Wasteland Kings

Wasteland Kings is a free action roguelike twin-stick shooter set in a post-apocalyptic wasteland teeming with mutants, where players control one of five unique characters—such as Crystal, Eyes, Fish, Melting, or Plant—each with distinct abilities and perks, navigating randomized, short levels filled with procedurally placed weapons, enemies, and pickups. Featuring permadeath, players collect radioactive fragments called rads to level up and gain permanent mutations for the run, battling through themed stages in independent movement and shooting mechanics, forming the prototype foundation for the later game Nuclear Throne.

Wasteland Kings: Review

Introduction

In the irradiated dunes of a post-apocalyptic wasteland, where mutants claw their way toward a mythical throne amid randomized chaos and permadeath’s unforgiving grip, Wasteland Kings emerges not as a polished epic, but as a raw, exhilarating prototype that captures the unbridled creativity of indie game development. Born from the frenetic energy of a 72-hour game jam in 2013, this freeware twin-stick shooter by Dutch studio Vlambeer serves as the embryonic foundation for their later masterpiece, Nuclear Throne. As a game historian, I’ve long admired how prototypes like this one reveal the alchemy of iteration—turning hasty experiments into genre-defining works. Wasteland Kings is more than a relic; it’s a joyful testament to Vlambeer’s ethos of openness, randomness, and resilient fun in the face of apocalyptic odds. My thesis: While its brevity and roughness mark it as a prototype, Wasteland Kings masterfully distills roguelike tension, arcade action, and mutational whimsy into a microcosm of emergent gameplay that influenced an entire wave of indie shooters, proving that even unfinished games can crown themselves kings of innovation.

Development History & Context

Vlambeer, the two-person powerhouse founded in September 2010 by Jan Willem Nijman (the visionary designer and programmer) and Rami Ismail (the business-minded “jetlag” coordinator and promoter), was already a darling of the indie scene by 2013. Their breakout hits—Super Crate Box (2010), with its unpredictable crate-dropping chaos, and Ridiculous Fishing (2013), blending arcade shooting with satirical deep-sea lore—had established them as masters of tight, replayable mechanics wrapped in quirky narratives. The studio’s ethos was radical transparency: prototypes released early for feedback, even amid cloning scandals that nearly derailed them. Enter Wasteland Kings, conceived during Mojam 2013, Mojang’s (pre-Microsoft acquisition) livestreamed charity game jam in February of that year. In just three days, alongside 140 other developers, Vlambeer hammered out this action roguelike, raising over $500,000 for charity while channeling their love for arcade shooters and bad ’70s-’80s sci-fi flicks.

The 2013 gaming landscape was a golden age for indies, fueled by platforms like Steam Early Access and itch.io, which democratized distribution. Roguelikes were resurging post-Spelunky (2008) and amid the hype for The Binding of Isaac (2011), emphasizing procedural generation and permadeath in an era dominated by AAA blockbusters like Grand Theft Auto V. Technological constraints were minimal—Vlambeer built on GameMaker Studio, a lightweight engine perfect for rapid prototyping on modest hardware. Their vision? A “tribute to Vlambeer,” as Ismail described in a 2013 Polygon interview, synthesizing past lessons: randomness from Super Crate Box, customization from the then-upcoming Luftrausers (2014), and layered fiction from Ridiculous Fishing. Post-jam, they iterated sporadically between Luftrausers and Ridiculous Fishing updates, planning a full release on PC via Steam Early Access, with ports eyed for PS4 and PS Vita in 2014 (as announced on PlayStation Blog). Livestreams twice weekly on Twitch and their site invited fan input, turning development into a communal “playground for ideas,” per Ismail. However, legal hiccups arose: inXile Entertainment, developers of Wasteland 2 (2014), expressed concerns over brand confusion, prompting a amicable rename to Nuclear Throne in September 2013. The free September 4 release celebrated Vlambeer’s third birthday but was explicitly a prototype—no support, Windows 8 incompatibility, and no claim to future updates. This open, iterative process not only mitigated cloning risks but embodied the indie spirit of 2013, where jams like Mojam birthed phenomena like FTL: Faster Than Light (2012), prioritizing fun over polish.

Narrative & Thematic Deep Dive

At its core, Wasteland Kings unfolds a sparse yet evocative tale in a post-nuclear hellscape, where grotesque mutants vie for the “Wasteland Throne”—a mythical prize symbolizing dominion over the ruins. There’s no overt plot beyond this Darwinian struggle; players embody one of five unlockable mutants (Crystal, Eyes, Fish, Melting, or Plant), each a twisted parody of evolution’s excesses, battling waves of foes across themed levels like irradiated deserts, sewer labyrinths, and scrapyard bunkers. Dialogue is absent—replaced by environmental storytelling through randomized encounters—but the fiction simmers beneath: enemies drop “rads” (radioactive fragments), fueling mutations that echo the hubris of humanity’s downfall. Inspired by pulp sci-fi like Mad Max meets Fallout‘s grit, the narrative probes themes of survival, adaptation, and the absurdity of power in chaos. As Ismail noted in Engadget, mutants “fight about [the throne] on Tuesdays,” injecting humor into the bleakness; it’s not a somber apocalypse but a “happy” one, where peril is playful.

Characters shine through mechanics, each embodying a playstyle philosophy. Crystal, the tanky silicon lifeform, deploys a shield for defensive perseverance, thematizing resilience amid fallout. Eyes, a psychic horror, mind-controls foes, delving into manipulation and control in a lawless world. Fish, shotgun-toting and mobile, represents primal aggression; Melting, fragile yet explosive, explores self-destructive volatility; Plant, ensnaring with vines, evokes organic reclamation of the wasteland. Mutations—permanent perks like extra health, speed boosts, or exploding corpses—deepen this, turning runs into personalized evolutionary arcs. Thematically, the game critiques roguelike fatalism: permadeath isn’t tragedy but iteration, mirroring Vlambeer’s own “cloning debacle” recovery. Randomness underscores unpredictability—much like life in a post-apocalyptic jam—where trial-and-error builds mastery, not despair. In a 2013 PlayStation Blog post, Ismail framed it as Vlambeer’s “third person”: a collision of opposites birthing something greater, much like the mutants’ futile throne quest. This layered fiction, subtle yet profound, elevates a simple shooter into a meditation on creativity’s wasteland.

Gameplay Mechanics & Systems

Wasteland Kings thrives on its taut core loop: spawn in a procedurally generated, single-screen level (a scrolling room teeming with enemies), scavenge weapons and rads, clear the horde, and portal to the next biome via a victory vortex—only to perish and restart, wiser. As a diagonal-down twin-stick shooter, controls are intuitive yet demanding: WASD or arrows for omnidirectional movement, mouse for independent aiming and firing, supporting keyboard-only play. Permadeath enforces roguelike rigor—deaths reset progress, but retained knowledge of enemy patterns and synergies rewards persistence.

Combat deconstructs arcade shooting into strategic depth. Basic attacks vary by character (e.g., Fish’s shotgun blasts, Plant’s vine spits), augmented by unique secondaries: Crystal’s roll-dodge, Eyes’ telekinesis. Weapons spawn in chests, limited to two slots with swapping on pickup—ranged options like revolvers, machine guns, crossbows (ammo-scarce, demanding pickups), or melee like sledgehammers for close-quarters brawls. Ammo scarcity forces adaptation; overuse a machine gun, and you’re clubbing mutants with its butt. Enemies—scorpions, giant rats, robot ninjas—drop rads, filling a top-left meter for post-level leveling (up to 9). Mutations offer branching progression: “Extra Feet” for speed, “Strong Spirit” for health regen, or “Ranger” for range, creating run-specific builds. Some synergize wildly, like Eyes mind-controlling a line of foes for a crossbow skewer, as noted in RGCD’s review.

The UI is minimalist—health bar, rad meter, weapon indicators—but effective, though prototype jank shows: no pause mid-run, occasional generation glitches. Innovative systems include randomized biomes (desert to city, escalating post-loop 1 at level 10 with mixed foes) and secret areas for bonus loot, fostering exploration in tight spaces. Flaws abound: ammo droughts lead to frustrating melee scrambles, and controller support is absent (keyboard/mouse only). Yet, the loop’s brevity (levels last 2-5 minutes) makes failures snappy, emphasizing “situational awareness” per Ismail’s PAX Prime Polygon demo. Compared to influences like Spelunky or The Binding of Isaac, it’s less labyrinthine but more arcadey, blending FTL‘s chaos with twin-stick fluidity for emergent tactics—deflect bullets with a sledgehammer while pistol-whipping, or laser-knockback crowds. This framework for ideas, as Vlambeer called it, shines in replayability, though its prototype status caps depth at five characters and basic mutations.

World-Building, Art & Sound

The wasteland of Wasteland Kings is a vividly desaturated hell: sandy dunes pocked with maggot-riddled husks, fetid sewers crawling with vermin, and metallic scrapyards patrolled by ninja bots—all procedurally stitched into maze-like arenas. Atmosphere drips with B-movie menace, evoking ’60s-’80s sci-fi pulps where radiation births wonders and horrors alike. Levels’ single-room constraint amplifies claustrophobia, turning each into a micro-ecosystem of peril; vortices suck players downward, symbolizing inexorable descent into deeper ruins. Randomized placements ensure no two runs feel alike, building a world that’s alive, unpredictable, and oppressively immersive—rads litter the ground like fallout confetti, chests gleam as tantalizing oases.

Visually, Paul Veer’s pixel art is a standout, even for a jam entry: chunky, animated sprites burst with personality—mutants’ grotesque forms (crystalline shards, oozing blobs) animate fluidly, weapons recoil with satisfying heft. The diagonal-down perspective evokes nostalgia for DOS-era titles like C-Dogs, but Veer’s golden-age arcade polish (vibrant palettes against ashen backdrops) injects joy into the grimness. Scrolling rooms expand dynamically, revealing hidden nooks without overwhelming the prototype’s scope.

Sound design elevates the chaos: Jukio Kallio’s (Kozilek) soundtrack is a post-rock triumph—distorted percussion thunders like mutant heartbeats, moody guitars wail over synth bass drones, alien vocals haunt quieter moments. It’s no chiptune filler; this EP-worthy score (available on Bandcamp for €4) pulses with cinematic urgency, turning rad-fueled rampages into symphonies of survival. Joonas Turner’s effects are “super crunchy”—explosions crackle with radioactive bite, mutant snarls and shotgun booms deliver tactile feedback. Together, they forge an auditory wasteland that’s as “happy” as Ismail described: exhilarating, not oppressive, enhancing the theme of playful apocalypse. These elements coalesce into an experience that’s greater than its parts, where every rad pickup hums with potential mutation.

Reception & Legacy

Upon its free September 2013 release, Wasteland Kings garnered enthusiastic niche praise, though as a prototype, it lacked formal critic scores (MobyGames lists n/a, with one player rating of 3/5). Blogs hailed it as Mojam 2013’s crown jewel: RGCD called it “the highlight,” praising its replayability and Vlambeer flair, while itch.io users rated the download 4.6/5 from 49 reviews, lauding its addictive chaos. Media buzz—from Polygon’s “tribute to Vlambeer” interview to Engadget’s “happy place where weird shit happens”—framed it as a joyful counterpoint to the studio’s cloning woes. Playtests at PAX Prime and Fantastic Arcade showcased its merciless roguelike edge, with Ismail emphasizing trial-and-error learning. Commercially, it was non-monetized but served as a stealth Early Access teaser, building hype for Nuclear Throne.

Its reputation evolved dramatically: renamed in 2013 to avoid inXile conflicts, the prototype directly seeded Nuclear Throne (full release 2015), retaining mechanics, art, and music while expanding to 12 characters and deeper mutations. Nuclear Throne exploded, earning 95% positive Steam reviews (over 20,000), IGF nominations, and sales topping 1 million—cementing Wasteland Kings‘ influence on indie roguelikes. It popularized “roguelike-likes” blending twin-stick shooting with procedural mutation, inspiring titles like Enter the Gungeon (2016) and Dead Cells (2018) in emphasizing joyful randomness and open dev. Vlambeer’s livestream model influenced community-driven indies, while the game’s freeware status preserved it as a historical artifact on itch.io. In the broader industry, it underscored 2010s indie’s triumph over AAA, proving jam-born ideas could mutate into legacies—much like its rads.

Conclusion

Wasteland Kings is a radiant prototype: raw in execution, profound in potential, distilling Vlambeer’s three-year odyssey into a post-apocalyptic playground of randomized peril and mutational delight. From its jam-born origins to the thematic echoes of survival’s absurdity, the mechanics reward mastery through failure, while Veer’s art, Kallio’s score, and Turner’s sounds immerse players in a wasteland that’s as fun as it is fatal. Though flaws like ammo scarcity and limited scope betray its unfinished state, its legacy as Nuclear Throne‘s blueprint cements its place in indie history—a beacon for transparent, iterative design that turned two developers’ “third person” into a genre touchstone. Verdict: Essential for roguelike enthusiasts and Vlambeer completists; download it free on itch.io and witness the throne’s embryonic glory. In video game history, it’s not just a king—it’s the rad that sparked a dynasty.