I guess they really stepped up their game for this game. Now even the terrain gets stressed. I wonder what type of affliction would a mountain get though.
@@OsborOST "Even the cold stone seems bent on preventing passage." "The very grounds themselves are animated by a deep rooted evil, a cosmic hatred for all that thrive beyond it's tainted grasp."
A theme to represent a battle against madness, nihilism, and hopelessness itself! The mad, the desperate, and the hopeless have begun worshipping the spreading stain, believing entropy must finally reclaim all. They put themselves between you and your redemption. You've overcome much to get here, a city full of deranged arsonists, a countryside full of gluttonous cannibals, a coast full of pagan fishmen, a forest full of sleepwalking soldiers, even a network of aqueducts full of barbarous pig beasts. Make the final push, cleanse yourself of grief, loathing, and undo your greatest failure of all, the failure to accept responsibility...
After the newest boss and story that went along with it. I'm definitely agreeing that this scholar that the "Academic" entrusted the flame to, screwed up majorly before the events of the game. Between the crumbling denial, the ill concealed rage and now the obsession as they barely survived their encounter with the Ancestor(yay cameo from our loveable douche). I presume pride will be linked to an organ(maybe the tongue) given that he must of gone against the "Academics" advise at some point and damned them both for it.
its futile to resist.... give into your searing burning anger... give into your shattering cold despair... gaze upon the uncaring vastness of existence and feel your fears devour your thoughts! hide in madness frenzied oily cool soothing embrace... escape responsibility of thy sentience and become but a piece of flesh for the horrors and despair at thy edge of perception! ,become part of destruction and corruption embodied! , become part of the writhing faunt for entropy incarnate!.... ;) its a rad tune indeed!
Mine too... This part also hit in good time for me once. I got mine man-at-arms targeted solo during act 3 Boss fight. While this abominacion laid crit after crit mine tank was still standing like he wanted to say "Is that all that you got?"
"Apologizing women" "Poisoning a rich, drunk man" "Stealing a key" "Burning a house and killing someone's adoptive parents" "Contradicting someone's crappy human anatomy teaching as they die from pneumonia" "Stealing music from someone" "Music, killing it and them" "Dead soldier battlefield cemetery respecting" "Feeding a campfire while looking out the window" "Trying not to have a mental breakdown as all my heroes die one by one"
Each time I think that Stuart Chatwood can't deliver beyond what he had already done, he smites me with new music that is just gut-wrenching. Godly strings, brilliant melody, overall genius!
speaking of, I had a game where all the stress attacks just kept coming and my squad just got utterly stressed to oblivion, but they nearly 80% of the time went the virtuous route. it was kinda hilarious to see it keep happening and the repeat heal from it. XD
something cool about the music when played in game is that one half(A) plays during the mountain, but changes to the other half(B) when there's only 1 hero remaining that you can control it really portrays how much your chances of winning are
This soundtrack perfectly embodies the theme of this fight. The rouge like elements tend to dull the experience, but make no mistake, at this point the apocalypse is upon the world. This fight is your attempt at clawing the fate of the world back from the jaws of the end. You can feel the desperation in the music and see it in your party as their minds and bodies are tested to their limits. Each breakdown their will to fight for hope is chipped away until they become just as bleak and nihilistic as the world around them. Each death blow resisted exhausts their bodies until they are standing on adrenaline and willpower alone and again until even that fails. These fights are a defiant and desperate last stand against the dying world, and even if you fail all hope is not lost. As long as you have the will to bear the torch once more and make the journey to the mountain there is still a chance the world can be saved. For hope only dies if all those who would fight for it give in to the dark.
So the cultists here are friendship piñatas. Your heroes bond by hitting them with sticks. Actually, I can imagine something like that being an inn item - the heroes hang a captured enemy from the ceiling and blow off steam and increase their companionship by smacking it a bunch. It would be very silly, though.
I used this music for the last boss in D&D camping. One of the storm giants, advisor of queen, blew away her disguise after her plans to rewrite materiality were ruined and appeared as elder dragon. Group was shocked and pumped, this was battle for reality itself.
Would fit more if it'd have been an outer realm Eldrich Creature tho. Something that perhaps corrupts the 'character' of an individual. Still the same person but the corruption is deep and vile. If original purpose had been to protect, it'd be to rule with an iron grip instead, or a healer will become a sadistic torturer, etc.
@@kinagrill I think that works great. I played this for my team as they were fighting up a mountain to disable an ancient AI they have accidentally awoken a month ago ingame that is wreaking havoc on the region and is consuming everything in it's path in an attempt to repair itself - a futile task, as it's circuits were built over 200 years ago by humans who possessed knowledge far more advanced than the humans of today under the supervision of a much more advanced species, who since have left the universe and wiped the slate clean - leaving humans who built their entire society around their tech to rebuild civilization in the ruins of technology so advanced they could never recreate it. The circuits of this AI are all located inside a pocket dimension stretching millions of miles, and has a hive of self-repairing organisms keeping that in check (the organisms are using the statblock for a Wendigo, they recruit new "workers" by turning people in the AI's zone of influence into one of their own, and feed on meat to provide organic components for the computer to keep expanding). The primary objective of the AI is to contain an anomalous zone (such as the one in Annihilation and STALKER) at *all costs*. So basically, what they were dealing with was: 1) a swarm of very much above their level wendigos to hide from 2) the giant fleshy tendrils of the AI stretching between the mountains like an enormous cobweb, looking for organic life to grab and consume as the AI attempts the futile task of containing an anomaly whose containment had broken over 200 years ago, expanding it's area of influence as much as it can, consuming everything in it's path, trying to somehow catch up with it's failed task. 3) the reality altering effects of an anomaly long uncontained, affecting mind, body and the surrounding reality alike. One of the few safe places they found was the childhood home of one of the PCs, which spontaneously appeared in the snowy mountaintop, through a combination of the anomalous forces and the AI clinging into every bit of information it can, trying to comprehend the severity of it's failure 4) the bitter cold of one of the tallest mountains in the region 5) as lack of resources as the nearby towns have been entirely cut off from outer supplies and could only afford to sell and donate so much. The region is in bad shape, and this event is one of many - the entire world is experiencing a sort of anomalous "awakening" - and cities built under the remnants of AIs such as this one and, sometimes, far worse things (the capital had fallen to an anomalous fleshy infection, covering the streets and buildings with a pulsating mass of flesh, bones growing from where once railways and cars used to pass, and shifting tendons pulling structures apart, all culminating in an enormous tree-like organism, emerging from where once was the main power plant of the city, towering over the entire city like the erdtree in Elden Ring. Any attempt to even approach the tree have failed catastrophically, as it has hordes of incomprehensible creatures (once citizens of the capital, turned monstrosities) defending what the military assumes to be it's heart, or brain... To say the least, the odds are against them. As of last session, they've made it near the top of the mountain, where the last bastion of cultists worshipping the mysterious forces at play still holds, barely comprehending what they've gotten themselves into. The cultists may be their best friends at this point, as they too start to understand the folly of their work - as one by one, they are consumed to become a part of the pulsating mass towering over the mountain.
This song is my favorite in the entire game because of how well the emotion is communicated. Especially around 3:55, you can feel anxiety building up and in 4:27, you can feel the sense of clarity, trying to overcome the obstacle.
Just the absolute relentlessness of a massive and frigid chunk of stone, the weight of your failures pressing down on you, and your equally tenacious party of 4 to carry out your deeds. This is just absolutely wonderful 3:10
9:50 when the hellish choir sings and your limbs fail, 11:07 grit your teeth, stand fast and light the pyre at the summit. Let it blaze with radiant light, we are the flame!
This piece of music is hands down the best element of the whole Darkest Dungeon 2 game. All I need now is a mod to add this to random DD1 boss fights :D
Как по мне, боссам из первой части недостает той "космической" Жути, которая присутствует в дизайнах и способностях еретиков во второй части. Первая часть, несмотря на вдохновлённый Лавкрафтом нарратив, в визуальном плане больше приземлена, нежели вторая часть.
The thing that makes Stuart Catwood (more like Stuart CHADwood) soundtracks so great is that he manages to make his tracks insanely catchy while also not leaving the kind of "ochestral music to set the scene" genre that most AAA studios use. As amazing as games like Baldurs Gate 3 or The Witcher 3 are, they have the same type of music and it just doesn't compare to Stuart Chadwood in terms of memorability. It sereosly should be analyzed what lets him tread both realms so flawlessly, cause frankly i wish all high fantasy games could have a soundtrack as memorable as this.
One of my absolute favorite parts of the mountain is the ride up to it. You can easily slaughter the eldritch abominations, and yet still be on high alert for the boss just ahead.
(continued from Approaching the Mountain) “You - shouldn’t - have - turned -“ The words came out hoarse, strangled by Baldwin’s hold around the girl’s throat. Still he pried at her eyes, trying to force them open - trying to force the girl to look into his gilded mask, see her reflection. It was true, Bonnie thought - Baldwin shouldn't have turned. Baldwin, as far as she knew, had no cause to turn Gaunt. Baldwin’s body had rotted away long ago, but his will had never faltered. That was why he was a beacon of hope to Audrey, to Dismas, to everyone - even after he had seemingly perished in the Great Library. Baldwin was the only member of the expedition who wasn’t running away from his past. That’s how it had seemed, at least, to Audrey and the others. And that’s what mattered, Bonnie realized. “Audrey - believed - in - you -“ Bonnie croaked. Baldwin didn’t reply. Still his fingers were clawing at her eyes. But with those words, Bonnie realized something else - something that sent heat flaring through her weakened limbs. Her eyes snapped open wide. She saw her reflection in Baldwin’s mask. Her face was scratched, bruised, blackened, bloodied - but human. And it would always be human. Because- As she swung her left hand, she already knew the sconce had re-ignited. The Flame lived once more, kindled and set to roaring by the new hope that was leaping inside Bonnie’s breast as she smashed the sconce into the Baldwin-creature’s face. The Gaunt was taken off guard, and as the white shroud around its head caught fire, it howled and batted at its face. Bonnie twisted in its grip, brought her feet up to its chestplate, and kicked hard, wrenching herself from the chokehold. She landed on her back in the snow, urgency pushing her to wrestle herself off the ground and stand. Oblivion had fled with the Flame’s sudden return, and the sun was rising; around her a cold wind blew. The stagecoach had followed the road through a forest of snow-covered pines, and the Mountain loomed high in the distance. She'd almost made it. Bonnie’s windpipe still ached as she gasped for breath, muttering the same words again: “Audrey believed in you, Baldwin.” But that wasn’t the realization that had re-kindled the Flame. That truth she whispered for only her own ears: “Audrey believed in me, too.” That was enough. It had to be enough. The creature that had been Baldwin shambled toward her, smoke still wisping from the new, smoldering wounds on its head. Reaching into her coat, Bonnie took hold of the first firework that met her fingers. She hadn’t had time to memorize what explosive was where, but luck was with her; she’d found the right one for the moment. Lighting the blackpowder grenade’s fuse on the Flame, she feinted a throw at Baldwin, then when it was almost burned down she hurled the bomb at the center of Baldwin’s chest. It exploded against his heavy breastplate right at he was starting to charge, and the blast threw him off balance, toppling him onto his back - though he was already trying to pull himself up. Baldwin really was tough as Audrey had said, maybe even tougher. Still, Bonnie didn’t waste the opportunity. Baldwin was already up to one elbow when Bonnie closed the distance to him, a hand in her jacket again. This time she drew out a smoke bomb. Useless. Throwing it aside, she drew Paracelsus’s scalpel from her belt and fell upon him, jamming the point into his unarmored neck and trying to rip through the arteries. Blood spurted, and she stabbed again and again, before the pommel of Baldwin’s execution-sword slammed into her temple and the world filled with stars. She landed in the snow, rolling over and over, bleeding from a gash on her head. She tried to get up, but her body dipped over suddenly and she fell once more, still dizzied. Her battle-trained instincts keened just in time and she rolled over quickly as Baldwin’s enormous sword crashed through the snow and ice where she had lain just an instant ago. This time she did get to her feet - and this time, she was holding a phial of sticky tar oil with a greasy cloth wrapped around it. This one would have to count. She needed an opening, some way to douse a part of Baldwin that wasn’t armored - his back, ideally, let the flames spread everywhere else. If she could unbalance him long enough to slip behind. She thrust the Flame at Baldwin, aiming at his face, and he barely seemed to notice. As he dipped a shoulder down she went for the wrappings on his arm and was almost hit by his spiked pauldron when he rushed her. She dodged, and her nerves sang another warning as he spun and brought the flat of his sword around in a wide slash. She threw herself to the ground just in time, rolling, as the blade passed overhead. He was too skilled. This wouldn’t work. She ignited the precious firebomb’s wick on her Flame and threw it; it shattered against Baldwin’s thick chestplate in an eruption of burning liquid. For a moment it looked like the tar oil would creep down his chest and set his legs alight, and he was slowing, a hand coming to his chest. Maybe she had an opening for another firebomb, Bonnie thought, and she went into her jacket again - but all she felt was the burning chestplate slamming into her skull when Baldwin hurled it at her. She was face down in the trampled snow, her left hand still desperately clutching the Flame. Blood was oozing from both her ears; all she could hear was a high-pitched ringing. She knew Baldwin was coming up behind her to finish her off, and she struggled to her knees. Her right hand found the chestplate, grasping one of the leather straps on its backside, and she thought of using it as a shield. Turning around quickly and starting to rise, she brought the metal plate up to block Baldwin’s downward swing - but too late she realized that the chop was aimed to her left side. Time slowed, the world seeming to grow brighter against Bonnie’s eyes. Her breath spasmed, as did her heart, as her body tried to process what had just happened. She was still holding the chestplate up in her right hand, but she was frozen in place, unable to move - save for her left arm, which landed in the snow. She knew there was no surviving a wound like this. Blood was already fountaining from the stump, and the world was growing ever brighter, numbness spreading up through her body. She’d lose consciousness in seconds. She didn’t want to look down at her severed arm. But in the corner of her eye, she could see that the Flame still burned. Bonnie let out a shriek of rage, and with the last of her strength, swung the chestplate into the Baldwin-creature’s face. As it collided with his mask, it made a sound like the ringing of the bells at the reflecting-shrines. And as darkness closed over Bonnie’s eyes for the last time, she saw the man stumbling backward, starting to fall.
When the chestplate struck Baldwin it sent a ringing through his skull like a deafening thunderclap announcing the end of a storm. The gloam that had enveloped his senses was impenetrable, the voices unbearable. He hadn’t known what his body had been doing; all he was aware of was the shrieking in his mind - an unending cacophony of hateful screams, raining execrations upon him for unforgiven crimes. He didn’t fault Audrey and the others for leaving him for dead at the Great Library. The mistake had been made before; in his former kingdom he had once awoken on an embalming table. He’d had to refuse his high chirurgeon’s letter of resignation after that. But hope had left him anyway, as he had journeyed alone toward the Mountain. There was a faintest whisper in the back of his mind at first, words he couldn’t make out but that festered in his mind, gnawed at him, sapped color and then light from his world. At first, Baldwin tried to assure himself that the dimming sun in the sky was merely his disease consuming what remained of his vision, but the world grew quieter as well, murkier, thicker - until all remained was muddy, sticky blackness and a silent howling filling his ears. Trying to find something to hold onto amid total oblivion, Baldwin had sought out his own reflection in the flat of his sword. There, looking upon his unmasked face, he found staring back at him a shapeless abomination: a sprawling, inchoate expanse of eyes and tendrils and snapping human mouths, rotted and abscessed and pustuled and blooming with pestilences. As Baldwin’s eyes widened in horror, he saw it reaching toward him, and he saw that it was his own soul, twisted by failures that he had refused to ever face- Too late, Baldwin realized that he wasn’t unlike Audrey and Dismas and Paracelsus at all. He was running away from his past, just like they were. As he had approached the Mountain, his sins had caught up to him, and with them a Loathing - just the way he had warned Audrey would happen. If only he had listened to his own words… As he stared aghast, the monster in the reflection began to howl from all its decayed mouths, an unending bedlam that consumed every thought in Baldwin’s mind. Something else reached up from below, coaxing Baldwin’s body to follow its commands, while Baldwin’s soul lay trapped, his mind insensible to anything but Loathing. Until the bell. Its sound shook through the viscous blackness around Baldwin, racing across his vision like ripples on a pond, driving back the voices. The ripples caught and washed over a shape in the dark - the figure of a man clad head to toe in steel armor. A knight, or a crusader. Baldwin recognized the figure. And he recognized his surroundings, too, as they took shape and brightened. Baldwin’s royal palace stood behind him, at the end of a wide road filled with an approaching triumphal procession. Trumpeters and heralds and cheering onlookers announced the arrival of Sir Reynauld. Reynauld was once a lowly peasant from faraway lands, and had answered Baldwin’s call to arms and traveled to Baldwin’s kingdom to battle Baldwin’s foes, in a war that Baldwin had recklessly stirred up. As young Reynauld was inexperienced but eager to fight, he was placed in a reckless vanguard unit, a “forlorn hope” that threw itself at enemy formations like expendable human ordnance. Improbably, Reynauld had survived his first battle, then many more. His bravery and ferocity earned him honors, then knighthood, then command of his unit. At the twilight of Baldwin’s war, Reynauld had taken up his unit’s standard and charged through a breached fortress wall, leading Baldwin’s army to victory. At the triumph held a week later Reynauld had knelt before King Baldwin, and was showered with praises and blessings by Baldwin’s tongue. Reynauld’s helmeted head was adorned with a laurel-crown - the man having not removed his armor. Baldwin’s advisors had told him not to press Reynauld on the matter, saying that the bloodshed the man witnessed had “affected him,” but that he would surely find himself in due time. Perhaps, had Baldwin insisted on removing Reynauld’s helmet and had seen the hollow, shattered husk of a man beneath, he would not have let Sir Reynauld depart the kingdom alone. Baldwin thought about that, after hearing the news that Reynauld had ridden home to his wife and child, looked upon them from a hilltop, then turned and fled into the distance. Appalled, Baldwin had tried to care for the abandoned innocents, sending courtiers to collect Reynauld’s family and their belongings and bring them to his estate to be cared for. But that stagecoach was ambushed by a highwayman, and the poor woman and child perished together, hit by a blast from a scattergun. Neither Reynauld nor his family’s killer were ever heard of again. When word of the massacre reached Baldwin, he had collapsed in his throne, gripping his head between his hands - then his response had been nothing at all. He had silently replaced the slain courtiers, erased all record of Sir Reynauld, and lashed out at anyone who spoke of the man, seemingly pretending that Reynauld had never existed. Then the crazed, desperate attempts at penance began, atonement for sins that Baldwin himself refused to acknowledge. Baldwin’s erratic behavior led first to the illness that consumed his body, then to the attempted coup that saw him massacre his cabinet of advisors, then to his abdication- -“Wasn’t that enough?” The voice was - Baldwin wasn’t sure where it was coming from. It was the voice of a teenaged girl, coarse and casual. She went on, “I did bad stuff too. I get it. And I didn’t even have a kingdom that I could throw away so I could feel better about myself. But I found a way to deal. We all do. We have to. You most of all, given the stakes right now. You're the only one of us that's left.” “Who… are you, girl,” Baldwin muttered, looking around. There was no sign of whoever was speaking. The city street with the triumphal parade had frozen in time and was melting together like watercolor paints, mixing and fading back into blackness. “Name’s Bonnie,” the voice snapped at him. “The Flame’s got a little of me left in it or something. Don’t know how that works. You just killed me and you didn’t notice because you were too caught up in yourself. That bell sound gave you a bit of clarity or something, don’t know how that works either.” “K… killed you?” Baldwin’s breath caught. “I-I don’t-“ “Yep. Killed me. I didn’t stutter. And since you’re into making up for past missteps, Baldwin, I’m gonna tell you how to make it up to me. You listenin’ carefully? Not sure I have time to say this twice, so pay attention.” Baldwin still couldn’t see her. But he nodded. There was nothing else he could do. “Take the Flame from my body, go into the Mountain, and end this. Right now.” “I… I…” Baldwin hesitated. “BEFORE THE SNOW PUTS IT OUT, DAMNIT!” There was a tiny snapping sound, as if something had just vanished and left a vacuum in the air that had rushed to fill it. Then, Baldwin finally saw again. He was laying in the snow. His breastplate was missing, his shroud half-burnt away, new wounds bleeding in the side of his neck - but they weren’t deadly. His sword was at his side, and he used it to help himself up to his feet. Not far from him, a black-clad girl lay dead, the snow around her crimson with her blood, her skin pale as ivory. Her left arm had been severed, though the fingers hadn’t kept their hold around the sconce in which the Flame still burned. Baldwin picked it up, feeling the Flame’s warmth against his bandaged skin. Further back, the stagecoach stood, the horses still yoked to it. They recognized Baldwin as he approached and cut their bonds, freeing them. Theirs was a happy life, once, and they would find their way back home. With that done, Baldwin donned his chestplate. The Mountain awaited. (fin. Thank you to everyone who followed it this far! I had no idea that it would turn into this big thing when I started; I just felt inspired to write stuff and it sort of got out of my control. Still, I'm thrilled that so many people seemed to enjoy it!)
Damn reading this three parter of comments was extremely fun. Tragic that Bonnie had to go but if anybody can solo a confession boss its our main man Leper! Thanks for writing this mate
@@icyferaligatr9908 Thanks for reading it! It wound up being many parts; I never did get around to laying down proper chapter numbers. I did put the whole thing on ao3 with the title as simply "Bonnie." I'm not sure when I decided that Bonnie would die. I think I had a couple endings in mind for whether she won the fight, and it all came down to how things flowed as I wrote the scene. I realized after the fact that I was writing the combat as though Bonnie was fighting a Dark Souls boss, and that might be why I resolved it by having her lose. That, and I do like Leper.
Since the music keeps being deleted, not just on this channel, but others, has anyone tried reaching out to Stuart to get permission to keep his music on youtube?
Wow, I didn't know. I have not reached him. Maybe one mention in the description is all it takes, or maybe my little channel hasn't caught the attention of the ban hammer yet. In any case, fingers crossed.
@@OsborOST I think it's because he is still slowly releasing them to his channel, or whoever runs his account on YT. Maybe once he has them all posted they'll stop taking the extended ones down.
The Mountain is home to the Cultists, and unlike the first game, they're all powerful and ready to bring ruin to your party. They're resistant to all DOTs, but the resistances aren't quite as high as most enemies. They tend to inflict Bleed on you, but they can inflict other statuses, too.
@@Jargon.5 cascaaubrey on his way to post a dead meme nobody asked for knowing that his comment is beyond useless on someone just trying to provide some insight on the game he likes
@@tuankhangcaonguyen5545idk man, posting something obvious that the tutorial tells you about every ost video that exists, doesn't seem very productive
@@Jargon.5 The only non productive comment here is yours. I vibe with Ethan comments, I always look for them under each OST video. You’re no fun, loser
I'm still having to convince myself these are the same cultists from slay the spire that just learned how to fly How else are we getting divebombed by cultists the moment the fire goes out What does shambler attacking the car look like then? I'm picturing him sprinting full speed at us like Rudolph or something
Why Everytime i play DND with friends, when every Darkest Dungeon OST appears. My character always dies, as if fate befalls to me. Not always though, but MOSTLY does when the GM gives the difficulty a spike when i keep getting good rolls.
Cultists in a nutshell: Cherub: a lot of dodge+ tokens (vulnerability hex and tracking shot help a lot) Evangelist: tons of bleed Altar: free stealth (maybe), kill first cuz regen it gives Herald: idk Cardinal: kill it last because allies heal him a lot That size 3 dude idk how he is named: literally immortal as he sacrifices allies for health
Cultists in a nutshell: Cherub: A lot of dodge+ tokens (vulnerability hex and tracking shot help a lot) Evangelist: Dodgy bleedin' crit bastards Altar: Depends on confession (Denial = Free Stealth, Resentment = Free Crit Token), Must kill-on-sight Herald: Stress and DOT Dealer, Steals and converts negative tokens from cultist allies with Inversion Deacon: Cultist's all-rounder, Big DMG, Big Health, and Stress DMG Cardinal: Deacon's more threatening counterpart Exemplar: Unkillable w/ Regen and Riposte, His Altar must be killed before he does
Darkest Dungeon 2 went in a direction I'm not really fond of, but I keep an eye out for the soundtrack, and this piece in particular is absolutely stellar. Phenomenal job, it's tense and epic, but not overbearing.
@@wills1705 I think people have to realise Red Hook can’t expand upon DD1 and based a sequel on that, that’s why they have to make a whole new meta game. Will turn off players? Yea, but it will gain new ones such as myself
@@Korvinian4601 And in a loose way, it could also function as a viable sequel to the first Darkest Dungeon game - Dismas is still there to right the wrongs of the Ancestor, but things have gotten far worse despite his successful attempt to take down the Heart of Darkness. I mean yeah, the ending kind of implies that the player ends up becoming the new Ancestor which sends another letter to another distant relative, but the (current) exclusion of the Crusader implies that Reynauld was the one who stayed behind, leaving Dismas' fate unknown until now.
I simply made them aware of it myself. I was like, "Guys, I have the PERFECT finale song." "Well, let's hear it." *Explain the lore behind it* ".... Alright, yeah, we're definitely going with that, it fits to perfectly."
Love the flute like instruments. Really nails that Azathoth energy. That being said, I’m gonna go against the normal take on this song. To me it doesn’t feel like the we’re all screwed that most propel seem to feel for this song. Which no hate to them. To me though, this channels the you fucked up and your about to find out. The boss is fucked. We have been hardened and are ready for the task at hand. This is win music. 💯
It's a song about existential victory. Even if no one witnesses it, and even if you lose, the thing that truly matters is the fact that you tried, stood tall against it, with "blazing defiance". For those who know their GRRM, this is like Brienne's moment of "no chance and no choice" in A FEAST FOR CROWS. The point isn't to fight the battle because you have good odds to win; but to fight it because it's the right thing to do, win or lose.
This got a heavy influence of the Weald Battle theme (one of my favorite amongst the lot). I just miss the part with how the music intensifies as your torchlight dims further and further.
@@OsborOST @plezhavemercy7287 the reason is that this song, like all battle songs in game, comes with two versions. One plays regularly, and one plays where you only have one hero left alive. The version with the "shifted choirs" is the one we get regularly in-game, whereas this "louder" version that our good pal Osbor has uploaded, is the "epic last stand" version. You can listen to the shifted choir version here, extracted from the game: ru-vid.com/video/%D0%B2%D0%B8%D0%B4%D0%B5%D0%BE-e8bHwgPqB2A.html
I'm about to go up the mountain, my team stayed mostly intact, because sarmenti the jester died and he got replaced by audrey the grave robber Tbh they have some chance: -half the team got diseases (sepsis on leper and syphilis on man at arms) -they got some... acceptable quirks (Lost in time is actually helping out the leper with that speed boost) -they all got nice trinkets (True entropy on leper (random token every turn) and man at arms is literally immortal thanks to 12% max HP per turn heal) Edit: man at arms and plague doctor died (yes that was the 4th one), with leper and grave robber pulling through. in the middle of the fight grave robber became envious of the leper, fucking hilarious
@@OsborOST i did that with a very old version, now i'm playing in the current update (obsession's gaze) and never got that close because i have to do lairs now :(
My only problem with the game is how it rewards you for dying, I feel as if the game would feel more rewarding if you only got hope at the end of a run, and not if you failed miserably
@@sodium_d3864 they changed the system now with the altar of hope. Plus, you lose more of the candles if you decide to push on after an inn and fail instead of just retiring immediatly.
