Congratulations on your purchase! You just paid for a timer. There's a free one on your phone, but it wasn't packaged this beautifully.

What's here

A timer. It runs. That's where the list of features ends. I honestly tried to think of something else, but then I asked myself: why?

There are no levels. No plot either, unless you count your life, which meanwhile continues somewhere outside the screen.

There's no goal either, but since you bought a timer, that's unlikely to be a problem for you. You can watch for ten seconds, you can watch for ten years. The game is in no hurry. That's the only thing it knows how to do.

Five stages

The developer guarantees you'll go through all of them. I can't guarantee anything beyond that.

• Denial. "There's no way this is just a timer." It is.

• Anger. "I paid for THIS?" Yes. And I'm sincerely grateful to you.

• Bargaining. "Maybe if I minimize the window, time will go faster?" It won't. I checked — I had plenty of free time.

• Depression. "What am I even doing with my life?" Good question. The timer doesn't know either, but at least it's counting.

• Acceptance. You just watch the numbers. This might be the best thing that's happened to you all week.

Progression

It's there! Seconds turn into minutes, minutes into hours, hours into days you won't even remember. There's no ceiling, no ending, and unlike many games, we honestly say so in the description. The number on the screen grows infinitely. Your productivity behaves exactly the opposite.

What's the point of all this?

I could have added mini-games or some kind of plot for $999.99. Instead I saved myself a lot of effort and called it artistic intent. Sounds more respectable.

The point here isn't what happens on the screen (nothing) — it's that you still won't close the game. Try it. I'll wait, I've got a timer.

And by the way, the timer is already running — it started without you...