Games published by M&D
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We provide a complete list of games published by this publisher.
Àoshù shíyàn shì
Àoshù shíyàn shì is an experiment-site adventure set within a sealed facility where a single roaming light tracks the player through interconnected test chambers. The world is arranged like a vertical research complex: corridors of stamped metal, observation rooms, and maintenance shafts that connect by lift rails and temporary color bridges. The facility’s purpose is to measure how different shades alter matter, stability, and perception, and every section of the complex is keyed to a distinct “reaction grade” that changes what the player can see and what the environment will allow to move.
Gameplay centers on exploration and problem-solving built around a color-state system. The player carries a handheld calibrator that can “bind” a limited set of color channels to nearby objects, turning monochrome surfaces into responsive materials. When a channel is active, grates conduct light into hidden seams, panels become spring-loaded or fragile, and locked mechanisms display their true timing windows. Switching states is immediate but constrained by charge—moving through the facility without planning rapidly drains the calibrator, forcing careful routing, checkpoint management, and repeated tests of the same area under different channel bindings.
Movement combines cautious platforming with environmental tools. Conduit lines act as jump guides when tinted, while transparent hazard fields only resolve when their associated channel is selected. Some puzzles require staging: the player can leave temporary color links on the floor or walls so that later actions—activating a lever, triggering a pressure plate, or redirecting a beam—arrive while the right reaction grade is still present. Combat is limited and restrained, focusing on avoiding hostile drones and procedural hazards rather than trading damage; neutralizing threats often means matching their “sensor band” with the correct color channel.
The visual style maintains a predominantly monochrome laboratory palette, punctuated by sharply defined color signals that emerge only when the player activates a channel. Typography is clean and technical, with HUD elements rendered as thin overlays and warning icons that brighten in sync with reaction changes. Lighting is high-contrast, using bloom and scanline-like texture on illuminated mechanisms. When multiple channels overlap, the display briefly layers colors in translucent bands, revealing routes and timing cues otherwise invisible in grayscale.
Audio reinforces the experimental theme through a restrained mix of synthesized tones and room-like ambience. Each color channel carries a distinct harmonic profile, shifting the calibrator’s audible feedback from muted hum to bright pulses, while doors, motors, and diagnostic alarms respond with matching timbre changes. As the player solves multi-stage sequences, the facility’s soundscape tightens into a rhythmic pattern that signals successful alignment. The overall experience emphasizes focused curiosity: progress feels earned by reading the environment’s reactive logic, balancing charge limits against exploration, and pushing deeper into the Àoshù test chambers until the final diagnostics complete.
Dragon Ball: Wǔdào Dàhuì
Dragon Ball: Wǔdào Dàhuì is a combat-focused action game set in a Dragon Ball tournament atmosphere, featuring fast-paced bouts across training grounds, rocky arenas, and planet-side arenas that reflect each fighter’s style. Players take control of iconic fighters as matches unfold in quick, readable exchanges. The core experience centers on striking, breaking guard, and managing distance while pushing toward knockdowns, knockouts, and tournament progression. Between fights, the game emphasizes preparation and adaptation, encouraging players to choose offense-heavy or control-oriented approaches depending on the opponent.
The gameplay uses a straightforward brawler structure supported by a Ki-based action system. Normal attacks chain into combos to rack up pressure, while defensive maneuvers help blunt incoming assaults and open windows for counterattacks. A built-in Ki gauge powers special moves, including charged techniques that alter tempo—slowing down the flow before unleashing decisive strikes, beam-like attacks, and high-impact bursts. Timing and spacing determine whether a special connects cleanly or gets interrupted, making moment-to-moment decisions as important as the initial combo setup.
Progression follows the tournament premise, with stages arranged as successive match series. Opponents vary in pace and aggression, requiring players to read patterns such as sudden rush-ins, repeated mid-range pressure, or defensive resets that punish overly committed sequences. Wins advance the player through rounds, and the game’s match structure is designed to keep momentum: even when combos falter, players can pivot into a new string by baiting swings, snapping in short attacks, or spending Ki to regain control of the fight.
Visually, “Wǔdào Dàhuì” presents character sprites and effects in a bold, high-contrast style aligned with the Monon Color presentation. Backgrounds use simplified silhouettes and stylized textures, while attacks are rendered with bright impact flares, motion streaks, and energy halos that flare against the stage. Power-ups and transformation-ready effects emphasize readability, with color shifts and glow intensity telegraphing when major moves are available. The overall look favors crisp outlines and energetic animation over dense environmental detail, keeping the focus on combat clarity.
Audio in the game supports the rush of each exchange, combining rhythmic action cues with punchy impact sounds and energetic energy bursts. Stage ambience stays restrained during tight exchanges, then swells during special move moments to reinforce timing. The soundtrack leans into driving themes suited to tournament pacing, while short callouts and combat sounds heighten immersion during critical hits and finishing blows. The player experience centers on repeated, controllable battles where mastering Ki timing, combo routes, and defensive openings is rewarded by smoother, faster wins.
Hēisè Xǐ Yáng Yáng Huī Tàiláng
Hēisè Xǐ Yáng Yáng Huī Tàiláng places players in a stylized urban undercurrent where daylight never fully arrives and every streetlamp leaves a lingering tint. The journey follows a solitary runner through a sequence of side-scrolling districts—narrow alleys, elevated service corridors, and abandoned transit platforms—each arranged around repeating loops of shadow, reflection, and signal flicker. The setting mixes everyday city geometry with dreamlike distortions, as if the environment is being drawn and erased frame by frame.
Gameplay centers on fast traversal and precise timing. Players control a single character whose movement blends platforming and evasive motion: short dashes for crossing hazards, wall-adjacent steps for lining up jumps, and momentum-based landings that can be redirected during late frames. Obstacles are tied to environmental “color rhythms,” such as rotating light panels, moving grates that snap to beat-like intervals, and conveyor shadows that change direction when the screen “breathes.” Progression hinges on chaining movement through these patterns while collecting dispersed color fragments that restore brief abilities.
Core mechanics revolve around color-state shifts that affect both visuals and physics. Activating a state alters how the world registers contact—black-tuned surfaces emphasize friction and traction, while grey-tuned zones reduce traction for long slides and sharper timing windows. Sunlit yellow states temporarily amplify jump height and highlight interactive edges, turning otherwise flat geometry into navigable routes. These states also modify puzzle elements, including switch sequences, lockboxes keyed to light direction, and line-of-sight gates that open only when the correct state is active.
The visual style is monochrome-heavy with restrained, high-contrast accents. Pixel-art sprites and backgrounds exhibit fine film grain, jagged lighting bloom, and hand-textured dithering, while the color-state system punctuates the screen with brief, saturated bursts of yellow and grey. Motion is crisp and readable: hazards animate with clear “telegraphs,” and environmental feedback—sparks, scanlines, and ripple shadows—communicates timing instantly.
Audio supports the same sense of controlled atmosphere. A chiptune-leaning soundtrack uses tight percussion patterns and sustained synth pads that swell during high-risk rhythm segments. Sound effects are punchy and minimal, built around crisp dashes, sharp landing pops, and glimmering pickups that vary by color state. The overall experience emphasizes flow: players move through each district like a practiced routine, adjusting state shifts on the fly to maintain speed, accuracy, and rhythm-driven discovery.
Iron Man: Yīngxióng Fǎnjí
Iron Man: Yīngxióng Fǎnjí is a mission-driven action game for players controlling an armored Iron Man suit through a chain of escalating battles across a sprawling industrial metropolis. The city’s districts—factory floors, steel bridges, maintenance tunnels, and rooftop corridors—form the stages in which hostile forces press their advantage and attempt to seize critical power nodes. Story events unfold between missions through brief in-engine sequences, positioning each new objective as a counterattack in which the player’s suit must break enemy lines, disrupt defenses, and reclaim strategic control.
Combat centers on fast, suit-based movement and ranged firepower. The flight system allows controlled hovering and short bursts between platforms, while the ground game emphasizes armored lunges, directional dodges, and rapid target switching. The repulsor blasters serve as the core weapon set, with heavier shots and charged volleys available during pressure moments. Enemy types are varied by behavior—shielded units that require sustained fire, drone swarms that punish static aiming, and larger armored threats that force the player to create openings before committing to close-quarters strikes with suit power. Checkpoints and objective markers keep momentum moving through each stage.
A signature mechanic ties visual presentation to gameplay feedback. With the “Monon Color” palette, most of the environment renders in subdued tones, while crucial interactive elements and threat indicators retain stronger color emphasis. Power pickups, mission targets, and hazard zones stand out in bright accents, helping the player track risk during hectic firefights and aerial crossings. Suit systems are upgraded between missions, improving energy capacity, weapon efficiency, and movement responsiveness. Difficulty scales by increasing enemy aggression and introducing more frequent defensive phases around power nodes.
The visual style leans into high-contrast silhouettes, sharp metallic reflections, and precise lighting cues that accentuate motion and impact. Particle effects accompany repulsor fire, jet thrusters, and explosive defeats, while damage states on enemies and terrain remain readable even amid cluttered stage geometry. Sound design supports the action with layered thruster whoosh effects, crisp weapon pops, and heavy impact sounds that sync with each repulsor blast’s recoil and stagger.
Audio and atmosphere combine a steel-futurist mood with energetic score swells during combat. Voice and callouts deliver mission updates at key moments, keeping the player aligned with objectives during rapid transitions. The overall experience emphasizes quick decision-making, aerial positioning, and sustained pressure—rewarding players who read the colored indicators, manage suit energy efficiently, and chain successive engagements into clean counterattacks across every district.
Jiāngshī lièrén
Monon Color’s Jiāngshī lièrén arrived in 2014 with the kind of premise that hooks instantly: a folklore-steeped showdown where wandering corpses refuse to stay buried. Instead of leaning on flashy violence, the creators built tension from silence, uneven lighting, and the odd rhythm of pursuit. The result feels like an atmospheric experiment, modest in budget yet ambitious in mood, using a restrained palette to make every clue matter. Even before you understand the rules, the tone suggests dread, turning a casual session into a small, deliberate investigation for players who enjoy puzzle logic more than combat sprees, and tighter attention.
Set in a night-cloaked region dotted with shuttered streets and temple shadows, the narrative circles around a hunted group forced to navigate between the living and the reanimated. Jiangshi lore supplies the backbone, but the game interprets it through practical stakes: each room seems safe until an unseen motion changes the odds. Brief fragments of dialogue appear like overheard whispers, while environmental storytelling substitutes for cutscenes. The atmosphere keeps asking who is protecting whom, and why certain paths ignite with hints while others drain confidence. A sense of guilt hangs over the chase, making victory feel earned rather than triumphant.
Mechanically, the gameplay rewards careful tempo. Movement and interaction are simple, yet timing decides whether you slip past a pursuer or trigger an alarm state. Stages often center on locating misused objects, then applying them to switch conditions in the scene, such as sealing gates or revealing hidden routes. A clever color-linked system gives the game its identity: hues act like signals, guiding decisions when grayscale would otherwise blur threats. If you rush, the world darkens faster; if you study, openings appear where shadows seemed solid. Difficulty ramps through smarter enemy pacing, not harsher stats, keeping focus on observation alone.
Visually, the title leans into stark contrasts: dim rooms glow with selective accents, and character silhouettes look sculpted from smoke. That approach extends to effects, where flickers convey danger before any damage occurs. Audio design stays restrained, relying on rattles, footsteps, and low hums that pulse when threats approach. Critics at the time praised the novelty of combining horror mood with logic-driven play, though its niche mechanics limited mainstream buzz. Still, for fans of eerie indie experiments, it remains a memorable snapshot of 2014 mobile game creativity, proving small teams can craft dread with elegance long after the credits roll.
Jījiǎ Xuànfēng Gédòu-dà
Jījiǎ Xuànfēng Gédòu-dà places players in a drifting industrial skyland where wind drives both industry and danger. Conveyor towers and rotating bridges hang beneath massive turbines, and sudden squalls carve shifting paths through foggy districts. The setting follows a direct route through these sectors, each stage presenting a different atmospheric hazard—gust walls, rotating fan gates, and unstable platforms that respond to the player’s movement.
Gameplay centers on fast, close-range combat with evasive movement timed to incoming pressure. The core loop combines advancing strikes, directional dodges, and brief counters that open enemies for follow-up combos. Attacks are chained through light and heavy inputs, with certain hits producing “afterglow” states that increase damage for a short window if the player continues the sequence. Between fights, mobility options expand to short leaps and momentum dashes, letting the player reposition around enemy shields, explosive barrels, and projectile patterns.
A distinctive mechanic governs visual feedback and power usage: the Monon Color system. Most environments render in controlled monochrome, while actions and interactive objects shift into specific accent colors when triggered. Executing a perfect dodge, breaking an opponent’s guard, or collecting wind fragments briefly “colors” the battlefield, strengthening the next action and altering how enemies react. This makes timing and route planning inseparable—players often maneuver toward wind fragments not only for survival, but to set up colored windows for high-damage strings.
The visual style uses crisp pixel art and bold silhouettes to keep motion readable in dense encounters. Parallax layers show drifting clouds and rotating machinery, while damage effects appear as clean bursts and streaks that align with the game’s wind-theme. Lighting remains high-contrast, and color accents stand out sharply against the monochrome base, emphasizing the moment-to-moment rhythm of combat and evasion.
Audio is built around tight percussion and mechanical textures, with synth bass lines that intensify during combo chains and colored-state actions. Enemies announce attacks with staccato cues that help players anticipate dodges, and stage ambience shifts with rotating turbines, distant sirens, and muffled gusts. The overall player experience emphasizes responsiveness and measured aggression: mastering defensive timing sustains offensive momentum, and each stage rewards players who keep combos alive while navigating hazards that react to the wind’s changing direction.
Kǎijiǎ yǒngshì dàluàn dòu
Kǎijiǎ yǒngshì dàluàn dòu thrusts players into a bright, unstable frontier city built atop scattered ruins of automated fortresses. The streets are split into shifting zones where signage, barriers, and power grids respond to color-coded control systems left behind by earlier factions. The game’s central cast moves through this environment as “armored heroes,” taking on short-range missions that escalate into large-scale breakouts. Each stage blends navigation, timed objective tasks, and open combat encounters, with the city’s chaos affecting both enemy behavior and the layout of hazardous routes.
Gameplay centers on fast traversal and reactive fighting. Players use a compact movement toolkit—quick dashes, wall-interactions, and guarded stance switching—to keep pace across compact arenas and vertical corridors. Combat favors close-quarters strikes and directional counters, while “color mode” functions as the game’s core mechanic: selecting one of several color channels alters the hero’s abilities and the properties of nearby objects. Depending on the chosen color, barriers can be phased, switches can be activated, enemies can be stunned or redirected, and certain obstacles can be softened into temporary platforms. Between waves, the player can chain actions—dash cancels, counter-impacts, and color-specific finishing moves—to build a momentum meter that increases damage and unlocks brief team-style “overdrive” bursts.
Levels are structured around objective beats that encourage repeated routes and quick improvisation. Early encounters introduce new color interactions through controlled puzzle segments, while later stages expand the system with layered hazards such as beam turrets, collapsing bridges, and enemy units that adapt after repeated exposure. Boss fights tend to resemble choreographed set-piece skirmishes, where only particular color channels allow safe access to weak points, forcing players to read attack patterns and time their channel changes precisely.
The visual style emphasizes saturated, graphic shapes and high-contrast silhouettes, producing a comic-like clarity even amid explosions and debris. Character armor and weapons are rendered with bold outlines, simplified materials, and animated glow effects that shift in step with the selected color channel. Environmental elements—panels, gates, and circuit motifs—display consistent color signaling, making route planning legible during hectic encounters.
Audio in Kǎijiǎ yǒngshì dàluàn dòu supports the game’s momentum with punchy percussion, upbeat synthesized melodies, and sharp sound effects that reflect every color activation and impact. When overdrive is triggered, the soundtrack accelerates and the mix spotlights rhythmic cues for dash timing, counter windows, and objective progress. For players, the experience is defined by constant decision-making: maintaining aggressive pressure while adapting color choices to both combat threats and shifting stage hazards.
Luójí pīn yī pīn
Luójí pīn yī pīn is a Monon Color title released in 2014 that turns phonetic spelling into an active puzzle. The player is presented with a sequence of syllable slots and must build correct pinyin entries step by step. Each stage focuses on matching a target pronunciation pattern by selecting letter tiles and tone markers, then confirming the completed syllable before the next prompt appears. Failed attempts do not end the run immediately, but they alter the order of the incoming prompts, forcing the player to reestablish a correct rhythm in construction.
Gameplay revolves around logic-like constraints rather than pure memorization. Letter tiles can be reused within a limited window, while some syllables allow only specific combinations due to the tone shape indicated at the stage header. Tone markers behave as modifiers: selecting the wrong tone changes the expected next state of the puzzle, requiring the player to revise earlier inputs or commit to the corrected path. As levels progress, more simultaneous targets appear on-screen, and the task shifts toward planning short sequences so the right tiles remain available when confirmations lock.
The setting is an abstract “phonetic field” rendered as a moving grid of soft panels. Targets appear as floating syllable outlines, often connected by thin lines that show allowable transitions between sounds. The environment reacts to performance: correct builds brighten their associated lanes and tighten the grid, while incorrect builds introduce jitter and dimmed routes, visually signaling which logical pathways are no longer optimal. Between rounds, the interface offers quick replays of the last few syllables so players can adjust their selection order without losing momentum.
Visually, Luójí pīn yī pīn emphasizes clean typographic forms and restrained color usage. Character glyphs and tone marks are drawn with crisp edges, while the tile system uses flat, high-contrast fills that make each component readable at a glance. Rather than complex animation, the game relies on snap transitions, brief fades, and underline effects to show timing and confirmation. The overall look stays uncluttered, keeping attention on syllable alignment, tone placement, and the evolving structure of the grid.
Audio is built around concise feedback and gentle musical pacing. When a syllable is completed correctly, a short tonal flourish plays, with the pitch reflecting the chosen tone and the letters snapping into place on the beat. Incorrect inputs trigger softer, muffled chimes accompanied by a brief “error” texture. Background music stays light and rhythmic, supporting quick selection without overpowering the player’s focus. The resulting experience is a steady practice of spelling and tone logic, where smooth execution and careful planning determine how cleanly the player can maintain a continuous chain through each stage.
Luòkè Wángguó dà Màoxiǎn
“Luòkè Wángguó dà Màoxiǎn” is an exploratory action-adventure set in the whimsical Kingdom of Luòkè, where roaming routes connect castle districts, forest lanes, and skyward ruins. Players guide a small band of heroes through a shifting series of kingdomside environments populated by friendly villagers, guarded landmarks, and roaming hazards. The overarching objective is to recover scattered royal relics and restore balance across the realm, progressing through stages that combine navigation, light combat, and environmental puzzles.
Gameplay centers on responsive movement through 2D platforming spaces, with jumps, short dashes, and ledge interactions designed to keep momentum. Encounters introduce a simple but flexible battle system: attacks build on timing, allowing directional strikes, quick evasions, and limited counter opportunities. Between fights, the game emphasizes problem-solving via switch panels, lock mechanisms, and collectible “seal fragments” that can be slotted into devices to reroute platforms or unlock new pathways. Many areas include optional side paths that reward players with supplies, cosmetic trinkets, and relic components used to strengthen equipment.
Progression is driven by a character upgrade loop tied to exploration. Relics collected across stages can be combined to enhance health, dash capacity, and elemental-style abilities that alter how certain hazards behave—such as creating temporary safe zones or enabling special interactions with breakable terrain. Checkpoints are positioned at key chokepoints, and stage completion records open additional challenges, including time-focused corridors and rearranged puzzle sections that encourage revisiting prior areas with improved tools.
The visual style is a bright, layered take on retro graphics, using crisp pixel sprites over textured, storybook-like backdrops. Colorful lighting sweeps across streets and ruins, while enemies and environmental objects maintain high silhouette clarity for quick readability. Animated details—swaying branches, fluttering flags, and scrolling cloud layers—contribute to a constant sense of motion, even in quieter puzzle segments.
Audio is built around upbeat chiptune melodies paired with distinctive percussion and occasional traditional-sounding instrument accents that color each region’s theme. Sound effects are sharp and expressive: dash whooshes, item chimes, and block-break impacts provide immediate feedback during platform sequences. Overall, the player experience balances guided stage objectives with freeform exploration, rewarding careful timing in traversal and thoughtful interaction with puzzle elements to piece together the kingdom’s restored order.
Luòkè wángguó-bīng zhī lán
Luòkè wángguó-bīng zhī lán places players in a frozen realm ruled by a shattered color-empire. The land is carved into floating districts of ice and glass, where mechanical ruins drift beneath aurora skies and roads periodically freeze mid-motion. The game’s world reacts to the player’s presence as palettes shift across stone, metal, and snowfields, marking safe routes, unstable surfaces, and hidden passages. Between levels, cold wind effects and distant sirens establish the atmosphere of a kingdom that has been locked in time.
Gameplay centers on side-scrolling traversal mixed with short, self-contained challenges. Players guide a compact adventurer through platforms, caverns, and narrow rooftops, using momentum jumps, timed dashes, and environmental tools such as temporary ice bridges and recoil launches. Core mechanics revolve around collecting “Monon” color fragments that allow the player to temporarily alter specific objects—repainting gates, activating color-sensitive panels, and redirecting energy rails. Many hazards also respond to color state: tinted spikes may become inert, while the wrong tint will “glaze” ice into slippery death traps.
Combat is handled in light, readable encounters rather than heavy brawling. Enemies patrol in predictable patterns, projecting beams or spawning from fracture points. The player can counter by freezing targets, breaking their shielded phases with color shifts, or using mirrored reflect surfaces to send hostile fire back. Boss fights emphasize rhythm and positioning: weak points appear only when the arena’s color channels align, and the battle frequently alternates between movement phases and quick interaction windows.
Visually, Luòkè wángguó-bīng zhī lán uses crisp monochrome base layers accented by selective color bursts. Ice reflects sharp highlights, while steel structures show scanline-like textures and segmented light indicators. When color fragments are triggered, whole sections of the stage briefly re-render in a vivid palette—cool blues and pale cyans dominating the “ice” theme—making routes and switches immediately legible. Animation remains tight and low-latency, with dust puffs, frost trails, and glow flickers reinforcing timing on jumps and dash recoveries.
The audio complements the chilly spectacle with synthetic chiptune melodies, layered arpeggios, and punchy percussion that drives movement through each zone. Enemy alerts and successful color activations are marked by clean, crystalline sound cues, while environmental effects—wind, crackling ice, and distant machine hum—stay in the background without obscuring gameplay cues. The overall player experience favors deliberate experimentation: shifting the correct hues often reveals alternate routes, faster exits, and additional fragments, encouraging repeat runs even after mastering the core platforming flow.
