The dump truck
Load the rocks up off the ground and take them to the crusher, which eats them and rumbles.
A driving game for the age where a truck going past the window is the best thing that has happened all day.
He picks one from eight cards. There is not a word on the screen — he cannot read yet, and a menu made of words would be a menu made of nothing.
Load the rocks up off the ground and take them to the crusher, which eats them and rumbles.
Collect the bags, boxes and bottles, tip over a wheelie bin to see what falls out, and empty the lot into the recycling works.
Pick the children up, sit them by a window wherever he likes, and drive them to school. Four buses, eight colours, and every one holds a different number.
Lost dogs and cats wait in the park. Drive them to the police box, where a door opens for them — and tap the cab for the siren and the blue lights.
Grown-ups and children at the rank, and a different building for each: a shop, a block of flats, a café. The roof sign goes dark when somebody gets in.
Logs from the forest to the sawmill, on rails. A steam engine, a wooden one, a railcar and a shunter — and at the level crossing, this time it is the cars that wait.
Parcels from the post box to the houses on a sport bike, with an engine that changes gear as he goes.
Visitors from a field to the mother ship, on a saucer that hovers over the road and lifts them up in its beam — over the Moon, Mars, and further out, the world changing at every landing.
It is made up as he drives, so there is always another yard, another crossing, another thing coming.
Which mostly means the things it does not do.
It runs in the browser, sideways, full screen. Nothing to install and nothing to sign up for.
Play it now