Clickolding is a clicker game that looks like a meme but hits hard

polygon.com:

I am in a dingy hotel room, sitting on the bed. Across from me is a man, his face hidden by a large and expressionless mask. I need $14,000 for an unspecified operation, and he has generously offered me the cash. There’s one catch — there’s something he needs me to do. My meaty thumb flexes, and I start clicking away on the little clicker in my hand. He leans back, his gaze hungry. This is Clickolding, and it’s one of the most unusual games I’ve ever played.

In Clickolding, I am confined in the room with my benefactor. Technically, I could leave whenever I want, but I want both the cash and the narrative slowly spooled out by the man in the chair. The initial air is definitely menacing and overtly sexual. There is no sexually explicit imagery (although the game does depict suicide, which is noted with a content warning at the start of the game), but the game is clearly alluding at the general idea.

Clickolding is a 20 to 40-minute game. I can navigate around the room and interact with specific elements, like opening the blinds or tweaking the thermostat. At one point I have to unlock a door. It’s hard to go into details without spoiling things; suffice it to say, the experience of Clickolding is like being trapped with the early antagonist of Inscryption, except it’s just a strange man who wants to tell you his thoughts on tigers while you repeatedly click a button in your hand.

Clickolding is a very odd little game, and playing through it immediately brings another developer to mind: Robert Yang, who makes games about male sexuality, including ones that are more explicit. The lack of actual sex in Clickolding is a careful choice. It would be easy for Strange Scaffolding to make the whole thing a goofy joke — ha, ha, this guy’s a cuck! But Clickolding doesn’t take on that sort of judgmental tone.

The title is not exactly subtle, and there’s a charged air to some of his demands – sit there, faster, slower – and to his probing questions. That’s not all there is,