Five pixels and an apple. Eat, grow, don't crash. You played it under a desk, on a phone with no colour and a battery that lasted a week.
Same three seconds to learn. One rule changed — and everything after it is new.
When you shed, your body stops exactly where it stands and hardens. It's still there in ten seconds. Still there in three minutes. Every grey block on that screen is somewhere you chose to go.
Catch a bird, earn a boost. Fourteen cells at five times speed, shattering everything in the path. It's the only way out of a corridor you built yourself.
Length is your score. Length is what you spend to break walls. Length is what buries you. One resource, three uses, never enough.