Control
A lone mouse navigates shadowed corridors, claws clicking against ancient stone as whispers of forgotten souls guide its quest. The air hums with cryptic energy, every flick of its tail brushing against hidden sigils that ripple like water. No words—only instinct. Walls shift, floors tilt, and unseen eyes glow crimson in the dark. Cheese? No. Survival? Closer. A crown of thorns rests atop a pedestal veiled in mist, pulsing with the weight of a fallen kingdom's curse. Paws tremble, whiskers twitch—the choice is inevitable. Claim it, and the labyrinth bends. Refuse, and the darkness swallows all. No heroes here. Only teeth, claws, and a crown that fits too well.
description
The muzzle flashes in time with your racing pulse, each crack of gunfire punctuating the chaos. You weave through concrete trenches as Sprunki, boots kicking up dust, combat gloves slick with sweat. Pink soldiers pour from steel hatchways—faceless, relentless. Your finger never lifts from the trigger. Bullets shred their helmets, sparks dancing where rounds glance off armor. One falls. Three more take its place. Your ammo counter bleeds red, but the hangar echoes with their mechanical death rattles. Keep moving. Reload behind shattered crates. Aim for the glowing visors. They’re herding you toward the smelter pits. Let them. You’ve still got two grenades clipped to your belt.
