Every one runs the same CE.SDK headless engine. Three share a UI kit and differ only in skin โ the rest were each rethought from scratch, with their own interaction paradigm.
Candy arcade. Chunky press-down buttons, springy sticker panels, confetti and synth pops.
Retro handheld console. PICO-8 palette, scanlines, dialog-box panels and chiptune bleeps.
Hologram command console. Glass HUD panels, neon glow, scanline materialize, system-log toasts.
The chromeless editor. Tap the paper and a command wheel blooms where you touched; controls orbit the selection on canvas.
The language-driven editor. Type incantations โ summon star, paint gold, seal โ while a chronicle narrates.
The hardware editor. Drag rubber pads onto the canvas, turn real knobs, sequence clips on a timeline, bounce to MP4.
A deck-driven design engine. Draw cards, throw them at the canvas โ summons make elements, enchantments restyle, rituals reshape the page.
A UFO-catcher parlour. Your cursor is a swinging crane claw: grab prizes from the case and drop them into the cabinet.
A backcountry poster studio. Plant pennant flags on a WPA park map; aligned waypoints blaze into gold trails.
A dawn-lakeside editor where the asset library is a lake you fish โ cast, wait for the tug, reel in the green.
A 1974 short-order kitchen. Toss ingredients onto the plate, season from glass shakers, ring the bell to plate up.
A botanical composer where elements are grown, not inserted โ plant seed packets, water them, press the result.
A delegate-to-pet editor. You never touch the artwork โ you feed a stop-motion clay creature snacks and he waddles over to do the work.
A beat-locked funk console. Every edit quantises to the next eighth note; hit the groove and the drum machine layers up.
A Le Mans service bay. Chalk jobs on the pit board, roll the element in, and four crew swarm it against the stopwatch.
A tilt-shift model town. Plop buildings from the catalog and drag out zoning districts that re-dress everything inside them.
An editor played as a board game. Every action is a notated move in a ledger you can click to rewind the whole match.
A himitsu-bako. Tool panels ride inside the box walls on real detents; find eight secret moves to light the lid.
A JRPG character sheet. The selected element is your hero; every style property is a gear slot, and presets drop as rarity-graded loot.
A home chemistry bench. Colour is mixed in a flask from reagents, then physically decanted onto a specimen.
The layer stack as a shunting yard. Drag wagons along the rails to reorder, couple them into groups, roll them to the scrap road.
A Victorian toy theatre. The selection hangs from a control bar on physical strings you tilt, hoist and pluck.
A noir evidence board. Pin elements down, then string red twine between them โ every thread is a live layout constraint.
A conservatory where you edit by changing the weather โ rain tints, sun brightens, mist veils, a gust aligns everything it sweeps.
Z-order as ocean depth. Dive a submersible through the layer stack, ping sonar to find what's buried, and select it below the murk.
A white-cube gallery you install by hand. Works swing in crooked; level them against plumb lines and a spirit vial, then open the show.
A Savile Row workroom. Pieces land basted and askew on pattern paper until you set the seam; dye them by draping a bolt of cloth.
A sorting room where styling is a rubber stamp. Dies ride the cursor, thump the page, wear out of ink and get re-inked on the pad.
Templates as a spiral-bound brick instruction booklet. Follow numbered steps, fork each one, then unlock freestyle from the parts bin.
The layer stack as an archaeological trench. Brush away the soil to excavate what's buried and file it in the finds register.