MEN'S ROOM MAYHEM
do it, bees do it. Even educated fleas do it. Letís do it, letís do
Yep, the Vitaís gone to shit, literally. In
Menís Room Mayhem youíre a heavenly janitor Ė we describe you
so adjectivally as youíre unseen, looking down upon patrons from a
vantage point above proceedings.
Youíre a custodian of
all things bodily waste disposalistic. You eventually get the keys
to seven public conveniences, ranging from biker bar to circus,
nightclub to beachfront kinda thing. Your aim (heh) is to achieve
various toiletry KPIs in guiding your patrons to where they need to
go (heh-heh), while avoiding embarrassing encounters of the wee, poo
or fisticuffsy kind.
Your clientele varies wildly. There are
those desperate for number ones, so a timer timers away
DUN-DUN-DUN-illy as you scramble to prioritise them while others
amble about wishing to urinate or defecate without such
bladder-squishing time pressures. You also might get an old hippy
who like just forgets man, an old bloke whoís a bit doddly or clowns
who split in to two to do-doo number twos.
This full service
waste management deliverable coordination is synergised via your
primary digital interface Ė your finger. A patron enters, you draw a
line guiding them in turn to a dunny, the sink for
squeaky-cleanliness then the door to get them the hell out of your
domain. You can skip step two if youíre ambivalent about the spread
of hepatitis and general ickiness Ė donít eat the peanuts...
Sounds familiar? Yep, itís Flight Control. Or Shite
Control Ė for rhyming fun, rather than hyper-succinct review
purposes. Itís essentially identical, just with a graphical
disguise. Hell, the musicís even similar.
Control (stupidly) isnít on the Vita, and Shite Cont-
sorry, Menís Room Mayhem, is and it competently holds its
own. Despite being as original as dunny door doodle doodles...