Yeti Hunter is an atmospheric game not for the light of heart. Much like the found footage genre of today’s horror movies, it relies on subtle concentration to achieve it’s most terrifying moments. You begin with no back-story or clue as to what is going on. Instead below you is a pool of what you hope is your blood, and then you’re off.
In each direction, hopelessness awaits. Each tree looks the same. There is no compass or sense of direction, but instinctively you start running in a direction, confident that your goal is nearly in site at all times. Dodging shrubs and circle strafing around trees least you accidentally climb one, your search is a frantic one, always second guessing what you see in the distance.
Hours later, you are still wandering. The drive to understand your place in life keeps you going, while instinctual urges for personal relief from your journey, fight at every turn. You almost give up and use the last bullet for yourself, when again in the distance, you see the Yeti once more. Convinced this is your last shot, you don’t waste the time lining up your sights. You run in its direction, never wavering, ever vigilant to avoid climbing a tree mid-sprint. The Yeti remains in your view, never closer, nor further away. It’s a stalemate, one that you slowly realize cannot be won. That battle will be as close as it ever will be as you dash through the wasteland of snow.