安装 Steam
登录
|
语言
繁體中文（繁体中文）
日本語（日语）
한국어（韩语）
ไทย（泰语）
български（保加利亚语）
Čeština（捷克语）
Dansk（丹麦语）
Deutsch（德语）
English（英语）
Español-España（西班牙语 - 西班牙）
Español - Latinoamérica（西班牙语 - 拉丁美洲）
Ελληνικά（希腊语）
Français（法语）
Italiano（意大利语）
Bahasa Indonesia（印度尼西亚语）
Magyar（匈牙利语）
Nederlands（荷兰语）
Norsk（挪威语）
Polski（波兰语）
Português（葡萄牙语 - 葡萄牙）
Português-Brasil（葡萄牙语 - 巴西）
Română（罗马尼亚语）
Русский（俄语）
Suomi（芬兰语）
Svenska（瑞典语）
Türkçe（土耳其语）
Tiếng Việt（越南语）
Українська（乌克兰语）
报告翻译问题
奖励
It's beginning to look a lot like fish-men
Everywhere I go;
From the minute I got to town
And started to look around
I thought these ill-bred people's gillslits showed
I'm beginning to hear a lot of fish-men
Right outside my door
As I try to escape in fright
To the moonlit Innsmouth night
I can hear some more
They speak with guttural croaks and to hear them provokes
A profound desire to flee
Their eyes never blink and quite frankly they stink
Like a carcass washed up from the sea
I wish I'd paid attention to that crazy drunken man
He tried to warn me all about old Marsh's Deep One clan
It's beginning to look a lot like Fish-men
Everywhere I go;
They can dynamite Devil Reef
But that'll bring no relief
Y'ha N'thlei is deeper than they know
I'll continue to see a lot of fish-men
That I guarantee
For the fish-man I really fear
Is the one who's in the mirror
And he looks like me
He looks just like me