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

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.