Sprunki 2004: The Digital Massacre

What have you done?

The moment you click play, it's already too late. You've violated the seal. You've stepped into 2004, the year it all went wrong.

The Crime Scene

This isn't a game anymore. The Sprunkis aren't characters—they're victims. With every beat you layer, with every sound you add, you're not creating music. You're documenting destruction.

Their world lies in ruins. Decimated. Silent except for the sounds you force from their broken forms. The landscape a digital graveyard.

Why?

Perhaps that's what you're here to discover. Or perhaps you're just another voyeur, another tourist in their tragedy.

The Blame Game

"We didn't do it. It was Black. You blaming us for not knowing he was gonna do that? What a disgrace."

The survivors speak in hushed tones. Point fingers. Hide evidence. But the truth bleeds through the cracks in their stories.

Black may have pulled the trigger, but someone loaded the gun.

Was it you?

How To Play (If You Dare)

1. Excavate The Ruins: Place characters to reveal fragments of what happened. Each sound unearths another piece of the story.

2. Follow The Blood Trail: Certain combinations unlock memories—flashbacks to before everything fell apart. Study them. The clues are there.

3. Face The Consequences: Unlike other music games, your creation isn't just a song—it's a confession. And someone is listening.

The Real Horror

The most disturbing part of Sprunki 2004 isn't the overt darkness. It's how familiar everything still feels. How the interface still works. How the mechanics still function. How easily you can pretend it's just another music game.

Until you notice details. The slight tremor in the animations. The barely audible whispers beneath the main tracks. The way characters sometimes look directly at you, silently mouthing words you can't quite make out.

Are you documenting history, or are you about to repeat it?

The choice was never yours to make.

It was always 2004.