You can learn more about it here! I’ve written over 20,000 words of Arrowhead narrative content, not including promotional or development material. Below is what I can share without spoilers! This includes pre-release narrative content and a selection of vignettes, which are long and descriptive short stories written to help level designers, artists, and audio producers. They can be accessed by clicking on the images below. I hope you enjoy them!

“Then, a groan louder than anything vibrated through the dull, eviscerated corridors of a Black Mesa that had been abandoned for two thousand years. I looked out and saw a corridor that I know for a fact has never existed here. It was pitch-black but there was something there. I don’t know how to bring it into any meaning or justification. It was alive and dead, or sentient and non-sentient. Old and new. There was another groan that split through everything, and there was light at the end of that awful fake tunnel. Orange, and then green… barrelling at me like a train. There was a howl as it approached, like a train through a tunnel made of open, screaming faces. Then, as it appeared to split through the darkness, as though it was a barrier, I woke up. I never caught sight of what it was. Perhaps there was nothing to see at all, just a figment of a concept my brain conjured up to scare the hell out of me.”

“Sawyer’s first sensation was the stench of decaying meat. The second was the unpleasant, sterile flickering of fluorescent strips. These lights shone quite a bit brighter than the ones that stayed on, but did just the opposite. They flashed at points in the store like lightning, and then went dark. In brief blue-tinted flits they illuminated dioramas of a world gone horrifically insane; some zombies stumbled around to nowhere with an uncomprehending shock. Others were slumped on tiles or against upright shelves as though dead. Whether this was a trick or a form of sleep with unknowable dreams was something he couldn’t bring himself to dwell on.”

“The shot cracked across the arroyo, puncturing a crazed shriek with a noise that had become much more natural in his hands. The nest of eyes exploded like a dozen hatching egg sacs, and he had the brief but insane vision of hundreds of blind and unfeeling spiders squirming out of its head to devour its corpse. Instead, the wet scraps of eyeball simply glistened under the setting sun as clear juice and yellowish gunk spilled out of its cavernous head. Its paw raised weakly, swiped at the air, and then it finally laid silent. Its pack went on without it, not stopping for a second.”