One of the best "troll games" I've played to date, as deviously clever as it is hilarious, all without overstaying its welcome. A simple satirical premise that rapidly escalates into a masterclass in supervillainy! All you need to do is craft a single password that meets all 35 rules, each revealed after the last is met, and it's about as straightforward as a drunk ballet dancer on a runaway merry-go-round!
Playing this is like building a taller and taller house of cards with constantly updating design specs, forcing you to keep changing critical cards' positions... and occasionally closing a drafty window that opens by itself, threatening to destroy your whole stack! Oh, and if it does, you can't just copy-paste your old design again, because some of the specs have small but critical RNG elements that make half your prior efforts useless without significant adjustments!
All of which is an elaborate way of saying that the password requirements are nothing short of evil genius! Rules and tasks continue to get more outlandish and start playing off each other in ways I can only describe as delightfully irritating! The game says, okay Mr. Smartypants, you've got roman numerals, but now you gotta make them multiply to 35. Oh, and here's a periodic table puzzle... but wait, those roman numerals are elements too! And this is just the beginning of your descent into madness. Every time you think you've seen the most ridiculous, awful, plan-destroying rule yet, something even more devilish comes along, leaving your face a palm-dipped plate of fresh laughter, organic cursing, and exasperated "NO!"s to taste!
It's the rapidly increasing complexity, pressure, and constant script-flipping plot twists that make this brain-knotting, player-teasing experience so memorable! I will never forget the rug-pull rush of seeing the last, tiny requirement, realizing its Chaotic Evil implications, and then scrambling to optimize and redesign about 10 different non-trivial pieces in under 10 minutes while keeping another 20 pieces perfectly aligned, all while constantly feeding a hungry chicken. Never in my life have I been so proud of a 101-character unintelligible monstrosity I haven't a hope of remembering!
Playing this is like building a taller and taller house of cards with constantly updating design specs, forcing you to keep changing critical cards' positions... and occasionally closing a drafty window that opens by itself, threatening to destroy your whole stack! Oh, and if it does, you can't just copy-paste your old design again, because some of the specs have small but critical RNG elements that make half your prior efforts useless without significant adjustments!
All of which is an elaborate way of saying that the password requirements are nothing short of evil genius! Rules and tasks continue to get more outlandish and start playing off each other in ways I can only describe as delightfully irritating! The game says, okay Mr. Smartypants, you've got roman numerals, but now you gotta make them multiply to 35. Oh, and here's a periodic table puzzle... but wait, those roman numerals are elements too! And this is just the beginning of your descent into madness. Every time you think you've seen the most ridiculous, awful, plan-destroying rule yet, something even more devilish comes along, leaving your face a palm-dipped plate of fresh laughter, organic cursing, and exasperated "NO!"s to taste!
It's the rapidly increasing complexity, pressure, and constant script-flipping plot twists that make this brain-knotting, player-teasing experience so memorable! I will never forget the rug-pull rush of seeing the last, tiny requirement, realizing its Chaotic Evil implications, and then scrambling to optimize and redesign about 10 different non-trivial pieces in under 10 minutes while keeping another 20 pieces perfectly aligned, all while constantly feeding a hungry chicken. Never in my life have I been so proud of a 101-character unintelligible monstrosity I haven't a hope of remembering!