a game about skincare · muffler
Push your luck. Go home before it costs you.
You have a towel, a bottle and a day. The tan you leave with is your score; the burn you leave with is days off the calendar. Between those two things is the entire game.
# 30 beaches · 11 body zones · Linux, Windows, macOS & Steam Deck
Sunscreen is not a button. You spray it where your hand actually is and rub it in, zone by zone, on a body that has eleven of them and cannot see its own back. Getting at it means rolling over while the sun carries on. Cream runs out. Sweat takes it off. The sea takes it off faster.
Heat climbs from the moment you lie down. The water cools you and strips your coat. The umbrella shades you and costs you earnings. Cold drinks buy minutes. Push through it and the day ends in an ambulance and three days indoors; read the bar and go home, and you keep everything you earned.
Nothing here fails you at the last second. The burn on every zone, the heat, the film left on your skin and how much patience you have left are on screen the whole time. If the day goes wrong, you were told — repeatedly, in plain English.
Wannsee is a lake in Berlin with heavy cloud and cold water — forgiving about your skin, poor about your points. The Gold Coast is where the ozone gave up. La Caleta has the Balneario and a levante wind that strips your coat in an hour. Every beach has its own painted horizon, its own weather, and its own way of hurting you.
Some of them are not on the map until you have earned them.
A season is 90 days and every recovery day is one you do not get back. Points buy better beaches and a shop of 23 upgrades — a serious hat, a rash guard, a cool box, a base tan, and a Knowledge branch that buys you nothing except the truth about numbers the game was hiding from you.
A season only counts toward the far beaches if you come out of it with a tan worth having and skin you have not wrecked. Waiting out the calendar is not an achievement.
Every hazard is visible before it bites. The game never surprises you with a number you were not shown.
Shade costs earnings. The sea costs your coat. Gear costs your tan. Nothing is free and nothing is strictly best.
Aim with the trackpad, spray and rub with the triggers, or just use your finger. It works the moment you launch it.
Every beach has its own painted horizon and its own climate — a lake in Berlin, a salt flat at 3,656 m, a sea you should not be swimming in.
A skin-risk index, built from every burn you took. It is a game statistic rather than a medical one, and it is the only place SPFY ME! says anything at all about what you have been doing to yourself. It says it once, as a percentage, and then it stops.
It never was. Bring the bottle.