Skim One More Stone

A stone, a still lake, and the last light of the day.

Skim is a one-touch skipping game where your only verb is a tap — and its whole worth is timing. The stone arcs on its own; a gold ring shrinks onto the exact spot where it will kiss the water. Tap at that instant and it skips again. Tap dead-on and it's a PERFECT: the arc flattens, the stone gains speed, and your combo climbs. Tap late or early and the skip goes sloppy — and your timing window quietly tightens.

The lake keeps you honest. Mooring buoys, drift logs and reed beds sink the stone the moment it clips them, so a fast, flat PERFECT line isn't just prettier — it's safer. Ducks won't end your run, but scare a raft of them and you'll lose meters. String perfect skips together and the water reads like a row of widening gold rings trailing behind you into the dusk.

The light fades the further you go. The only way to see more of the lake is to keep skipping.

And the lake keeps a record book. Every run earns shells, and named waypoints down the water — the boathouse, the old buoy line, the drowned forest — open six real skipping stones. Carry exactly one, and it changes how you throw: River Glass widens your timing window, Ironstone shrugs off a single hazard, Cutter Flint makes perfects scream, Moonstone lets you drift past the ducks. Three evening goals wait each night, and skipping most evenings keeps a quiet streak alive — miss a day or two and the lake forgives you.

And the record book opens the shoreline. Waypoints unlock three more waters, each with its own rules. The River Reach runs a live current that surges and slacks under the stone — skip through an eddy and your timing window steadies. On Saltmarsh Sound the gusts telegraph in a rush of spray, then lean hard on the arc; the ring stays honest and slides to meet the wind. And Winter Glass is night ice under an aurora: land on a floe and it carries the stone for free, but a breathing hole gives no grace at all — the ring turns red to warn you, and only a dead-on tap gets out. Away waters pay more shells for every meter. The record book itself stays on Milldam.

• One touch, judged in milliseconds — tap the instant the stone kisses the water
• PERFECT taps flatten the arc, add speed and build a combo
• Sloppy taps tighten your timing window — precision compounds
• Buoys, logs and reeds sink you; ducks just cost meters
• Six skipping stones, each a real playstyle — carry exactly one
• Four waters: a dusk lake, a surging river, a gusty saltmarsh sound, black winter ice
• The ring reads the surface — red over a breathing hole, ivory over a floe, bright gold over pay water
• Ten named waypoints, from First Ripples to the far shore of the record book
• Three fresh evening goals each night, and a streak that forgives missed days
• Shells are earned on the water, never sold
• A quiet dusk soundscape — lapping water, a distant loon, a chime for every perfect
• A dusk lake that deepens toward night, with fish rising and fireflies in the reeds
• Best distance saved on device
• Fully offline, no account, nothing collected

Find the rhythm. One more stone.