Emerging in the 1940s out of and in some ways against the fundamentalist movement, which had become increasingly countercultural and sectarian in the wake of the Scopes trial, “neo-evangelicalism,” as it was then called, made American youth culture its mission field. The late 1960s and early ’70s were transformative years for American evangelicalism generally and evangelical youth culture specifically. Between the rise of the Christian youth movement and a growing fascination with the darker traditions of Christianity rooted in the Book of Revelation, we were witnessing the dawn of a new era of evangelical apocalyptic horror culture, one that makes you wonder what might come next. Then again, like most youth group kids in America, I was largely oblivious to everything going on in the larger world of evangelical Christianity. I assumed the original version was the one performed by the Fishmarket Combo during the opening credits of the 1972 evangelical rapture horror movie A Thief in the Night, which we watched every year or so. I had no idea that Larry Norman was the song’s original writer and performer. The song invited us to imagine a time when it was already too late, when our ambivalence, our lack of faith, had left us each alone, without God and, perhaps more terrifying at that age, without friends.
We all looked at the floor, feeling the weight of the words, as if we were the ones Christ had left behind when he returned to rapture his followers up to heaven. Uncover the traces of the vanished community discover fragments of events and memories to piece together the mystery of the apocalypse.įeaturing a beautiful, detailed open-world and a haunting soundtrack, Everybody’s Gone to the Rapture is non-linear storytelling at its best.Our youth group must have sung it more than a hundred times. Immerse yourself in a rich, deep adventure from award-winning developer The Chinese Room and investigate the last days of Yaughton Valley.
And someone remains behind, to try and unravel the mystery. Above it all, the telescopes of the Observatory point out at dead stars and endless darkness. The televisions are tuned to vacant channels. Strange voices haunt the radio waves as uncollected washing hangs listlessly on the line. Down on Appleton’s farm, crops rustle untended. Toys lie forgotten in the playground, the wind blows quarantine leaflets around the silent churchyard.
06:37am 6th June 1984.ĭeep within the Shropshire countryside, the village of Yaughton stands empty.
0 kommentar(er)
