Power whispers such charming lies. You deserve it, don’t you? You’re different. You’re special. And the price is so small. A memory here, a bit of mercy there. Hardly anything at all.
Oh, how eagerly you agree.
As a Grimrunner, you survive through caution, awareness, and timing. As a Grimspawn, you gain terrible strength and a presence no one can ignore. It feels magnificent. For one bright moment, the world bends at your fingertips, and you are more than you were.
But here in Nightholme, payment always comes due.
Every transformation consumes Sanity. The more power you take, the less stable the world becomes. As a Grimspawn, your actions are louder, more visible, drawing enemies and rival hunters straight to your door.
Meanwhile, you’ll be dealing with the charming little side effects of madness. A voice where none exists, laughter in an empty alley. A monster bearing down on you, only to disappear.
Then the game tilts. The Void encroaches. Your own mind begins to consume you. And trust us, if you go chasing ghosts, you’ll inevitably miss the thing actually trying to eat you.
So do keep chasing that delicious power. The ending is predictable, but it’s wonderfully entertaining.
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It’s not always because you have to. That’s the hell of it. Some Runners lie about that kinda thing, but I don’t see the point. If you’re going in, you should have the facts. Sometimes survival isn’t the only thing on your mind.
Take this one run. I’m backing down an alley, right? Big, ugly bastard limping toward me, bleeding slow. I’m bleeding too, but we both know he’s mine.
And I’m thinking, I could win this. Little ol’ Grimrunner me, practically human. No need to transform.
Bad idea. I’d been careless that night. Shifting in and out, showing off, playing with it. You know? Living a little.
By the time we square up, I’m riding a hard line. Like the walls are buzzing like bloat flies. I keep thinking someone’s laughing down the black. Kinda thing I only hear when the Void’s closing in.
So I know I’m teetering close to the red. The auditory junk, I can handle. Par for the course. But those visual hallucinations can be real assholes. And of course I’ve got no tonic. Not even a streetlamp nearby for some light therapy.
I should not transform.
Except the fight’ll be harder if I don’t. More effort, more blood. I’m tired of the hard fight. I could literally die. I’ve fought so hard for so long, blah blah blah.
See, that’s the loop you get into. Round and round, excuses and justifications. But the truth is simple.
I want to go full Grimspawn.
I love it.
I love my claws slicing through bone like butter, and the way blood starts tasting sweet. I love sprinting at freeway-speed, vaulting walls, and how easy it is, body tuned in so tight I barely feel my lungs burn.
That kind of power… that’s freedom. That’s the self breaking loose. Living a little.
It goes cheap at first. A lot of us call it a fair trade. A name, a face. The color of your bedroom walls. And sometimes it’ll come back. Other times, it’s just lost.
But the price gets steeper. You start losing mercy. Or shame. That tall step between hunting and slaughter keeps shrinking. And later, in the bathroom mirror, you see it in your eyes. That starved sort of look. Patient and cold where it wasn’t before.
So you think… maybe I shouldn’t.
Then the monster lunges, and pain bites into your arm. And there’s this flash of rage or panic. And suddenly you’re not thinking about the mirror or the voices or the names you’ve lost.
You’re just thinking how good this next part is gonna feel.
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Discord:
https://discord.com/invite/nightholme
Stay vigilant, Grimrunners,
— Studio Ellipsis Team