Aim is a
suggestion.
Lucy lives in a house. You don't steer her, aim her, throw her or optimise her. You prep the cage, open the door, and find out who she is.
She explores, gets distracted, steals things, develops preferences, gets grumpy, naps, and occasionally does something completely inexplicable. You write it down. That's the game.
Lucy
Rescued from the bowels of Woodbine Mall in Toronto at the tender age of "not a baby ferret". Nobody knows how long she'd been in there. Nobody knows what she ate. She came out with opinions, a limp that cleared up in a week, and a documented preference for polished floors.
She is not in danger and she is not being thrown. She is having the best day of her life, repeatedly, and you are the one holding the notebook.
Prep the cage. Open the door.
two decisions, then it's out of your hands
These are conditions, not upgrades. Purple salmon doesn't make her faster. It makes the floor a river.
You can speed time up, slow it down, or skip to her nap. You cannot tell her where to go. There is no pause, because you are not driving.
Whatever she does in the hallway, you write down. Eventually the bathroom door opens.
Seven rooms, opening slowly.
not levels — roomsRooms open on what you've learned, not what you've earned. Each one is full of things she can form opinions about: a shoe can become her favourite shoe, a plant can become an enemy, a dish towel can become nesting material. You don't assign those. She decides.
Not a quest log. What you know about Lucy.
The journal fills up with behaviour, in words, in her own terms. There are no affinities, no percentages and no experience points. There are numbers underneath, and you will never see them.
Do something twice and it stops being a discovery and becomes a habit. Do something once, and you will spend the next four runs waiting to see it again.
Her treasures
UNDER THE COUCHThings she has taken and has no intention of returning. The hoard persists between runs, and so does the house — what she moves stays moved.
Lucy does not get better.
There is no feed → stat → unlock → longer run → currency → upgrade. She is already perfect. The progression is you: I didn't know Lucy did that, then oh, she always does that, then wait — she hasn't done that before.
One ad = one hour of God Mode.
God Mode keeps one thing Lucy picked up past the end of a run. That's the entire trade. No energy, no lives, no premium sock.
You get
Never
Lucy is nearly ready. She has not been told.
Leave an email and we'll tell you when Ferret Bowling is playable, plus the odd note on the next Unstuck game. Lucy will not email you.
LUCY WAS A REAL FERRET. NOT A COMPANY YET.