DEMO IT!

CONGRATULATIONS. Your local Municipal Demolition Authority (population: you) has approved your request to destroy things using the least appropriate tool available for the job.

Need to remove a garden shed? Here’s a rocket launcher. Overkill? There is no such thing as overkill. There is only "insufficient budget for more explosives," and frankly, that’s a you problem.

The catch: the neighbors are watching. The building next door is not part of this transaction. Every window you shatter, every fence you launch into orbit, every unrelated structure you turn into modern art — that’s coming out of your score. Precision matters. Precision, when wielded by someone holding a wrecking ball the size of a small moon, is a skill you will now be forced to develop.

THE PROCESS, AS DOCUMENTED BY OUR LEGAL TEAM (there is no legal team):

• ASSESS. Look at the building. Locate the load-bearing walls. Pretend you know what that means.

• DEPLOY. Select from a curated arsenal of tools no structural engineer has ever signed off on.

• REGRET NOTHING. Physics takes it from here. You don’t get to take it back.

• BE JUDGED. A star rating descends from the heavens to inform you exactly how much collateral damage you are personally responsible for.

• DO IT AGAIN. One button. No cooldown on ambition.

THREE APPROVED DEMOLITION METHODS:

• IMPLODE — the building goes down, straight into its own footprint, like it’s ashamed of itself.

• CONTAIN — the building goes down inside the cordon. All of it. The cordon is not a suggestion.

• SPARE-A-WING — surgically remove exactly one part of a building, and leave the rest standing there, confused.

THE TOOLSHED (all tools pre-approved by nobody):
Precision charges, for when you want to pretend you’re a professional. A rocket launcher, for when you don’t. A wrecking ball with genuine, physical momentum, because gravity should also suffer for your choices. And two (2) additional tools that we are legally discouraged from describing in detail. One of them is in orbit.

No two collapses fall the same way. Every run is a new act of very calculated chaos. Go get a three-star rating. Or don’t, and let the neighborhood deal with the consequences.