Tokyo-based studio Nagai Industries’ inKONBINI does what it says on the tin: it puts you in a konbini. Whether you know or care what a konbini is will probably indicate your chances of getting along with this game, too. It’s a shortening of the Japanese pronunciation of “convenience store”, and your character Makoto is working in one for a week over summer. Does the idea of nightshift work in a shop stuck by a railway line in 1993, middle-of-nowhere Japan appeal to you? Then step on through the sliding door and enjoy the ring of the bell.

Makoto’s home for a break from university and is working in the konbini her aunt Hina has been running for decades. Hina has the place ticking along smoothly, knows all the regulars, and leaves helpful notes of advice for you to pick up during your shift. She’s also on the other end of the telephone at all hours should you need any guidance, like knowing what to do when a fridge breaks down or how to top up stock that’s running low.

At first blush, inKONBINI looks like a job or management sim. While it has elements of those – and you can play it that way to an extent – it’s free from any of the pressures you would expect. You can stack the shelves, but won’t suffer from lost sales if you don’t. You can arrange your products logically and/or beautifully if you like, but your customers rarely seem bothered. You can order more stock, but you’re not privy to the costs nor required to manage a bottom line. So what do you do? Well, for a large part, you talk to people.

Navigating the little shop over Makoto’s shoulder, you walk her around at a very leisurely pace. As you slowly go about your nightly tasks of lining up cat food or rearranging beer bottles, a customer will arrive. While present in the shop (only one at a time), they will strike up a conversation, which will lead to you retrieving a product for them based on some hints about what would be suitable. For example, one customer may want something that’s a) sweet and b) in a tin. Let’s not think too much about how odd that request is, or we really will get nowhere with inKONBINI.

The gameplay, then, is basic. However, hanging over this simplistic structure are the stories of the individuals who visit the shop. These are endearing enough, and don’t overwhelm you with text. However, as stories, they are unlikely to move you, shock you, chill you, appall you, discombobulate you, tickle you, or, frankly, interest you a great deal.

There’s an old trader obsessed with omens, a 12-year-old starting a business, a very tall man who won’t speak to you; I’ll stop there because, although the game is subtitled “One store. Many stories”, there is room to quibble with the word “many”. I came dangerously close to listing them all. Credits rolled after about 7 hours, and that included putting in more time than was needed on stock presentation and reading notes and diaries.

The stories don’t go very deep, and basic plot points are belaboured as if written for a goldfish with amnesia. Aunt Hina’s arc fizzles out, and Makoto herself develops little as a person. The customers do the heavy lifting, and none of them are really built to perform a narrative clean and jerk.

Regardless, inKONBINI is more entertaining than it has any right to be. There’s something freeing about a job sim that is completely indifferent to whether you’re skilled at, or put any time into, the job in question. But it also all sounds like it’s set up for a cursed life under flickering white tubes with Muzak on loop, paid the minimum by some big corporate, with no one caring whether you are anything more than barely present. It sounds like a dystopian labour situation, made all the more cutting by the banality of pre-internet life.

But that’s not where it goes at all – Honki Ponki (the name of the shop: buried the lede on that one, sorry!) is a cheery place. While it’s true that people going there do have to contemplate their life choices, that’s not in a “what the heck did I get wrong” kind of way. On the contrary, the low-activity setting gives them space to reflect while they peruse the real-life-referential Japanese goods (“Pokky” for Pocky, “Calba” for Calpis, “Vigorman X” for Dekavita C…) or slurp instant ramen straight from the polystyrene bowl right there at the counter.

The sounds, especially the music, contribute to this pensive tone. Instead of the jingles or jazz that might happen in a real konbini – which would have contributed to a nightshift-temp mire of despair – it’s ambient, floaty easy listening. It’s a soundtrack to the game, not to the shop, so, combined with the treacle-slow movements of all the characters, you’re led into a peaceful place: no rush, no pressures, few required actions to progress the story.

The gameplay isn’t as smooth as all that, though. Yes, it’s undemanding by design, but in implementation, there’s friction. Highlighting the right object to interact with is a fiddle when two or more are close together. Mouse mode is supported, which I thought might help, but I soon went back to the controller.

Performance is also mostly okay – especially for a low-action game – but worse than it ought to be, with frame rates dipping at times when customers are in the store. It’s not a disaster, but it certainly doesn’t feel premium.

Conclusion

inKONBINI: One Store. Many Stories has modest ambitions but mostly achieves them: it tells a small number of unchallenging short stories, set in a 1993 Japanese retail context. Its atmosphere carries it a surprisingly long way, but not far enough to overcome how thin the experience actually is.

If you’re excited by narutomaki, hanko ink refills and passing business cards with both hands, then consider proceeding to the cash register. If not, you may just want to leave without buying anything.