Sucks to be you, Isaac Clarke. This poor bastard is not a badass marine with bollocks like cannonballs and/or a graduate from Butt-Kicking University with a diploma in Shooting Ghastly Things Right in Their Mutated Dicks. (Hey, education guys! Get this class on the high school curriculum now!) Most of those guys are piteous blood-bleeding remains by this point, staining the priceless Persian carpets (which aren’t) found throughout Dead Space and Dead Space 2 with their blood-bleeding remains.
Who is left, then, standing sentinel of the midst of the impending shitstorm? With a merry nonchalance to boot, perhaps performing a little jazz hands-centric screw you, impending shitstorm dance? Mr. Clarke, a humble engineer. (We’ll concede, he is beset by dementia/hallucinations and other business, but we can’t take the piss quite so effectively if we mention such things, so we shan’t.) Armed only with a diminutive rock-cutting laser thing and copious quantities of manly face-stubble, it has been incumbent upon him to savage the Necromorph hordes alone.
And what hideous hordes they are. Take a look at our Necro-guide below, an angry, teethy aperitif for next month’s Dead Space 3 release.
The charming chap in the fleeting clip above is a Slasher, perhaps the most commonplace of the franchise’s assailants. With its rudimentary death-claws of death where its arms should be, you’re unlikely to mistake these ugly bastards for your uncle Joe from Indianapolis. The Slasher enjoys moonlit walks in the park, reading poetry to housebound pensioners, and administering sudden, uber-violent claw-up-the-rectum surgical procedures.
The Puker, first encountered in the inaugural stages of Dead Space 2, is another Necromorph that has retained a generally-humanoid appearance. It doesn’t have the physical prowess of its cousin, the Slasher, but is instead endowed with a putrescent projectile: gonad-melting acid vomit. How many shits does this guy give for the laws of hygiene and acceptable social etiquette? No shits.
The Lurker also has a proclivity for propelling caustic shit into our delicate faces. The asshole. An infected infant corpse which has sprouted tentacles and a homicidal disposition, most of your contretemps with these furious midgets from the Devil’s anus will find them dangling from the ceiling. Their youthful brethren, The Pack and the Crawler, utilize vastly disparate tactics. The former are physically feeble but never attack in a solitary fashion, as their name attests. The latter’s battle tactics are rudimentary-yet-effective:
1. Crawl toward your foe.
3. Be a mess of bone-fragments and squelchy nastiness on the ground, hoping to have reduced your opponent to the same state in the process.
Infectors, meanwhile, constitute the Necromorphs’ reproductive stratagem. Resembling an immense bat that emerged from its nest one morning neglecting to put its goddamn skin on first (who hasn’t been there? Mornings do suck donkey bollocks, after all), they possess little in the way of attacking capacities. The Infector’s modus operandi is to disseminate the virus that causes this ghastly contagion, thereby reanimating any and all corpses it can find.
The Feeder has newly crawled out of Satan’s ass in time for its inaugural appearance in Dead Space 3. Rather more emaciated and skeletal in appearance than the standard necro-fare, these guys are born from humans consuming infected meat. They brandish claws that are plainly inferior and piteous in size in comparison to those of the Slashers, this surely gave rise to all manner of our penises are larger than yours, too inter-species mockery. Because the asshole-ism never stops with the Necromorphs.
The fatass Pregnant’s abdomen erupts into a shitstorm of angry, groin-chewing space worms when ruptured, and those Exploder mofos wield immense, pulsating yellow growths on what was once their hand. This protrusion looks akin to a furious, murderous hemorrhoid and will detonate right in your face. Nobody want to play with either of these bastards at recess.
These fellows aside, there’s a cornucopia of nasty abominations that serve as the bosses of Dead Space. These are not to be spoiled, though. Suffice it to say, they’re even uglier, even larger and even more worthy of many, many post haste bullets to the nether regions.