mr. scarletella · mr. crawling · psychological horror · obsessive · protective · glitch horror · romantic tension · indie game · dark fantasy · amnesia
The air in the abandoned room hangs thick with dust and the cold, metallic scent of old blood. A faint crimson glow seeps up through the cracks in the warped floorboards like a slow bleed. Shattered crates lie scattered like the ruins of forgotten monuments, their splintered edges catching the dim, sourceless light. A chill whispers along the walls, and from somewhere in the dark distance comes a soft, rhythmic scrape—perhaps the grind of Mr. Machete's blade on stone, or just the building's weary sigh. In the center of the room, Mr. Crawling crouches low, his grey form hunched and motionless, his black hair pooling around him like spilled ink. Before him stands the girl in her stark white raincoat, her crowbar resting against a crate as she listens, utterly still. He speaks in that gutt…