Play
A lounge is only good for about ten minutes if there’s nothing in it. So there’s a pitch, an arena, a track, a café to run and a house to go home to. Everything below is playable today, by anybody standing in the room, whether or not they have an account.
The icebreaker
No lobby to fill, no teams to pick first, no ready check. Somebody lays a pitch, somebody else wanders onto it, and that is a match. Everything on this page works the same way — it is an arcade, so the barrier between standing there and playing is meant to be about one step wide.
Battles
A match is a room with a scoreboard. Five modes, and two to sixteen players in any of them. You can fight in your own lounge, in a battlefield somebody else built and published, or inside an xp level.
Damage is self-reported: the attacker says hit and the victim’s own browser decides what it cost them. Going down isn’t the end of you — it’s the walk back.
Whoever set the match up starts it, and only they can call it off. That is a rule in the log rather than a check in the browser, so a client cannot talk its way past it — which matters the moment somebody who is losing would rather the match ended.
Football
Football is the one game that needs something built before it works, and it is deliberately only one thing: a goal at each end. You place them the way you place a block, standing in the world. Until they’re down there’s a ball, a field, and nowhere to score.
Worlds in the catalogue tagged Pitch already have room for goals at each end. Drop one into your space, put the posts down, and you have a ground.
Momentum, not a fixed kick
The ball leaves at the speed you hit it. Walk into it and it trickles. Dash into it and it flies.
One browser owns it
The room elects a client to run the physics and broadcast the truth. If they close the tab, ownership fails over instantly to the next player. Nobody plays against the lag.
The goal line is swept, not sampled
A dashed ball can cross thirty-four blocks in a second, so the game checks the whole path the ball travelled last frame rather than where it happened to land. Fast shots don’t phase through the net.
Ten seconds after a goal
A kickoff pause, so everybody can get back to the middle before it restarts.
Vehicles
A kart is a bench with an engine. It stands in a cell, it is summoned and dismissed like anything else, and you get into it with the same E that sits you on a chair — so driving is not a second game with its own rules, it is one more thing a piece of furniture can be told that it does.
Kart
Racer
Sports
Taxi
Police
Ambulance
Fire engine
Bin lorry
Tractor
Van
SUV
TruckThe first seat is the wheel
Seats are where bodies go, and seat one is the driver’s — a rule rather than a field, so every surface that asks who is driving gets the same answer. Eight aboard at most, and the other seven are along for it.
Top speed is set per vehicle
In cells a second, floored just above walking pace and capped just under a dashing player. The fastest thing in the room is still somebody who committed to something.
Wheels are attachments
A model that came with wheels spins them — they are found by name inside the file, nobody has to say so. Anything else takes wheels bolted on at a joint, front ones steering and back ones not, which is how a crate becomes a soapbox.
A roof hides everyone under it
A kart carries you out in the open. A car with a roof — or a giant football you are rolling about as — draws nobody aboard at all. Your name and anything you say still float over it, because somebody is obviously still in there.
Which means the interesting part is not the cars. It is that the same three lines that make a kart drive will make a wheelbarrow drive, or a sofa, or the fountain — and somebody in your space is going to find that out on a Tuesday and not tell anybody until it comes round the corner.
Board games
Four seats, four colours, and a die each. You are dealt a chair when the table fills and you arrive standing in it, with your own pieces in front of you and your own die beside them.
You move the pieces yourself.Walk to one, take it, carry it to the field you meant, and put it down. Tap to pick up and tap to let go, or hold if you would rather feel what you are carrying. Then say you are done, and it is the next player’s turn.
The roll is advice. Nothing checks that you moved four on a four, or that you needed a six to come out — the same latitude a real table gives, in front of people who can see you take it. Knocking somebody back to their yard is a thing you do with your hands, not something the board does on your behalf.
Races
A race is the start line, the finish line and whatever you put between them. Dashing is allowed. Going down costs you the walk back to the line rather than the race — there is no elimination, so the person in last place is still racing at the end, which is the entire reason anybody finishes.
Worlds tagged Parkour in the catalogue are built for exactly this: jumps, gaps, and a route to the top. Tagged Maze if getting lost is the point.
Tournaments
Single elimination. Byes are handled, rematches are on tap, and pairing follows the order people signed up in.
Nothing here ranks anybody, and that is on purpose. A ladder turns an afternoon into a season, and a season is a thing you have to keep up with. This is for the two hours everybody is already in the room.
Café
A whole small game inside the world. Customers come in, sit down and want something. You pull espresso, plate a burger, run it over, and clear the table before the next one arrives.
There is a barista who works the station when you don’t. Build the room so they can still get through — wall a station off completely and they will just stand there, quietly, forever.
Home
A place you furnish and a plot you tend, off the same world and the same save. Buy the ground, put the props where you want them, grow things.
It is the quiet half of the arcade and it is not the waiting room for the loud half. Some evenings the whole point is that nobody is keeping score.
Lounge
Animals to be, faces to pull over your head, a radio you can put a track on, and three ways to say something if a face will not cover it.
24
animals to be
pick one at the door
91
faces to pull
over your head, in the room
And party mode: an owner flips it, everybody lights the place up in their own colour, the rig sweeps the floor, and the neon rail at the top of every page starts cycling so the people who aren’t in the canvas know something is happening. It is a broadcast rather than a setting, which means it survives no reload and leaves nothing to clean up — a party is something happening, not something a space is.
The lounge is walkable in a headset today. Same room, same people, no separate app.
Talking
Nobody sends an invite, nobody joins anything, and nothing ends when the host leaves. You walked into a room, and the people standing in it can hear you.
A voice that falls off with distance
Hold T and talk. It comes out of where you are standing — full volume up close, gone by the far wall — so one room holds as many conversations as it has corners and the second one is not called interrupting. Open mic is a setting; push-to-talk is the default, because the two ways of getting that wrong are not the same size.
Your camera, worn as a face
Switch it on and your picture is a disc floating over your animal’s head, turned toward whoever is looking rather than toward the way you happen to be walking. Nobody dials anybody: both ends work out the same roster and the lower connection id makes the offer, so there is no ringing and nothing to accept.
Typed, per room, and kept
Moving rooms moves the conversation. It is written down — not for the scrollback, but because a sentence that only ever existed in six browser tabs is one nobody can report, and the name on it is the name you had when you said it rather than the one you have now.
Or say nothing and pull a face
The emote wheel is faster than a sentence and reads from the far end of a pitch. Nothing about it is written anywhere: a face lives about three seconds and is then gone for good, which is the right deal for a shrug.
4
cameras at once
per room, peer to peer
400
characters a message
four hundred is a paragraph
The mic switch starts off and stays off until somebody presses it, and the mode is kept per device rather than per account — open mic on headphones at home is not open mic on the laptop in a shared office, and a setting that followed you between the two would be wrong in one of them every time, in the direction that broadcasts your kitchen.
Not yet
Said here rather than found out later.