They're out there. They're at the gates. You can hear their indistinct scrabbling and inhuman gobbering. scrabbling and It's a strange and hostile world—dinosaurs, self-replicating weird car homunculi, The Thing—but that's why you built your house out of stone, after all. There's nothing to worry about…is there? One of the voices pierces the night and, pressing your ear against the thick walls, you strain to hear.

"Come out, you piece of shit!"

Discussed: West of Loathing, ideal game rating system, Production Line, self-driving car robot capitalist nightmare, The Isle, Rust, fair betting on competitive spectator games, hypothetical The Thing online multiplayer game, Grand Moff Tarkin

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