Toys
Welcome to the Digital Playground
Over the last several weeks, between client work and another soon-to-be-revealed project, I’ve been getting back in touch with my creative, playful, experimental side. In an effort to get some web development practice and see what I can build, I’ve been creating some web-based toys and games.
Many of them are inspired by things in my past, pages from the rest of my personal website, or just things I thought would be fun to create. I’ve always been interested in games and puzzles; I spent hours playing Microsoft Adventure and pretty much anything on our Intellivision once we got our first console.
Things to look at
- Aquarium: feed the fish, tap the glass, add a few new friends, and turn the lights down.
- Formicarium: a pixel ant farm. Drop in some food and the colony gets to work. It keeps digging while you’re gone.
- Weather Globe: a Kansas City snow globe. Shake it. Sometimes a storm rolls through, and sometimes a twister.
- Tacet: this page was intentionally left blank. Mostly.
Things to play
- Atomic Skyway: retro-future hover racing.
- Order Up!: a diner pinball table, all chrome and neon. Spin the order wheel, cook up tickets on the grill, start a Lunch Rush, and get your initials on the chalkboard. Play after midnight and things get a little strange.
- Bready or Not: the diner’s back kitchen. Stack the tallest sandwich you can before three things hit the floor and the health inspector shuts you down. There’s a Deli menu and a vegetarian Garden menu.
- Hat Trick: my favorite hats finally get some use. Toss them onto the coat rack. The boater flies like a frisbee, the bowler goes where you point it, and the stocking cap does whatever it wants. Every hat that lands makes Grampa’s handlebar mustache a little more magnificent.
- Trickster: a handheld electronic game from 1978 that never was. Nine light-up buttons, five games, and a coyote that cheats. Remember the coyote? This is that one. Catch it in the act and press HOWL.
Things to make
- Fridge: word magnets on a neglected fridge. Write something. The leftovers want out. Watch the door.
- Brick Box: snap pixel bricks together, knock it all over, share what you built.
- Afterglow: a neon sign shop in a rainy Kansas City alley, 2087. Bend the glass, pick the gas, and flip the transformer. The regulars stop by with orders, and your best signs can go up on the street.
Things that are a little odd
- Interface: the helm of a deep-space hauler. Flip the switches, read the crew logs, talk to the ship’s computer. Don’t trust the ship’s computer.
- Infinite Monkeys: a typing pool of monkeys banging away at typewriters, checked against the complete works of Shakespeare. Everyone who visits shares the same record. How much Shakespeare can they type?
- The Waiting Room: take a number. Fill out the forms. Your number will be called. Eventually.
- Shortwave: an old radio in a dark kitchen. Tune through the static and you’ll find somebody reading numbers. Everyone listening hears the same ones at the same time. I won’t say more than that, except: if you like a puzzle, keep your eyes open in the other toys.
Why
Building these games and toys has been a great way to stretch out my web development muscles and create something for myself, building something just to build it — no deadlines, no agenda. Literally Something Out of Nothing — exactly what this site is all about. I’ve been giggling a lot as each one is born and I start to share them with people. They make me happy; I hope they bring you the same joy and make the world a little bit less stressful.
How
I had help building these from Claude, an AI coding assistant, which turned my ideas into working code. The ideas, names, stories and decisions are mine, along with a lot of playtesting and “no, try it this way.” I also recorded my own voice reading numbers for Shortwave, with help from a friend for the second voice.
Nothing in the playground is generated art or borrowed sound. The pixel art is drawn with code, and every beep, bell, sizzle and jukebox tune is synthesized in your browser as you play. The names, characters and stories are all original.
Every toy can be played with a keyboard, and most work with a screen reader. And yes, the Shortwave numbers really do decode, and the keys are hidden around the playground.
If you’d like something playful like this for your own website, a game, a toy, or an interactive surprise for your visitors, that’s the kind of thing Two Bit Consulting does too.
There will be more. If you find a bug, get a high score you’re proud of, or just have a favorite, I’d love to hear about it.
Go play.
Rebuilding with Lego
I love building with Lego. I have for most of my life. But I have a somewhat complicated relationship with Lego.
Growing up, my favorite set was the Lego Expert Builder Power Truck (set 8848 — thank you internet!) with a working steering wheel and truck bed which you could lift with a lever inside the cab. I would build it over and over, carefully following the instructions. I would also frequently take it apart to make things from my imagination. I remember well the flying ships with jets and lasers — sadly, I have no photos of these.
The strongest memory I have, sadly, is the time my dad came into my room, raging about something my brother and I did — I don’t remember what, just kids being kids — and threw me and the Legos I was playing with across the room, they scattered all over the room and the well designed box with compartments for each type of part was destroyed. I was shocked and hurt — both physically and emotionally. I was heartbroken and horrified for what had happened to my latest creation and for the box.
Jump forward a few years to just after my first marriage ended. I went a little crazy with the Lego Bionicles sets that had just been released. I probably should have been focusing on putting my life back together, but maybe that’s exactly what I was doing. I had lost myself in that marriage — I became someone who I didn’t recognize and wasn’t happy with. I gave up too much of myself. Building those ridiculous robots gave me something I could control, something I could build with my hands that worked exactly the way they were supposed to. Piece by piece. I was rebuilding something. It wasn’t just the Legos.
These days, I love building all sorts of sets and I love to display the sets I’ve collected and built. Maura and I also like to go to the used brick stores in town to buy bulk bricks — I like to build abstract sculptures and strange looking iPhone stands with them. I love the place it takes me, both when I’m following the step by step instructions, and when I’m free building the sculptures. Sometimes I get a little impatient when building by instructions, I’m anxious to get to the next step and anxious to see the finished product. When I’m free building I go into that other place, tapping into my creativity like the kid who built those weird little spaceships. It’s a fun place to escape to for a while.
Lego has become something new — not just an escape, but a way to connect. Maura and I build together, sometimes following instructions, sometimes just seeing what emerges from a pile of bricks. We’ve even had building sessions with friends. There’s something that happens when adults sit down and play with Lego — the potential awkwardness of adults playing with childish things together falls away and you meet each other at a different level. Childlike, unhurried, creative. It turns out that’s a pretty good place to connect from.
Lego has been there for me at some major turning points in my life. After my dad’s rage. After my first marriage ended. During the harder stretches of a long career. There’s something about the act of making something — anything — that reminds me that things can be put back together. And the shared joy of building, connecting — literally — over building blocks, is a wonderful place to be.
You don’t always need the instructions. You just need the bricks.
Lego Minifig Me
Those of you know know me at all know that I love Lego. I have an ever growing collection of sets that I would have adored as a kid. Now that I’m a grown up kid, I can actually afford them!
I was messing around with AI yesterday and got it to make a minifig version of me! It’s pretty close, without even using a source image.
Maura and I went to the Blue Rain Gallery in the Railyard Art District yesterday in Santa Fe and discovered a local artist whose work we fell in love with. This is his Bio from Blue Rain Gallery’s website:
Ryan Singer is a Diné (Navajo) artist and painter based in Albuquerque, NM, known for his unique blend of traditional Navajo heritage and science fiction artistry. His work weaves together childhood memories with nostalgic pop culture elements, including science fiction imagery. With a strong presence in the “Indigenous Futurism” movement, Ryan’s artwork often features characters from Star Wars, a passion he’s had since 1977. He also creates contemporary, realistic portraits of Native subjects, capturing their essence with a modern appeal. Ryan’s work has earned numerous awards, including recognition from the prestigious SWAIA’s Santa Fe Indian Market, and is held in collections of museums and private collectors worldwide. Currently working towards his BFA at the University of New Mexico, Ryan continues to expand his artistic practice, collaborating with the Tamarind Institute and working towards his MFA.
We loved the whimsical yet serious nature and style of his work and the combination of imagery from his Navajo culture and SciFi/pop culture. There were several pieces that we were tempted by but we decided to wait and think about it. The folks at the gallery told us we could email them and they would ship anything we like and also mentioned that they were hosting an opening for Ryan in a couple of hours, if we wanted to meet the artist. We walked around the Railyard, ended up going to the Nuckolls Brewery for a couple of beers and decided to go back to the gallery for the opening. It was great to meet Ryan and chat with him about his work, which makes purchasing art even more special.
The piece we ended up purchasing is titled: “A Brief Moment of the Carbon Cycle”. It’s a 16” X 20”, acrylic on canvas painting done in 2024. there were some really fun Star Wars themed pieces, and a cowboy ET drinking beer, but this one stuck with us as we walked around thinking about the show. You can check out his other work on his instagram page!
What We Keep
Last night Maura and I attended a reading, signing, and conversation hosted by the wonderfulNational Museum of Toys and Miniatures. Seriously, if you are anywhere near KC and haven’t been, you MUST go. Authors Bill Shapiro (the former editor-in-chief and founding editor of Getty Images FOTO) and Naomi Wax (whose work has appeared in the New York Times, LA Times, and the Iowa Review) were at the museum to present their latest book called “WHAT WE KEEP, 150 People Share the One Object That Brings Them Joy, Magic, and Meaning”. Bill and Naomi interviewed people from all over the country, from all walks of life, asking them about an object that has deep meaning and then publishes images of the objects along with the stories, in the person’s own word. At the event, they did a reading of some of their favorite objects and stories, then did a Q&A answering some great questions from the attendees about their process, how they chose who to talk to, etc. They started by talking to people they knew, then took an exponential approach, talking to people that they people they knew knew. They then decided to travel across the country, seeking out people that they decided might be interesting to talk to. During their travels, they came to Kansas City, heard about the Toy and Miniature Museum and decided they had to stop in to check it out - only for half an hour or so. Unsurprisingly they ended up spending four hours there, missing an interview in Iowa.
After the reading and Q&A session, they did a book signing - before the reading, they were making their way around the room to introduce themselves to everyone. It was so great to meet them and have a brief conversation with them before the talk and at the signing - this project is obviously very meaningful to them. So meaningful in fact, that the last segment of the evening was a group conversation where the attendees broke into two groups to discuss their most treasured objects. During the break, Maura and I were naturally thinking about and discussing what objects we would have selected. Bill led the conversation at our table. He gave us a few minutes to draw the object on one side of a card, then flip it over and answer several questions about the object and why we chose it. We then went around the table discussing our objects. It was very touching, hearing these intimate stories from strangers and sharing our own.
Which brings me to the real point of this post. At the top of the post, you can see the drawing I did, from memory, of the object that I selected. Here is the actual car: 
I don’t think I did too bad, for a non-illustrator. As I was listening to the stories in Bill and Naomi’s book, I was thinking what meaning this toy car has to me.
Many of you know that I collect toy VW Beetles. Well, this is the original. I have many more Beetles now but this was the object that started me down the path to becoming a collector. I had never thought about what deeper meaning might be behind that Bug, but as I considered it last night I realized several things that I have never fully acknowledged. It was given to me by my father, early in my high school years. I have never had a strong relationship with him. He left when I was pretty young and for the first several years after that we didn’t see much of him. I ended up living with he and his second wife when I was in high school. My father came home one day after work and surprised me with the Bug out of the blue. I’m sure I had mentioned my love for the VW Beetle and that I wanted to drive one someday (I still haven’t bought one and yes, it has to be a vintage one, not the new abomination). This was one of the only truly thoughtful gestures I ever experience from my father. It was a small thing, but it meant that he had heard me and more importantly, done something about it. The majority of what I learned from my father was what I didn’t want to be as a man or as a human being. Thinking about the history of this car last night, I realized that I had learned something positive from him after all. I learned that listening is powerful, and no matter how small the gesture, acting on what you hear even more so. It’s difficult for me to acknowledge that I might have learned something positive from my father, he was pretty worthless as an example most of the time.
It was interesting to talk about it so openly last night with a table full of strangers. As we were leaving, an older gentleman who we shared the table with approached me, placed his hand on my shoulder, and told me how much he appreciated what I shared. This, I believe, is what Bill and Naomi’s project was ultimately about. Everyone has stories, they simply used a person’s cherished object as a focal point to bring out some of these stories. It must have felt like a tremendous privilege to be able to talk to all of those people as they shared theirs. I can’t wait to read the book and experience more of them!