The gods have betrayed us. At the tolling of a distant bell, the world they once safeguarded now sloughs like burned skin. As even the stars lid their brilliance one by one, we enact one final act of defiance, setting out into the wasteland break ourselves against them. We will perish. The only remaining question is how.

That’s the premise behind The Restless, Winslow Dumaine’s forthcoming… well, look, this thing defies easy description. Is The Restless an adventure game? A dice-chucker? A phallus-filled nightmare?

Yes. All those and more. When I teasingly recommended it to three victims as a chill game about unexpected friendships, I wasn’t even lying. It’s just that Dumaine’s hand-drawn illustrations have such the consistency of chilled intestinal jelly that it’s easy to miss the buddy tale for all the guts. This one is hairy, abrasive, and, against all odds, meditative. Among the dismembered torsos and countless rolls of a d20, there is a monkey’s yawp that hovers between defiance and acceptance. We are all corpses in waiting. But maybe, just maybe, that’s all right.

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