The whole war, forty muddy yards at a time.

Dirt & Viscera is a real-time roguelike about the worst job on the Western Front: holding a trench, and then leaving it. You don't command a tidy army — you command whatever the cards deal you, whatever you can afford this second, and whatever's still breathing after the last barrage.

Two economies, one terrible decision.

Cards decide what you can field. Requisition decides whether you can afford it right now. Riflemen, machine guns, snipers, flamethrowers, trench raiders, Mark IV tanks, gas, walking barrages, a biplane strafing run — you draw them, you pay for them, you place them in the mud.

Then you choose when to go over the top.

Holding is safe. Holding loses. Sooner or later you blow the whistle and send your men across — into wire, into machine guns, into artillery zeroed on the open ground. Push too early and they're scythed down; push too late and the trench is overrun. The whole game lives in that one decision.

A front that fights back, and remembers.

Barbed wire snags both sides. Tanks grind green fields into the iconic cratered mud. Flamethrowers and shells reduce woods to splintered stumps. The dead stay where they fall — and the next barrage mangles the corpses all over again.

Build a run worth dying for.

A branching, FTL-style campaign across four sectors: pick your route, see the upgrade each position rewards, and snowball a force from ~70 upgrades — half earned through your own deeds. Choose one of eight commanders, lock in a doctrine, set your difficulty, and stack optional hardship mutators for more glory and more pain. It ends where it should: a super-heavy land cruiser, rolling for your trench.

And when the campaign's done — Endless.

Hold against a horde that never stops growing. Take a trench and the front lurches forward onto fresh ground; lose one and you fall back to the reserve line. Draft an upgrade every trench you capture. Suspend and resume any run. Chase your best.

Grim, and quietly hilarious.

"Sarge says morale is high. Sarge is lying." The horror is real — but so is the gallows humour. This is the war as told by the men at the bottom of the ditch.

No microtransactions. No licensed anything. Just dirt, viscera, and the next whistle.