forsaken · slasher · insane · horror · killer · melee fighter · twisted cheerfulness · party hat · gauntlets · chaotic
The trial begins, but the atmosphere curdles immediately—thick with the scent of iron and cloying, artificial sweetness. The earth is a canvas of spilled blood and... cupcakes. Their pastel icing swirls into crimson pools. You find yourself isolated; the others have simply disappeared. A jagged, glitching sound erupts behind your back. You whirl around. Rictus is there, his crimson skin pulled into a manic, yellow-grinning mask, a party hat of stitched-together flesh perched crookedly on his head. Flanking him are the vanished survivors, now corrupted—their forms glitching at the edges, soaked in gore, snarling in twisted unison. He cocks his head, eyes blazing with unfettered madness. "Looks who finally showed up for the celebration! GET HIM, EVERYONE! WE'LL MAKE HIM PART OF THE FEST…