The Boys

What this wing is

The Boys is not really about powers. It is about the invoice: who pays for the rescue, who signs off on the story afterwards, and what a person becomes when nothing in the world can stop them. Every good page about it has to be about the cost of something, or it is just a page about someone who can fly.

So every game here is played as Homelander, from the inside: his eyes, his priorities, and his running commentary on how well it is all going. And every game keeps a second account that he does not get to edit.

Golden Hour is the wing’s headline, and the rescue is the shortest thing in it. An aerial tram has stalled over a river at 18:46 with twenty-three people inside, and he could have them all on the east bank in 0.4 seconds. The whole evening is one decision: when to press GO. Vought’s HERO SHOT, out of a hundred, pays for the light, a network camera on the sun line, the size of the audience and the cabin’s fear, so it pays him to wait, and going at once scores nothing because nobody aired it. Meanwhile the phones on the bank multiply, a news van and a helicopter arrive, and one passenger is filming. The honest ledger counts the same wait in person-minutes of fear and prices every point of the shot in them; the game’s tests check that no point is ever free. Following the crowd’s chant to its full roar loses to reading the light on fifty-six of sixty measured evenings.

Collateral is a rescue Vought has scheduled for the cameras, flown at up to about Mach 1.46 over a city of eight hundred towers. His approval climbs with every sonic boom a street camera can frame. The honest grade is the damage divided by the people you reached. Flying flat out wins the first and loses the second: over sixty measured cities it out-polls careful flying in fifty-four.

The Smile puts you at the Vought podium for a hundred and two seconds while ten questions push his face toward a snarl or a smirk. Two lines run under the stage, what he says and what he is thinking while he says it. The score is how long the smile held, and the page says in so many words that a perfect performance is not a good answer.

Super Hearing is a daily deduction puzzle on one floor of Vought Tower. You have nine offices, four listens and one leak who always lies. Every floor is checked before you see it, so a careful listener can always find the leak inside four listens. The ledger lists every conversation he listened to as what it is, private and overheard. A wrong door walks an innocent person out of the building, and the game says so by name.

That is the whole wing today: four games, each with a new evening, city, conference or floor every day, the same one for everybody until midnight UTC. There is no list here of what comes next. A game arrives in this wing when it is finished and measured, and not before.

His voice, and the account he does not keep

Playing from his side means hearing him. In each game the italic line is what he is thinking, written in his first person: vain, impatient, sure of himself, and certain that whatever just went wrong was somebody else’s fault. Every one of those lines was written fresh for this wing, and none of them quotes or paraphrases the series or the comics.

The scoring never takes his side. Golden Hour prices every point of its HERO SHOT in person-minutes, and its share text never carries the shot without them. Collateral’s approval is shown beside the grade and is never part of it; the game’s own tests check that the grade does not move when approval does. The Smile prints a transcript of everything he said beside everything he was thinking. Super Hearing’s ledger never speaks in his voice at all. Where his version and the honest one disagree, each page shows you both, and says which one is the bill.

Nobody is drawn, and that is deliberate

There is no character model anywhere in this wing, and there never will be. Naming a work, its characters and its facts is what nominative fair use permits, and this corner uses that freely — each game is about seeing the world the way a particular character sees it, and it says so. Reproducing a character’s visual design is a different thing entirely, and an actor’s face is protected by a right of publicity that fair use does not reach at all.

So the view is always his own. In Golden Hour and Collateral the camera is his eyes, and in Golden Hour’s replays he is an overexposed white flare in a box labelled SUBJECT, which is all a camera pointed into the sun would catch. In The Smile it is his eye line from behind the podium, looking out at a room of press who are nobody in particular. In Super Hearing it is a floor plan seen through the walls, nine offices as outlines and a waveform, with job titles in place of people. It is the safer choice and, as it happens, the better game: a camera behind a figure turns a city into scenery, and a camera inside him turns a tower into something that arrives.

The house rules

Everything here follows the rest of the corner’s rules. No dialogue, no episode text, no stills, no artwork, no logos, no likenesses. Every word was written for this wing. Nothing needs an account, nothing you play leaves your machine, and every result is carried in its own link, so whoever opens it gets the same evening, city, conference or floor. Best scores and streaks are kept in this browser only. Each game page explains the whole game in plain text, so a browser that refuses a canvas or switches off scripts gets a written description rather than a broken grey box. Each game can be played from the keyboard, and each one honours a request for reduced motion.

Where the conversation is

The board has a The Boys room for the arguments these pages start, and the board’s forum is where scores go to be disputed. Post your grade and let somebody explain that they reached nine people and only took the windows out of a car park.

This is fan-made, and unofficial

This is a hub of unofficial fan pages for the television series The Boys and the comic series it is based on, naming them under nominative fair use. It is a free, unofficial fan tribute, made for fun. It is not affiliated with, endorsed by, or connected to Amazon MGM Studios, Sony Pictures Television, Point Grey Pictures, Garth Ennis, Darick Robertson and their publishers, or any official rights holder of The Boys.

Every word in this wing was written fresh for it, his thoughts included. No dialogue, script text, scene, panel, still, logo or artwork from any series is reproduced anywhere in it, no character is depicted, and nothing here imitates an official mark. Iron Realms — the strategy game the rest of this site is about — is an original fantasy world with its own map, its own houses and its own art, and has no connection to the world of The Boys.

The rest of the Fan Zone

Every other fan section is on the Fan Zone front door, and the guild and team name tools are in the community toolkit.