Black Site

The year is 1997. Synth pop, 80s fonts, and Elder God deportation has taken the world by storm, making it hard for an honest ninja cultist to get the divine blood she needs to keep the pep in her step. Luckily, one cloudy-eyed katana-dancer has a plan, and that involves braving the shitty dialogue of both friend and foe to slice her way into the most heavily guarded government facility this side of the Paris, Texas DMV's reading room. But this isn't her story. This is a story about fonts.

not so good

Gutter trash.