Let me tell you the story of Fitre the Fox.
Fitre, you see, has a dark desire, one that only I as their cult leader could fulfil. It seems that Fitre is fixated on eating a Bowl of Poop, one of the many delicacies- alongside Minced Follower Meat – you can dish out in Cult of The Lamb. To deny Fitre of their request, would be to the detriment of my good standing among my anthropomorphic congregation, punishing me with a whopping -35 to my Faith Meter. Faith is the cornerstone of your cult, the game teaches you. Without it, a follower could easily turn on you, label you as a false prophet, and begin to actively turn the entire flock against you. So I obliged, reluctantly, and granted Fitre their request, and served them up a steaming bowl of shit.
Fitre ingested spoonful after spoonful of poop and happily thanked me for helping them live out their dark fantasy. They proceed to upchuck a fresh green puddle of vomit – because of course they would – which I then I had to clean up – because of course I would. With the scatological taste test over, I was free to move on and focus on more important cult leader things, like where to plant my pumpkin patch. But that wasn’t the end, my friends. It was in fact the beginning of an elaborate plot of intimidation and manipulation that would ultimately end in murder.
It wasn’t long after Fitre’s stint in the infirmary for eating a hot deuce – because of course they got sick – that they approached me with another request. Fitre decided that they alone shouldn’t be the only one to experience the robust, bold flavors of doodie, they now wanted other followers to experience it too, specifically a loyal cultist by the name of Greare. Greare had been an exemplary member of the cult, and represented the very best of us. They spent their days in the refinery, turning gold coins into precious gold bars, and they often asked if I could welcome in the old and sickly into our faith. I excitedly granted their requests. “Give me those huddled masses!“, I exclaimed, “all are welcome!” Greare was loyal, hardworking, and put the well-being of others before themselves. And it made what I was about to do to them even more difficult to stomach.
Somehow Fitre got it into their head that it would be ‘really funny‘ to ‘trick‘ Greare into eating a bowl of poop. And being the ever appeasing leader that I am, I agreed and cooked up another turd bowl. I watched on as one my most devout and faultless followers excitedly wolfed down every last bit of it, practically licking the bowl clean. And, like Fitre, Greare puked, got sick, recovered, and went about their life as if nothing happened. “Alrighty, no more eating shit, okay? Can we…you know…stop doing that?” Sure it was funny the first time and mildly entertaining the second, but no more. For a brief period of time the fascination with feces went away. My followers went about their business and my cult flourished. I could finally put these silly requests behind me. That was until Fitre asked me to feed Greare ANOTHER poop platter. It was at this point I realized that something was definitely up. This wasn’t a one-time prank, this had now evolved into targeted harassment. Fitre had it in for Greare and I could not figure out why. I could have easily put a stop to this madness. I could have refused and taken the hit to my Faith. I could have sacrificed Fitre to the void and be done with them. But just as this all began with a dark desire, a morbid curiosity, I too could not help myself and I wanted – no – I HAD to see how far this would go. And so, Greare ate some more shit…and I anxiously awaited Fitre’s next request. And Fitre did not disappoint.
“My leader, wouldn’t it be funny to put Greare in prison?” Prisons in Cult of the Lamb are reserved for uppity cultists who don’t always get their way and feel ignored by crappy leaders that let Faith slip into the danger zone. While I may be a crappy leader for feeding my cultists their own shit, their faith in me and my ability to rule over them never wavered. As such, I never really had the need to construct a prison. So I built one, thinking a night in the clink wouldn’t be half as bad as eating excrement for a third time. Off to prison Greare went (where they spent all of two seconds so I could complete the request), and upon their release I walked right up to Fitre thinking, “What’s next, fucker?” Fitre giggled, saying, “did you see the look on Greare’s face? They were so scared!” Yes. Hilarious. I’m in this now. What’s. Next?
“My leader, you should kill Greare.”
What the actual fuck, dude.
What have I done? How did I allow things devolve to this point? Where had I gone astray in my teachings? No one had ever been killed or sacrificed in my cult before. Despite the benefits I would reap, I had a strict no-kill policy. One of my doctrines even celebrated death, and guaranteed my followers that there was an afterlife, that their faithful service would lead to a greater reward in the hereafter. I couldn’t just kill one of my own, especially one so pure. Hadn’t I tormented Greare enough? But perhaps that was the answer all along. Perhaps Greare, as enduring as they were, deserved release from their furry flesh, and should be allowed to ascend to a life of peace, in a higher plane of existence. So the decision was made. Greare would die. And at long last, Fitre’s reign of terror would come to an end. There was a noticeable void after Greare was gone. New followers would join the flock but none could match Greare’s kind heart. And it turns out that I wasn’t the only one that missed them. For not too long after I had senselessly murdered a cult member at the behest of a poop-eating fox, did that same fox approach me with one final request.
“My leader, I really miss Greare. Would it be possible to resurrect them?
Oh for fucks sake, Fitre. Are you kidding me? Are you having a laugh? You want me to bring them back? Why? Just so you could torture them some more? Just so I could cook up more stinky soft serve and jam it down their throat? No…I can’t…can I? I hadn’t said no before, so why start now. And so I gathered my flock, watched as they dressed themselves in their best ritual robes, and brought Greare back from the dead. A part of me wanted to leave Greare alone, to let them enjoy the great beyond. Greare however had been their happiest when serving me. And upon their return I gave them a Big Gift and blessed them with a Skull Necklace, an item that would allow them to live twice as long as any of my other followers, especially Fitre – who was fast approaching old age. It seemed like a fitting reward for all I had put them through.
Life in the cult pretty much returned to normal after that. A message would later pop up during one of my temple raids notifying me that Fitre and Greare had become close friends. I chuckled and kept on, thinking about the wild ride that these two forest critters took me on, and how it had been a while since a game gave me a story like this to tell.
Cult of Lamb is a lot of things. It’s a fantastic dungeon crawler, roguelike. It’s an incredible city-builder/god-sim. It’s got an art style to die for and one of the best soundtracks in a game. It’s as charming and loveable as it is dark, and sinister. But the one thing I did not expect was its ability to take me on this unexpected journey of poop, death, rebirth, and friendship. That alone makes it a cult classic in the making.
