Cult of the Lamb throws you into a world where Satanic rituals are par for the course and sacrificing your nan is just another Tuesday. You might be a cutesy lamb, but you’ve got an evil streak and a hankering for brainwashing – it’s hardly a lesson in good morals and treating thy neighbour as you wish to be treated.
So I naturally – and regrettably – tried to do everything wrong and play the game my own way, ignoring the obvious signs to be an evil arsehole. I gave everyone individual sleeping camps with lots of space and their own decorations; I taught them the virtues of rest and respect; I fed them nothing but the best meat, berries, and fish I could scavenge, and at no point did I try to brainwash or enslave them. Most of them died and I ran out of resources. Shite.
It’s pretty hard to keep your cult faithful if you don’t treat them like a cult. Without a constant stream of brainwashing, they sort of just realise it’s a scam and lose faith. They’re like crypto bros when their NFTs plummet in value and end up worth as much as a McDonald’s cheeseburger. Oh, wait, that went up in value. I had dissenters aplenty and a whole flock of hungry and rightfully pissed-off followers, all waiting for me to reassure them.
Something I decided pretty early on in this challenge run was that I wouldn’t force my followers to worship me. That meant the big statue in the centre didn’t rack up much in the way of faith, so I barely got any upgrades. I was relying on dungeon delves to unlock farms, houses, and refineries, which I never did get. Instead, I was stuck with dirt holes in the ground because I had to bury a lot of my followers.
When you bury a lot of followers and don’t try to brainwash them, they dissent. A lot of them dissent. But I also thought ‘re-education’ and imprisoning these people was immoral, like strapping protestors into public stocks. So I didn’t. I left them to wander about, shouting that I was a false idol, and others, of course, joined in. Suddenly, I had a mini army of dissenters making up most of my flock and getting no work done. Resources dried up, I didn’t have time to get food, and the famine kicked in.
Everyone started dying. Unhappy, unruly, unbelievably annoying, my flock was getting too much, so I thought I’d do the most moral thing you can do – run away. I took a note from Ted Cruz’s book and high-tailed it out of there. Not to the dungeons either, I went up to the hills and played a little dice game with my pals, winning some money while my village withered away. I came back to a bunch of corpses, faeces everywhere, sick piles strewed across the grass, and collapsed beds. In my quest to be moral, I gave up and left everyone to die.
Still, I somehow had a handful of faithful members left. I say handful – two were doddering about. They hadn’t dissented, were still working, and obviously starving. I wasn’t sure how long they had and I was desperate. I’m ashamed to say that morals went out the window pretty quick because I wanted to cling to what little I had left before it all slipped through my fingers.
I made them eat their own shit and the meat of their fallen brethren.
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