The Button

A stranger hands you a wrist device that can undo the outcome of anything that just happened, one tap per incident, no guarantee it makes things better, and a flat four-month cut off your life every time you use it. That's the deal, and the game never lets you forget it's a bad one.

You're a divorced 40 year old with three very different daughters, an ex-wife who makes everything harder, coworkers you can barely tolerate, and a few acquaintances who are obviously trouble. The Button doesn't fix any of that. It just lets you gamble with it, incident by incident, at the cost of your own remaining time.

Play is about choosing when that gamble is worth it: sit through a bad moment or burn months off your life to reroll it, then live with whichever version you get. The daughters, the ex, the job, and the shadier characters around you all generate the situations you'll be tempted to rewind, and the game leans into the discomfort of that trade rather than smoothing it over.