Scissors

Lore & Background

Hotline Miami's world runs on a logic where violence is both aesthetic and mechanical. Every object in the apartment, every item on the kitchen counter, exists as a potential instrument of death. The scissors fit into that philosophy as the most domestic of killers—a thing meant for snipping thread or trimming a mustache, repurposed into a stabbing tool by a man in a rabbit mask who has no time to be picky. They carry a quiet absurdity that the game's over-the-top style leans into: the contrast between the mundane and the murderous is the entire point. In the broader texture of a run, the scissors occupy the same emotional space as the game's chiptune soundtrack does in a moment of stillness before the next wave of bodies. They are small, they are fast in the wrong way, and they remind you that in this particular Miami, the distance between a household item and a murder weapon is one bad decision away. The game does not mock you for using them. It simply lets you feel how thin the line is. Fans who collect every weapon in a single run sometimes treat the scissors as a badge of stubbornness—a refusal to reload, a commitment to finishing the level with what the apartment gave you. In a community that celebrates style and flair, choosing the scissors is a small, slightly ridiculous act of punk philosophy: if it has an edge, it's a weapon.

In Their Own Story

The hallway smells like cheap cologne and copper. You've already lost the bat—threw it, missed, and now your hands are empty and the music is building. You kick open the bedroom door. A woman in a silk robe is turning toward you, a pistol half-raised, and there is no time. On the nightstand, catching the pink glow of the bedside lamp, a pair of kitchen scissors lies open, blades catching the light like a tiny silver grin. You grab them. The metal is cold. You lunge. The blades find the gap beneath the jaw, and the pistol clatters to the tile. You stand there, breathing, the scissors still in your fist, and the synth line resolves into a long, shimmering note. One body. One pair of scissors. The city doesn't care. The music doesn't care. You pull the blades free, wipe them on the robe, and keep walking.

Reader's Guide

The scissors are a two-mode weapon: a short melee stab and a slow, arcing throw. In melee, they connect at point-blank range with a quick, thin thrust—enough to drop a single unarmored target, but you will feel the difference compared to a bat's satisfying crack or a knife's clean slice. The throw is the real trade-off: the scissors travel slowly, follow a gentle arc, and carry minimal force. A thrown pair will clip a target and stagger them, but it will not reliably kill in one hit the way a knife or an axe does. You are buying time, not ending the fight. You will find them tucked into kitchen counters, bathroom shelves, and the occasional desk in apartment interiors. They are not the first weapon you'll grab in a room, and they should not be. Their role in a run is that of a bridge: the gap between running out of your primary and finding the next proper weapon. Use them to close distance, to interrupt a reload, to buy two seconds while you scan the next room for a bat or a pistol. Pace matters. The scissors do not reward aggression. They reward a single, clean, close-range commit and then a quick reposition. If you are three rooms away and the only thing in your hand is a pair of kitchen scissors, you are already behind. Move. Find steel. Let the scissors be the footnote, not the headline.

Did You Know?

• The scissors sit at the very low end of Hotline Miami's damage spectrum, making them one of the least lethal options available in a single hit.
• Their throw animation is noticeably slower and more arcing than that of a knife, reflecting their lighter weight and awkward shape as a projectile.
• In the game's design philosophy, nearly every object with an edge or point is a weapon, and the scissors embody that 'anything goes' rule more literally than almost any other item in the arsenal.
• Players attempting a full-weapon-collection run often treat acquiring the scissors as a minor flex—an acknowledgment that they've picked up literally everything the apartment offered.