Control
The sun dipped below the horizon casting long shadows across the barren wasteland as the scavenger adjusted their tattered cloak their boots crunching over cracked earth the air hung heavy with the scent of rust and decay a distant howl echoed through the skeletal remains of a forgotten city they tightened their grip on the makeshift blade eyes scanning the ruins for movement every step a gamble between survival and oblivion the wind whispered secrets of the old world tales of hubris and collapse but the scavenger had no time for stories the pack on their back clinked with salvaged parts each one a step closer to escaping this graveyard of steel and ash a flicker of light ahead a campfire maybe or something worse they paused breath shallow heart pounding choices etched in the weight of each moment the wasteland demanded everything and offered nothing but the scavenger knew the rules adapt or die
description
At the center of the screen, a spiraling wheel rotates with erratic energy, its paths lined with hazards. A cluster of arrow-tipped projectiles waits at the bottom—players must catapult them upward one by one, threading each shot through the wheel’s chaotic maze without colliding with obstacles already lodged in its grooves. Tension mounts as the space fills with up to 100 whirling projectiles, the wheel accelerating or slowing without warning, demanding razor-sharp precision. Empty the entire stockpile, and the screen floods with vibrant victory green. Fail, and it pulses danger-red—a stark reminder of a single misjudged launch.
