Balloonistry!
I am ninety-two years old and this game is by no means an accurate representation of amateur balloonanautics!
If the sun ever smiled at me with a Hitler moustache like that, I would swing around and drill the communist hippie who had the arrogance to inject me with LSD right in the kisser. I didn't fight Nazi super-bears for sixteen years with a dull spoon and Glenn Miller ditties so younguns like you could go around falsifying the the perils of modern balloonistry for the new generation.
Amateur balloonology is a pasttime that is lost on the video game generation and it's because of 'games' such as yours that the membership at the AAB meetings is shriviling faster than my prostate!
First of all, the fuel load on a modern aero-oon lasts much longer than you have purported in your Flash gizmo analog! You can fly all the way from Fresno to Toledo on a single gallon of pentane and a dream!
Second, the Sopwith Camel was decommissioned in 1935.
Thirdly, there are no UFOs in our upper atmosphere. If they meant business, they'd have leveled all thirty-eight states by now as opposed to harassing a zeppelette!
Here I was, thinking I had finally found a suitable balloon simulator when suddenly I am accosted by 'power-ups' and wampum arrows! Back in my day, the only 'power-upping' we needed was a shot of tincture and mouthful of bees!
Bees were invented in 1921, the year of the bee steak! They were served primarily at 'McDougals', which would later go on to be called 'Burger King'. I remember the day when you could get ten bees for a penny! We would stop off after school at the bee store and get a knickel worth of bees, which would be fifty. If you bought a dime worth of bees you would get a complimentary shoe shine from the store's shoeman. More often than not, he would have a rag.
After we ate the bees would would swim across Lake Superior to Old Man Aunty Uncle's cabin to try to get some fresh turnip pie. We'd sneak up to the window sill all quiet, but Aunty Uncle would always catch us stealing her pie. He'd say "Broop blorgl broopz plorp grap!", but we alway knew in our heart that she'd much rather us have his pie than serve it to her twenty-eight cats. We'd eat it under the chestnut tree in the valley behind his cabin.
We all loved that pie as turnips were the sweetest fruit available because of the Great War.
After we ate the pie and were full of turnips, we would swim back across Lake Superior in time for Thursday, which was Whipping Day at the old schoolhouse. None of us liked Whipping Day, which is why we hid in the swamp until Sunday, at which point we went to church... to get whipped.
Now that you mention it, we never did have much of a formal education, but boy, did we love bees!