Every emulator here is fed by one small server that is yours, running on your own computer. Point it at your game library and that is the whole setup: no emulator cores to install, no paths, no launch commands, no scraper accounts. It recognises every cartridge by its fingerprint and picks the right start-up firmware for it. Box art, logos and manuals arrive on their own, with no scraping and no daily limits. Plug in a controller and it just works, with A where your controller says A. At home it serves the whole collection to every screen in the house, and your games keep playing even locally with no internet. Away from home, your vault code brings the same collection to you anywhere online.

Secure. Versatile. Simple.

Most emulators are handed down. Someone reverse-engineers a machine once, and everyone else spends twenty years patching, porting, and inheriting every shortcut from that original code.

That is not what we do here.

We do not research these machines to build them. We build them to research them.

This is a preservation project first and foremost. Reconstructing a system from nothing is the ultimate form of hardware study because every chip must be fully understood before it can be rebuilt, with no prior work to fall back on. When you build from scratch, you truly understand the machine instead of trusting decades-old assumptions.

That philosophy produced the world's first emulator for the modern ARM Game & Watch, covering the Zelda and Mario twins running on the STM32H7. With no existing code to copy or core to fork, we reverse-engineered the hardware and built it from the silicon up, executing the real internal firmware directly in the browser.

We are bringing that same standard to how retro media is experienced. Emulation today remains fragmented, tied to legacy builds, complex setups, and fragile workarounds. We are creating a single home for games and media together that simply works on any modern device with zero setup. Achieving that seamless experience requires hand-rolled, clean emulators rather than decades of stitched-together patches.

What we learn along the way does not stay buried in code. We write documentation precise enough that someone can build a working emulator from our words alone. We proved this approach by writing a complete Game Boy specification covering all 24 mealybug edge-case tests, then building an emulator solely from those words with no source code or external references. It compiled and passed every test on the first attempt. We have done the same for many more systems since, each one listed in the table below.

The emulator itself serves as the ultimate test of accuracy, where any flaw in our hardware understanding or documentation is immediately exposed by the software.

Every one of these machines belongs to all of us. A Game & Watch went into pockets in Osaka and in Manchester in the same few years. A Game Boy ate a fortune in AA batteries under the covers in bedrooms on every continent. A prototype almost nobody ever saw still shaped the machine that came after it. These games, and the films and shows sitting beside them, are how most of the world actually spent its evenings for forty years. That is shared culture, not private nostalgia. And it is disappearing, into landfill, into dead hard drives, into knowledge that leaves with the people who held it.

Preserving it properly means more than making it run. It means writing down exactly how these machines think, so precisely that anyone can rebuild them perfectly, forever. Not a copy of a copy of someone's old code, but a true tested blueprint. That is the difference between hoping it survives and making sure it does.

Everything here stays free to use. Always.