đ A kitchen held together by bolts and optimism
Turn on the lights and the diner blinks awake: chrome counters, a soda machine that sighs, and a wall of mysterious panels tied together with pipes, gears, and way too many screws. Unscrewing the Bolts is exactly what it sounds likeâexcept the screws are keeping mayo nozzles, pickle chutes, and sizzling griddles in polite formation. One twist too many, and hello, mustard fountain. Done right, you turn a rattly food factory into a satisfying chain of clicks, drips, sizzles, and a plate sliding to the pass like a magic trick. Itâs a Food Puzzle Game with the energy of a speed-cook and the brain of a mechanical hobbyist. You donât just serve burgers; you negotiate with physics.
𧰠Twist, test, taste: the sacred loop
Every level is a puzzle sandwich. You start with a diagram that pretends to be helpfulâpipes labeled with doodled condiments, springs that bounce like hyperactive spaghetti, and bolts marked A through âplease donât.â Your job is to loosen, tighten, or fully remove select screws so sauce lines reroute, conveyor plates align, and gravity does the plating. Twist one bolt, the ketchup stream pivots left; twist another and the bun shelf tilts just enough to nudge bread under a rain of sesame. Then you press the big silver button. If the machine clears? You serve with smugness. If not, you mop up chipotle from the ceiling and try again, secretly thrilled.
𼍠Sauces behave like gossipâfast, messy, everywhere
Ketchup flows thick and forgiving, decent for long arcs. Mustard is tangier and runs faster, perfect for speed lines but allergic to tight turns. Mayo is heavy; it plops. Barbecue clings to surfaces and reroutes easily off angled panels if you give it a polite slope. The wild card is liquid cheese. It obeys physics when observed and chaos when you blink. Youâll learn to set micro-inclines with bolt half-turns, steering cheddar like a mellow river. The joy is sculpting paths: a quarter twist here for a slow drip onto the patty, a snug-tight there to stiffen a plate so the tomato doesnât surf away like a diva on vacation.
đŠ Bolts are verbs, not decorations
Each screw changes a rule. Chrome bolts adjust anglesâthe tiniest rotation turns a hopeless spill into a perfect zigzag drizzle. Brass bolts shift timing on conveyor belts; loosen one and your bun waits a beat longer before the griddle kisses it. Black bolts lock moving parts; remove them and a flap starts dancing, redirecting onions into the correct chute instead of onto the floor where the health inspector lives in your imagination. Thereâs also the trickster: spring bolts that add bounce to trays. Too springy and food becomes fireworks. Just right, and a pickle hops the last inch into the sandwich like a trained athlete with brine.
đł Levels that escalate from diner calm to festival chaos
The tutorial breakfast is eggs-on-rails: a gentle tilt, a friendly toast rack, and a single bolt you loosen until the yolk slides into pan-central like a sun clock finding noon. Five levels later, youâre juggling burger builds with double sauces, a grill that lists to port unless you balance it, and a tomato slicer that keeps forgetting which way is respectable. By midgame, festival booths join the fun: a nacho waterfall that requires synchronized bolts so chips shingle before queso hits, a bubble tea stand where you must time boba valves with bolt tension, and a dessert cart launching churros into cinnamon sugar like a tasteful cannon.
đ§ Micro-tech from a greasy-fingertip genius
Quarter turns are your paintbrush; half turns are your bulldozer. Tighten before you loosen elsewhereâbolts share stress like gossipy neighbors, and an overzealous twist can throw three panels out of whack. If sauce is overshooting, raise the departure angle by a hair and soften the landing tray with a spring bolt; the extra dwell time gives clingy condiments somewhere to be. For stacks, aim to plate heavy items first: patty, then cheese, then vegetables. A subtle right-hand tilt on the final tray prevents slippery tomato slides. And if fries keep ricocheting, add micro-bounce with a quarter spring twist at the lipâboing with purpose, not chaos.
đ§
Ingredients with personalities you will judge
Lettuce acts like a parachute. It catches drafts from fans or hot griddle updrafts; youâll learn to shield it with an aluminum flap so it flutters into place instead of achieving liftoff. Tomatoes are coinsâland them flat, or they roll like theyâve got errands. Onions scatter unless you corral them with a two-bolt funnel that narrows at the last second. Pickles cling to mayo, which is both useful and dramatic. Patties stay respectful if the griddleâs tilt is under four degrees; after that, itâs a beef luge. Eggs are delicate but honest: a slow slope plus a kiss of heat, and they settle sunny-side up like a polite sunrise.
⥠Timers, toggles, and the sound of a good idea
Some panels arenât satisfied with static angles. Youâll wire bolt-linked toggles to gates that open for exactly half a second, letting a measured squirt of sriracha cross an intersection without colliding with a ketchup commuter train. Timers tickâone-two-clickâand you release the bun clamp, align the catch tray, lock a brace, then ride the big red GO like a rollercoaster lever. The sound design is your coach: a crisp click when a bolt hits sweet spot, a soft squeal when a spring is over-tightened, a buzzy wobble that warns âthis tray will betray you at runtime.â Listen and youâll preempt disasters with smug grace.
đŠ Biomes: from chrome counters to carnival fire
Classic Diner is clean, predictable, very âbreakfast television.â Food Truck Alley adds potholes and engine vibrations; bolt choices must compensate for wobble or your stack leans like it has opinions. Factory Floor is noisy and glorious: overhead conveyors, sauce vats on cranes, and bolt-controlled magnets that swing pans like pendulums across a battlefield of snacks. Finally, Midnight Carnival glows neon and hums with crowd noise. Cotton candy pipes swirl in pastel gravitational lies. Youâll route churro dough through a spiral bolt array that forms perfect curlsâsatisfying like popping bubble wrap, but sweeter.
đŠâđł Boss plates you didnât expect to fight
No fistfights, just culinary arenas. The Triple-Decker Dare challenges your structural judgment: three patties, two cheeses, and a tower of toppings that will collapse if you ignore counter-tilt. The Volcano Nacho asks for a molten queso core, chips angled like tectonic plates, and salsa vents that bloom without drowning the whole mountain. The Sundae Whirlwind spins bowls on a lazy Susan while chocolate and caramel compete to flood; youâll time bolted gates to stripe layers like a dessert zebra. Beat these and the kitchen applauds with that particular diner cheer: forks tapping plates in approval.
đŻ Challenges that haunt your sleep (in a fun way)
Gold objectives reward finesse: zero spills, perfect sauce ratios, five-second clear, âno handsâ (no tweaks during the run), or the devilish âone-bolt finish,â where you must solve using a single screw adjustment that acts like a keystone. Daily plates remix ingredient physics: heavy mayo day, hyper jelly tomato day, wind from the left like the door is cursed day. Leaderboards track time and cleanliness score; watching a friendâs replay teaches new bolt arcs youâll absolutely copy and then pretend were original.
đľ Sizzle, clack, ah-ha
Audio sells success. Sizzles crescendo as patties hit just-right heat. A click at the exact halfway tension on a bolt is a tiny âyes.â Sauces plop on beat when trajectories are correct; off-beat plops mean re-angle. The pass bell rings and thereâs your dopamine: a perfect plate sliding into view, tidy as a diagram, delicious as a victory lap. Headphones turn you into a bolt whisperer; youâll swear you can hear when a panel wants a quarter turn.
⨠Readability that respects speed and flavor
Warm hues tag hazardsâopen flames, fast mustards, spinning slicers. Cool tints label safe catch zones and final plates. Shadows sit soft and purposeful, helping depth without hiding tells. The HUD hugs the edges with small icons for bolt types, a cleanliness meter, and a timeline that shows the key beats in your contraption run. Particlesâsesame sparks, sugar dust, cheese drizzleâappear, delight, and vanish before they hide your next cue.
đ ď¸ Accessibility that keeps the flavor, trims the fuss
Toggle color-safe outlines for sauces, enable a âmagnetic stopâ that nudges bolts onto common angles without stealing agency, and widen timing windows in Story for younger chefs. Reduced motion is available for wobbly panels; screen shake stays at âcomic, not chaotic.â None of this nerfs the puzzles; it just invites more hands to the line.
đŹ Small wisdom from a short-order bolt baron
If youâre stuck, tighten everything back to neutral and watch the dry run. Youâll see where gravity wants to help. Sauce before solids when possible; liquids are easier to route around a petulant tomato than the other way around. Quarter turns beat full turns nine times out of ten. Build one path at a timeâbun lane first, protein second, chaos third. And remember: a messy success still sells, but a tidy plate lives rent-free in your head all week.
đ Why it belongs on Kiz10
Instant load, crisp input, and one-button resets mean experimentation feels like play, not homework. Sessions can be tinyâfix two bolts, nail a breakfast sandwichâor sprawling, where you chase a âno spill, under ten secondsâ run until the neon sign hums lullabies. Cloud saves remember gold medals, favorite contraptions, and the angle that finally made the queso behave.
đ The plate youâll screenshot
Final challenge of the night. Three bolts, one spring, sauces queued like a band at soundcheck. You breathe, twist a quarter on the catch tray, snug the mustard gate, loosen the bun ramp by a whisper. GO. Ketchup paints a clean arc, cheese ribbons right on cue, lettuce settles like a green sigh. The patty lands dead center, the tomato doesnât escape, and the final bun slides home with a polite thup. Bell rings. No spills. Timer glows gold. Unscrewing the Bolts on Kiz10 turns knobs, screws, and silly sauces into a puzzle symphonyâpart engineering, part cooking show, all satisfaction.
Obbi Restaurant
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