I have just emerged from a pitch-black cave into a maelstrom of wind and snow. My character pants heavily, and I direct his trudging middle-aged body towards a settlement under attack. Barely thinking, I lunge at what looks like the aggressor, trading a series of tense, clanging blows, before inflicting a desperate and final life-sapping slash. Just ahead, an inhabitant comforts somebody close to death; another, in a shelter, mourns the passing of a friend. I hesitantly present a peace offering, unsure how they’ll react, and they graciously hold out a hand in return. I enjoy the scene’s stillness; this connection feels like it offers greater respite than the fire which burns next to us.
This is a companion discussion topic for the original entry at https://www.vice.com/en_us/article/dy8dmv/unto-the-end-review