intro to the definitive and mathematically provable adventure game tier list
Sits sour on the back edges of your tongue like the sip confirming your oat milk has gone off.
Full-bodied and earthy with a hint of desert salt, and a metallic finish unexpected but not wholly unwelcome.
A robust flavor you can’t quite place. It’s seawater. It’s a river stone. It’s evergreen sap. It’s the snaps of a 9-volt battery.
A complex flavor somewhere between port and crude oil, but with top notes of fruit and whimsy.
Sharp, rich, and tannic; have it decanted with a plate of crawfish and a disemboweled chicken.
Grippy. Cloying. Precocious. But, beneath that, warming. Nostalgic. Like rewatching a mediocre film you adored as a child.
Not sweet, not sour, not bitter; no fruit, no herb, no earth. It is too familiar to describe. It tastes like home.
Exquisite as soon as it touches the lips. But pace yourself: a lingering astringency grows with every sip.
Grape juice. It’s serving Manischewitz, it’s serving vaudeville, baby.
Sweet succor. An old favorite you thought was discontinued. Fresh and bracing.
A bouquet of [SEGMENTATION FAULT: CORE DUMPED]
Deep and complex. Layers of chocolate and tobacco give way to the sharp, metallic tang of conspiracy. Guest Reviewer: Pam of Cannot Be Tamed
Tastes like home but bottle-shocked.
An excellent vintage found in a cobwebbed trunk in your great-uncle’s attic. Robust, oaky, and too long unsung.
A fruity blend aged past the point of drinkability. Use it when next you need to burn off a wart.
What was once indescribable is now unnameable. You will experience nothing else like it.
For the palette that can’t discern wine from cooking sherry.
Burns the sinuses and waters the eyes, like a soup spoon’s worth of stoneground mustard. You have to respect the audacity.
One sip with transport you somewhere you’ve never been but always known. “Did the sip taste good?” Does it matter?
Blood red and barrel-aged. Revives the sanguine soul. Touches the lips like a first kiss, or a last breath.
A weight in the stomach and a burning around the eyes reminds you that one day you will die. Gasp. Swallow. Pour another.
Crisp and smooth with a subtle yet surprising finish. Something to offer beginners and connoisseurs alike.
Smells of a gentle breeze carrying violet dreams. Inviting you to savor each sip as it slits your tongue with the tastes of failed experiments from Uncle Frank's garage.
Like drinking moonlight. Swallowing mist. Flavorless but for the aftertaste that lingers after the bottle is drained.
A lively tang smothered by a rude and bitter finish. For a brief moment, the senses were ignited.
A dry Malbec with a top of smoke, the earthy tang of blackberry, and a slight finish of pepper.
Perhaps exclusively for the faint of heart. If it’s not to your liking, you may choose to have never ordered it at all.
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