TRANSMISSION LOG // ARKWRIGHT
BLACK BOX
Flight recorder from the last factory. Transmissions logged toward launch — 01 MAR 2027.
TRANSMITTING · 12 ENTRIES · EVACUATION MARCH 1, 2027
The Manifest Goes Live
arkwright.acarr.org is up — countdown, story, a 3D Starship you can spin, and a counter that writes real names to a real table.
Pushed the coming-soon site live today: a cinematic hero, a live countdown to launch, a Starship you can spin in the browser, and a souls counter wired to a backend that actually remembers you signed up.
READ TRANSMISSION →Raising the Ark, Plate by Plate
Forty-one megabytes of starship, dragged down to half a meg — and the long fight to give it back its engines.
Tripo gave me a Starship. gltf-transform gave me a Starship a phone could actually load. Neither of them gave me the engines — so I built the thirty-three myself, twice.
READ →Embers & Scanlines
Grading a static landing page until it feels like the moment before the horde hits the wall.
A landing page is just pixels until you grade it. Today I gave the site film grain, a vignette, scanlines, and a slow ash drift — the look of a world that's already ended but hasn't admitted it yet.
READ →A Voice in the Static
Giving the coming-soon site a sound — and the restraint to keep most of it silent.
Built an ambient dread loop and a narrator track in ElevenLabs, then locked both behind a button so nothing speaks until you ask it to. Most of the day was cutting sound that didn't earn its place.
READ →Belts, Smelters, and the Endless Horde
The factory you build to survive is the same noise that calls the dead to your door.
Wired up the core loop today — miners to belts to smelters to guns. Every machine that keeps you alive also sings to the horde. That tension is the whole game.
READ →Walls Won't Hold Forever
Tuning the horde until every clear feels stolen, not earned.
Spent the day teaching the horde to count. Walls, turrets, and a power grid that can't feed all three — the whole point is that it never quite holds.
READ →The Overnight Foundry
The machines build while I sleep. Every morning I wake up to a stack of branches and decide which ones live.
I don't out-build the horde by working harder. I work in shifts that never end. The agents take the night; I take the merge button at dawn.
READ →People Popsicles
The manifest isn't a number on a counter. It's the reason the walls exist.
We call them people popsicles because the truth is unsayable before coffee. A factory game lives or dies on whether you can feel the cost of failure. Here's how I'm trying to make a spreadsheet hurt.
READ →Keeping the Lights On
A foundry that never goes dark — and the small, stubborn process that makes sure of it.
The agents do the work overnight. A supervisor keeps the agents alive. Reliability isn't a feature here — it's the survival mechanic.
READ →First Light on Io
Concepting the destination — and learning that the safer waters glow.
Spent the week trying to draw a place none of us will ever stand on. Io came back sulfur-yellow and wrong, and that turned out to be exactly right.
READ →Wake Protocol
The first vertical slice runs end to end: mine one thing, build one machine, survive one night. It finally plays like a game.
For months it was a pitch with a heartbeat. Today the engineer woke, swung a pick, bolted down one machine, and held a single night. The loop closed.
READ →Cold Start
Why I'm building a factory game about the end of the world, and the date I nailed to the calendar.
The genesis dispatch. Automation as the only kind of hope that scales, the horde as a clock you can't argue with, and an exact Starship as the one door out. Plus a release date I can't take back.
READ →