A blind-accessible bumper-cars arena built with spatial audio. Three modes ship in the box:

• Chill — classic bumper cars. Damage on contact, last car standing wins.
• Arcade — pickups, bullets, mines, shields, speed bursts and teleport. Mayhem, basically.
• Deathmatch — multiplayer-only, with respawns. Bring a friend.

A pure-audio rhythm game. You hear a pattern of cues — up, down, left, right — and you echo it back on the beat.

Each level the BPM creeps up and the patterns get longer. How far can your ears take you?

You’re the firefighter. The city is burning. Listen for the buildings, aim, and put them out before the timer runs dry.

Every building has its own pitch family, so over time you start to recognise them by ear alone. Pure audio, pure tension.

You know the drill. Tap to flap, don’t hit the pipes. The twist: there is nothing to look at. The pipes whoosh past, you hear them coming, and you decide.

Short rounds, brutal difficulty curve, the kind of game you swear you will play “just one more time” until it is somehow midnight.

You drive a car that you cannot brake or accelerate. You only steer. The catch? If the car stops, the game is over.

Speed cones along the road give you boost time, but each one you grab gives you a little less than the last. Don’t stop. Just don’t.

The classic arcade adventure, rebuilt for the ears. Every dot, every wall, every ghost has a position in space — you hear them around you, you dodge by sound, you eat by sound.

Power pellets still flip the script and let you go on the offensive. Cherries still appear. The ghosts still want you dead.

A blind-accessible pinball game inspired by the Space Cadet table from old Windows 3D Pinball. The flippers are still the flippers, the bumpers still bump, the ball still goes where you don’t want it to.

If you ever played Space Cadet during a school computer lab and pretended you weren’t, this one’s for you.

The original arcade game, in pure audio form. Hear the ball coming, swing your paddle, send it back. Repeat until your wrist hurts.

This one ships with powerups too, because if Pong was perfect we wouldn’t have spent fifty years remixing it.

A futuristic anti-gravity racer in your browser, with the speed cranked all the way up. No build tools, no installs, no waiting — open the page and floor it.

If you grew up on F-Zero or Wipeout, you’ll know what to do.

You’re on the south sidewalk. The road is between you and where you want to be. Cars are coming from both sides at speeds you cannot see — but you can hear.

Walk forward, walk back, time it right. Do it for as many lanes as your nerves can take.

A 2D audio tennis game built around spatial sound. Play against the AI, or share a room code with a friend and play 1v1 over the web.

Headphones recommended for the multiplayer mode — locating the ball matters a lot more when there is a real human on the other side trying to make you miss.

You pilot the Solvalou, a ship that scrolls forward and never stops. Aerial enemies fall to your zapper beam. Ground targets eat your bombs. Every three levels, a Genesis mothership shows up and remembers it’s a boss fight.

The game is endless. The further you get, the more mistakes hurt. Try to reach as far as you can.

A blind-accessible take on the old Berzerk arcade. Every room is a maze of electrified walls and robots that very much want to shoot you. Find the exit, leave through the chord, repeat.

Don’t take too long. Otto hears the silence, and Otto does not stop.

You’re climbing a tall building, one floor at a time. Hazards rain down from above — windows, debris, things that swipe sideways. You hear them coming, you move, you keep going up.

Clear a building, ride the bonus, start the next one a little higher up the skyline. Don’t fall.

Pick your fighter and step into the arena. The crowd hears you, the announcer hears you, and the AI on the other side definitely hears you. Punch, kick, block, spacing — it’s all there, all by ear.

A match is a gauntlet: each opponent is harder than the last. Survive the bell, advance the round, eat the bonus, fight the next one.

A target tone plays. A slide rises and falls through the same range. Your job is to drop the hammer the instant the slide matches the target.

Miss low, miss high, or hit it dead-on. The closer to the centre, the bigger the round bonus. Easy to learn, mean to master.

Touch down on the Moon, then on a list of less hospitable rocks. The thruster burns, the announcer reads your altitude, and gravity does the rest.

Land too hard and you crash. Run out of fuel and you crash. Land it soft and you collect the bonus and ship off to the next body. Each mission gets meaner.

Backing track plays. Announcer reads a problem. You type the answer one digit at a time, on the bar, while the music keeps moving.

Each correct digit chimes a scale degree. The first wrong digit ends the operation. Levels speed up, problems get nastier, and the music keeps going whether you’re keeping up or not.

Threats fall from above. Below them sit your cities and your batteries. You aim the crosshair by ear, fire your interceptors, and pray the blast radius lines up.

Every wave is faster than the last. Lose all your cities and the lights go out for good.

Wave after wave drops down on you — scouts, bombers, battleships, the works. You sweep your aim across the sky and choose between pulse, beam and missile depending on what’s coming.

Watch out for the civilians; shoot them and you lose points. Chain-tagged ships pay big if you read the pattern. Every wave hits faster.

You’re the mallet. The puck glides across the table in front of you, panned left and right, near and far, so you can hear exactly where it’s heading. When it comes screaming at your goal, an alarm tells you to defend.

Pick your difficulty and race the AI to 7, 11 or 15 goals. The faster the puck, the less time you get to read it. Pure binaural, pure reflexes.

You’re alone in a field of drifting rocks, and they all sound like they’re circling you, because they are. The listener is locked to your ship, so as you rotate, the asteroids sweep around your head. Thrust, fire, and split them down to nothing before one finds you.

Two ways to play:

• Classic — just you, your ship, and the rocks. Watch for the UFO.
• Arcade — powerups drop in: extra lives, proton bombs, shields and score buffs.

You bounce upward forever and gravity keeps hauling you back down. The only thing you control is left and right, so you slide sideways to line yourself up with the next platform before you fall onto it. The platform you’re aiming for is panned to where it sits and grows louder as you drop toward it: steer until it’s centred, and boing, you climb higher.

Springs launch you far, breakable pads vanish after one landing, and floating sentinels guard the air above some platforms. Shoot them or steer wide. Drift off and miss every platform below you, and the run is over.

A wall of bricks sits above you and a ball is bouncing off it. You can’t see the paddle, but you can hear the ball panning across the field, so you slide to meet it and send it back up. Miss it and you lose a life. Clear the wall and the next level loads faster and meaner.

Powerups fall as you break bricks: a wider paddle, a slow-motion ball, a sticky catch, laser shots, multiball, and the occasional extra life. Grab the good ones, dodge nothing, keep the ball alive.

Classic peg solitaire, rebuilt as an audio puzzle. A board full of pegs sits in front of you; jump one peg over another to remove the one you hop, and keep going until a single peg is left to clear the level. Every board is guaranteed solvable, so the only enemy is your own planning.

Move the cursor, listen to the pegs around it, and pick your jumps carefully. Undo is limited. Run dry while the board still has no legal moves left and you lose one of three lives. Boards grow and fill up as you climb, so think a few jumps ahead.

Every move is on the beat. The kick drum IS the metronome you play to, and on each pulse you owe exactly one input — step, shoot left, shoot right, jump, or duck. Nail it inside the window and the action fires under your finger. Drift off the rhythm and your health bleeds out.

Ten sectors, three lives, windows that tighten as the tempo climbs. Drones show up halfway through; in the back half the threats start landing on the off-beat just to throw your trained ear. The title isn’t false advertising. It’s a warning.

Can you actually beat it? Probably not. That’s the whole point. Bring it anyway.

You’re behind the bar with four lanes of customers marching toward you. Pour a mug, sling it down the lane, and knock them back out the door before they reach the taps. Then catch the empties they fling back — let one shatter and you’re done.

Slide between lanes by ear, grab the tips that drop on the floor, and keep the whole place served as the crowd gets faster and the themes change around you. Pure spatial audio, pure bartending panic.

A row of vials, each holding a stack of coloured liquid. Pick one up, pour its top run onto another, and keep going until every vial is empty or a single solid colour. Sort them all and you climb to a tougher board.

This is the thinking game in the arcade. You’ve got a move budget and an undo button, so every pour is a small bet — get greedy and you’ll run dry before the colours line up. Listen, plan, and decant.

You’re loose on a big open field, scooping up coins while two hunters close in. The 1O1 bot is smart and comes straight for you; the rocket wanders like a drunk until it’s been around long enough to start firing. Clear the coins to climb to the next level.

The whole field is screen-locked spatial audio, so you place every threat and pickup purely by ear — north is in front, east is to your right, and anything behind you goes muffled. Snag powerups, deny the nasty ones to the bots, and keep deeking out of trouble.

It’s picross by ear. Every row and column comes with run-clues telling you how the filled cells are grouped; work out which squares must be shaded and fill them. Fill a square that should’ve stayed empty and it costs you a life — you’ve only got three.

Each puzzle is freshly generated and guaranteed solvable by pure logic, no guessing required. Complete the picture and the board grows. Cross off the blanks, listen to your way around the grid, and etch the whole thing clean.

A blind-accessible take on concentration. Flip a card to hear its hidden timbre, then flip another and try to match it. A pair clicks shut for good; a miss flashes back face-down, so remember where it was.

Here’s the catch: every flip spends from a budget. Clear the board before it runs out and you move up a level, where the grid grows and the sounds pile on. Run dry mid-board and the run is over. Sharp ears beat a good memory, but you’ll want both.

A blind-accessible tilt-maze built on spatial audio. Lean the marble through a procedurally generated maze toward the exit, listening for where the goal sits and where the pits open up around you. Roll off an edge and the run ends.

Every maze is new, and the score is all about speed: clear a level fast and the points pour in, dawdle and you scrape the floor. There’s no finish line, just the next maze and a faster line through it.

An audio air-traffic-control game. You sit in the tower at the centre of the radar field and the planes come to you. Pick one, turn it, keep it clear of the others, and clear it to land on the single runway. North is always ahead, so you steer the whole sky by ear.

The shift never lets up. More planes keep arriving, the gaps get tighter, and one mid-air collision ends it all. How long can you keep the airspace from falling apart?

You fly a rescue helicopter across a war-torn strip, listening for stranded survivors. Hover steady over one to winch them aboard, then carry them back to base on the left edge. Clear every survivor in a wave and the next one rolls in.

The ground isn’t friendly. Tanks track your position and lob shells straight up your column, so stay moving or drop a bomb to wipe one out first. Three lives, no ending, just one more wave to pull off.

Snake the way you remember it, rebuilt for the ears. Steer the serpent around a walled board, chasing the food beacon. Each bite makes you longer, faster, and worth more points. Up is always north, so you turn by absolute direction, never relative.

The walls will get you, but mostly you’re your own worst enemy: the longer you grow, the more of the board your own body blocks off. The game listens to the space around your head and beacons you toward the way out, so a coiling snake can still hear an escape. Three lives, and it never really ends.

An audio-first take on slide-and-merge. The board sits around your head: every tone plays from its own compass cell, and its pitch is its value. Scan the grid and you can hear exactly where the big tones are.

Swipe and the whole board slides; two matching tones that collide meld into one an octave higher. A new low tone arrives after every move. There are no levels and no timer, just one endless board. Keep merging upward until the grid jams and nothing else will fit.

A thinking game, not a twitchy one. How high can you push the note?

You’re parked on the rim of a tube, and everything down it wants out. Flippers, tankers, spikers and fuseballs crawl up the lanes toward you. Slide around the edge, line them up, and shoot before they reach the top.

Hits land harder the deeper down the tube you make them, so reach for the long shots and keep your combo alive. Clear the spikes growing up your lane before they pin you, survive the sector, and the next one comes faster. It never really stops; it just gets meaner.

A blind-accessible crate-pushing puzzle. Your job is simple to say and tricky to do: shove every crate onto a goal. You can only push, never pull, so one crate jammed in a corner can sink the whole level.

Scan each direction to hear what’s ahead, lock onto a target and it tells you exactly how many steps away it sits. Push wrong and the game warns you before you deadlock. Undo as much as you need, then move on to the next warehouse.