n a post-Lovecraftian wasteland, you are a Bloodhauler.
Your machine — heavy, armored, and fitted with a spiked grinder — rolls into the fog.
You crush, slice, and tear through monsters. Blood hits the hood, floods the road.
You’re not here for glory — you're here to fill the quota.
You haul back gallons of blood. It’s offloaded. Coins clink.
You spend them on upgrades: tougher armor, a meaner engine, sharper steel.
All to survive the next run — and meet the next quota.
Then it’s back into the unknown. New zones to explore. Rarer beasts to hunt.
in progress...
