At the start, it almost feels simple. You drop in, get a feel for the hook, test a few swings. Then the structure opens up beneath you, and it hits—this place is deeper than it should be. There’s no map, no clear route, just layers of broken stone and gaps that don’t forgive mistakes. You’re not exploring for curiosity. You’re moving because you have to.
The grappling hook is everything, but it never really becomes comfortable. Sometimes it pulls you exactly where you expect. Other times it feels just slightly off, enough to mess up your timing. You start noticing which surfaces feel "right" to latch onto, but even then, you’re making quick calls under pressure. There’s no perfect run, just fewer bad decisions.
The first time you notice the centipede, it’s not some big dramatic reveal. It’s more like a bad feeling that turns out to be right. A sound that doesn’t match your movement, something shifting where it shouldn’t. Then you see it, or part of it, and suddenly everything changes. You stop thinking about clean movement and start thinking about getting away.
You’ll mess up more once you know it’s there. That’s just how it goes. You rush a swing, miss a point you would’ve hit earlier, or latch onto something you didn’t mean to. The game doesn’t need to do much at that point. You’re already doing the hard part for it.
Falling doesn’t feel fair, but it also doesn’t feel random. You usually know why it happened. Maybe you pushed too fast, maybe you hesitated, maybe you trusted the wrong surface. Either way, once you’re dropping, there’s nothing to do but watch it play out.
There are checkpoints, sure, but they don’t feel safe. More like a quick reset before you go back into the same pressure. You don’t stay long. You can’t, really. The longer you sit there, the more it feels like the game is waiting for you to slip again.
After a while, you stop thinking about how far you’ve gone or what’s below. You focus on the next swing, the next landing, the next few seconds. That’s all that matters. Keep moving, don’t overthink it, don’t freeze. Because the moment you do, something is already on its way to catch up.
