If we just went an entire year where every game was as short, cheap, and existentially harrowing as Clickolding that’d be great, thanks

CLICKOLDING

The man in the corner of your hotel room wants you to click something. He wants to watch you click it.

When Clickolding - a vaguely Inscryption-y sub-hour dread droplet - opens, you’re sitting on a bed across from a man wearing a mask that looks like someone gave up halfway through carving an Easter Island statue of Joe Camel, stuck a pair of googly eyes on it, then went to cry in the corner at what they’d created.

In your hand is a clicker counter. Moose-face stares. What do those eyes convey? Patience? Intent? Longing? If nothing else, they betray a deep certainty that whatever else happens, you’re going to click. If you stop clicking for a moment, a prompt appears in the corner telling you the controls. At least, I think it's a prompt, because it might actually be a threat.

Left click to click. He'd like you to click 10,000 times, please.

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