Hunt together. Die alone.

Monsters have overrun our world, and their flesh will be your bounty in a tense match-based, first person monster hunter from the makers of Crysis.


Desk of A Hunter

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When Two Hunters Risk Everything

The sun is setting on the Wild West.

You and your partner are members of a secret hunting society that tracks and kills monsters. The bounties are high, but so are the risks. The smallest mistake will cost you everything—your bounty, your gear, your life, and your very soul.

Some hunt for wealth, some for power. Some hunt to protect others, some hunt for glory. You must track your quarry through a dark and treacherous world. Winner takes all. Fail, and go straight to hell.


And Evil Waits Unseen

Monstrous creatures lurk in the shadows. Insidious. Powerful. Hungry. Waiting.

Hunting for sport is child’s play. This is a different kind of game, one with high stakes and even higher rewards. You will face creatures that want to gorge themselves on your flesh and devour your soul.

Everything and everyone is against you—even the earth itself. Make one mistake, and you will die in filth, forgotten. Succeed, and the bounty and the glory will be immense.


The Hunter Becomes the Hunted

You are not alone in the darkness.

Other hunters seek the same prey, lust for the same bounty. Get in their way, and you may find yourself their target. Get caught, and they will pry your trophy from your cold, dead hands.


Damnation

The butcher. A deformed animal head of some kind. I can see flesh and teeth and a tortured eye.

Mother of mothers. Quell the fire of the butcher’s hook.

The Spider. An arachnid form with long, hairy legs. It appears to be tangled in a web. I cannot see in the darkness if it is dead or alive.

Souls are to be to collected. Bodies are to be worn; to be joined.

He calls them souls farmers, I think. Paxton’s journal has an entry about a thing simply called Meathead. It must be the same creature. Terrifying thing… A headless and massive, almost bloated, humanoid monster with leeches for hair. The stuff of nightmares.

Meathead

He calls them souls farmers, I think. Paxton’s journal has an entry about a thing simply called Meathead. It must be the same creature. Terrifying thing… A headless and massive, almost bloated, humanoid monster with leeches for hair. The stuff of nightmares.

The Hive. A warped photo of this monstrous being. I can see the rough form of a human, but something is bursting from its chest.

The Hive

Scognamillio thinks it feels like an evolution of a simpler form; in this case a person possessed by some kind of insect spirit eventually turning the body into a hive itself. Harold Black’s book includes pieces of a hunter’s diary describing this thing.

The infection takes hold. It takes a human host and from there the darkness spreads. Here it appears to be the form of a woman, something I can’t see is emerging from the body.

Darkness lusts for the red water in you. Lord of the fireflies it thirsts.


Salvation

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