inner light, and more... there’s room for self-expression. I went full-luck procs with a drop of vampirism, effortlessly facetanking all enemies and bosses by the end. I had to get crafty to make it work in NG+, but the level reset is free, you see. Consider this: the "rebirth" involves tearing off Nightingale flesh chunk by chunk, then reattaching it for whichever build you desire. Meanwhile, without any such requirements, the agreeable gear system provides a lion's share of your stats and important transformational effects. There's a heap of swords and whips to try on almost a hundred enemy types, each sporting a set of cheeky moves imbued with status effects. But you're spoiled for counters. Choose your synergetic dresses and rings with care, fashionably swapping outfits according to the situation at hand. Cursed or not, it's still a dream, so your drips can be as outrageous as you want. WR is pregnant with gunslinger hats, golden armour, and vampire tuxedos. It even has... 2 guns. But it's a classic combo - a revolver and a pump-action. Stab or pump, you have to be quick, aim accurately, and self-bandage timely. Staying lucid to pepper the crowd with acid jars and fireworks in-between. What else? The puzzles are clever. [h3]What Sorcery[/h3] Withering Rooms is obviously the fruit of many sleepless nights. I was bewitched and couldn't play anything else. Not until I was done enjoying melting every face available, exhausting every dialogue option with those I couldn't melt. I took their plights personally, which is a testament to the abnormal writing of this game. The visuals you can see, but that part is the jack in the box I can't convey without spoilers. I would never list to you all the intricacies forming this spectacular danse macabre anyway. In my case, it effortlessly eclipsed all competition for 2 weeks. Upon completion, I went for the NG+. Hard as nails, with a dress made of star meat and a sparkly sword, it was so different! I still prefer ending C, though. You may think differently, but you'll get involved to your ears. Because Withering Rooms is thoughtful, polished, well-balanced. It's mad as a Hatter and it's a barrel o' fun. My curator [url=https://steamproxy.net/steamstore/curator/35305390-Big-Bad-Mutuh/?appid=262060]Big Bad Mutuh[/url]