Start on a lake.
Trout, perch, a pike that looks at you. Drag to cast, wait for the dip, hook, and keep the ring on the fish while it runs. Fifteen seconds for a trout. Longer for the pike.
Viewers write in.
A letter arrives at the top of the episode and the programme goes where it says. The park pond, where a fish has a hat. The harbour, where the junk swims off. The storm drain, the fountain, the pool with a shark in the shallow end who is somebody's nephew. Then a viewer's bath, then their sofa, where the remote has been the whole time. Then their television. Then the router. Then the internet.
Every catch is a creature.
One hundred and thirty-five species, every one of them is technically a fish, even the ones that are part television. Each has a Field Guide entry, a fight of its own, and some quirky dialogue from Pineapple Cat, your favourite presenter.
Tuesdays at seven.
Angler goes out on The FishCast Network, and the channel is part of the game. The test card comes up before the lake does. The ad break sells bait. Lose the fish and the picture goes with it. Leave the set alone and the channel closes down for the night. Week by week it gets a little worse, but nothing ever goes as expected on live television.
Made for the sofa and the Deck.
Analog trigger reeling, trackpad haptics on the Steam Deck, mouse and keyboard on PC, a native 16:10 picture through a CRT. Everything you see and hear was made in-house: low poly, flat shaded, no ads that are real, no purchases, no accounts.
Twelve episodes, each slightly stranger than the last.
135 species, all of them animals, most of them not fish.
A fight that is about reading a bar, not mashing a button.
A regional television programme from 2003 that you fish inside of, with an ad break, a replay, the post and a closedown.
Pineapple Cat, a presenter with one line for every species.
Steam Deck first: analog reeling, trackpad haptics, native resolution.
Premium. No ads that are real, no purchases, no accounts, no grind.
Fishy Business. Fishy Television.
