While Waiting

I sat with While Waiting for a quiet afternoon and came away feeling something I didn't expect from a minigame anthology: the specific, bittersweet weight of time that can't be reclaimed. That's a rare thing for any game to land, and the fact that a small indie team pulled it off in roughly five to six hours is worth pausing over. The structure is deceptively simple. You follow an unnamed protagonist named Adam from before birth, literally queuing to enter the world, all the way through old age and beyond. Each of the game's 100 levels drops you into a waiting scenario drawn from everyday life: a lunch line, a hospital waiting room, a car ride with rain on the windows, a download bar crawling toward completion. At the start of each stage, a handful of sticker-shaped objective hints appear, cluing you in on things you can do while the clock runs. You can ignore every single one of them. The levels advance regardless. There is no fail state. The design intentionally bakes in this tension between agency and surrender, and the best moments in the game are the ones where you catch yourself frantically chasing stickers and suddenly realise you've missed the whole point. That meta-loop, being trapped by your own compulsive need to "do something," is genuinely clever writing through systems. When the minigames land, they land well. One has you managing the shadow of a passing cloud to keep your ice cream from melting while distributing scoops to friends. Another turns sheep-counting insomnia into a physics puzzle where you can raise or lower the fence at will, letting the sheep explode into woolly clouds and keep Adam awake. A ragdoll mechanic in an amusement park queue is absurd in exactly the right way. The variety is real: point-and-click puzzles, a broken Tetris variant, brief platforming, first-person hand interactions. Controls are deliberately minimal, just directional movement, one interact button, and a fidget toy button that cycles through a spinner, a switch, and a few other small objects, giving your hands something to do when the game wants your mind to slow down. That fidget mechanic is a small, thoughtful touch. The criticisms are genuine and consistent across player reports. Movement is slow, which the developers clearly intended as part of the philosophy, but "intentional" and "frustrating" can coexist. Some puzzles are esoteric enough that you run out of time before understanding what the game was asking, then watch the level simply end, which creates a strange hollow feeling in a game with no failure screens. A few reviewers flagged occasional bugs and the absence of a pause-menu level select, meaning a missed restart window forces you out to the level select screen manually. These are real friction points, not imagined ones. Steam's community sits at "Mostly Positive" with around 75% of reviews positive, which feels accurate: a broad base of genuine appreciation with a vocal minority frustrated by the pacing and controls. The audiovisual craft earns the goodwill it generates. The art is hand-drawn in a clean, expressive comic-book style with a warm, limited palette. The soundtrack leans on piano, including stretches of classical music, Bach's Prelude in C Major reportedly makes an appearance, and the result is a soundscape that feels curated rather than incidental. There is no text anywhere in the game, a deliberate design choice that sidesteps localization entirely and forces the visuals to carry all the narrative weight. For the most part they do. Who is this for? Anyone who responded to Unpacking's quiet emotional logic or found A Little to the Left's observational humour comforting. People who want something that ends in one sitting without demanding to be mastered. Completionists who like sticker books will find genuine replay value chasing the "Do Nothing" achievement on stages where they previously meddled. If you need momentum, feedback loops, or a clear sense of progression in your games, While Waiting will feel like it's working against you. That's not a bug. But it's also not an excuse to pretend the slow movement and occasional opacity aren't real weaknesses. Kai, Scout Team