It's 42°C. You have no AC, because you live in Europe, where heat is still a rumor. You have a remote job, a fan that dies on day 2, and 14 days to survive in a Paris studio with the thermal properties of a panini press.

European Heatwave Simulator is a first-person survival comedy with no status bars: your body files complaints in deadpan text lines that pulse red; ignore them and heatstroke ends the run.

Your apartment is trying to kill you

Open the windows and the room matches the street in seconds. Close them and you own a well-insulated oven. Your arsenal: fans, ice blocks, a mosquito net, a fly swatter, and eventually a real AC unit: 21°C vented, 2600W dumped back inside unvented. The hose pops off on its own, turning your proudest purchase into a space heater. Appliances break from day 2; the approved repair method is percussive: whack them until they confess.

Keep the job. Or don't.

Daily at 11:00, a Dezoom call with the worst coworkers ever legally hired, across around 26 branching scenarios, and your webcam tile is a real live camera feed of you at your desk. Between calls: 94 work tasks across 33 micro-games, 10 a day or lose pay. Three HR strikes and you are fired, after which you live on 40€ a day of heatwave welfare. Unemployment is not a fail state. It is a difficulty setting.

THE FIGHT FOR DISCOUNTED AC

Day 5, a flyer: discounted AC units, doors open at 7:30, quantities so limited it reads like a threat. Set your alarm for 7:00 and join a supermarket riot: around 180 rivals crushed against the doors, an arcade dash past pallets, trolleys and grannies, then a fist fight over the last unit against mannequins who refuse to stay down. Win and you carry the box home like a newborn. Lose and your coworkers debrief it on the next call. Closed on Sundays. This is Europe.

Shopping as a survival skill

GreedCo delivers next morning, and its prices creep up 4% a day, so hesitation is billed. Leave a package on the landing too long and a stranger steals it; your upstairs neighbour leaves a note describing the thief, which helps nobody. On Fleabay, scalpers flip 30€ fans for absurd money and one sniper outbids you at the last second, every time, forever.

The toilet is an arcade cabinet

Peeing is a full minigame: a drifting physical jet, combo multipliers, rank popups, a persistent high score. You can do it during a work call. The mic, however, is still on.

The money is also against you

You start at minus 20€, which in this economy counts as a head start. Rent is 280€, pulled every Sunday, and the bank emails to offer a bigger overdraft at 19.9%, the way an arsonist offers a lighter. Your inbox holds 25+ mails: heatwave ads, a fake tax office, and a company streaming AC sounds as a monthly subscription.

Features

• 14 days of heatwave, 33°C up to 43°C, and a scripted arc: fan funeral day 2, package theft from day 3, supermarket riot day 5, landlady visit day 8, general strike day 11, rent every Sunday

• Needs without bars: deadpan status lines that pulse red, and heatstroke that actually kills (you resume from that morning)

• Dezoom calls with around 26 branching scenarios and a webcam tile that is a real live feed of you at your desk

• 94 work tasks across 33 micro-games, a 3-strike HR system, 40€/day welfare if fired

• An AC that cools to 21°C when vented and secretly heats your flat when the hose pops off

• PSX-era visuals, 30 supported languages, autosave

No backup plan. No mercy. No leaving until day 14. Welcome to summer in Europe.