CLICKOLDING Review (PC)

I’m not saying that I haven’t been in some strange situations before, because I have. And yet, nothing compares to the experience of having to click things whilst a masked man—a Deadpool cosplayer with a spirit that’s doubly as perverse as the Marvel icon—sits on an armchair in the corner of the room, watching, waiting, and searching for the opportune moment to lash out at the first sign of incompetence. To them, I had no reason to leave that shoddy hotel room, for there was indeed a pile of cash on the line, and if I could activate the correct object enough times, then I’d stand a chance of fleeing from their clutches and into the safe spot over yonder, bag in hand, and life still intact. The question was, could I withstand the mental torture of CLICKOLDING long enough to reap the financial benefits?

CLICKOLDING is a strange one, I’ll say that much. It’s strange, mainly due to the fact that it doesn’t immediately strike you as being a “narrative-driven” point-and-click game, but rather, a game that has every intention of making you feel uncomfortable and all rather disgruntled. To say that it’s a horror game wouldn’t be too far from the truth, as it does pull on a lot of the same tropes as a lot of its peers—a creepily vacant foe with a twisted moral compass; a dark room with little more to showcase than a static television and a few moldy walls; and a powerful sense of dread and uncertainty that circulates through the airspace of the nightmarish void. It’s all there, for sure, and so, call it what you will — but this is an absolute shudder fest for the senses, folks.

He Wants You to Click it

The goal of the game is questionably straightforward: flick the switch on a clicking device, and watch the digital numeric clock tally up whilst a masked man—presumably a perverted person with a natural-born association with violent tendencies—watches you from the comfort of an armchair in the corner of the room. As it turns out, there’s a bit of cash on the line, and the only way that you can acquire said cash, weirdly enough, is by clicking the button over a certain period of time, as well as keeping a leash on the ever-watchful villain as he itches the trigger on his sidearm. If that doesn’t creep you out right from the get-go then touché, because honestly, it had me at first dawn.

It’s certainly a novel concept—the process of clicking a button for the sake of pleasing a perverse serial killer of sorts, and yet, rather disturbingly, it works, and it’s thanks to the knuckle-tight ambiance and lack of context that makes it the horrifying chokehold that it is. From the moment you cross the threshold and into the close-quarter space of the masked man in question, you’re immediately drawn to a series of questions: what am I doing here, and what might happen should I fail to satisfy the requirements of the armed watcher? Suffice it to say, there’s a tremendous amount of fear in the unpredictability of the situation, and, although it isn’t something that has the power to make the same impact twice, it definitely does its job of making the one occasion seem like enough. And that’s saying a lot, given the simplicity of the design.

We’re Clicking

If you’re asking yourself whether or not the gameplay goes a little deeper than merely clicking a button and staring into the emotionless eyes of a slouched figure, then I come bearing good news. That’s right, there is a bit more to it than mindlessly tapping a tally counter in an aggressive, albeit mildly sexual manner. With that said, to say that it chalks up a treasure trove of additional layers for your to pick away at wouldn’t be entirely true. Sure enough, there are several environmental puzzles to shovel through, though, unsurprisingly, the vast majority of them either involve you clicking an object in one area of the room, or simply following the instructions of the masked man who, for some ludicrous reason, happens to find some sense of excitement in watching you fumbling around for answers.

The thing with this is that, even though you have a vague idea of what it is you’re doing right from the off, you don’t actually know what will happen should you fail to keep a lid on the ever-building list of click-related tasks. And that’s where CLICKOLDING finds its rhythm: in the unpredictable nature of the process—a process that, depending upon several factors, can either result in a rather pleasant outcome, or a slightly more grizzly affair. Either way, the complete and utter dread that you’re forced to deal with from the moment you step foot into the hotel room to the second you leave it is second to none, and it’s also further enhanced by the fact that, even though you can leave, you’re still made to feel trapped within some prolific clicker’s twisted mind games. Take notes, John Kramer.

Eat Your Heart Out, John Kramer

CLICKOLDING isn’t a long game; in fact, you could probably brush it beneath the rug in an hour, maybe two. And that’s taking several attempts into account, too, believe it or not. The fact is, as there isn’t a huge amount of variety in the gameplay department, there’s really only so much that you can see and do. But then, like Five Nights at Freddy’s, or any other bite-sized horror that bases its entire existence around a single scene, each dive into its world carries a different sort of weight. Sure, you could follow the same basic instructions in each new step, but that isn’t to say that you’ll always reach the same conclusion. And I think I speak for everyone when I say, you know, a lack of longevity isn’t an issue when overshadowed by a genuinely interesting loop. To that extent, I think it’s on the right track.

On another note, the visuals aren’t all that fancy; if anything, they’re on par with a lot of low-budget indie horror games that you’re likely to find scattered between the crags and crevices of the Steam market. But that’s just the one side of the coin; the ambiance and melancholic nature of the score tell a different story, one that, although somewhat comical in its own unusual sort of tone, has the power to curdle toes and make simple acts seem more nightmarish than they should be. And homely, that’s reason enough for me to brand it as a horror above anything else. It’s just, you know, unorthodox.

Verdict

CLICKOLDING opted to take a rather unusual concept for a spin, and I’m honestly struggling to find something—anything to compare it against. The truth is, I have yet to find something that leans on all of the same nodes as CLICKOLDING — and I can’t for the life of me begin to figure out whether I’m in love with the idea, or deeply disturbed by its mere existence, in general. When all’s said and done, though, it seems that, if it was intending to manifest a slightly unusual product that would get people talking, then, you know, well played, team — mission accomplished.

I’m not going to say that CLICKOLDING is the best attempt at recreating psychological trauma, because it’s still a few field goals from attaining such a credit. However, like The Stanley Parable, perhaps, it still finds several ways to coerce players into following a breadcrumb trail that, while not entirely littered with lavish perks and post-credits benefits, offers those with a pinch of morbid curiosity to delve even deeper into its roots. To say that I’d happily subject myself to its antics for a second time wouldn’t be true. Still, for the time that I did spend in its ominous light, I was frequently compelled to carve even more out of it, if only to witness the consequences of my actions.

The bottom line here is this: CLICKOLDING is a weird game. It’s so weird, in fact, that you might find yourself feeling a little more concerned about the mental well-being of its creators. Well, that might be a bit of a push — but you get the point. To abide by the rules of the genre isn’t in its best interest, but if that’s something that makes you feel curious enough to try it, then have at it.