Blood, Sweat and Sand: The Politics of Barbarian Horror in Funcom’s Conan Exiles, (2018).

von Gerard Gibson

I find myself naked and alone in a desert, not sure which direction to go. The shadows of vultures circle me on the sands. I have no water, no food, no weapons, and I trudge past the ancient, broken ruins of a roadway in search of shelter and sustenance. Dried branches, fragments of rock and scrubby plants dot the dunes. At a broken monolithic gateway, a huge bat-demon feasts noisily on the body of an armoured man. I run past as it roars and lifts into the hot sky. It doesn’t take long before starved, overheated and dehydrated, I collapse on the shifting sands and die. [1]

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