That was ME1 side mission/DLC called Bring Down the Sky, it happens near New Berlin in ATTWN, I think Henry covered Watson attacks in Colms’ background about how Watson was attacked by batarians, then got turned into a fortress/Asari Central.

Logical Premise wrote:

Ultimately, much like the Mythos, any use of Godpower is corrupting. Our species is simply not equipped with the mental structure, senses or intellect to understand eleven dimensional geometry. Most go fuck-all insane. The Reapers suffer from this greatly, the Leviathans to some degree, and the Black Leviathans are completely baked.

The Darkness is beyond sanity, more akin to Azathoth than anything else in some ways. Whatever it used to be was broken in it’s translation to our reality, where it is so alien that it fucks up natural law just by existing.

About going insane just from exposure to things like that part, the way I could actually imagine the horror of Lovecraftian shit was some post I read couple years back, but I can’t find it anywhere so I’ll share the thing I constructed in my mind after I read that. It made sense to me given my field of work and such, but feel free to call bullshit and correct.

Imagine you are a rectangle inhabiting a place on an infinite plane. You’ve been a rectangle all your life, you’ve met some people who claimed they were deltoids, even though you could only see 2 sides at maximum at a time, some nice girls who claimed to be triangles, going about your merry life. You’ve even seen a circle that one time, your mother warned you not to stare but you just couldn’t keep yourself from doing it anyway.

You are also a great scientist of your generation, you know of theories that make it possible things like pyramids and prisms exist, you’ve even met some lunatic who claims if prisms are possible great icosahedrons are too, and he can prove it, but you dismiss it as some lunatic’s ramblings.

One day you take a trip to a location on this infinite plane you exist on because another lunatic claimed she found proof of three dimensions. You are immensely excited as a scientist of course and you make the journey and arrive at the location.

As you can guess, things at that place are immensely fucked up as per H.P. Lovecraft’s eternal stories and LP’s struggle to meet those standards, and our lovely rectangle is exposed to a cross section of a human forearm in 2 dimensions; and all the shit that comes with it, the muscles in it, the arteries that feed them, the veins that drain them, two great white spots toward the center that capture your attention and just won’t let it go, the bones, oh our lord and savior Square, the bones.

This is close to nothing to humans, I’ve seen 15~ cadavers with their arms cut open for students to see and memorize how shit is structured in medical school, dissected 1 myself for the purposes of education and I’m just an ordinary guy. But as a rectangle you exist on 2 dimensions, third one is just theories, and those theories feature neat shapes like yourself, cones, prisms, pyramids, whatever. Instead you are forced to see just a part of a being that simply exists on a higher plane, one you cannot possibly begin to comprehend even the smallest fraction of it. So you go insane, what else is there to do, your people are the rulers of 2 dimensions, and their arrogance led you to believe you were somehow important, you thought you actually mattered to the universe, when in fact you were just a tiny rectangle some guy drew in his notebook because he is too bored to listen to his teacher.

That’s how I imagine in my mind how hilariously outclassed would we be for every dimension they have on us. That poor rectangle’s entire existence depends on if the bored student wants to erase it or not, if he wanted to he could make as if it had barely existed,and if he took special care, it would almost be like it never existed in the first place.

I know a saying in my culture that goes similar to this: Elephants fight and horses die in the brawl, in the Reapers/Leviathans/Darkness’ case we don’t even make the horses cut, we’re the grass they are trampling on.