I launch Hunt. Three minutes later I’m burning, bleeding, poisoned, and being chased by dogs — all simultaneously. No other game makes suffering feel like a core mechanic.

There’s no loot, no armor, no comfort. Yet somehow I still whisper, “One more match,” as if the Bayou didn’t already file a complaint against me.

Guns from 1890… aim like they were calibrated by a drunk scarecrow.
Every fight feels like a heart attack with surround sound.
And when someone kills you?
You respect the ambush like it was a dissertation.

• Logged in → Immediately on fire.
• Shot someone → Their friend shot me harder.
• Still would suffer again. → I sip my tea and queue anyway.

Hunt is pain + chaos + addiction.
If you love this game… congratulations, the Bayou owns you now.

10/10
The Bayou slaps me daily and I thank it.