If a worm had to choose between dirt and pizza, it would pick pizza without hesitation. Pizza Worm is a straightforward adventure from 1994 where a worm guided by a whistle crawls across the screen trying to eat as much pizza as possible without harming its long, finely-tuned body. Nothing complicated, nothing revolutionary — just pure, unadulterated arcade action.

You move the worm through a two-dimensional world filled with scattered food and obstacles. Your goal is simple: collect pizza, avoid yourself, and rack up points before time runs out. The game plays like a distant relative of Snake — the core mechanics are identical, just with pizza on the plate instead of apples. As you play, your body grows longer with each pizza you eat, giving you more to navigate around.
Controls are straightforward — arrow keys and you're good to go. The problem is that pizza appears randomly and sometimes awkwardly — like right next to your own tail. The game doesn't demand pixel-perfect timing or deliver dramatic moments, but it has its own specific sixties-era refinement. The graphics are minimalist, and the sounds — those who remember PC speakers at full blast will recognize it — simple beeps like an electronic music box. Nothing promised, nothing false.
Pizza Worm is interesting mainly as evidence of how tightly clustered game ideas were in the nineties. It will appeal less to those expecting something more inventive. The game isn't deep enough to burrow into your brain, nor is it wickedly difficult enough to frustrate you to death. In short — average fare that remembered itself more through its existential calm.
Today, trying it in a browser is worth maybe five minutes if you want to take a break from modern battle royales and free-to-play traps. It's like eating day-old sourdough — unremarkable, but sometimes you'll settle for this.