Tech

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 interactions—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