What really elevated my first experience was not the flashy guns or the cool abilities. I'm no stranger to FPS roguelikes. But what really grabbed my attention wasn't what you'd find in the hands of a soldier or marksman, no, it was the type of thing you'd find in a mason's hand.
Composed of mostly clay and other mundane silicates, it caught my eye kinda like how a stripper in a supermarket catches your eye: out of place and not at all dressed appropriately for the location. It was a redish brown, a brick.
Most games have joke weapons and other similar things, and even still, it feels wrong to call it a joke weapon. It is no joke. You take the brick seriously, not for it's comical placement in the lineup of guns you can find, but in spite of it.
There's a crude brutality in accelerating a brick towards someone's head. Seeing someone forgo the efficiency and ease of use that a firearm brings, and in turn picking up a brick would have you wondering if they were dull of mind. No, it is you who is about to be dull of mind. You use the brick when things get personal. It's brutish, bludgeoning, sloppy... Let me tell you, there is nothing more deeply personal than watching a brick that left your hands sail eighty feet through the air instantly killing a sharpshooter.
Don't be a snipecuck. Be a brick chad.
