SIDE OUT
Last side standing: everyone defends their own wall, and the dead don't leave: they sabotage the survivors. Nothing on this shelf generates betrayal faster, which is why it's currently everywhere.
Friendslop is the genre the group chat invented: chaotic co-op games where winning is optional and watching your friends fail is the whole point. It's the Lethal Company, Peak and R.E.P.O. lineage: janky on purpose, funnier with every extra player, and remembered for the disasters, never the victories.
Last side standing: everyone defends their own wall, and the dead don't leave: they sabotage the survivors. Nothing on this shelf generates betrayal faster, which is why it's currently everywhere.
Yippee-ki-yay, root vegetable: you're all auto-firing potatoes against waves of very angry veg, Brotato-style. The horde doesn't care whose build was supposed to carry. When the salad closes in, every downed spud is officially the team's fault.
Hold a volcanic caldera until dawn. The ash-spirit horde hunts whoever's closest, so shooting the swarm off your friend's back is the actual game, and when you drop, a teammate standing over you brings you back. Eventually.
Turn-based artillery, one room per battlefield, last tank standing. Lob a shell, miss by a pixel, and watch your friend snipe you from the crater you just dug for them.
An endless neon horde shooter on a floor that deforms under every shot. Thousands of bodies, eight weapons, and a mercury arena that ripples where you fight. Last pilot standing.
Prop hunt in a Victorian glasshouse. Take the shape of something in the room, go and stand with its kind, and hold still while the warden hunts you.
Co-op arena shooter in a fully destructible, fully simulated world.
Eleven thousand metres down, in a little yellow submarine. The only light is what you brought — and what lives here.
Grab your friends and dive into an endless dungeon that gets more dangerous every floor.
One half-baked idea, one prompt, and this tile has your name on it.
Build one →The worst part of every friendslop night on Steam is the hour before it: the 15GB download, the “wait, do you all own it?”, the one friend whose laptop starts wheezing at the menu. antics skips the ritual. Every game here runs in the browser. You drop a link in the group chat, they click it, and everyone's standing in the same room about ten seconds later. No install, no launcher, no account, phone or laptop. A free room holds 8 of you, which is exactly the number at which any plan stops surviving contact with your friends.
Every game in the catalogue with the right energy, every one a link away. There's plenty more where these came from: browse everything → Only one friend showed up? That's a 2 player games night.
Chaotic co-op games where the fun is watching your friends fail: the Lethal Company energy, minus the polish, on purpose. If the clip you save is a teammate's death, it's friendslop.
Yes. Every game here is free, in the browser: no download, no account, and joining is clicking a link. Rooms hold 8 players without anyone signing up; sign in and they grow to 16, but nobody in the group chat has to.
That's how all of these got here. Describe a dumb idea to an AI (“flappy bird, but battle royale”) and a few minutes later antics hands back a link your friends can ruin. See how it works →
Pick a game and drop the link, or make the one the group chat deserves and drop that instead. Either way, somebody's clip is getting saved tonight.