A loud “Boom!” breaks the eerie silence. In the distance, the crack and shriek of branches breaking and trunks snapping alert you that something dangerous is approaching. At first you think it might be a tree bending in the wind - a flash of brown bark and green leaves moving in the thicket - but then you notice the scowling mask and flailing arms. Bash Crasher might not be the sharpest tool in the shed, but his war club is the hardest hitting weapon in the woods.
Bash is the final boss in the Kerhonkson zone. Drawing on the power of nature, his mission is to protect the forest from … well, from you and everything you represent. At least that’s the way he sees it. Go ask the trees if technology is their friend, they’ll cough from the pollution and loudly reply “No, sir!” Do the creeping vines take kindly to robots? No, they do not.
Using brute force over brains has enabled Bash to rise to the top, but in the process he might have confused your intent.You are going to need to keep your wits about you if you hope to best this foe and avoid meeting the business end of “Bash Crasher”. Can you defeat Bash and make him see the errors of his ways? Can this giant forest spirit even become a friend in your quest? Can you help nature through the use of technology and seek a balanced alliance? Only time will tell.
The clicking and crackling and sound of ice cracking can be heard over the wind, as you peer into the distance, squinting to see through the dancing snow. There it is again: Click click click drush! Whatever’s making all that racket must be huge, but all you can make out are the vague shapes of trees, thin and slender. Wait, did that one just move? Before the cold froze Botley’s voice simulator, you heard him faintly say “Warning…warn---... I-s- ...I-spy...her,” his voice getting slower and quieter until he shut down.
Your heart races as the sound gets louder and nearer, and you pull you bear suit closer for comfort and for warmth against the biting wind. Suddenly Botley begins to whir and hum as his operating system boots back up. Picking up mid sentence, he shouts: “--ning, Ice Spider! Warning, Ice Spider!” Before you can react, a giant articulated spider leg slams down in front of you, and you are face to segmented eye with an abominable arachnid, whose giant white fangs lock at you and whose giant blue hue blocks the horizon.
As it stares down all you can think is “Do ice spiders weave ice webs? Are ice spiders poisonous? Maybe I should… run!”