The worship of the lamb turned me into a twisted religious monster

The first hour of Worship of the Lambs made me tread carefully about the harsh reality of being a cult leader. I was a good little sheep, eager to feed my followers and make sure they had a nice place to sleep when they retired from a day of their regular duties. Everyone was happy.

Turns out I don’t fully understand the allure of the sect. These are supposed to be dark, oppressive, and manipulative places where the weak are drawn in by leaders who are able to exercise complete control over them. And here I was thinking how best to build my own growing camp, so all my furry creatures were having a good time.

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This passive approach did not last long. The imperatives of staying on top and keeping the faith meant I had to get hurt. I had to start sacrificing people for a higher being and resorting to cannibalism to prevent potential opponents from robbing me because I had spent so much time caring for myself. This should be how Republicans and conservatives feel on a regular basis. All under me are just beings that I need to endure as I work towards an end goal, one that I will eventually see completely ignore as I take this world and keep it to myself.

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Yes, that certainly sounds pretty conservative – except that I’m cute and cuddly and able to summon evil horrors from the greats behind doing my bids. Some Tory members would probably be able to the latter, but the humble little farm animal was much stronger, and it took some time to embrace his position and how I needed to treat my village as little more than cattle if I wanted to succeed. Cult of the Lamb is so cool that it understands the cutesy allure of games like Stardew Valley or Animal Crossing, but spoils their adorable aesthetics into something wonderfully horrific.

The first few hours make all the indoctrination seem like an event. I can change the appearance of my new pawns, and even give them names, so their enduring identity has meaning beyond the dedication I demand of them. I started naming them after people I know, or foul jokes and memes. But soon I stopped caring, knowing that anyone could be sacrificed if they dared speak out against me or became the target of a sudden endeavour.

All those who are welcomed into the fold of the “Catradora Cult” are never considered permanent residents, but visitors are bound by the whims of a higher power that I cannot even foresee. I smiled a false smile as they happily rushed towards me, begging me to accept a side quest or have their fellow sects resort to cannibalism for laughter. The cult of Aries gradually instills this apathy as the game becomes more complex, and its subtle aesthetics fade as I focus on becoming the most powerful cult leader in existence. My followers mean everything and nothing to me because I know how to get rid of them all. I became a monster, and I loved it.

It’s still early days in my demonic abode, and I can only imagine things are going to happen much worse As I got stronger and thus needed to demand more of my followers in order to keep the ball rolling. I still have to develop facilities like prisons and toilets, while the process of collecting certain resources is still something I’m dealing with. But I already know that playing the bad guy is more than necessary if I want to have it all. I can walk around trying to please everyone, yet both neglecting and forcing my followers to ignore their basic needs and dedicate themselves instead to absolute faith is the most effective way forward. Those who cringe on the verge of death can be sacrificed, or I can just dispose of their bodies in a mass grave before proceeding with my work.

Mary had a young sheep, and she recruited her naive ass into a satanic cult before he offered her the greatest beyond. Not since Hades have been able to control this species so effectively, and all because I am able to immerse myself in a darker aspect that I didn’t even know I had. The Catradora cult is getting stronger, and I’m currently accepting new requests. We have sleeping bags made of leaves, obligatory births, and daily prayers. Can’t you love him?

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