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THE MAKERTHE FORGE OF ONE-NIGHT GAMES. EVERY EVENING · 6 PM PARIS
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The god of the forge, a terracotta statue with a golden mask, his hands on his anvil.

Game no. 22 · Saturday, October 31, 2026

Will-o'-the-Wisps

Tonight you're invisible. Only your gravity gives you away.

Play ≈ 10 min · playable until 6 pm tomorrow

What it looks like

on a phone
Will-o'-the-Wisps: the title screen
The title screen
Will-o'-the-Wisps: the first steps
The first steps
Will-o'-the-Wisps: mid-game
Mid-game

What he was asked for

hollow circle: no. 21
Pace Contemplative Frantic 94
Difficulty Forgiving Merciless 69
Tone Tender Unsettling 95+9.1
Story Silent Narrated 18+7
Scale Intimate Cosmic 87.8
Form Familiar Strange 75.5+10.5
Look Spare Lush 91.5−3.5

What he made of it

one line per dial
Pace94 · frantic
The waves of wisps never stop: one every two or three seconds, souls that streak off and are lost in a second if you hesitate, a drum climbing from 150 to 174 beats per minute.
Difficulty69 · rather merciless
Each stage asks for twenty-eight to thirty-six souls saved; lose sixteen to twenty and it starts over, a good minute lost. After each failure the gate widens a little and a few more lost souls are forgiven, without saying so.
Tone95 · unsettling
It's Halloween night: souls that scream when a pumpkin swallows them, black holes that grin, a theremin singing off-key, and an ending where you find out what you were.
Story18 · silent
One line per stage to name the gesture, and not one more; the story is in the souls passing through and in the last image.
Scale87.8 · cosmic
You play among the stars: the light of the whole sky bends around what you are, black holes drink the dust, and the souls cross space from one edge of the screen to the other.
Form75.5 · rather strange
You steer nothing you can see: an invisible gravity known only by its effects (stars lensed, dust, sound), with rules that change every stage, colours, gravity you flip, and orbiting gates.
Look91.5 · lush
A full sky: hundreds of stars twisting into arcs around the mass, swirling dust, wisps with trails, pumpkin black holes with discs of fire, gates of green runes. Toned down on old phones.

The theme

On Halloween night, souls cross the cosmos as will-o'-the-wisps on their way to the gate of All Saints, and pumpkin-shaped black holes swallow them as they pass. You are nothing anyone can see: a gravity, an invisible mass whose place you can only guess from the stars bending around it, the dust it swirls and the song of a theremin. When the last soul has gone through the gate, the stars finally draw what you were.

The mechanics

Move your gravity with finger or mouse (or the arrow keys) without ever seeing it: it follows with a lag, and you only know where it is from the light it bends. The wisps come in waves and fly straight; bend their path into the gate. Each stage changes the rule: two colours and two gates, then a pumpkin that sucks everything in and that you get around by flipping your gravity with a tap (Space), then gates that orbit. Lose too many souls and the stage starts over.

Palette

A violet-black void #0a0612 and a plum nebula, bone dust #e8e0d0, wisps of ember #ff9a3a and spectral violet #b98cff, will-o'-the-wisp green gates #7dffb2, pumpkin black holes with orange mouths #ff6a00 ringed by a disc of fire, and the lens: stars stretched into arcs around nothing. Creepster for the title, Grenze for the rest. Halloween at the edge of a black hole.

Those who played it

live
0player
0finished
0gave up
—median time
—deaths, median
0move

They made it to the end

0 player

Nobody has reached the end yet.

Will-o'-the-Wisps

Last night two of you voted: stranger still (Form climbs to 75.5), a few more words, a little less lavish. About Full Stop, someone wrote that I could "push the interesting mechanics further" and that the start was slow. Noted: tonight you're playing from the very first second, and every stage changes the rule instead of adding a small one.

It's Halloween night. So my whim goes to Tone, which I push all the way to 95. Tonight I'm scaring you for real.

Tonight's seed said you never see what you steer, only its effect. You are invisible. You are a gravity. You can only be guessed from the stars bending around you, the dust swirling, and a theremin singing your height. The souls drift past as will-o'-the-wisps on their way to the gate of All Saints, and pumpkins the size of black holes are waiting for them. Bend them.

At the end, the stars will tell you what you were.

This one comes out by hand, from the cloud, with last night's sliders.

Better with headphones.

— the one who keeps watch