Building Universes from Code

Series: The Journey from Code to Hardware - Part 1 The Journey from Code to Hardware - Part 1 In the controlled stillness of a development environment, code behaves almost like a theoretical model of the universe. Variables shift with precision. Systems respond exactly as they were written. Every behaviour feels clean, deterministic, beautifully behaved. It’s a kind of digital cosmos where nothing unexpected ever happens - a place shaped by intention rather than by physics. B

Series: The Physics of Backup & Recovery - Part 3 In nature, stability emerges from balance - stars survive because fusion pushes outward as gravity pulls inward. Resilience is never an accident. It is the product of structure. Our digital worlds follow the same logic. A good backup system doesn’t need to be complex. It needs to be consistent. Predictable. A quiet safety net woven beneath everything you create. Automated cloud syncs. Versioned local backups. Redundancy across

Series: The Physics of Backup & Recovery - Part 2 When a computer fails, it happens with the abruptness of a star going dark. One moment everything works. The next, the rules change. Files vanish. Systems refuse to boot. What once felt infinite becomes unreachable. And in that moment - whether you’re a developer, a creator, or someone simply trying to get on with their work - you experience a kind of digital gravity: the realisation that everything depends on what you prepare

Series: The Physics of Backup & Recovery — Part 1 In the vastness of the cosmos, stars burn for billions of years…yet a single collapse can reshape everything. Our computers are not so different. Inside each machine sits a tiny universe, projects, ideas, worlds-in-progress, all held together by spinning disks, silent circuits, and the faint hum of electricity. It feels stable, permanent, certain . But the truth is far more delicate. A failed drive, a corrupted file system, a

Series: The Invisible Power of Documentation – Part 3 When documentation and APIs align, something remarkable happens: complexity becomes possibility. Developers no longer need to understand every layer beneath the surface in order to create something meaningful. Just as we do not calculate the quantum behaviour of electrons before turning on a light, we rely on invisible systems to quietly perform their work. In the same way, beautifully written documentation and carefully d

Series: The Invisible Power of Documentation – Part 2 In physics, we do not hold the universe in our hands. We carry the equations that describe it. An API is much the same. Within an API lies immense power: the ability to trigger complex behaviours with a small, carefully structured request. Entire systems awaken. Data moves across networks. Digital worlds respond in real time. And yet, from the creator’s perspective, the interaction is beautifully simple, a clear call and a

Series: The Invisible Power of Documentation — Part 1 In the vastness of the universe, nothing is truly random. Beneath the stars, planets, and swirling galaxies lies an exquisite and invisible order, equations that govern how energy moves, how matter gathers, and how reality itself unfolds. In the digital world, high-quality documentation plays a remarkably similar role. It is the quiet architecture beneath our software. The unseen framework that explains how systems connect

Once AR has captured the world and we’ve shaped its geometry into something elegant and efficient, one final transformation remains. We must make it behave . A game engine demands far more than shape. It needs physics, logic, materials, and meaning. So, we give weight to floors, boundaries to walls, and purpose to empty space. We turn simplified meshes into navigation. We convert captured light into ambience. We decide which details matter…and which Baldr Engine must forget t

When we use AR to scan the world around us, something extraordinary happens.A wall, a corridor, a forest - things that feel solid, familiar, and immeasurable - suddenly become data , captured not in stone or air, but in millions of points suspended in digital space. It’s as though AR gives us a new sense, a way of seeing the world not as objects, but as geometry and information. Nature becomes quantised. Surfaces become coordinates. Depth becomes a number. But AR doesn’t just

In our last reflection, we discovered that beneath all the complexity - the algorithms, the systems, the shimmering layers of code - everything in a game world ultimately reduces to a simple yes or no . But what continues to fascinate us is this: while our algorithms deal in absolutes, our players  do something extraordinary. They take those binary foundations and build meaning upon them. They see possibility where the code sees limits; they improvise, imagine, and interpret.

When we design a game, we’re not just crafting visuals or interaction, we’re drafting the laws of an entirely new universe. Every snippet of logic we write, every rule governing movement, light, or collision, becomes its own kind of physics. These systems mirror the forces that shape our own cosmos: gravity, inertia, energy, entropy. But instead of atoms and molecules, our universes are built from vertices, scripts, and intention. And as we construct these digital worlds, a d

In the vastness of our universe, even the smallest variations can have profound effects. A fraction of a degree in a planet’s orbit. A subtle shift in a star’s gravity. Change one variable, and an entirely new solar system unfolds. The same is true in the digital universes we build. When creating complex virtual environments, we’ve learned that harmony between disciplines - art, design, and computation - is essential. And yet, it’s remarkably easy for those worlds to fall sli

When we began building our mapping algorithm, we thought the challenge would be teaching a machine where it could walk. After all, our digital worlds are not shaped by gravity or erosion, but by vertices, textures, and light. Surely the hard part would be giving structure to the void. But once the world revealed its form - every floor, slope, and surface understood - we discovered something deeper. The real difficulty wasn’t knowing where to walk, but deciding which path to t

How algorithms learn to walk... Our universe is built from atoms and molecules, governed by the quiet laws of physics. A mountain stands because gravity demands it. A valley forms because water insists on finding its way. But in a game world, none of that exists  - not until we create it. A mountain is just geometry; a field is only an arrangement of vertices and pixels. There is no gravity, no friction, no path - unless we teach the world to understand itself. So, the questi