OVERBOOKED is a free tycoon game about the travel business. Grow a tiny startup called Lucifare into the platform every hotel on earth is thrilled† to work with. The Board wants the number to go up. The hotels want mercy. The guests want the price on the first screen to be the price. You can pick one. Quarterly.
A management game where every decision is reasonable, defensible, and stamped INTERNAL / URGENT.
Set your Partnership Contribution™ and watch the partners contribute. Mostly opinions.
Seven identical advisors who love you exactly as much as last quarter. Miss the target twice and learn what your chair is bolted to.
Drip pricing. Facilitation surcharges. A checkout flow with the pacing of a thriller.
Pandemics, bailouts, layoffs, hearings, one hamster. Every option explains its own reasoning, which is worse.
The board chair now names one target every quarter, out loud, in writing. Hitting it helps. He remembers the ones you didn’t.
A clean desk, or inherit a collapse at Q17, or reopen after the pandemic, or run the regulated market where commission is capped at 10% — and discover it still works.
Every screen has an ethical toggle, and every one works exactly as labeled. Try them. Watch the Board’s little faces.
Fired, sued, immortalized — every run ends, and some end with confetti made of receipts. Seven of the eight start out redacted.
Everyone on earth gets the same crisis calendar each day. Miss one and your streak resets; Chadwick notices either way.
Every career ends in a severance memo with your numbers on it, and a verdict naming exactly which decision did it.
Your exit paperwork is generated from the run you actually played — the fees you collected, the people you rightsized, the quarters nobody answered the phone — and it names the decision that ended you. One tap to share it.
Hand-drawn dioramas, forty little employees, and a share price that watches you sleep.
A hand-drawn cast with feelings, lawyers, and in one case a wheel.
Owns the Grand Stilton, a windbreaker, and one long fuse. The windbreaker has never been a bluff.
Runs six rooms with her own two hands. Does not own a rat. Ask her about it. Go on.
Chooses font sizes the way others choose weapons. Currently reviewing your everything.
Seven advisors, one sentence: “The number, please.”
41 cozy artisanal lofts. One building. Zero former tenants reachable for comment.
Innocent in all of this. Five stars.
Most first careers end around Q17, with a card from the Board. It is a lovely card.
Our cast was asked for comment. Legal approved these.
Asked frequently, answered eventually.
Yes. The price on the first screen is the price. We are told this is disruptive.
No. Lucifare, Skimr, Xplendia, the cities, the commissioners and the hamster are fictional. Any resemblance to your last booking is, per Legal, “a striking coincidence.”
You cannot exactly lose — you can only be fired at different speeds. Promise the Board less, or the hotels worse. One of these is easier to live with.
Every ethical toggle works exactly as labeled. Flip them all and you will run the most honest travel platform the world has briefly ever seen.
It was built for your phone: no download, no account, seven languages. Your battery is the only fee.
Tratok — a hospitality ecosystem that connects travellers directly with hotels, restaurants, tours and experiences. “Common Sense Studios” is us in a hat, named after the thing this industry mislaid somewhere around 2011. So yes: this is an ad. It has a hamster in it. There is a longer answer at the bottom of this page, after you have finished laughing.
Why would anyone build a game about a company being terrible on purpose, give it away, and put no advertising in it at all? Fair question. Here is the honest answer.
OVERBOOKED was made by Tratok. We are not a games studio. We are a hospitality ecosystem that connects travellers directly with hotels, restaurants, tours and experiences — and the things this game rewards you for doing are the things we work on.
We could have just written the list. Fees that turn up at the last click. Fifteen to thirty percent off every room, every night, forever. Reviews nobody can check. Refunds that arrive whenever. A guest relationship that somehow never belongs to the people who made the bed. You have seen a version of that list before and you do not remember a word of it, which is fair, because a list has never once made anyone feel anything.
So we built the other thing. A game where you cause all of it on purpose, get promoted for it, and are told by a boardroom that you are doing wonderfully. It is free, there is no signup, and it does not mention us once while you are playing.
The same list, the other way up:
Lucifare is fictional. Skimr is fictional. Villamar, Luxenstein, Randall, Rosa, Commissioner Brandt and the hamster are fictional, and Legal would like that noted twice.
Play the game first — it is the better argument, and it is a much better time. Afterwards, what we actually built is at tratok.net.
We would much rather you laughed first.