Regions
—Available on itch.io (pay-what-you-want, includes a .txt file of the dev’s personal chat logs redacted for privacy).
You soon realize: this isn’t your phone. It belongs to someone else.
Taptus has said in a Discord post that v0.4 will introduce group chats and voicemail transcription. For now, Phone Story -v0.3- sits on your home screen like a bruise. You’ll open it. You’ll read the last message again. You’ll close it. And three hours later, you’ll check your notifications.
Version 0.3 ends on a loading spinner that never finishes. Phone Story -v0.3- is not a complete game. It crashes occasionally. The keyboard UI glitches. Some dialogue loops repeat. But perfection would ruin it. This is a prototype about unfinished things—about ellipses, about calls not returned, about the version of yourself that exists only in someone else’s unanswered texts. Phone Story -v0.3- -Taptus- BEST
(different for every player) arrives after 5–7 real-time days. For me, it was: “I deleted your number. Not because I’m angry. Because watching you not choose me was turning me into someone I don’t like. Take care, stranger.”
is not a polished, market-ready product. It is a raw nerve. An interactive vignette about loneliness, data trails, and the strange intimacy of a stranger’s text messages. Taptus, known for unsettling, lo-fi experimental works, strips away everything except your phone’s home screen and a single, unread conversation thread. The Interface: You Are Already Here There is no tutorial. No “tap to start.” You launch the app, and you’re staring at a cracked, greasy-fingered simulation of an Android home screen. The clock matches your real time. The battery icon drains slowly. Backgrounds shift—a generic starfield, then a blurred photo of a room you don’t recognize.
And that’s where it gets you.
You want to feel something raw. You have an old conversation you regret. You believe games can be poetry.
You are not playing a character. You are being asked to treat a fictional person’s pain with the same urgency as a real one. And when you fail—when you swipe away the notification to check Twitter—the game logs that too. Next session, Alex’s messages are shorter. Colder. More tired.
You need closure. You hate push notifications. You’re currently ghosting someone. —Available on itch
Just in case.
The conversation ends. The home screen returns. A new contact appears: “Unknown.” No messages yet.
A contact named (no last name, just a faded concert photo as their icon) has been messaging you—no, messaging the phone’s owner. You are a ghost reading someone else’s slow-motion crisis. The Narrative: Dread Through Typing Indicators The story unfolds entirely through SMS. No cutscenes, no voice acting. Just blue and grey bubbles. Taptus has said in a Discord post that v0