Lost + Alone:
Lost is all. The dark, vast void surrounding the planet they call home, the rotating rock itself, the horizon which promises eternal falsehoods. . . Lost. When the light came, along with it came madness. Randomness amid the infinite blackness —chaos among the stars. There was never meaning to creation, let alone vindication. Justice is but a mere fairytale contrived by their forerunners upon realization of their inherent futility. That control is a fantasy–power, illusory. Lost that exists seeks to be found. The deluded yet inexorable lost thirst for a semblance of what they perceive to be their sanity, either in the infantile institutions they label testaments to their ingenuity, or in zealous acquiescence to superstition. They are lost and borne of lost, of the rampant meaninglessness of the intrinsic spasm that is lost, living and dead alike. They are alone and there is no direction. No concept of salvation, let alone hope. No prompt at the end of the game to let lost know whether it has been found. There is simply nothing, and then it is lost. They are lost and alone not by their own doing, but by virtue of their very inception. Lost and alone.
Delivered with no soul.