Party chaos carries a dependency that no pitch can solve: other people, at the same time, right now. In an empty room there's no game here, only a living room and some toys. The premise is charming and the format is sound to. But a typical run lasting about a minute tells you how much has been built. Happy to be talked round when it's busier.
Grab the object, hold onto it, get jumped for it. That format is older than most of us and it survives any skin you paint on, toddlers included. Rounds are so short you're back in before you've finished being annoyed, and that's the one more go engine doing its job properly.
it's loud, obviously. But there is something oddly gentle about a scrap where the worst thing that can happen to you is nap time and the weapons are all toys. Not calm. Kind, though.
The premise carries far more than you would expect it to. A living room blown up to arena scale, with toys for weapons and the TV remote as the thing everybody is prepared to die over. Anyone who has ever been three feet tall knows that is a real quest object. One room, one stake, rounds over quickly. The fiction stays tight instead of thin, and that is rarer than it sounds.
