![]() The overall atmosphere carries over to Lovecraft's stories and we feel a certain discomfort to roam these creatures and marine-littered streets to see ugly, crazy, petty and all-hiding characters, dark secrets to see needy rags, who fight for a rusty tin. The City, its History and their residents are the most successful aspect of The Sinking City. In his quest for truth, Charles will meet members of great degenerate families, sinister gangsters, sick sailors, misdirected gurus, obsessed cultists, vast monstrosities, in short, all the usual battalions inspired by the stories Providence the natives adding a layer of racism over the insane atmosphere. In addition, a large number of refugees from Innsmouth, a damned town known to Lovecraft fans, were arrested in Oakmont and became a mere target for everything that went wrong. The people were also affected by the disaster and the city sank into poverty, depression and madness. The one I baptized Venice of Massachusetts suffered a massive flooding that flooded half of its streets, leaving traces of its passage on the buildings. As far as you know now, you can keep your Baule reservation this summer, as Oakmont is not an ideal destination. Indeed, since the war and his rescue on a lost island, Charles has had extrasensory powers that eventually force him to go to Oakmont, a Massachusetts city present in its esoteric hallucinations. The darkness of the sea, a sleeping giant on the verge of waking up and a sunken city by the sea: these are the visions that are increasingly attacking Charles Reed, a private detective and a former naval employee. Then the words become clear: "MUST CARRY OUT THE TEST OF THIS GAME THAT WE ARE LATER THREE WEEKS." I only have time to recognize the voice of our editor-in-chief before sinking into nothingness. His box vibrates in my hands as I open it, and suddenly there is a howl in my head. This is a horror and investigative game in the world of HP Lovecraft, The Sinking City, of the Ukrainian studio Frogwares, founded by French expatriates. It is filled with poisonous and barren objects – notorious abstract simulators and running games whose significance I miss – that I reject, without waiting to finally fall on the artifact that is calling me wholeheartedly. This obviously comes from the drawer of the games to be tested, to which I reach a trembling hand. Almost against my will, I mechanically approach the sound source, which swings more and more in my skull as I approach the editor. A soft and vague whisper, a murmur whose words, repeated in a loop, remain indistinct. The editorship is vacant as usual at this time: It must be fourteen or fifteen o'clock, and the working day of the great journalists that we are is long gone.
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