Cruelty Squad

Very debased and blacksupositoried, definitely recommended.

c'est super de tuer des capitalistes, après bon j'aimerais bien tuer mon patron aussi

Despite resembling a catastrophic sequence of technical errors hallucinated by a primitive and abandoned AI gone rogue, Cruelty Squad's mechanical systems function precisely as intended, crafted with rigorous logic. This game violently rejects the notion of "good taste", you must embrace the complete indifference to your retinal comfort. Once hooked, your brain is rewired to make this radioactive, sewage-infused bowl of ramen something you can't get enough of. How a concoction so utterly devoid of any charm could become desirable can only be described as cruel, fatal irony.

I got this game because I like playing things that make me feel like I removed my frontal lobe. Safe to say, this is THE game for making you feel like you've just gotten a lobotomy. I could hardly read any of the text on screen, I didn't know what I was doing half of the time, and I accidentally killed myself twice. However, this is what I expected when I purchased the game and I'm more than happy with it so far. 10/10.

Runs like ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥, looks like ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥. 10/10.

My dear fellow English-speaking auditory, for I venture to assert that the hard-pressed burghers of the Eastern European provinces shall derive no more pleasure from this contraption than a hog from a hymn-book. I address these lines to you alone. Upon my solemn oath, what in the blazes did I just clap my orbs upon? Is this not the most gargantuan, gas-lit, anti-capitalist conspiracy theory chaos‑meme madness that ever issued from the infernal depths of a programmer’s fever‑dream? Forsooth, is this not precisely the visage that Satire herself must don in these raunchy, tumultuous times, when the very fabric of decency lies in tatters? I submit that it is. The lyrical hero of this theatrical contrivance, an unemployed ne’er‑do‑well of the lowest order, nurtures a singular aspiration to dispatch every living soul within his purview. Yet the game, in a twist of perverse and gentlemanly wit, does not so much encourage this bloodlust as it doth soundly thrash him about the jowls for indulging it. In his base pursuit of treasure, wealth, and earthly prosperity, this vagabond pumps his sinewy carcass ever fuller of grotesque mechanical implants, casting aside all moral compunction as one might cast aside a soiled cravat. At least, so it appears to this humble observer. What with these blasphemous “Devilish” modes and the infernal Mecha‑Flesh configurations, the whole spectacle presents a remarkably sophisticated, albeit queasy, blend of Biopunk, a broth brewed solely for the most peculiar amateur of the macabre. I deem it entirely worthy of one’s shillings and leisure hours. The allusions are thick as a London fog. One finds sly nods to the scandalous affairs of a certain nefarious American financier, alongside the most cutting mockery of our modern joint‑stock corporations. And pray, good sirs, do not neglect the dialogues of the incidental, non‑player characters, for they are dashed funny, I assure you, and provideth a right good chuckle amidst the carnage. A capital endeavour, upon my word.