Unearth Issue 1
A deadly horrific disease rages in Mexico. There is body horror. People investigate a cave. People are hostile or indifferent or wilfully ignoring the calamity. One doesn't really like the characters much. A theocratic fascist is specifically hostile and says others have no right to choose, question or challenge his choices.
This was horribly fascinating. Doom is their due. Sad creeps are unsmiling bitter hardasses. The disease is unremittingly appalling. There is creeping doom, a wholly disgusting illness, cold hostility and sullen, discontented, dour, resentful people who are poisonous presences. This is a tumultous time.
People have vicious spite and loud belligerent tones. There is oily gloom, a mysterious face, mysterious wall art, guerillas and a monster. There is no context or meaning just social hypocisy, despicable people and mythic significance. There is a vicious clash. I have one question: what is the pink stuff in the buckets? I enjoyed this. The characters are unlikely to ever find welcome in the cave as it is full of portents of doom.
“Thing is, there is no cave at site 17. At least not until three days ago.”
“Before breathing is a concern.”
Unearth Issue 2
The sick go somewhere. There is unexplained blood, pink blood. The cave ecosystem has secrets. What is the yhog-raa? There is grossness and a possible alien spaceship. This was good. A dude has chronic screeching and violent rage and flagrantly bad behaviour.
“They're not afraid of the light!”
“I summoned my cosmic horror.”