Recent reviews by Falcon

Bean Battles isn’t just a game — it’s an obsession, a lifestyle, and a colorful descent into madness. What started as a casual download among friends has spiraled into a full-blown addiction that’s torn apart relationships, obliterated my social life, and made every other game feel like a bland, uninspired chore by comparison. And honestly? I wouldn’t change a thing.

From the moment you drop into your first match, Bean Battles grabs you by the collar and hurls you into a hyper-stylized warzone of high-octane chaos. The graphics may look simple on the surface — after all, you're just a heavily armed bean — but don't be fooled. There's a sleek minimalism here that serves the action perfectly. Explosions pop, bullets whiz by with cartoonish intensity, and every environment feels like a paint-splattered playground where pure insanity unfolds.

The gameplay? Lightning-fast and utterly unforgiving. No two rounds feel the same. One minute you're on top of the world with a rocket launcher and the high ground; the next, a sneaky bean takes you out with a grenade from across the map. There's no hand-holding here — just pure, unfiltered competition that’s equal parts hilarious and heart-pounding.

And the music — my god, the music. It slaps. The soundtrack is a relentless barrage of electronic beats that pumps directly into your adrenaline stream. It’s the kind of pulse-pounding intensity that makes even the most mundane moments feel like life-or-death situations. I've caught myself humming Bean Battles tracks in the middle of the workday like some sort of war-torn veteran reminiscing about the battlefield.

But here’s where things get serious: Bean Battles has ruined every other game for me. I used to love my catalog — shooters, RPGs, co-op games. Now? They all feel sluggish, lifeless, too polished or too safe. They lack the raw, ridiculous energy that makes Bean Battles so addictive. I tried going back. I really did. But nothing scratches the same itch.

Worse still, it's taken a toll on my relationships. Game nights have turned into “Bean Battles or nothing.” Friends who couldn’t keep up stopped joining the lobbies. A former roommate rage-quit mid-match and hasn’t spoken to me since. My partner once said, “It’s me or the beans.” I blinked, logged another match, and they were gone.

And yet, despite the wreckage this game has left in its wake, I can’t stop playing. Because deep down, I know I’ve found something special. Something so unapologetically fun, so unique in its madness, that nothing else compares.

Bean Battles isn’t just a game — it’s the game.
And like any great love, it’s beautiful, chaotic, and just a little bit destructive.

10/10. Would ruin my life again.