Not mockups — these are real, playable games. The first three were built for real birthdays. The demo further down wasn't: it's there to show what else the format can do.
A 10-minute, 4-level game where you fly through outer space — fly with your little brother, find the hidden keys, dodge black holes and asteroids, melt sticky traps, and get home. Built for a 7-year-old.
Play It Now Opens the real game — give it a few seconds to load, it's a full game, not a video.
Made for a real 7-year-old's birthday, shared with their family's permission. First screenshot is the actual game running, not concept art.
A 10-minute, 3-level jump-and-dig game — dig dirt, place blocks, collect crystals, and unlock a family "Mission File" at the end. Built for a 6-year-old.
Play It Now Opens the real game — give it a few seconds to load, it's a full game, not a video.
Made for a real 6-year-old's birthday, shared with their family's permission. First screenshot is the actual game running, not concept art.
One button to dash across the danger. The pattern never changes, so they learn it, and they can't lose for good. Built for a 5-year-old.
Play It Now Opens the real game — give it a few seconds to load, it's a full game, not a video.
Made for a real 5-year-old's birthday, shared with their family's permission. First screenshot is the actual game running, not concept art.
Every game is tested on a real phone before it's handed over — and if something's wrong on party day, I fix it that day.
Built to show what the format can do — not made for a specific child, and not from a real birthday.
A game for two kids and one phone. You each hold your own half of the screen to walk, carrying a cake on a plank between you. The plank tilts with the ground under your feet, so climb the steps together — or the cake slides and a candle goes over the edge. Three stages, no game over.
Play It Now Opens the real game — needs two thumbs (or the left/right arrow keys if you're trying it alone).
Made to answer the most common worry about the other three: that one kid plays alone for ten minutes while the party moves on. Every screenshot here is the actual game running.
Designed, not built yet. Each one answers a different reason a parent has told me no.
“Her little brother is three. He’ll just watch.”
One screen, no rules, no way to be wrong. Every touch does something disproportionate, and the sibling’s own character is on screen from the first frame — not saved for a reward.
“He’s nine. He’ll think it’s for babies.”
Three tools chosen from six, one route past the patrolling grown-ups, and a clock that only ever competes against your own best run. Depth rather than difficulty — being hard isn’t the same as taking someone seriously.
“It’s a nice gift, but it isn’t really hers.”
Your kid fills in six boxes on a sheet of paper before the party. Those drawings — wobbly lines, three-legged dog and all — become the entire game, untouched and un-tidied.
“It’s a game with his name on it. So is every app.”
A gentle bike ride down your kid’s actual street, drawn from your photos — their front door, the neighbour’s dog, the school gate. Ride past and wave at everyone. Private link only, and everyone who appears has to agree to it.
From the families these were built for.
“The mega crystal cracked open, the map flashed — and that boy lost his mind. He jumped off the couch screaming ‘I made a real game!’ He’d been digging the whole time toward a trip he didn’t even know about, and he thought he’d built it. ‘The chocolate mountains are REAL!’ Best moment of my life as an aunt.”
— Liam’s aunt, on Chip’s Dig & Build
“His name popped up on screen — ‘XAVIER THE BRAVEST!’ — and he just froze. Then he whispered, ‘Daddy, that’s me. They put ME in a real game.’ A five-year-old realizing his own idea became a real game. He’s been calling himself a game maker ever since.”
— Xavier’s dad, on Xavier’s Snap Trap
“She gasped when she saw the pink unicorn with the rainbow mane. ‘Mommy, that’s ME — because I said pink and stars! It’s MY game!’ Then she spotted her little brother in space right beside her and squealed, ‘He’s in it! My brother’s in my game!’ Watching her play it, I finally see inside her head — and it’s pink and enormous and full of courage.”
— Aria’s mom, on Aria and the Pink Star