// how it was made
A floating archipelago in empty space that you can drive, fly and walk around in a browser. Eight landmasses hanging in a void, with no sea, no horizon, and nothing underneath any of them.
Play it →This is a place that contains games, not a game level. Changes get judged on whether it is more believable to stand in.
The main island is a bowl. A basin with a skate pool cut into it and a very large tree standing through both, a ring lake around that, then plains, four mountains and a cave. Three channels cut through the ring, and the water goes over the cliff edge into the void. Two road circuits tie it together: matte black decks with a bright orange kerb down each edge, carried between islands on pylons that are wide at the road and needle to a point.
Seven smaller islands ring it, each built around one idea rather than decorated to taste. A radio dish sunk into the ground with tuned monoliths at its focus. An open-cast dig terraced down to a pit. A drivable spiral wound round a battered pylon. A ruined arch whose last columns have all fallen the same direction, because they fell in the same event. All of it is flat shaded, with no textures anywhere, painted from one strip of sixteen colours.
You arrive on a plaza with a board giving the bearing and distance to everywhere worth driving, and nine machines to pick from: cars, a truck, a motorbike, a BMX, a kick scooter, a hoverboard, an FPV drone, a paper plane, and your own two feet. Swap whenever you like. The drone is the best way to see the place: first person, real gravity, self-levelling you can switch off.
Fifteen orbs to find, a twelve gate aerial course that only wakes while flying, a lap timer, a football pitch, a skate bowl, sixteen things to unlock, and a day cycling through dusk, night and daylight.
It is a keyboard game. There are no touch controls, so a phone loads it and leaves you nothing to press. That is a gap, not a decision.
There is deliberately no floor under this world, and protecting that is most of the art direction. A render review once caught the sky painting horizon colour below the horizon, laying a ground plane under an archipelago whose whole idea is that nothing is down there. Anything filling that space is a bug, however pretty.
Falling off is expected, not punished. Go over an edge and the game asks where you want to come back: the last solid ground you stood on, or the plaza.
For months the complaint was that the car lost control at the start. It handled like it was on the moon, and the handling was fine.
A golden pin hidden in the mountains gives you twenty seconds of low gravity when you hit it. It was set down on the ground during loading, and its own landing counted as a hit, so it fired every time before the player touched a key. The symptom pointed at the suspension. The cause was a collectible congratulating itself.
It started as a fork of Bruno Simon's open source portfolio world. His own content was stripped out rather than reskinned, and what survives is his idea of painting a whole world from one colour strip. Three.js draws it, a physics library simulates it, and Blender builds the geometry.
The rule that saved the most time: anything that does not move belongs in the model, not the code. Geometry that exists only while the game runs cannot be looked at, measured, or welded to what is beside it. The arrival island lived in code for months, so nobody saw it was a flat machined disc while every other island was a crowned dome, or that the road onto it stopped short.