Ask for the shape of the challenge.

The only real pressure is the clock: every day you spend without a plan is a day the season quietly takes back.

Barely a difficulty at all — the only obstacle is the calendar, which hands out content one real-world day at a time and cannot be argued with.

It plays itself for the first ten minutes, then asks whether you were paying attention to what you were building the whole time.

Difficulty is a slider, and the systems are exploitable enough that a determined player can break the game open by hour five. What is left is a very long walk.

A management game with no failure state. What it asks for is patience and a ferry schedule, not skill.

Largos and tarrs will wreck a careless corral overnight, which is as close as this gets to a fail state.

Reversing a trailer into a bay is the skill ceiling and the fatigue timer is the only pressure. Damage costs money rather than progress.

A fishing game with an inventory puzzle and a night timer. Panic is the mechanic, and the punishment for giving in to it is deliberately mild.

The difficulty is purely attentional — nothing in the game threatens you except the square inch of grime you keep walking past.

Nothing in it is hard to do; almost everything in it is hard to find out that you can do.