This site contains a chibi zombie monster cartoon deathcore band.
Side effects include headbanging, spontaneous BLEGH!ing, and death at our shows.
by entering you forfeit your brains. all of them. yes even that one.
THE MOST TALENTED MUSICIANS ON THE PLANET
everyone dies at our shows. you will too. bring a helmet.
the worst lyrics ever invented, played flawlessly. you're welcome, and also we're sorry, and also no we're not.
★ PRE-SAVE "KILL" EVERYWHERE
19 tracks of pure musical violence. parenting not included.
the next one. currently being written in blood and crayon.
click a cover to play it here. click any track name above to pre-save it everywhere fine music is sold.
five monsters. zero morals. one shared attorney on retainer. (he's also a monster. billable hours measured in souls.)
vocals / professional brain enjoyer
The worst lyricist in human history and proud of it. Green, gorgeous, and grievously wounded, Becky writes exclusively about partying, drugs, fighting cops, and touring. Her trucker hat says something different every show —
no instrument. doesn't need one. the mic is technically a weapon. legally.
lead guitar / all-white Gibson Flying V
1,800 years old but will tell you — with a straight, horrifying face — that she's only 1,200. The band brings it up constantly. Elvira body, Elvira dress, Elvira hair, face like a haunted basement. Shreds like the rent is due and the rent is your blood.
reflection: no. mercy: also no.
guitar / wine-red Gibson SG / jorts enthusiast
A werewolf in jorts and giant 80s sunglasses. Yes, his legal name is Wolfgang Van Halen (no relation). The "(no relation)" is part of the last name. It's on his driver's license.
The only member without Nike Dunks, because they don't make Dunks shaped like paws. It bums him out every single day and the band will NOT stop bringing it up.
do NOT ask how he drives the tour bus with paws. he's sensitive.
bass / neon green & neon orange Rickenbacker
A 3,000-year-old mummy with a smoking hot body and the single most horrifying decomposed face you have ever seen. Glowing green cursed eyes. Slaps bass like the pharaohs owed her money. They did. She collected.
3,000 years old and STILL the hottest thing in the graveyard.
drums / cloak says FKTU / definitely not three raccoons
A wraith. A grim reaper. Sleeveless robe, enormous bodybuilder arms, and a raccoon tail that juuust barely pokes out of the cloak. The band's working theory is that he's three raccoons stacked on each other's shoulders smoking meth under a robe.
Nobody has checked. Raccoons are fucking crazy. They will fuck you up. Especially on meth. He plays drums just fine, so nobody's asking him shit.
how does a wraith hold drumsticks? don't ask him either. nobody's asking him ANYTHING.
live footage. several audience members were harmed. several more will be.
hover to play. click for sound. you were warned.
$100
Send us your photos. We train your beautiful face into the machine. You become a character in the next micro-EP coloring book. Then, at the very end of the episode, we kill you off in a horrifically gruesome way and carve your name onto the Wall of Maim forever.
Your name. Your band. Your business. Your MLM. We do not care. You paid $100, we'll put whatever the fuck you want.
GET MAIMED — $100new names added every episode, forever and ever. the wall only grows. like the body count.
t-shirts, hoodies, stickers, and tote bags synced live from our official printify store.
a subscription for people with great taste and no survival instinct.
A new micro-EP: 2–3 songs of weaponized awfulness, plus the physical coloring book mailed straight to your door. Color cover, black-and-white guts — stay in the lines or don't, we're monsters not cops.
The digital edition is the full-color version of every page. The mail edition is for coloring. Collect both. Ruin both. Frame both. We don't judge. (We absolutely judge.)
Every issue's inside back cover carries the Wall of Maim. Permanent. Recurring. Immortal. Your name, in print, next to a bunch of other idiots who also paid $100 to die horribly.
