Zekebyte — Games by Amarith

Grab your shovel and dig for treasure beneath seven wild lands. Grade your finds, fill the museum, and become a legend of the buried world.

An indoor range simulator where the concrete, the targets and every gunshot are synthesised in the browser. Put rounds downrange, earn rank, and unlock nine weapons from a Glock 19 to an M134.

An arena roguelite where a three-hundred-node tech tree is the entire progression system. Sixty seconds, one weapon, no card draft.

A detective game played entirely through six hours of security footage. Every night is simulated, not scripted.

An idle space-greenhouse sim. Water, air, nutrients, heat and power all cycle through one closed loop — and balancing that loop is the game.

A rotator-survivors arena shooter. Rooted to the meadow, spin to face the endless horde and build a five-gun arsenal to outlast the swarm.

Crew a mining ship at the edge of charted space. Scan a body for anomalous mass, drill straight down, and turn what you haul up into the tools for the next impossible world.

An idle game about grass, cats, and the quiet economics of doing nothing. Grow a meadow, let the cats settle in, and carry the whole colony from the backyard out to the Moon and Mars.

A first-person survival game about trees. Fell the timber, raise a camp and hearth, and last the freezing nights — while wolves, bears and blood moons hunt the dark.

A submersible in a lightless trench, where the screen is not a window but a sonar display. Nothing is drawn until you make a sound — and everything down there hears you make it.

A procedurally generated 1920s manor-house murder mystery. Work a case untimed to learn the house, or against the clock for a detective’s career — five ranks, from a six-person house to ten and half a night.

An idle mining empire and a hand-dug shaft, running at once out of one wallet. Machines grind out cash on the surface while you swing the pickaxe yourself, biome after biome down, chasing veins and buried relics — through three prestige layers that never run out.

An idle terraforming garden. Set four dials on a dead world, wait for it to settle, and find out what it becomes — then do it again, differently.

Build a dungeon, then leave. You never watch the fight — you arrange the dark, close the gate, and afterwards read what is left of it in four voices.

A cozy real-time pet game. Adopt a cat, dog, rabbit or hedgehog and earn its trust — every hair and every sound generated as you watch, and the animal goes on living while you are away.

An idle descent. The rod casts itself — you choose how deep and with what. Keep the good fish in the tank, work seven bands down to eleven thousand metres, and when something big starts circling, take it on by hand with one rod and one lure.

Approach control for a sector where the radar keeps failing. Draw the routes that vector arrivals onto crossing runways, work two altitude layers and a departure queue — and when the picture drops out, the sweep is all that finds them.

A forested valley you turn into a factory. Chop and quarry by hand, then hand the work to conveyors — ore into smelters, logs into sawmills, bars into gears. Villagers staff the huts, the town grows on what you make, and a mine shaft opens a second map underneath with gas, floods and cave-ins of its own.

A farming game about the soil rather than the crop. Fertility, moisture, tilth and pest pressure decide what a bed gives you — so rotate the legumes that feed the ground against the corn and cabbage that strip it, mulch, compost, and read the whole farm through the soil lens. Then put the harvest through the mill, the creamery and the ageing cellar, where wheat worth four becomes a hamper worth two hundred and ninety.

An idle mini golf business sim where the course you run and the course you play are the same eighteen holes. The clubhouse earns while you are away on four levers — traffic, price, satisfaction and capacity — and every obstacle you buy from the shop turns up on the greens as something you then have to putt through. Windmills turn, platforms swing, bridges cross the water, and the ground rolls under the ball.

Draw the play, call the play, watch it run. You coach both sides of the ball in an invented twelve-club league, and when a call does not work you open it in the designer, move a route, run forty silent reps against every coverage, and take it back out onto the field. A full season underneath it: standings and tiebreakers, a scouting report each week, injuries, a playoff, awards, and an off-season of retirements, a draft, free agency and progression.

A jigsaw that cuts any photo you give it into real tab-and-blank pieces, from a 24-piece Easy to a 294-piece Expert. Sort the tray by edges, peek at the picture, turn on rotation for a harder cut, and pick any puzzle back up where you left it — each one keeps its own progress in your browser.

A cozy pixel-art castaway story. Wash up with nothing, forage and craft your first tools, and build a camp that can ride out the tides and the storms — then choose how it ends: sail home on your own raft, signal a ship for rescue, or stay. Seeded islands, a shared daily island, and a hardcore mode with permadeath.

A cozy pixel-art mystery. You're June Holloway, twelve, with Grandma's brass lantern and a little park spirit named Pip, and three nights to find out who really stole the Moonstone before the bulldozers come on Monday. Talk to the park's ghosts, play the midway, fill the journal and pin the clues on the deduction board — the Prologue and Act 1.

A model-rocketry career with real physics. Design and build your rockets, fly them on real motor thrust curves, walk the field to find them, and work up from a hand-me-down cardboard kit to a three-stage shot at the edge of space.

A junkyard arena roguelite. Bolt nail guns, toasters and tesla coils into your scrap robot's sockets, find the combos between neighbouring parts, and survive twenty waves of angry appliances and four bosses — then keep climbing The Heap. Boss salvage, part fusion, challenge runs and a Daily Scrap seed that's the same for everyone.