The delight of fluid movement and the necessity to roleplay make a perfect feedback loop in Carrion. Every moment is pure John Carpenter, pure tense, bloody, slapstick malice. I emerge hungry and inhuman from a vent, I encounter an unexpected group of prey with guns, I am shot. I slither-fly through the nearest vent to regroup. Soon I pick them all off. As I devore them the last one raises up on one elbow, I can almost hear her snarl “I’m not dead yet motherfucker” as she levels a pistol. An instant of crushing violence and, well, you are now.

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