About Hepta Games
Hepta Games Ltd. is an independent game studio and publisher based in London. We design and develop original games at the intersection of interactive art and rigorous game design — where mathematics, structure, and visual storytelling are treated as a single craft.
The Manifesto
We build games the way others build instruments. 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.
“It took a year, but I finally found it. Or it found me. My professor told me about it. There was a man who got Parkinson’s and couldn’t play it anymore, so he asked my professor if she knew anybody who would appreciate and take good care of it. Lucky me. The man could have charged me three times what I paid for it. So, Mr. Theo, I play an 1859 Kriner, from Munich. To me, it is a masterpiece.”
“It is a masterpiece,” Theo agreed. “So, let me guess. The top is made of spruce, and the sides, back, and neck are made of maple. The headstock is scrolled, similar to a Stradivarius, and is also made of maple. At low C, it makes the floor shiver.”
Intentional Mechanics
Every rule earns its place. Depth comes from precision, not clutter — whole worlds drawn from a single, perfect gesture.
Visual Architecture
Structure is the story. We compose with geometry and symmetry, layering hand-drawn art over flawless mechanics.
Cross-Genre Innovation
No genre owns us. We follow the idea wherever it leads, and publish only what feels genuinely new.
The Anti-Values
No YOLO (You Only Live Once)
Games often rely on “now or never” traps, engineering artificial scarcity to trigger impulsive buying. We refuse. Our works are pencil drawings built to outlast complex paintings. Where paint degrades, chemical binders crack, and pigments fade over centuries, raw carbon lead endures for millennia. We build with that literal, elemental substance — not superficial varnish.
No FOMO (Fear Of Missing Out)
We actively practice the pleasure of missing out. The noise of transient trends dictates nothing here. We do not design loops to capture your attention out of a fear of being left behind. In the words of the smartest man in some galaxy: “Your boos mean nothing, I’ve seen what makes you cheer.”
No HTT (Holier Than Thou)
No performative humility. No posturing. No pandering. True humility is simply the ground that keeps you grounded by yourself.
Given all computing is basically if statement, we live by If by Rudyard Kipling:
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!
Step behind the curtain in the Studio Journal →