A glimmer of morality spurs you towards survivors

Sanity is a... relative thing.

An initial thought that you might seek shelter in the ruins of the farm and then form a plan from there is quickly dismissed. "They already had the same idea!" "I'll be caught..." "Can't keep my back against the wall, have to keep moving..."

They're not voices, not exactly. More like memories of voices. Maybe imaginings of voices. You don't know if the voices belong, or once belonged, to you, or whether they are the paranoid whispers of a treacherous realm.

You squeeze your eyes shut and shake your head to clear the madness. You'll not submit! "Not this time..." You whisper it in defiance. You're not quite sure where those specific words come from.

Self-preservation draws your attention back to the farmhouse, despite your misgivings. A structure is defensible. It's a landmark. It gives you a point of reference to begin searching from. You're not sure what you should be searching for, but it's as good a place as any to try to remember.

The odd lake and the mountains beyond are right out. Too much can go wrong in unfamiliar wilderness. The barest fragment of a memory causes your body to jerk with the phantom pain of your belly bursting. It passes as soon as it started, but you continue to shudder nonetheless and run your hand across your flat tummy as you begin walking in the opposite direction.

You turn your mind to a more productive line of thought. You need to know more about what's going on. No, that's not actually your first priority. Shelter and protection. Yes, you must first be able to defend yourself, and then you can collect the intelligence to inform your next decisions. Thinking tactically feels good. It wards away the dissenting opinions - you're still not sure whether those are memories or lies from the pit itself. Either way, with a plan in mind you feel a bit more like your old self. You used to be a warrior, a fighter, a survivor. This is a test. Survive the test and... you're not sure what awaits you at the end, but survival is enough.

Isn't it?

Another meteor - another person - crashing to the ground some distance away distracts you. Maybe survival isn't enough. You weren't just a warrior. You served your goddess. You were a paladin. You defeated evil, and you protected her innocents.

Regret strikes you. You were a paladin. You threw away that life. That's why you're here now.

And yet, if you do not cling to those things that defined you, what will you become in this place? Maybe paladin is too lofty to strive for, but you can try to do some good. You might even be able to work with one of the other survivors to your mutual benefit.

That thought turns into resolve, and your new-found resolve steers you away from the settlement and deeper into the sandy waste. It doesn't take long to approach the nearest impact site, and sure enough, you see another person, male, groggily picking himself up from his own debris. You can only make out the faintest details from here. He seems to be in good shape and of dark complexion, and is, of course, just as naked as you are.

You're within shouting distance of the man when movement catches your eye. Atop a dune only a bit farther away from the man than from your position, you see an enormous centipede-like creature that emerges from the ground with an explosion of sand. You hadn't noticed before the person that it was chasing - that person is flung into the air, caught in the creature's mouth, and swallowed whole. All along its body, there are glowing pustules with human silhouettes floating inside. You see a new blister form only a few moments after its most recent victim is consumed. In the wake of the abhorrent thing, you see a handful of the still-glowing globules of flesh shed from the creature's back.

The man you spotted before is facing the wrong way to notice any of this. He seems to have seen you, but is oblivious to the danger behind him. You want to shout a warning, but this would almost certainly alert the monster to your own presence.