Townlet A village on your taskbar

Nothing in Townlet can go wrong. No deaths, no famine, no fires, no lost progress: the village only ever grows. There are no timers and no notifications, and the game never steals focus. It appears only when your desktop does, and fades out the moment you open a full-screen window. A soft seasonal soundtrack plays while your desktop is in view, so it stays background comfort rather than another demand on your attention. You check in when you feel like it, and the town has quietly carried on without you.

You start with a single campfire in a thin strip above your taskbar. From there the village grows through village, town and city stages until it becomes a walled town with its own castle. A ledger keeps track of your discoveries, the village's history and the events you have seen along the way.

The seven-pixel villagers live their own small lives: chopping wood, hammering at the forge, gossiping in the square and heading home when night falls. Markets and fairs come through, a town crier calls out the news, travelling minstrels visit, and the store promises many small surprises. It is a colony sim at its gentlest: you shape the town, and the people in it do the living.

Your digital leftovers become the raw material of a medieval economy, which is a better afterlife for old screenshots than most. Nothing ever leaves your computer.

The village runs on a real day-night cycle and real seasons. The pixel art is small but lively, and the strip of desktop it lives in turns out to be enough room for a whole year to pass. Half the pleasure is glancing over between tasks and finding the square dusted with snow, or the lamps lit while a storm rolls in.