Here's what's great about games from Riverhouse Games: They oftentimes interrogate the definition of a "game." After reading one, I re-examine memories of childhood, half-remembered games that seemed to spring fully formed but still managed to dissolve like sea foam. There was one that involved moving around on one's knees on grass, pinching one's hands in a crab like motion, attempting to catch one's fellows. This was called "King Cobra." Were our hands meant to be fangs? Or the hood of a cobra? These details are lost. It was a fantastic game.
Here's something else that's great about MACHINE GUN: [imagine here the sound of a drum kit kicked down wooden stairs that descend into an unfinished basement, a space with nothing but potential in dim light]