Last Night: One Chance

In six days every single living cell in the world will die. You have one chance to save the world.

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Phew. Crikey. Dowwwwwwwwwwwner, eh?

The key to the game, lest you hadn't grasped it, is that you can't replay it. At all. Come back to it later, and you'll still be greeted with whatever maudlin status quo you left this pixel-world in. Yeah, there are ways and means to trick your browser into giving you another go, but that really is cheating. This is a game about making choices, then dealing with whatever happens.

They'll almost certainly be the wrong choices. Or, at least, they'll feel like them. Your character's attempts to devise a cure for cancer have doomed the world. Maybe you can save it, maybe you can't. Either way, there will be terrible consequences.

For my part, it seemed horrifyingly clear come the last day that I had failed. There was nothing I could do. My family was dead. Humanity was all but dead. There was nothing left to save. I walked to the roof, and took the coward's way out.

I feel awful.

That I feel awful is precisely why One Chance is a success. It offers the affecting mournfulness of Every Day The Same Dream and Passage; a smart emotional sucker-punch landed with savagely minimalist flair.

Go on, then. What did you do?