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Dive in (and drown emotionally) into An Ocean Game with The Eight Scurxs, a “professional” ocean-horror game of questionable stealth and the collection of copyright-dodging plastic footwear. In this misunderstood masterpiece (and by misunderstood we mean even the developer doesn’t know how their own code works), you must collect the legendary Scurxs: eight pairs of haunted sandals that are NOT Crocs, legally speaking. Lawyers, please: they’re Scurxs. Made of an ethically ambiguous polymer and definitely unrelated to any existing brand. We swear it on the Ocean Man.

As you explore this nightmare island designed with zero respect for spatial logic, you’ll be relentlessly chased by the Ocean Man — a creepy, soggy, probably-part-gel figure who wants to drag you into the depths for reasons he himself doesn’t understand. Or maybe he does it for love. We’ll never know.

Key features absolutely nobody asked for:

• An island. With a forest. And cars. And boats. And no explanation. What kind of remote island has a dense forest, abandoned houses, rusted boats stuck in trees and a ’93 Fiat Panda parked next to a ritual bonfire? This one. Don’t ask. Don’t look for logic. There’s only fog, dampness, and architectural choices that offend urban planners.

• The Ocean Man. A being ripped straight from the darkest corners of free assets and a brain that very clearly needed sleep. This gelatinous sea-entity stalks you with the subtlety of an orca on stilts. Sometimes it bugs out. Sometimes it teleports. Sometimes it sings to you. It always judges you.

• The Scurxs. Sandals. Plastic. Cursed. Each has its own personality (which is actually just a random variable that assigns a sound or effect). Some float, some spin, one spits out trivia about mollusks. They’re the game’s core items and they exist because the author owned Crocs in real life and thought, “What if this were part of a dark ritual?” The answer is this game.

Absurd (and official) game modes:

• Standard – The base experience. Collect the eight Scurxs while the Ocean Man breathes down your neck. The most “balanced” version of the game (which doesn’t mean it’s actually balanced, just that it rarely explodes).

• Hardmode – Same island. Less light. More fog. Ocean Man on steroids. Delayed reactions. Moral paralysis. No checkpoints. Your choices have weight (but only emotionally).

• 50% Health – You start with half health. Why? Because yes. Because not everything in life needs to make sense. The Ocean Man doesn’t nerf himself for your frailty. He wants you whole.

• VTuber Mode – A mode honoring the game’s creator, who is also a VTuber and has clearly lost control of his life. Everything is shinier, louder, with saturated filters, intentional glitches, a ridiculous HUD, and out-of-place anime voices shouting “KAWAII SCURXU DESU” every time you pick up a shoe. There are inside references no one will get. And yes, there’s probably a marine waifu hiding somewhere on the map. Suffer — but make it stylish. (Everything said here is faker than hell, but hey, at least it got your attention.)

• Ocean Mansion – A non-sueable parody of classic Slender: Mansion, but more than parody it’s the same damn game retextured with a scent of digital mildew. The creator made it in three weeks, sweating broken shaders and making questionable choices at 3 a.m. while his family asked why he wouldn’t leave his room. Was it worth it? No. Is it fun? Maybe. Does it have paintings of fish with human eyes, doors that open when you scream your traumas at them, and an Ocean Man who accidentally appears on the roof? Absolutely.

• VETITUM_VRC Style – A love-letter/nightmare to VETITUM_VRC, the creator’s previous game. In this mode you aren’t chased by the Ocean Man but by that game’s villain. You’re not told who she is. You’re given no context. Everything is packed with references you’ll only understand if you finished VETITUM_VRC to the end (which you didn’t). Fanservice? Horror? Narcissistic self-celebration? Yes.

Technical extras (as if this were a serious product):

• High-quality ambient sound: seagulls that are mentally smoking, wind recorded on a vibrating Nokia, a background track composed on an out-of-tune recorder. Reversed voices whispering “Scurx” that probably trigger something in your subconscious.

• Graphics: Yes, there are graphics. Not cutting-edge. But there are shapes, colors, dubious shadows, and textures that sometimes load. Also shaders. What do they do? We don’t know. But they’re there and they use RAM.

• Optimization: Runs on a toaster. Or so we believe. In truth, we didn’t test much outside the developer’s PC, which is full of files named things like “final_final_thisisdefinitelyit_ok.mp4.”

A story as deep as the Ocean Man (or less):

You were born. You woke up on an island. There are Scurxs everywhere. A water-made being with unresolved trauma chases you. The forest has cars. The houses are empty. There’s a floating toilet in the air. The Ocean Man doesn’t speak. Neither do you. What’s happening? Who cares. This game doesn’t seek to answer questions. It only wants to make you ask them. Out loud. While you run in circles. Panicked. And wearing illegal Crocs.

An Ocean Game with The Eight Scurxs is more than a game: it’s a declaration of war on common sense, an ode to creative chaos, and a spiritual manifestation of what happens when someone says “what if we make something ridiculous, but pretend it’s serious?”

Do you need it? No. Do you deserve it? Also no. Will you play it anyway? Obviously.

Survived and found all eight Scurxs? We envy you. And we also fear you.