Wall Street Titan lets you be a giant deathbot fighting bankers

The 99% has 100% of the massive robots.

Wall Street Titan (iPhone/iPad, 69p) lets you play as a robot stomping the fat cats who caused the global financial crisis and defending Occupy Wall Street.

The, er, plot is that the bankers have built a gigantic robot to clear out the occupiers, but then Anonymous hacks the robot and changes its mission. Much crushing and explosions ensue.

As for the game itself, it's a fun tube/toilet distraction (yes that is how I categorise games). Tap on the "suits", avoid the protestors, and pick up power-ups like pepper spray and shields. Any suits who escape call cops, and eventually tanks, who show up and start shooting back.

As everything piles up, it gets harder and harder to keep the protestors alive, and eventually all you care about is keeping your own giant deathbot from being taken down. All things must end, though, and when you do get blown up, stars are awarded for objectives which you've completed. Then you start all over again.

It's got Facebook integration (which doesn't seem to add that much) and three stages in all. Eventually, you end up stomping the White House. Which is probably worth 69p.

A screenshot from Wall Street Titan.

Alex Hern is a technology reporter for the Guardian. He was formerly staff writer at the New Statesman. You should follow Alex on Twitter.

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“Minoan pendant”: a new poem by Mark Granier

“Yes – I press my nose / to the pleasantly warm glass – / it’s a copy of one I saw / cased in the cool museum”

Yes – I press my nose
to the pleasantly warm glass –
it’s a copy of one I saw
cased in the cool museum –
gold beaten to honey, a grainy
oval dollop, flanked by two
slim symmetrical bees –

garland for a civilisation’s
rise and collapse, eye-dropped
five thousand years: a flash
of evening sun on a windscreen
or wing mirror – Heraklion’s
scooter-life buzzing and humming –

as I step in to browse, become
mesmerised by the warm
dark eyes of the woman
who gives her spiel and moves
softly and with such grace,
that, after leaving, I hesitate

a moment on the pavement
then re-enter with a question
I know not to ask, but ask
anyway, to hear her voice
soften even more as she smiles
and shakes her hair – no.

Mark Granier is an Irish poet and photographer. He is the author of four collections of poetry, most recently Haunt (Salmon).

This article first appeared in the 16 June 2016 issue of the New Statesman, Britain on the brink