Posts Tagged ‘Glass Bottom Games’

Bizarre blocky brawler Spartan Fist busts out today

Flaming Fists of Fury

When all you’ve got is a fist, every problem starts to look like a face to punch. And when those faces just happen to look as chunky and blocky as everything else in the world, well, why not punch them all? Weird little first-person brawler (fist-person?) Spartan Fist has launched today, promising roguelike structure, ’80s punk-aerobics aesthetics and scurrilous cats offering you sketchy under-the-table deals. Within, the punchily-paced launch trailer.

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Punch people until their heads explode in Spartan Fist

Spartan Fist

There aren’t enough first-person games about simply punching people in the face, if you ask me (Zeno Clash is probably my favourite off the top of my head). Glass Bottom Games are trying to correct that with Spartan First [official site], a game that’s all about – wait for it – “punching dudes in the face so hard they explode”. Glorious.

It’s a first-person voxel-based brawler with plenty of cartoon blood. Judging by the trailer below you’ll be able to jab, hook, uppercut, and forward dash through a variety of enemies in a modern day Colosseum.

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A Tennessee Waltz: Hot Tin Roof

Jazz! It’s JK Simmons’ weapon of choice and it helped him on the road to Oscar glory. Noir! It’s shadows, killer quips and Walter Neff’s final cigarette. Cats! Invented as part of an early marketing campaign for AOL, cats became the most popular of the internet’s many fictional characters. Hot Tin Roof: The Cat That Wore A Fedora [official site] neatly combines jazz, noir and cats, and after playing briefly over the weekend, I can confirm that the combination is rather satisfying. A tasty jazz-noir cat-tale.

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Hot Tin Roof: The Cat Who Wore A Fedora

Peasants of the Rock, Paper, Shotgun domain, I am infatuated. I have fallen deeply, irrevocably in love. Her charms are many: a name long and flowing, full of confusion and wonder. An original look that picks her out of any crowd. Vocabulary that’s reduced me to little more than a muttering wreck, in awe of verbage I could only pray to match. And a voice, dear reader, what a voice. Come, be quiet, and just listen to Hot Tin Roof.

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