If the recent unstoppable wave of cosy sims has taught me anything, it’s that my life would be infinitely more tolerable if only I dropped everything to start a life of aggressive vegetable upkeep deep in bucolic isolation. Yet despite all this pro-turnip (and weirdly low-key horny) propaganda, the idea’s never particularly appealed. Tiny Bookshop, though, might finally have convinced me that the time is right: so farewell all; I’m packing up for a new adventure among musty, attic-abandoned boxes and salt-scented air.
Unusually for the genre, it’s not a distant and suddenly, fortuitously dead relative that serves as a catalyst for Tiny Bookstore’s Big Move, but rather a simple yearning for a better life – which, without wanting to state the blindingly obvious too much, is probably something plenty of people can identify with right now. And so it is – with a glove compartment stuffed with Werther’s Originals and a rickety two-wheeled trailer in tow – a new life beckons beyond white cliffs and coastal roads, in the sleepy seaside town of Bookston.
And really it’s got everything you might want from a fictional coastal retreat: gently sun-kissed beaches far from the tourist scrum, a picturesque sea view promenade with enough wandering sailors to satisfy even Ryo Hazuki, a cosmopolitan café quarter, a reputedly haunted lighthouse high on a hill, and even – something we’d all love in our lives – the kind of lilting, lo-fi musical accompaniment that lets you know everything’s okay; the summer will last forever, and your troubles will bother you no more.
Amid all this, there’s the newly relocated you, your fixer-upper wagon, and a dream of a literary powered, self-sufficient future; specifically, to make your fortune by selling tatty second-hand tomes to the people of Bookston. Tiny Bookstore is, nominally at least, a management game, albeit an intentionally languid one, where the gentle roll of days passes in a low-stakes loop of daylight opening hours – different locations bringing new customers with subtly different demands – and a spot of blind-buy book acquisition using the local newspaper’s classifieds ads once earnings have been tallied and the day is done.
And that, fundamentally, is it. It’s so laid back, in fact, the day portion of it all practically plays itself as customers meander in, browse your steadily diminishing wares, and depart – hopefully with a book or two if the shelves you stocked that morning happen to suit their needs. Occasionally, one of them might give you a little wave, eager for some expert advice, at which point you’ll need to manually browse your books looking for something that most closely matches their current whims (in a lovely touch, all the books are real books, so perhaps their descriptions might even generate a spark of interest in your own brain too). For the most part, though, you’re simply free to sit back and let the day wash over you like the incoming tide.
There is more to it – a light narrative element revealing more about your regulars’ lives, and gentle challenges to complete as the seasons drift on by – but it’s not, perhaps, so much a game-game as it is a collection of meticulously wrangled vibes. It feels a bit like the cosy game ethos distilled to its absolute essence; every potential stress point swept away in favour of mind-cleansing tranquility and occasional affirmations through the sense of a job well done, all to those soothing guitars and breezy flutes. Plus, you get to decorate your wagon with a slowly expanding collection of stat-boosting bric-a-brac – which is exactly the kind of thing guaranteed to get you an extra star on my own internal rating scale – and of course you can pet the dog.
Viewed through a purely mechanical lens, Tiny Bookshop is as ephemeral as the churning surf, far more appealing in concept than practice – which, to be fair, is probably true of running away to the seaside and starting a roving bookstore business too. As an ambient, meditative escape, though, it’s got an unexpected pull. Perhaps a golden coastal summer and soothing sea breeze was just what I needed after all! And that, I’d imagine, explains its sudden surge to the top of Steam and Switch’s eShop charts following its recent arrival there. These aren’t exactly easy times, I know – but people: if we do all end up suddenly decamping to the seaside in search of bliss, can we at least try and pick different ones please?
