A stickman sets off along a road that keeps running out on him. He starts slow, then faster, then far too fast.

Draw with the mouse or a finger: bridge the gaps, ramp the cliffs, roof him from a sky that drips ink. The rain punches holes in your lines, globs tear straight through them, and sooner or later erasers come tumbling in to eat the road itself.

Ink is finite. It flows back with time, and faster when you block the rain, crumble an eraser or reach a milestone. Steep lines are walls, gentle slopes are roads — and if he falls, you can still catch him mid-air. Stay wedged against a wall for five seconds, though, and the page throws him back to the left at the cost of a heart.