Survive in the Facility Revamp - Who Let These Guys Be in Charge?

Yeah...yeah...been a while since I uploaded, but that's because I have other hobbies besides gaming, y'know~ Ruler: The Ultimate DNA Yield Machine To me personally, Ruler struts around like discount aquatic royalty, yet yields massive returns for almost zero personal risk. Despite masquerading as an apex-level threat, his predictability means any player with basic backward locomotion can backpedal, empty clips, and turn him into a net utility gain. He exists primarily so the lobby can collect high rewards with zero collective suffering. The first time I beat him? I only ever used SLR... ;3 Cyberattack: The Tool Efficiency Filter Cyberattack fancies itself a digital nightmare, flying around the sewers and turning invisible to instill instant panic. Its disruptive utility drops straight to zero the moment someone shows up with the proper tools. Invisibility means nothing to wide-spread explosive ordinance or splash damage. It is purely a mid-tier roadblock meant to tax unprepared lobbies, easily dismantled the second players allocate the right explosive assets to Hall A. Chroma: Pure Unchecked Chaos Unlike the first two, Chroma actively drains the lobby’s collective happiness. It is an aggressively cycling, seizure-inducing rave cube that floods the fountain area with instant-kill laser tracking and an exorbitant health pool. Taking it down requires an agonizing expenditure of server ammunition, time, and focus. Facing Chroma is a ruthless exercise where the outcome barely feels worth the sheer mental energy and lives expended. Also, here's a brief one-shot of the two stygian three-headed brothers, since 006 is the annoying, clingy brother of 007 (as the wiki states~). I pulled an all-nighter writing it~ :3 The hum of the facility’s canteen vending machines was the only sound breaking the late-night silence, until 006 decided to open all three of his mouths at once. "I'm telling you, bro, if we get out of here, I'm going pro," 006 muttered, chewing loudly. All three of his black, blocky heads shifted in unison as he bolted down his slice of greasy cafeteria pizza. He was wearing an oversized, short-sleeved crimson football jersey that hung loosely over his three-necked frame. 007 sat across the metal table, towering over his shorter sibling. His massive, blocky frame was also crammed into a matching navy-blue jersey, though it stretched tight against his broad shoulders. Behind him, the dark flare pad hummed with a faint, ominous energy, casting a purple glow over his three heads. His white, glowing eyes and static-wide smiles didn't move, but his annoyance was palpable. "Eat your pizza, Six," 007’s central head rumbled, a deep, layered sound. "Watch this! Go long!" 006 chirped. He reached into his jersey, pulled out a slightly deflated football he'd stolen from the recreation ward, and wound up his arm. With a clumsy grunt, he hurled it across the table. 007 didn't even blink his glowing white eyes. He didn't move his hands either. He was supposed to be a godlike, soul-sucking nightmare from another dimension, feasting on demon kings like they're appetizers—not some pretty-boy quarterback throwing a pigskin around. From beneath his jersey, a thick, pitch-black tentacle whipped through the air with a sharp crack. It snatched the football mid-flight, centimeters away from 007's faces, freezing it instantly in place. The tentacle squeezed the ball, letting out a slow, deflating hiss. 007 lowered the ball to the table, his white smiles gleaming in the dim light. All three of his heads tilted slightly forward, staring down his clingy younger brother. "This is a containment facility, Six," 007 said coldly, his tentacles shifting restlessly behind his back. "Not gym class. Now sit down and finish your crust." 006 let out a three-toned whine, scooting his chair a little closer to his giant brother anyway. "You're no fun, Seven."