Backstory

There were warnings. There were always warnings — the circles in the dirt, the pamphlets, the chant that got louder every night behind the treeline. The farm read them all and filed them under: probably nothing. Then the sky did something it had never done before, and the ground did something worse, and The Cluckening was here. It is the chicken god. It is here. It is enormous.

It does not attack the way other chickens attack. It does not need to. It simply exists, at 20 times the HP of anything the farm has ever measured, and the air around it hums with devotion. Disciples rise at its command — summoned from the earth, from the flock, from anywhere there is a chicken willing to believe — and they defend it with the fervour of creatures who have finally met their answer. Your towers hit it. It notices. That is the scariest part: it notices, and it keeps coming.

It wants the castle rezoned as a nesting site. Not destroyed. Not conquered. Rezoned — the god has paperwork, and the paperwork has been signed, and the only signature missing is yours, which it intends to collect. Every manual, every veteran, every chicken who has seen the god and survived agrees on the only strategy that has ever worked: focus everything on it. Every egg. Every tower. Every nuke. The Cluckening does not lose to cleverness. It loses only to absolutely everything you have, all at once.