RETROGRADE
One ring. Tap to reverse along it and let the debris pass. The oldest way to fly a pod with one engine, and still the hardest to master.
One tap. One orbit. One way back.
She is nine years old, alone in a survival pod, and a very long way from the convoy. Her capsule has one thruster, so you have one control: tap to flip the direction she is travelling. Everything else is the belt.
What you do
A survival pod has one thruster. It cannot stop, it cannot steer, and it cannot leave the gravity well it fell into. All it can do is fire the other way.
That single limit is the game. Debris comes at you along the orbit; you decide, over and over, whether to keep going or turn around. There is no second button to learn and nothing to memorise.
Two ways to fly
One ring. Tap to reverse along it and let the debris pass. The oldest way to fly a pod with one engine, and still the hardest to master.
Two shells of the same well. Tap to hop between them, threading hazards anchored to the orbit instead of drifting along it.
What is out there
Asteroids only ever drift; dodge them and they are gone. Sweeper drones hunt, and fire bolts too fast to do anything about but move. Under a Phase Shield the drones come apart on contact, which turns that power from an absence of consequences into an actual weapon.
The route home
Survive long enough and the orbit itself changes. Each stretch of the Drift turns around something different, and the width of your orbit is set by what you are turning around: you skim a small dense rock, and you give a gas giant a wide berth.
Every day
The Drift reconfigures once a day, and it reconfigures the same way for every player on Earth. A high score on a random run only measures luck; a high score on a shared course measures you.
Unlimited attempts, best run counts. A single try per day would punish a bad first thirty seconds with a whole day of waiting.
Get it
Shards you collect buy everything the shop sells. Purchases and ads are there for anyone in a hurry, and for nobody else.