Succumb
The crimson is calling. I know I have no choice.
The metallic fluid - the ichor - flows around the innards of the swarmer. It washes languidly over frayed wires and emergency lights, its smell clogging my nose and lungs. The smell is overwhelming. Reality sways and dips, and for a moment, all I can see is crimson.
Dialogue choices
Resist
It is no use. The crimson insists. It is calling.
Details
- Race
- None
- Options
- 2
- Progressive
- Yes
- Public Subtitle
- None dialogue · Variant 2
- Interaction Type
- None
- Identity Collision
- Yes
- Requires Scan Event
- Interaction Category
- Default
- Provenance Disambiguation
- ?D_S22_SWARM_FOOT
Connections (1)
Dialogue factionNone dialogue ↗
Dialogue Category