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

(Where it all begins…) For years, I worked in a game studio, surrounded by brilliant developers who could conjure entire worlds out of nothing but imagination, code, and caffeine. I’ve always known I was a storyteller. But even though I was part of the team, I never quite felt like I belonged in  the team. While the developers worked their technical wizardry, I was the one handling storylines, writing dialogue, shaping ideas - and yes, also making the tea, doing the pizza run

Well, that didn’t take long! We’re still catching our breath after the incredible response to our first Red Nought beta programme, which was completely oversubscribed in just a few hours. The enthusiasm, curiosity, and creativity from our early community have truly blown us away. To everyone who signed up: thank you. Your excitement and feedback remind us exactly why we’re building Red Nought - a platform designed to make game creation accessible, inclusive, and truly democra

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