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AntWar.io is a fun multiplayer IO game where you play as an ant. Defend your colony and defeat your enemies. Build your ant empire and work with other players to win. AntWar is the best ants .io game available for free, better than all other online ant games!
Forage for food, hunt for bugs and insects, defend your queen, and grow your colony. AntWar.io is inspired a bit by other ant games, but a lot of the inspiration comes from ants in real life. Ant wars, aphid farming, etc. are all something ants do naturally!
If you are interested in learning more about ants or ant keeping check out r/antkeeping on Reddit.
AntWar.io is owned and developed by Bombsight Games. We can be contacted there or by emailing .
Feel free to contact us with ideas you may have!
She inserted the Thumbstick into the PSC’s second USB port. The tiny LED on the Pico glowed red. She then plugged the PSC’s micro-USB power cord into a modified battery pack. On her laptop, she launched the terminal.
And Mira had built something to plug in.
But Mira wasn’t watching the screen. She was watching her packet sniffer.
She launched the second script—the resonator trigger. The Pico’s LED shifted from red to pulsing white. The copper coil began to hum. For a moment, the PSC’s fan spun up to a frantic whine, then stopped. The HDMI signal died. The carousel froze on a pixelated image of Cloud Strife. autobleem 0.9.0 download
Mira stared at the message. The forum post had said "verified archive." Verified by whom? And MeneerBeer had been dead for twenty years… hadn't he?
Mira disconnected the PSC. The Thumbstick was warm, almost too hot to touch. She pulled the micro-USB cord, and the little grey console went dead.
$ lsusb – The Thumbstick appeared as "SanDisk Cruzer Blade." She inserted the Thumbstick into the PSC’s second USB port
She packed it into a Faraday bag, then into a nondescript lunchbox. She’d drop it into a molten metal recycler on her way to the rendezvous. The job was done.
It shouldn’t have been possible.
But as she stood up, her laptop chimed. A message from an unknown sender, routed through twelve onion nodes. The subject line: On her laptop, she launched the terminal
Mira’s soldering iron hissed as it touched the last pin of the USB drive’s controller. The smell of rosin and ozone filled her cramped apartment. Outside, the neon-drenched rain of Neo-Tokyo’s lower sectors fell in endless sheets, but inside, she was building a ghost.
Payload injected. The kernel exploit hooked. The buffer overflow triggered.
On her flickering monitor, a forum post from 2049—barely a whisper in the modern data-stream—read:
For most people, "Autobleem" was a forgotten word, a piece of digital archaeology from the early 21st century. It was a softmod, a tiny piece of software that tricked a Sony PlayStation Classic—a failed mini-console from the 2010s—into running backups, emulators, and custom kernels. In 2049, the PSC was a relic, its plastic yellowed, its HDMI port obsolete. But Mira didn’t care about games.
She cared about the kernel.