«Cult of the Lamb» review: The most devilish game of the year
10.8.2022
Translation: Katherine Martin
«Cult of the Lamb» combines hack n’ slay action with farm simulation and devilish horror. Where else can you start a cult as a demonic lamb, smiting unbelievers along the way?
Don’t be fooled by its butter-wouldn’t-melt appearance. The devil is literally hiding inside «Cult of the Lamb’s» seemingly innocent protagonist. One of the princes of hell has saved the little ball of wool from purgatory – and the lamb must stop at nothing to repay the debt. What looks like a cutesy farm adventure in the style of «Stardew Valley» is, in fact, a devilish cult simulator.
Down with the heretics
As leader of the cult, my most important mission is to indoctrinate new members, expand the settlement and get rid of four enemy princes of hell in the dungeons. After all, they’re the ones responsible for the fact that my roguish saviour is in chains, unable to swing the killer axe himself. The game is surprising in this respect, showcasing far more mechanics than I’d expected. It hardly takes half an hour before I’m indoctrinated myself, glassy-eyed and muttering: «Just one more move. Just one more move.» There’s a bad case of «Civilization» fever brewing in «Cult of the Lamb».
Things mosey along pretty gently at the beginning. After I’ve converted my first lamb, I give it a sleeping bag I’ve made myself and then send the creature to chop wood. I’m not running a holiday camp, after all – they’re here to work and pray. Because I’m short-staffed, I too lower myself to doing menial work and hack away at a couple of stones.
It somehow feels beneath me. To come by more money, resources and, most importantly, new followers, I storm the first dungeon, Darkwood. The other three remain off-limits to me for now. To get in there, I’ll need considerably more than the one pitiful follower I’ve got already. The dungeons are procedurally generated and consist of smaller, interconnected rooms. Most of them harbour a swarm of monsters, all waiting for me to knock them into oblivion. I do that with a weapon in one hand and a curse in the other. I acquire both of them randomly at the start of a dungeon. During a run, I can replace them with better weapons. Preaching in the camp allows you to improve the selection, but more on that later. The combat system consists primarily of hitting and dodging. The controls are wonderfully direct and the weapons make a satisfying sound whenever I turn an enemy into pink mush.
Once I’ve cleared a room of monsters, soaking the walls in blood, a chest of gold coins appears. Sometimes there’s a little heart in there to replenish my lives, sometimes there’s a tarot card which gives me random bonuses during the run. Whenever I find a particular section’s exit, I select the next region on the map. The map tells me whether a given place has resources, monsters, new followers of anything else up for grabs. In the end, all roads lead to the first sub-boss. The first prince of hell only reveals himself to me once I’ve successfully played a dungeon four times. The battles along the way aren’t especially difficult and can be made easier with the help of new skills, or followers who’ve been transformed into demons.
Fighting, building, tending sheep
Back at camp, the first order of business is to indoctrinate new recruits. As their god, I choose their appearance from a wide range of cuddly animal heads. This time, I go for a yellow shark’s head for a bit of variety. My disciples start working on tasks of their own accord, but for certain jobs, it takes a one-on-one. For example, I can inspire my followers once a day. As the cult grows, this quickly becomes hard work, and without the visual help, I wouldn’t have been able to keep track of which lambs had already had the pleasure of listening to my divine words.
Initially, the settlement consists only of my altar. It’s where my disciples worship me and get inspiration, which can be used to unlock new buildings. Take the demonic summoning circle, for example. As I described earlier, this allows disciples to be transformed into demons, who then fight alongside me in battle. On the more basic side of things, there’s the outhouse so that residents don’t relieve themselves in the middle of the camp, leaving me to clean up the mess. In turn, I can use their poop as fertiliser on the farm. A pretty little garden complete with fruit and vegetables comes as part of the basic set-up. Otherwise, all there is to eat is grass soup, a dish my lambs don’t particularly enjoy. On top of that, there’s a 25 per cent chance they’ll get sick from eating it. Unless, that is, you’ve enacted a doctrine in the temple making them grass-eaters, as I did.
If I’m to proclaim new doctrines, I need to cobble together a tablet of stone. I gather the pieces for it on quests or, sometimes, in dungeons as well. Doctrines are either passive, like the grass-eating trait, or active in the form of rituals. For example, I can use the «glory through toil» ritual to give my followers some drive, forcing them to work for two days straight on no sleep. Rituals cost resources, usually bones or gold, and can also have negative side effects. Menial work takes a toll on loyalty. However, I’ve got a countermove up my sleeve: the «brainwashing ritual». This keeps loyalty at maximum level for several days.
Certain rituals require a disciple to be sacrificed. No worries there – after all, it’s an honour to die for me. There’s also a ritual which allows me to resurrect supporters who’ve gone on to the great beyond. Membership of my cult is eternal.
Once a day, I can hold a sermon in the temple to generate energy for personal upgrades. The superior weapons and new curses this provides make my forays into the dungeons easier.
The cult lamb never rests
The days get busier and busier. There’s always something to do. Whether it’s collecting felled wood, planting, watering, fertilising or harvesting vegetables, inspiring followers, repairing damaged sleeping quarters, holding sermons, caring for the sick or hearing confessions, I could work until I drop. As the chosen lamb, however, I don’t allow myself any weaknesses. It’s a different story for my lily-livered followers. Every now and then, someone drops dead. Whether it’s on account of a dodgy meal or old age, eventually it’s all prayed out. The corpses can’t just be left lying around, otherwise my followers throw up all over the camp. In other words, they’re to be swiftly embalmed and buried. Marking the grave actually gives my lambs inspiration if they visit the burial site. There is, however, a simpler way of getting rid of the dead – by turning them into food. My cult is environmentally conscious, nothing goes to waste there.
Should a disciple turn against me and dare to stir up trouble, they’re put in the stocks immediately. Once there, I reprimand them once daily until they come to their senses. All hail the Lamb!
Verdict: gloriously dark
«Cult of the Lamb» is a fascinating game. With its beautiful design, it’s reminiscent of a Saturday morning cartoon. However, the «awww» dies in your throat mere moments later when the demon lamb floats into the air, blood streaming from its eyes and sacrifices a follower to the prince of hell in a ghastly ceremony. Devout fundamentalists and other game opponents must’ve always imagined games this way. You definitely need to be into dark humour and morbid vibes to like «Cult of the Lamb». What’s more, you can’t be ashamed of dishing up faeces for your followers to eat if that’s what they want.
In the 20 hours it took me to complete the game, I never got bored. There’s always something to do. When I’m not clearing non-believers out of the dungeons, I’m trading goods or constructing new buildings, which in turn open up new opportunities for interaction. Or I’m embellishing my camp with skulls, lava stone floors or idols of fallen bosses. And I haven’t even mentioned the other places you can visit yet. There, the quirky inhabitants sell tarot cards for my deck, and I can go fishing or play games of dice to earn coins. Apart from a bit of micromanagement, «Cult of the Lamb» completely sucked me in, not freeing me from its grip until the very end. It’d make any free church green with envy.
Philipp Rüegg
Senior Editor
Philipp.Rueegg@digitecgalaxus.chBeing the game and gadget geek that I am, working at digitec and Galaxus makes me feel like a kid in a candy shop – but it does take its toll on my wallet. I enjoy tinkering with my PC in Tim Taylor fashion and talking about games on my podcast http://www.onemorelevel.ch. To satisfy my need for speed, I get on my full suspension mountain bike and set out to find some nice trails. My thirst for culture is quenched by deep conversations over a couple of cold ones at the mostly frustrating games of FC Winterthur.
