Tin Coffins

You are Talon-22, a combat clone printed this shift, and twenty-one of you didn't come home. A cel-shaded mech roguelite shooter: short, lethal squad battles through procedurally generated war-torn cities, against enemy squads that flank, suppress and hold the line. Die, and the next you deploys.

WAKE PROTOCOL — LINE TALON, ITERATION 22.

You are a combat clone. Your body was printed this shift. The number on your hull is not a callsign. It is a version.

Tin Coffins is a cel-shaded third-person mech roguelite. You pilot a four-meter armored mech, infantry in someone else's war, through short, lethal missions in procedurally generated, war-torn cities, with three wingmates at your back. When you die, the war doesn't rewind. The front line keeps what you won and lost, the casualty board takes your name, and the next iteration of you wakes up to keep fighting.

A soldier in a suit, not a god

Cover, sightlines and reload windows decide fights. Peek, fire, displace. Mechs die in seconds under sustained fire, and so do you.
Grounded movement: walk, sprint, crouch, lean and a committed dive-roll, all on one stamina pool. No boost, no flight.
Per-limb damage. Lose an arm or your head and keep fighting; lose your torso or your legs and you go down.
Friendly fire is real. Your wingmates check their line of fire before they shoot. Do the same.

Enemies that fight as squads

Every enemy squad has a commander handing out roles (anchor, flank, suppress, overwatch, retreat) to pilots who decide for themselves when to peek, push, reload and fall back.
They only shoot at you when they can see you. Pop smoke and they lose you; break line of sight and they search where you were.
Rookies lose their nerve under fire and drop off comms. Veterans hold the order.
After every sortie, open the Tactical Replay: scrub through the fight and see what each enemy pilot knew about you against where you really were, and what their commander ordered.

Command a squad

Three wingmates fly with you. Ping a target or a position, or open the comms radial to tag, flank left or right, set overwatch, call them to follow or pull them out. They answer on the radio and move.

A war in motion

Purge, sabotage, extraction, seize and defense missions, and multi-stage operations that chain them, with dropship insertions, reinforcement drops and a tank that has to be taken from behind.
Every operation is fought in its own procedurally generated city: dense blocks, boulevards and ruins, by day, at dusk, at night or under a toxic haze. The AI reads cover from the same geometry you do.
A three-act campaign front that your sorties push forward or lose, with a finale operation for each act, and a last stand when the line collapses.
Roguelite runs: four sorties, one life, no respawns. The salvage you bank buys weapons that outlast you, nine in all, from autocannons and a marksman rifle to guided missiles, siege rockets and smoke walls, on one primary and two shoulder hardpoints.
Eleven citations to earn, for flying well enough that Command takes notes.

Listen to yourself

The iterations before you learned to leave things in the world, off the route, where the scrub can't reach: dead drops where earlier clones fell, and transmissions on a channel Command doesn't log. The messages in your journal are from you. Follow them if you want to know why you keep waking up.