A Little Rain

I nearly drop my phone when the download finishes, because I’m trying to open a packet of rice at the same time. The bag lands on the couch. The game opens with a bright little chime, and I settle back expecting the sort of harmless pixel-art nostalgia that can fill ten minutes before dinner.

A green valley appears. It’s small enough to fit in my palm, all square-edged hills and a river that looks like it was drawn with a ruler. A cluster of cottages sits between a patchwork of fields and a stone well. There’s a tiny person walking in circles beside the well.

Then I notice the crops are brown.

A red strip at the top of the screen reads: WATER: LOW. Beneath it, smaller letters say HARVEST AT RISK. The little person stops circling and leans over the well. The bucket comes up empty.

“Oh,” I say. “That’s a bit rough.”

The game’s title screen is still tucked behind the valley, the words POCKET GOD in a chunky gold font. I don’t remember being asked to start a tutorial. Maybe it’s one of those games that prefers to throw you in and let you figure things out. I tap the well. The person looks into it again, as if checking whether my first tap made any difference.

It didn’t.

A row of icons sits along the bottom edge. A hand, a cloud, a little sun, a leaf. I tap the hand, then the person. A white ring appears around them. They take two steps toward a cottage and stop.

So I can move people around. Not exactly a solution to the water situation.

The cloud icon has a number beside it: 1. I tap it. A pale cloud appears over the valley, drifting left at a pace that makes me suspect the number refers to a single use. I drag it toward the fields, where the crops seem to need the help most.

The rain begins as a thin blue shimmer.

For half a second, nothing happens. Then the little person at the well looks up. Two more figures come out of the cottages, one with a bundle tucked under an arm. They hurry toward the fields, where the nearest plants lift from brown squares into something greener.

I let out a pleased little breath. “There we go.”

The rain cloud drifts away from the crops. The well stays dry.

The red strip remains. WATER: LOW.

I shift the cloud back. A few scattered drops land on the stone well, each one a white-blue pixel against gray. The first people have reached the fields and are standing under the last bit of rain. One has a tiny shovel. They don’t move it. They’re just looking up.

I hold my thumb over the cloud and drag it directly above the well.