Rodo Maldito

Taking a coffin out to the farm. Or four crates of chickens. Or Grandma Zuleica’s dish towel. All before 6 a.m., in a van that should have been sent to the scrapyard long ago.

Detours toward the cemetery, the woods, and the river; dead-end roads; a fallen tree; a cow on the road. You have only a paper map, and it lies.

Saci: he steals the steering wheel and dashes into the woods. Honk your horn or try to grab the little rascal.

Mula-sem-cabeça (Headless Mule): she bursts into flames, lets out a scream, and crosses the road right in front of you.

Corpo-seco (Dried-up Corpse): he only moves when no one is looking at him.

Werewolf: first you hear him. Then you see his eyes. By then, it’s already too late.

Curupira: he swaps the road signs and casts a spell on your map.

And then there’s the Boitatá, the Mapinguari, the Cuca, the Iara... and the woman in white by the gate.

The engine dies just as the beast arrives. START! START! A tire goes flat, the van gets stuck, and everyone climbs out to push. Tie down the cargo—that clay saint won’t make it back in one piece.

For 1 to 4 players online, or solo with up to 3 bots (Zé Ruela, Tonhão, Dona Cotinha...).

Sneak up behind a friend and shout "BOO!". At the end of the night, someone takes home the "Biggest Scaredy-cat" award.

No progression, no grinding: every night starts from scratch. Just jump in and play.

It was never worth it. But the review is worth it.