A level is not a list of obstacles. It is a sequence of questions asked in an order that makes each one answerable, with the answers to earlier ones available when the later ones arrive. This guide is about how the levels on this site are put together, and it is as useful for playing them as for building your own.
A level teaches, and it teaches through layout
The first thing any level does is establish what its objects mean, and the cheapest way to do that is to present each one in isolation where it cannot hurt you much.
The classic pattern is introduce, repeat, combine, complicate. Show the thing alone with space around it. Show it again so the player confirms their reading. Then put it next to something already known, so the combination is the only new element. Then vary it.
The runners on this site do this automatically: a hazard type is always emitted alone the first time, with roughly double the usual clear space on the far side, and in several games its name is printed on screen as it arrives.
The wave games do it with creatures: a wave never opens with something you have not met, and new types unlock one wave at a time.
What this avoids is the worst outcome in arcade design - a player learning a rule by dying to it, in a situation where they could not tell which of four things killed them.
Rhythm: the thing most levels are missing
A level with constant pressure is exhausting, and a level with constant relief is dull. What makes one memorable is the alternation, and the alternation has to be deliberate.
In the wave games here, every fourth wave is smaller and has treasure on the floor. That is a landing on a staircase, and it exists because a curve that only rises reads as a wall - players do not experience a wall as a challenge, they experience it as the end.
In the runners the rhythm is finer: the generator alternates single hazards with clusters, and the gap after an introduction is doubled. A run has a texture rather than a constant rate.
In the designed rooms of Magic Castle, the rhythm is spatial. Each room has a dense section and a sparse one, and the door is always past both, so the shape of a room is tension followed by a short run home.
The practical test for a designer is whether you can point at the quiet parts. If you cannot, the level has one texture, and one texture is monotony however hard it is.
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Risk has to be visible before it is taken
Every good level has at least one thing that is worth more precisely because it is dangerous. That is what stops the optimal route from being the safe one.
The important part is that the risk and the reward have to be visible simultaneously. A chest behind a spike plate is a decision; a chest you discover after committing to the spike plate is a trap.
The examples on this site are deliberately blatant. Treasure Hunt rings its highest-value chest with four spike plates. Dragon Coin Rush marks the double-paying lane with a gold edge and puts the hazard at the far end of it. Dragon Rider presses its crystals against the wall, where the graze zone is. Goblin Escape doubles the value of anything collected inside torchlight, which is also the thing burning down.
The rule of thumb: if something is guarded, the player should be able to see both the guard and the prize from outside. If they cannot, it is not a risk, it is a surprise - and surprises are only interesting once.
Designed rooms versus generated space
Both are used on this site and the choice is not about effort - it is about how long the player will be there.
A designed room is worth more when the player will see it briefly. Magic Castle's five rooms and Pixel Fantasy Adventure's six screens are hand-built because each one is on screen for around ninety seconds, and in ninety seconds a designed shape beats a generated one every time.
Generated space is worth more when the player will be there indefinitely. An endless runner cannot be hand-authored, and a maze that is the same every run stops being a maze after two attempts.
The hybrid is often best: a designed layout with generated contents. Magic Castle's rooms have fixed platform arrangements and varying object and enemy placement, so a room is familiar without ever being memorised. A second attempt at The Broken Stair is a better attempt rather than a replayed one.
| Designed | Generated | Hybrid | |
|---|---|---|---|
| Best when | Seen briefly | Seen indefinitely | Replayed often |
| Strength | Deliberate shape | Endless variety | Familiar but fresh |
| Weakness | Memorised quickly | No authored moments | More work than either |
| Used in | Magic Castle, Pixel Fantasy Adventure | The runners, Dungeon Tunnel | Magic Castle, Treasure Hunt |
Guarantees are the price of generation
The moment a level is generated, somebody has to guarantee that it is passable, because nobody will check it before a player sees it.
Those guarantees have to be numerical rather than aesthetic. Platform spacing capped at seventy per cent of the real jump arc. Obstacle gaps measured in seconds of travel with a floor of 0.62 seconds. A cave corridor clamped so it never narrows below four times the player's height. One hazard per block, so there is always a clear lane.
A generator without guarantees will eventually produce something impossible, and it will do it for somebody on their fortieth run - which is the run they remember and the one that decides whether they come back.
The corollary for players is useful: on this site, if a layout looked impossible, it was not. Something else went wrong, and it is worth working out what.
Placing treasure so it teaches the route
Treasure is the cheapest instruction a level has, and most games waste it by scattering it.
Placed properly, treasure traces the movement you want. An arc of coins over a root traces the exact jump that clears it - follow the treasure and you have performed the correct jump without thinking about it. A low straight trail under a branch rewards committing to a duck rather than hedging.
It can also lie usefully. A ring of treasure drawn around a hazard tells you where the hazard is before you can see it clearly, and a high-value item placed just outside a safe line is an offer rather than an instruction.
The nine patterns used across this site - trail, arc, zigzag, cluster, ring, column, staircase, wave and single - are each a statement about movement, and a player who learns to read the pattern rather than the items commits a full second earlier than one who does not.
The five failures that show up most
Worth naming, because they are recognisable from the player's side too.
- Introducing two things at once, so a player who fails cannot tell which one beat them.
- One texture throughout - constant pressure or constant relief - which reads as monotony however hard it is.
- Reward hidden behind risk, so the decision is made blind and the discovery is only interesting once.
- Generated space without guarantees, which produces an impossible layout eventually and at the worst moment.
- Scattered treasure, which throws away the cheapest instruction the level has.
What this means when you are playing
Level design principles are useful to players because they are predictions.
If something new appears alone with space around it, the game is teaching you - look at it rather than surviving it, because it will come back in company.
If a section suddenly feels easy, that is the landing on the staircase. Use it for the things you cannot do under pressure: collect, reposition, let a resource refill.
If something valuable is visibly guarded, it is meant to be taken, and it is usually worth more than the arithmetic suggests because it also protects a multiplier.
And if a layout looks impossible, it is not. Every generated layout on this site is provably passable, which means a failure is information about your route rather than about the level.
Key takeaways
- Levels teach through layout: introduce alone with space, repeat, combine, then complicate.
- Rhythm is what makes a level memorable - if you cannot point at the quiet parts, it has one texture.
- Risk and reward must be visible at the same time, or it is a surprise rather than a decision.
- Designed rooms win where a player is brief; generation wins where they are indefinite; hybrids win where they replay.
- Generation requires numerical guarantees, because nobody checks a layout before a player sees it.
- Treasure is instruction: an arc traces a jump, a ring marks a hazard, a scattered coin teaches nothing.
Frequently asked questions
What makes a level different from a list of obstacles?
Order and rhythm. A level introduces its ideas one at a time, alternates pressure with relief, and places risk where it can be seen before it is taken.
Why does the game go quiet sometimes?
Because a difficulty curve that only rises reads as a wall. The quiet sections are landings, and they are when you should collect, reposition and let resources refill.
Are the levels here designed or generated?
Both. Magic Castle and Pixel Fantasy Adventure are hand-built because each screen is seen briefly; the runners and Dungeon Tunnel are generated because they are endless. Several use fixed layouts with varying contents.
Can a generated level be impossible?
Not on this site. Spacing, gaps and corridors are all clamped against the movement the player actually has, so if a layout looked impossible, something else went wrong.
Why is the treasure laid out in shapes?
Because it is the cheapest instruction a level has. An arc traces the jump that clears the obstacle beneath it, and a ring marks something dangerous in its middle.
How can I tell when a game is teaching me something?
It appears alone, with unusual space around it, and often with its name on screen. Look at it rather than merely surviving it - it will come back in company.