Install Steam
login
|
language
简体中文 (Simplified Chinese)
繁體中文 (Traditional Chinese)
日本語 (Japanese)
한국어 (Korean)
ไทย (Thai)
Български (Bulgarian)
Čeština (Czech)
Dansk (Danish)
Deutsch (German)
Español - España (Spanish - Spain)
Español - Latinoamérica (Spanish - Latin America)
Ελληνικά (Greek)
Français (French)
Italiano (Italian)
Bahasa Indonesia (Indonesian)
Magyar (Hungarian)
Nederlands (Dutch)
Norsk (Norwegian)
Polski (Polish)
Português (Portuguese - Portugal)
Português - Brasil (Portuguese - Brazil)
Română (Romanian)
Русский (Russian)
Suomi (Finnish)
Svenska (Swedish)
Türkçe (Turkish)
Tiếng Việt (Vietnamese)
Українська (Ukrainian)
Report a translation problem
People speak of Da Vinci, of Michelangelo, of the forgotten sages who carved meaning into stone but all of them were merely trembling children compared to what Doromeus has given us here. The Penis of Death does not mock, it does not jest, it confronts. It strips the illusion of permanence from our frail existence and forces us to stare at the inevitable with awe, dread, and yes, gratitude.
This is not just something to preserve in museums. This belongs carved into the moon, projected across continents, encoded into the DNA of every living being so that not a single creature may ever again be ignorant of the sacred message it carries. If there is a God, this is His signature; if there is none, then Doromeus has filled the void Himself.
Truly, humanity will forever be divided into two eras: before "Pirilau da morte" and after "Pirilau da morte". Thank you, Doromeus you have not just created a map. You have created destiny