Since 2013, I’ve been waiting for a game that pushes my buttons the way Papers, Please did. It was a game of moral choice, checking passports meticulously and making big decisions. It’s 2026 and along comes Probably Stolen, a cyberpunk pawnshop simulator that proves that a lot can change in 13 years, perpetuating everything I loved about Papers, Please into a game with similar vibes, but so much more to offer.
Yes, there are alternative shop sims hitting our Steam accounts this year (take Leafy Corner as one shining example), but I haven’t heard much about Probably Stolen as it’s been under wraps for a while. Sure, it doesn’t quite land under the category of a generic ‘cosy’ sim, but that’s because it’s much more focused on making you think really intently about what you’re doing while flexing incredibly dubious morals to lighten your life at the bottom of society.
You’re a shopkeeper in the Lowest Levels of a sprawling space station, I’m told as I enter the Probably Stolen preview version. I was a Scavenger, once upon a time, and now I’ve been taken on by the Mentor, backing me with a hefty investment to run a shop. It’s not clear why he’s picked me, but after a few hours playing it becomes abundantly clear, at least, that I’m going to be a darn sight happier in my little shop than fighting for my life with the factions of Scavs, Thieves and Security.
Although I’ve got the Mentor’s loan backing me, it’s only enough to get me into the shop, not own it. A landlord visits every week, requesting an ever-increasing rent payment. It seems the only way to complete Probably Stolen is to make smart trades, buying and selling goods to earn enough to buy the shop outright. And it’s clear from the start, it isn’t going to be easy. But it’s also clear that the surroundings I get to do it all in are undeniably pleasing to gaze upon.
I start out as a lowly Apprentice, taken under the wings of the Mentor. But, I’m told, when the full game launches I’ll be able to pick from 10 different specialisations, wheelin’ and dealin’ with ease across a range of products from ore, to old cheese to… organs. Each speciality comes with its own perks, though I’m not to be treated to these on my first run.
Regardless, I choose to take my first run at managing my Lower Level outlet very seriously. In fact, I journeyed through 100 days of buying and selling to see what I could uncover about the way Probably Stolen works. From the outset, there’s a lot of information to take on board. A negotiation counter reeking of retro cyberpunk is littered with important items to make running my shop that little bit easier. There are objects like the conversation recorder to recall conversations with my customers, or the rolled-up sleeping bag ready for me to ride out those lonely nights, or even a dossier packed to the brim with intel, guides and important letters from the Mentor.
Starting out, I’ve got questionable meats, a lovely carton of Puice and loo roll to sell. Customers are immediately abundant and while I may be an inferior shopkeeper, it turns out I actually have quite an abundance of influence on the people who come to visit me. In fact, my reputation precedes me, meaning I can earn favour with Security, the Lower Levels, the Revolution and more in any way I see fit.
And that’s one of the core dilemmas I loved about Papers, Please that resonates so perfectly in Probably Stolen. The inner battle with my conscience was rife throughout my 100 days. Customers were visiting me looking for deals, wanting to persuade me to part with things for as little as possible. They also beg me to support their cause, whether it’s for the ‘good’ or ‘bad’ of the Lower Levels and its people. I have to make constant decisions that can leave me feeling a little icky, or maybe even a little smug.
I want to say I’m surprised I chose to tuck myself firmly into Security’s little red pocket, but I’m a do-gooder and taking on contraband while under the mysterious threat of inspections was not the way I wanted to take my life at the bottom of the pile. Or, so I thought. There’s always room for a little bit of rule-bending, right? Turns out being ‘in’ with security actually helped them to turn a blind eye to my risque side, which I began to flex as the game progressed. And there’s plenty of opportunity to do so with daily visits from thieves wanting me to turn a blind eye to their ‘hot’ goods.
The basic shop mechanics are just the tip of the iceberg when it comes to Probably Stolen and how it’ll become clearer why I’m comparing it to Papers, Please. Yes, you’re frequently trading goods, taking on board medical supplies, food and even weaponry, but there’s so much more to what you’re doing. You’re also an appraiser of goods, comparing details, condition, seals, lettering and other issues to earn a little commission in exchange for your expert eye (and handy magnifying glass).
You’re also still a bit of a Scavenger, venturing into the Dumping Grounds to see what junk, or something better, you can find and then sell. You’re also a rogue AI hunter, shooting on sight anyone who appears to be possessed by an Augmentation chip in their brain (and you don’t want to get it wrong).
And it turns out I can be as shady as I want… as long as I pay the right people to make sure I’m untouchable. There are great deals to be made and some horrifically bad ones, but Probably Stolen lets you write your own moral code and thoroughly obliterate it if it’s not making you a profit.
I’ll be totally honest, about 25 to 30 days in, life was looking pretty rough for me and any sniff of a profit was a distant memory. But the game didn’t want to let me sink and I felt it draw me back up for air. Aside from the early visits from the Mentor to give me guidance on a lot of rules and regulations, I had some other friends called Dr. Jackson and Joe Wild.
These two fellas are your ticket to an even wider game. Dr. Jackson deals in electronics and machines to help you get a foot up, like hiding contraband in the Smuggler. Joe Wild deals in favour, offering you a range of perks to invest in that’ll keep you protected in a multitude of ways. By day 100 in my shop, I’d unlocked all of his perks on offer in the playtest, but there were plenty still under wraps for the full game, especially when it comes to becoming a bit of a gunsmith.
It wasn’t only the ‘lads’ that saved me from impending failure though. I owe a lot of my success to the beauty of the display cabinet. Situated to the left of my counter, I have the power to display items that I’m selling to lure in customers. I also have the ability to put up neon signs that tell people I’m in the market to buy. Then, with a 15% retail markup and the ability to demand discounts from sellers and place my own markups on buyers, I find myself becoming a bit of a master shopkeeper. If only I could stop sleeping on the floor.
Each day brings new customers and while they’re mainly here to sell or buy, there’s also visits from ‘shady’ customers who barter in confidential information they suggest will ‘change my game’ and they’re not wrong. Any tip I’ve bought in my 100 days has told me that a particular item is going to drop in price or rise in price so that I can pivot my sales strategy accordingly. I turned a blind eye to how they acquired the information. I paid for it, fair and square.
But then that’s the undercurrent sinking its claws into the entirety of Probably Stolen. What I get in exchange for a shop that doesn’t have to shut down is an unrelenting fear that I’m going to get caught doing something wrong or, perhaps even worse, someone’s going to wrong me.
There are thieves at night that you need to protect yourself from. And while there are services you’re sold to protect your shop from insurance to security alarms, even those aren’t without their workarounds. People will rob from you and even if your goods have ‘heat’ themselves or are labeled contraband, you’re not going to feel good about losing them.
Considering this is a playtest build, it’s hefty in length despite not starting with a specialisation or having over half of Joe Wild’s perks at my disposal. When the full game drops, I’d be keen to start over again and see how my next run plays out with everything else in play. After 100 days, I finally feel like I’ve got a bit of a hold on the Lower Levels and it turns out tucking in nicely with Security has arguably one of the best reputational perks of the game. Though I’ll let you decide how you sway your favour.
What I’ve experienced with Probably Stolen is truly an amalgamation of features that roll into a perfectly executed game. The only question I ask is, what will happen at the end? 100 days in, I’m just over a third of the way to buying the shop outright, but the Landlord’s demands are keeping me squashed. Do I even want to own this shop or would I rather use my earnings to get me a cosy little place on the Upper Levels? Will I ever be able to afford it?
It’s incredibly impressive how much they’ve poured into this game, crafting anything from re-labelling counterfeit goods to make a profit to shotgunning Augs right in the kisser. While stamping passports in Papers, Please lays the groundwork for moral dilemmas in a dystopian state, Probably Stolen acts as my spiritual successor, running with the baton and giving it layers I didn’t know I needed.
