two squads. one sewer. no survivors.
the bowel-shaking slingshot brawler 1998 wasn't ready for · best of three rounds · five rotating arenas · chiptune for days
© CRT-CORP 1998 — A PRESTINKIOUS PRODUCTION — MADE WITHOUT MERCY
Two rival squads, each forged in a different pipe of the same forgotten sewer system. They were friends once. Then somebody said something. Nobody remembers what. It doesn't matter now.
a.k.a. THE FLUSH KING · est. 1997
Brownie's been throwing things in the sewer since he could stand. Got cut from the treatment plant for "uncooperative tendencies." Now he flings poop for a living and he is, frankly, thriving.
a.k.a. THE PINK MENACE · est. 1996
Stinker doesn't flinch. Stinker doesn't blink. Stinker has a five-year plan that involves Brownie not being part of it. She runs hot in the dumpster circuit and brings her own slingshot.
In 1998, the sewers under Crud Bay ran clean for the first time in a century.
Nobody knew why. Nobody asked. Nobody wanted to ask.
Then the rumbling started. Then the slingshots came up. Then the corn cobs.
Whatever lives down there now is angry, and organized, and well-armed.
Each round throws you into a new pit. Different palette, different crate stacks, different stink. The wind rolls fresh every turn. Adapt or get splatted.
Classic crates, classic stink. A friendly introduction to violence.
⚠ DANGER LEVEL: MILD
Twin stone towers in the middle. You're going to learn about arcing shots fast.
⚠⚠ DANGER LEVEL: MEDIUM
Long crate trench, tight angles, smells like Tuesday.
⚠⚠ DANGER LEVEL: MEDIUM
Stone walls flanking the center. Bring patience and a good wind read.
⚠⚠⚠ DANGER LEVEL: HOSTILE
A fortress of stone and crate. The final exam. The corn knows what it did.
⚠⚠⚠⚠ DANGER LEVEL: GROSS
Three steps. Two thumbs. One small intestine of regret.
Click the slingshot and pull back. The trajectory dots show your arc. The longer the pull, the harder the throw. Yes, like a real slingshot. Yes, it's intuitive once you stop overthinking.
Wind rolls fresh every turn. The arrow at the top tells you direction and strength. Tailwind = free distance. Headwind = compensate or cry. There is a 25% chance of zero wind. Take the gift.
Let go. Watch the poop fly. Hits scale with impact speed: 8 damage on a soft tap, 45 on a screamer. First squad to 0 HP loses the round. First to two rounds takes the match. Wipe your hands.
Critics, gamers, three different dentists. All in agreement.
"It stinks. Literally. Five out of five. I played for fourteen hours and forgot to shower. Perfect game." — NESBLAST QUARTERLY · AUG '98
"My mom unplugged the modem when she heard the music. That's how you know." — CRTKID FANZINE · ISSUE #14
"More fun than the time we glued quarters to the arcade floor and watched dads lose it." — SECRET LEVEL ZINE · '99
"I don't know what I just played but I think I'm legally responsible for it now." — PIXEL SLUG WEEKLY
"The slingshot feels right. That's the whole review. The slingshot feels right." — TURBOPHILE · STAFF PICK
"If you have ever loved anything, you will love Angry Turds. If you have not, this is where you start." — BROWNDISC MONTHLY
The slingshot is loaded. The wind is rolling. Your opponent is currently making a face that, frankly, you do not have to put up with.