An incremental beat-'em-up fighting RPG where nothing comes easily! To dominate your opponents, you will have to train hard and learn to fight!
TURN BACK NOW and run to your parents, because only the most determined gamers will make it through!
+ INSPIRED by the shonen anime greats! Live your childhood anime fantasy in a dark comedy action RPG designed for hardcore players!
+ TRAIN in martial arts to earn a high Power Level and learn new moves including energy beams!
+ GET SASSED by your mysterious sensei while you journey across the world in search of revenge!
+ COMPETE online to be the strongest in the universe!
+ CUSTOMISE your hair, skin and underwear(???), then dress really badly for fun!
+ UNLOCK explosive abilities to Power Up and embarrass your enemies mid-fight!
GET REVENGE ON THE MAN WHO CRISPED YOUR LLAMAS.
WARNING: the following story is only for the most dedicated of gamers. DO YOU have what it takes to read several paragraphs in a row!?
Llamas: the sweetest kind of irritable stretch-necked sheep-things. You've always thought as much and after a gruelling career of training USB mice for office workers, you've finally retired in a quiet country town with a sizable llama flock of your own; the dream of any sensible working person.
At the rooster's call, you greet the gentle morning light and summon each gorgeous llama by name for a snack of par-boiled Frankfurt and a short story in your lap. But wait! What's that smell? Is the neighbour having a barbeque? Oh no! It's your fresh llamas, ablaze before your very eyes! You wail and weep with such ferocity that your tears could douse the flames themselves, but no: it's all too late. Your once verdant pastures are now scorched earth, your loyal llamas themselves reduced to scattered hoofs and blackened stumps.
All is still for a long moment until, as the sun breaks onto the opposite hill, it reflects off of a metal something-or-other: a golden mask, it looks like, sat atop the shoulders of a muscle-clad man dressed in a black uniform. His shoulders wobble powerfully and a deep (but clearly modulated) laugh echoes through the dead valley and disturbs some crows, cautiously scouting the tender remains of your recently broiled llamas.
The man in the golden mask turns and steps back into the shadows. Searching the area later, you find no trace of him. But you aren't thinking clearly; your mind is warped by grief, by anger, by longing for the soft fleece and aggressive spitting you know should be yours. You board the train to Mash City in search of answers, but when you arrive, the only thing you find is a bar: a bar with deep glasses of vodka, deep enough to drown your soul in, and that's exactly what you do. As the weeks pass your bank account gradually empties, and whenever the drink begins to wear off, numbness gives way to the cruel light of day and you feel your pain and loss anew.
Where you go from here, dear farmer, is up to you. Can you pull yourself together? Will you fight? Do you know how? Will you at least put on some clothes?