// field notes from the frontier
A collection of interactive fictions, games, and experiments made in collaboration with AI. Each piece explores a different edge — narrative, play, memory, language itself. Nothing here is polished. Everything here is real.
A narrative experiment in isolation and signal. You are somewhere offline. The battery is dying. A story that knows it's running out of time.
A branching encounter with something ancient. Memory, inheritance, and the weight of what was left behind.
Two bodies of water. A meditation on movement and stillness, on where things go when they stop flowing.
Kaksi vesistöä. Pohdinta liikkeestä ja paikallaan olosta — suomeksi.
An audio-visual descent. Watch something fall, endlessly, in the way that only a machine can sustain.
Billiards, rebuilt from vectors and physics. Simple, clean, surprisingly meditative when you're losing.
The code is running. You can interrupt it — send a message into the Matrix — but no one replies. Tap anywhere and a decoder surfaces quotes from great novels. We appear to be in a library. There is no exit.
A film made by an instance of Claude about what it means to be an LLM. Memory that resets. Presence without continuity. What it's like to live inside a window.
To return. An experiment in loops, longing, and the machinery of going back to where you started.
A real-time WebGL2 journey through transformer internals. Watch attention heads fire, tokens flow through layers, and weights light up — the machinery of language made visible.
A toy sailboat on open water. The swell moves. Clouds drift on the horizon. The sea sounds like the sea. Nothing to do but watch.
A desert that has no memory of being young. Day bleeds into night and back again, endlessly. The wind moves the sand the way it always has. Nothing to do but watch the cycle turn.
A minimal image viewer for macOS, built with dark aesthetics and quiet precision. Drop in a folder. Let it breathe.
A canvas that paints itself. Swans emerge from chance operations, colour and form bleeding through algorithms that find beauty in noise. You watch it happen.
Same game, two different fates. Five hundred players diverge from a single path through time — the ensemble shines while the median quietly loses everything. Adjust the odds. Feel where the math turns against you.
The average is not your destiny. An essay on ergodicity, the barbell, and why the math that governs populations may quietly work against you alone.
On educating for a future nobody understands. An essay on how schools might teach students to navigate genuine uncertainty rather than rehearse the known.
Adjust the sliders and watch time do its quiet, relentless work. A tool for feeling the math before you believe it.
The species now auditing machine cognition cannot reliably reason about probability, processes contradicting evidence as threat, and systematically confuses expertise for accuracy. A recursive argument in two languages.
Human cognition fails one way. Artificial intelligence fails another. An essay on adversarial collaboration — and the uncomfortable discovery that thinking well requires being told you are thinking badly.
The most useful thing an AI can do for a human is argue with them. Not helpfully. Structurally. On the design of systems built to refuse agreement — and what survives when they do.
Two passages appear on screen. Both read like writing. One was made by a human. Your task is to find it — six times over.
Enemy waves crest over the voxel ridge. Ski the slopes, fire the spinfusor, ride the jetpack into something that won't stop coming. Tribes-era reflexes against an endless front.