Prints a Paper Theatre story as kamishibai boards: the picture on each front, and on each back the lines for the board in front of it, so it can be read from behind the stack.

A writing room for Paper Theatre scripts: the .vn text on the left, the live stage on the right, lint and the branch walk on every keystroke. Drafts stay in this browser.

Every paper and post as a two-minute visual novel: a bet, a result, a citation. One engine; each story is a plain-text script you can read in the repo.

Every blog post pressed onto a twelve-inch record: the groove is the text, paragraphs are tracks, and a tonearm reads it aloud. Drop the needle anywhere.

Speedrun the blog: a LiveSplit-style timer, splits, fake unverified world records, a local leaderboard and TAS detection.

An inked map of Latentland: read the neuron's memoir place by place, or explore it on a budget of surprise.

Live BPE tokenisation as a fish tank: common tokens swim big and slow, rare ones small and twitchy.

A one-layer transformer learning addition mod 113. Scrub through training and watch it grok.

A Markov chain that invents ML paper titles, and a linter that scores how cliché a real one is.

The site's own JavaScript, obfuscated live with the Playground's transforms, plus a daily guessing game.

Any public GitHub repo replayed as a silent film: intertitles for commits, the file tree growing between.

Stack JavaScript obfuscation transforms into a ladder and diff each rung against the last.

Predict the output of obfuscated Python snippets. Tracks correctness, time and confidence.

A git history laid out like a video editor, with a trailer that plays the whole thing in 30 seconds.

Shows a bundled example repository.

The 10 o'clock forecast for a piece of writing: sentiment is temperature, commas are drizzle, a 45-word sentence is a run-on warning, and every number opens the sentence that caused it.

Paste English and dig down through its word strata: modern loans, Latin, Norman French, Norse, Old English bedrock.

Cross a river of six languages on planks that sound alike; score for how far the meanings drift.

Collide two languages into a toy pidgin: lexicon, phonology, grammar sketch, phrasebook and corpus, all live.

Words fade by how common they are, then get sung: common ones vanish in a beat, rare ones ring and linger.

A clock whose face is a paragraph: one word turns into a synonym every minute until midnight.

Paste a poem and get morae, syllables, meter and rhyme annotated line by line.

A source text and its translation side by side, sentence by sentence, with manual realignment.

Sakaguchi Ango's 堕落論 with the words he uses unusually often highlighted against general Japanese.

The library as a solar system: every book a planet, the older it is the farther out and the slower it crawls. Scrub ten thousand years for conjunctions.

A talking board whose spirits are the authors on these shelves. Ask; the planchette spells an answer stitched from their own book blurbs.

The library as a Wolfenstein-style raycaster: thirteen aisles of real spines drawn from the catalogue. Walk the stacks and pull a book.

The real Texas sky right now, each of the 88 constellations renamed for a day after an author on the shelf. Click one for its myth.

The library as one chromosome: genre bands, year glow, collision hotspots, and fake crossover books.

Ride the library: twelve genre lines, interchanges where books overlap, and a journey planner for what to read next.

Every library book is a listed stock; prices move when its words show up on the blog. Paper-trade 10,000 credits.

A daily text roguelike where every room is a real shelf of the library and every monster is a book.

Falling pieces are books. A shelf only clears when its titles read in alphabetical order.

A library catalog as shelves of spines: find a book, browse stats, run integrity checks.

Runs on an invented sample catalog.

A whole book collection as one printable SVG poster of spines, sized to the paper you pick.

Ask a question or name a mood and get a passage from the Five-Foot Shelf. Also today's Fifteen Minutes a Day reading.

Searches a sample of 340 passages from seven works.

A music app over your YouTube playlists: browse by artist, genre, mood and the anime or game a song is from, then shuffle it properly. A demo runs without signing in.

Signing in works for the owner's Google account; anyone else brings a Google client id of their own.

A Japanese poem by a watercolor shoreline: switch between the art print and a reading view, or download the A3 print.

A tiny type foundry. Draw each letter in its cell, watch the page rewrite itself in your hand, and download a real .otf you can install.

Borges's Library, browsable and complete: every 40-line page that could ever be written sits on a shelf, and whatever you type, the search computes where it already is.

Paint on a spectrogram and hear it: pitch runs up, time runs right, brightness is loudness. Stamp a word and hide it in the sound like Aphex Twin did.

Weave any text into cloth: every word a stripe, the first sentence the sett, the whole text the weft of a 2/2 twill you can zoom into thread by thread.

A vellum leaf that remembers your hand: where you rub, an older hidden text shows through, across visits.

A globe of the eight countries I've set foot in. Spin it, click a lit country, and an ink stamp thumps into the passport beside it.

A world clock for the places where the authors on the shelves died, sorted by whose sun is setting right now.

The current time, told as a haiku in four languages.

Local time, sunrise, sunset and daylight arcs for three cities at once.