Blood, Barf, Bile and the Neon Revolution
This feature is a reprint from Unwinnable Monthly #184. If you like what you see, grab the magazine for less than ten dollars, or subscribe and get all future magazines for half price.
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This series of articles is made possible through the generous sponsorship of Exalted Funeral. While Exalted Funeral puts us in touch with our subjects, they have no input or approval in the final story.
In a world awash with grimdark experiences and sanitized mechanics, Pukeapocalypse throws a neon-soaked grenade at convention. Channeling the ferocity of 1980s punk and the raw angst of 1990s grunge, the game offers a visceral blast of rebellion, irreverence and creativity, a manifesto for anyone who refuses to play by the rules. With its tumultuous origins, explosive philosophy and unapologetically chaotic mechanics, Pukeapocalypse may well just be a cult classic in the making.
The seeds of Pukeapocalypse were sown in the gritty, unconventional world of underground game design, a reflection of the final product. Creator Glenn Ford began far from the typical environment of mainstream development: “My first real piece of design work was as lead developer on Gaslands,” Ford recalls. “I attended a local wargaming group that Mike Hutchinson, designer of Gaslands, came to when looking for playtesters,” adding that “my design philosophy is to integrate unusual mechanics into interesting stories, and to do as much as can be done with the fewest components possible.”
These early experiences at local wargaming groups and conventions laid the foundation for a career steeped in creativity. Working alongside legends like Hutchinson before going on to launch crowdfunded projects, the designer honed a philosophy which prized minimalism and ingenuity. Their approach consisted of melding strange, innovative mechanics with a compelling narrative, something that would eventually become the beating heart of Pukeapocalypse.
Pukeapocalypse is fundamentally designed to provide players with some damned good fun. Ford is more than clear about this intention, describing how “the first thing I hope people take away from playing Pukeapocalypse is, frankly, a good time. It’s a fast-moving game with a high level of interaction and lots of visual reasoning, and a touch of dexterity mechanics.”
“The second thing is the urge to return back to the hobby loop,” Ford explains. “Pukeapocalypse is intrinsically interested in kitbashing, converting and modelling minis. I really want that players walk away from every game inspired to return to that loop, get the clippers, sprues and paint out and back to the hobby.”
The influences behind Pukeapocalypse are about as eclectic as they are extreme. The game is a love letter to the grotesque, absurd and the downright repulsive moments of pop culture that stick with you long afterwards. In fact, one pivotal source of inspiration comes from a scene in the film RoboCop. “When I pitched the game to Exalted Funeral, I referenced the moment in RoboCop when Emil Antonowsky, having been soaked in toxic waste, is hit by a car and bursts like a horrifying grape.”
That moment of cinematic shock, a blend of horror and dark humor, resonates with the punk ethos of finding beauty in the bizarre. Ford also drew on various influences ranging from 1990s “melt” movies and Garbage Pail Kids to the anarchic spirit of cult comics and offbeat sitcoms. These influences converged into a singular vision – a world where rivers of puke become the raw, untamed energy of the game, and where every bout of violent chaos is celebrated with a mischievous laugh.
Pukeapocalypse doesn’t just break the rules of traditional game design, it obliterates them. The game’s universe is a post-apocalyptic landscape drenched in neon hues and absurdity where nuclear war has twisted humanity into a grotesque parody of its former self. Reflecting on this unique vision, the creator explains how “the game diverges pretty heavily from anything close to real world history, thank goodness, because it’s pretty out there,” adding that “I came up with the pukeapocalypse where, in classic melt movie fashion, radiation from a nuclear war has turned everyone’s stomach acid into a horrible goop eating them from the inside out.”
The apocalypse in this case isn’t a slow, tragic decline but an all-out, fast-paced rampage against societal norms. In this world, survival isn’t measured by stoic endurance but the ability to revel in chaos. The society we know has crumbled into absurdity, with currency measured in recycled piss and factions defined by their subversive, punk-inspired identities. It’s a setting where traditional hierarchies are inverted and every moment is a chance to shout back at the oppressive forces of normalcy.
The mechanics in Pukeapocalypse are as daring as the various thematic inspirations, built around the concept of physicality and the inexorable buildup of bile. The designer provides a glimpse into this innovative system, saying that when it comes to the gameplay mechanics, “bile is an ever-present resource for players and characters, both the source of their power,and their ultimate demise.” Ford explains that “even if everyone leaves each other alone, you’ll all start bursting eventually.”
Every token on the board represents a measure of risk and power. The more tokens you accumulate, the greater your ability to affect the game, yet the higher the chance you’ll be overwhelmed by your own grotesque excess. Players have to strike a delicate balance, a dance of death and the “die to advance” mechanic which captures the essence of punk’s defiant spirit. And while the rules encourage a frenetic pace, they also reward strategic kitbashing and creative modeling, ensuring that every play session is a fresh experiment in controlled chaos.
If the mechanics are the guts of Pukeapocalypse, then its artwork is the blazing, dayglo skin. The visual aesthetic is a riot of clashing colors and deliberately grotesque imagery that perfectly mirrors the game’s subversive narrative. The designer recalls his collaboration with a talented team of artists, recognizing that “I’ve been insanely lucky as far as the artwork goes,” adding that “one of the big inspirations was the art of Sean Aaberg, and all the gross-out comic books.” Ford refers to the artwork as “extreme, neon, 1990s and joyfully disgusting.”
The art captures the very soul of the game, this of course being a vibrant, rebellious counterpoint to the bleakness of a post-apocalyptic world. Every illustration is a deliberate challenge to the traditional, grim visuals of most miniature-based games. Instead of dark and oppressive, the imagery is almost celebratory in its outrageousness, echoing the raw energy of a live show or the sludgy distortion of a guitar solo.
While many board games offer sparse worldbuilding, Pukeapocalypse revels in its layered, if deliberately fragmented, universe. The setting is rich with cultural references, particularly drawn from British pop culture and dystopian cinema. The key location for example is the Milton Keynes Piss Market, a nod to both futuristic dystopias and the rebellious spirit of underground Britain. “A lot of the worldbuilding is very British in its nature,” Ford remarks. “This was used in a few near-future dystopian films like A Clockwork Orange to give the feel of a disconnected future. It’s also the location of the biggest mutant ghetto in 2000AD’s Strontium Dogs series.”
This clever mashup of real and imagined histories creates a world which is at once absurd and oddly familiar. References like these are dropped throughout the game, inviting players to uncover deeper layers of meaning as they navigate the chaotic landscape. Whether it’s the slang of the Queens Cysters, named in subversion of traditional authority, or the hyperbolic depictions of societal collapse, every detail is designed to provoke thought and spark conversation.
In a market saturated with games that often feel formulaic, Pukeapocalypse stands out as a defiant, innovative alternative. Its commitment to integrating hobby culture into its mechanics and narrative of course represents one of its most distinguishing features. As the designer succinctly remarks, “kitbashing and hobby are built into the rules. The rules care about when you do cool hobby stuff, they want you to have fun with your painting and modelling.”
This approach transforms the game from a simple contest of strategy into an ongoing, evolving campaign where players are encouraged to invest time, creativity and passion into every miniature. Rather than relegating modeling and painting to an afterthought, Pukeapocalypse elevates these activities to a core element of gameplay. The emphasis on connected and campaign play further enhances this, inviting players to craft longer, narrative-driven sessions that are as much about storytelling as they are about tactical maneuvering.
There could be no complete discussion of Pukeapocalypse without acknowledging the cultural backdrop that fuels its fundamental spirit. The game is steeped in the aesthetics of punk and grunge, eras defined by their explosive energy, subversive attitudes and refusal to conform. The designer channels these influences not only in the narrative and mechanics but also in the overall presentation of the game. “Pukeapocalypse is very much my version of punk in its outlook and inspiration,” Ford says. “Everyone might well be dying, but they’re going to be coloured in clashing neon and having fun causing bovver when they do. They’re sticking their fingers up at the apocalypse and going down kicking. When the grim reaper comes for them, they’re going to rip his nipples off.”
This is a sick manifesto from the designer of the game, but the playtesters seemed to agree that Pukeapocalypse is going extreme in all the right ways. In an era where many games struggle to inspire enthusiasm, the game has managed to spark a response that can only be described as revolutionary. The designer describes the reception as being “somewhere between delighted shock and stoked up excitement. The game is absolutely about letting people’s creative brakes off, saying they should make a mess and have fun, let their imagination go to really weird places.”
Pukeapocalypse is more than just a board game, it’s a declaration of independence from the mundane. It’s a rallying cry for anyone who’s ever felt like an outsider in a world that values conformity over creativity. With every token of bile, every colorful burst of chaos and every frantic “die to advance” moment, the game challenges players to embrace imperfection, celebrate failure as a pathway to innovation and, above all, have an unapologetically good time. It is a wild, unpredictable ride through a universe where traditional game mechanics are upended, where death is not the end but a transformative beginning and where every play session is a celebration of subversive creativity.
Grab your clippers, fire up your bile and prepare to dive headfirst into a world where every rule is meant to be broken, every loss is a chance to start over and every game is a call to arms against mediocrity. In the twisted, unrelenting universe of Pukeapocalypse, the end isn’t a time for despair, it’s an opportunity to celebrate life in all of its messy, unpredictable and beautifully rebellious glory. Remember to live loud, go wild and embrace chaos.
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Buy Pukeapocalypse from Exalted Funeral!
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Justin Reeve is an archaeologist specializing in architecture, urbanism and spatial theory, but he can frequently be found writing about videogames, too.
