Nuclear throne auto aim generator#
Nuclear throne auto aim series#

There's a Halo-style two weapon limit that forces you, as ever, to make difficult choices, and there are an array of treats waiting to tempt you: machine guns, pistols, hammers and shovels. Weapon drops that get steadily more powerful the longer you live, and ammo spread across the five types of weapon the game offers - good old standard bullets at one end, pure sci-fi energy at the other. This comes in the form of weapon drops and ammo for the most part. Nuclear Throne, scrappy and buggy and unfinished as it is, already feels like developer Vlambeer's most luxurious game, and its perhaps the team's most demanding and multi-layered, too, throwing a tactical, almost strategic element into the mix behind all that shooting.Īnd the tactical stuff lies with the loot. Wha.?īut even here there's more to it - more that only emerges over repeated plays. Hopefully without leaving any promising loot behind. Boom, boom, boom and rest - and then you're sucked right into the swirling time-tunnel vortex that leads to the next hellhole. It handles like a twin-stick shooter whether you're on mouse-and-keyboard or pad, and instead of finding each map's exit in order to progress, you conjure your own exit from nowhere by blasting all other life to pieces. This is a shooter rather than a platformer, though - the shootiest of shooters, judging by the screen-shake and the shell casings and the echoing, metallic pounding of lead. And, as with Spelunky, the whole joint is crawling with vermin that wants to do you in - shawl-wrapped bandits, fat-bellied albino grubs, untidy birds with automatic weapons, gem-bodied spiders, robot wolves. What's the Nuclear Throne? I don't really care, to be honest, because I'm still so busy trying to get there, shooting away as scorched desert canyons give way to scrapyards, crystal caves, worse.Īs with Spelunky, your progression from one zone to another is unshifting, even though the rhythm's been altered somewhat with three levels of one tile-set followed by a sort of transitional palate cleanser before the next three.

Nuclear throne auto aim series#

We're all fightin' and fumin' across a series of post-apocalyptic settings as we aim to secure loot, legendary status and a spot on the Nuclear Throne. We're all irradiated horrors in this toxic wasteland: chicken carcasses, bandanged thumbs, toasties with eyes leaking cheesey goo as we stumble around. There's not much scene-setting, but Paul Veer's chunky, melty art makes it strangely wonderful nonetheless.

Nuclear throne auto aim generator#

That explains the little bumps of cover the level generator places along the walls of its destructible environments. It's crucial to know when to duck out of a fight as well as when to wade in. This is a game that completely understands its headachey, 3am appeal. The very opening riff of the very opening levels sounds like Here-we-go-a-GAIN. How far did I get? How much did I kill? No matter: the breakdown screen's been swiftly dismissed by the trigger finger and I'm already headed back out there again, out where the slobbering and the munching is starting to grow deafening once more, where the wet and the membranous saunter and play and snort sand through unlikely gills. What a life! Level up at MOBA speed, stumble across a secret level, make mistakes that are hard to recover from and then die in a vast scattering of Vlambeer bullets. Choose a class, then blast through some tightly compressed procedural levels grabbing and dropping weaponry as it presents itself. Forget accretion theory - it's basically ludic gumbo.Īt heart, it's actually a roguelike, and an extremely fast-paced one. This is a game that's updated every week, more or less. The core has always been glinting and spiky and extremely promising, but every time I come back to it, something more has been drawn into the orbit, something new is waiting to be discovered. Bang meets squelch.īut why would you want to strip any of that other stuff away? Nuclear Throne's Early Access incarnation is game design behaving like accretion theory. Strip away all the punkish ingenuity piled on Nuclear Throne and, for the first few levels at least, you're left with this: a skin-fidgeting, hair-tingling battle of textures. No, I'm talking about almost everything else - the munching, the slobbering, the wet, the membranous. I'm not talking about the weapons effects, which are loud and clean and gavel-hard with it. I really don't want to know how they made the audio effects for Nuclear Throne.