About
Hepta Games is a game publisher based out of London, UK. We design novel play experiences, aiming every so often to leave a lasting mark. We also build specialized tools for graphics and design workflows.
We build games the way instruments are built. Layout, mechanics, and narrative are not separate crafts to us but a single discipline, where structure holds up the story and the story gives the structure a reason to exist. Beauty isn’t decoration here; it’s the evidence that the thinking underneath is sound.
No artificial noise. No deceptive loops. No mechanics designed to keep you rather than reward you. Just high-fidelity engineering disguised as play.
What we aim for
A product leaving a lasting mark looks like this:
In April 2014, ustwo released Monument Valley with a stated goal — an interactive experience in which every screen is a piece of art worth hanging on a wall. Ten months of work for a game most people finish in an afternoon. It sold millions of copies at a price the rest of the mobile market said was impossible, and a decade later people still recognise a single screenshot of it. Not because it was long, or clever, or aggressively monetised. Because someone decided that every frame had to be worth looking at, and then paid the cost of meaning it.
What we live by
If computing runs on ‘if’ statements, life runs on Kipling’s ‘If—’:
If you can keep your head when all about you Are losing theirs and blaming it on you, If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you, But make allowance for their doubting too; If you can wait and not be tired by waiting, Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies, Or being hated, don’t give way to hating, And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:
If you can dream—and not make dreams your master; If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim; If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster And treat those two impostors just the same; If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools, Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken, And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools:
If you can make one heap of all your winnings And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss, And lose, and start again at your beginnings And never breathe a word about your loss; If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew To serve your turn long after they are gone, And so hold on when there is nothing in you Except the Will which says to them: ‘Hold on!’
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue, Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch, If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you, If all men count with you, but none too much; If you can fill the unforgiving minute With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run, Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it, And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!