WORMFOOD is a casual twin-stick shooter that injects you into the belly of a giant space-beast and asks you to select targets, rotate and position your bio-ship in order to survive!
>>USE PREHENSILE TAIL WITH MUSHROOMS. USE BATTLE HAMMER ON MAW. WIGGLE.
You utilize your wiggliest wiggles and wrest your hammer arm free. Swinging your newly-freed BATTLEHAMMER wildly, you manage to crush a pair of the slavering creature’s massive teeth, then wedge the hammer solidly into its gaping maw.
With your prehensile tail, you work a few mushrooms out of your pack and flick them down the gargantuan gullet. Cursing, you realize you’ve fed it some of your RATIONS, as well.
With a terrifying roar, the beast dislodges and swallows the BATTLEHAMMER, knocking another pair of its TEETH lose in the process. It appears upset.
You chuck your fiery log into the beast’s hungry maw. An otherworldly shriek rings throughout the halls as the horrid thing reels; then it wraps a pair of meaty tentacles around you! You feel something crunch. Your HAMMER-arm is trapped.
The abomination begins to pull you towards its rows of gnashing teeth.
Softly and slowly at first, but building and building to a Mighty crescendo, you begin to sing. You sing of mushroom-wars, and legume tragedies. You sing the songs of the Accountant-Kings of the Land and of the Sky. A many-limbed horror-beast rises from the depths of the pit, and you bellow your tribal office’s challenge-chant in defiance.
The fetid titan regards you, unimpressed, and coils to strike!
In water it might’ve been different, but I knew as soon as I heard the Mantiwheel’s secondary pistons fire up that I’d have no chance on land. Still, ditching the satchel was an even-less-palatable option than having my head devoured by a giant Dictyoptera; I’d have to bank, once again, on Trickery.
There they were, at long last: A seething mass of groping Trunktacles met my vision as I timidly pushed aside the tall grass. The squirming appendages stretched over the forest canopy and out of my sight… They must’ve gone on for miles. I could see the aesthetic appeal, but a tourist attraction this was not; a brief glance at one of these hulking creatures confirmed its status as an Engine of War unto itself.
Now, I’ll admit the Crabboth had a weight advantage. A strength advantage, too! His slimy digits nearly ripped the face-chamber from my Tank-Suit before I could utilize my own advantage: A Merman with a detonator and no fear of Death! Herman was circling around, I knew, but this knowledge did little to calm my nerves as the first tiny leak sprung…
