Clown is Hungry is a grotesque, surreal survival horror game set inside the decaying ruins of a children’s party restaurant that has long since closed its doors to the public—but not to the thing that still lives inside. The facility once echoed with laughter, confetti, and colorful mascots, but now, its cracked halls are filled with eerie silence, flickering neon signs, and the stench of something rotten that has never left. As the last employee sent to “clean up” before demolition, you soon discover you are not alone—and the clown is still hungry.
The core mechanic revolves around maintaining the facility’s failing entertainment systems. Arcade cabinets, stage speakers, party room record players—these machines no longer entertain, but they *protect*. When the music is playing, the clown sleeps. When the sound dies, he hunts. You must constantly move through the abandoned complex, scavenging batteries, rewiring sound systems, and activating broken animatronics to keep the noise going. But every room you enter brings new risks—some mechanical, some much worse.
Clown is not a simple stalker. He studies you. Each attempt to survive teaches him something new—where you like to hide, how long you wait before moving, and which noises you rely on most. As nights pass, he begins to adapt, cutting off power preemptively or using discarded mascot heads to mislead your attention. His design is horrifying: a childlike oversized body with sagging foam skin, rusted metal joints, and a mouth that tears wider every time he eats.
Hidden throughout the facility are journals, blueprints, and old VHS tapes that unravel the disturbing truth of the clown’s origin. Was he ever just an animatronic? Or something born from all the fear left behind in this place? Multiple endings reward either your cunning, your curiosity, or your complete descent into madness. You can choose to face the clown, become part of his show, or try to burn the restaurant down—with varying consequences.
Clown is Hungry is not just about fear—it’s about endurance, unpredictability, and slowly unraveling madness. The longer you play, the more the game bends around you. Laughter may have died in this place long ago—but the clown never did.