The Last Encore

A boulevard theatre at midnight. You're the last puppet in the gunsmith's workshop, and the whole cast — wooden soldiers, brass automata, wind-up toys — has taken the stage to find you.

NOTHING AUTO-FIRES

You aim with the mouse, a full 360 degrees, and every shot goes off because you pulled the trigger. Five weapons with counted ammo and a backup pistol that never runs dry: you're never left with nothing, but what you have left decides how you fight the next act.

ONE SCREEN, NO SCROLLING

You can see every threat, all the time, and nothing shoots you from off-screen: the puppets walk in from the wings. You choose when to break cover for the crate that just landed.

EVERY THIRD ACT, A DECISION

Upgrade cards that stack over a run. More damage, more fire rate, more health — or the deal that lets you hit like a truck and die in three.

THE SET FIGHTS BACK

Barrels that chain their blasts, sandbags you cut down with one shot to make cover where there was none, chandeliers that come down. Everything you can see can be used or blown apart.

AND IT SOUNDS LIKE THAT

The sound effects are made with a mouth. That isn't a placeholder: it's the identity.

At the end of act twenty, the Thunderbird is waiting. The show doesn't end until you drop.