Tap the code, the camera tilts and every module, light or dark, rises into a little cube like those of a Rubik’s cube: the code’s colour on top and bottom, four colours on the sides. Then the waves roll through and the cubes tumble with a hop, the code becomes a mosaic and with the next wave comes back on top; tap them and they all turn code-side up and lie down, ready to scan.
The flat code always scans: it is a standard QR (error correction level M), tested with a phone camera. Before you print a thousand, scan it once.
Put the link to your site, a menu, a profile or just some text in the field and press Build. The code rearranges itself around the new address.
Tap the code: it steps into its style, and you change it with the choices below. Tap it again and it lies flat, ready to scan.
The zip is the whole animation with your link and your colours: three files for your site, with the values to change at the top of the code, plus the PNG of the flat code (about 2000 pixels) for print. The zip needs a free account, the PNG alone does not.
Every cube has its six faces and its own orientation, a matrix updated at every quarter turn; only the faces turned towards the camera are drawn, from the farthest cube to the nearest, with the light shading them one by one. No WebGL: it is all on a 2D canvas.
The first wave ripples out from where you tapped, the next ones follow the chosen pattern. Two waves in a row turn around the same axis: on the second, the bottom face comes up, and it has the code’s colour, so the code reappears in three dimensions too.
Closing, every cube with a colour on top rolls once back to the code; then they all sink from the centre, the gaps close and the camera returns to top-down, with the modules on whole pixels.
New
Tap the code, the sky opens in a circle from where you touched and every dark module crouches, spreads its wings and takes off in a wave: hundreds of birds wheeling like starlings, in a vortex or in a figure-eight ribbon, dodging your mouse pointer. Tap the sky and they fly home one after another, each to its exact spot, fold their wings and the code to scan is back.
New
Tap the code and the stage becomes a tank: the water rises with a slosh and every dark module, as soon as the water reaches it, turns into a fish and swims off in schools, among bubbles, weeds and light dancing on the bottom; the fish flee from your mouse. Tap the tank and they swim home, turn, become squares again, the water drains and the code to scan is back.
New
Tap the code: the sheet goes dark into the night, the modules heat up like embers and, one group at a time, they gather, rise with a trail and burst into peony, willow or ring fireworks. Then the sparks rain back down, each into its own module, the code glows in colour for a moment and cools into ink, ready to scan.
New
Tap the code: the sheet goes dark, the modules light up one after another into coloured glass chips and a lens opens from the centre where mirrors multiply the code into a turning rosette. The chips slide and spin like the glass bits of a real kaleidoscope and the pattern never repeats; tap it and the lens closes, back to the code to scan.
New
Tap the code and the paper becomes a building plate: the studs pop up and glossy plastic bricks rain from above, snapping in with a bounce and joining neighbouring modules into longer pieces. Change the address and the bricks that aren’t needed fly off; tap them and it all comes apart, back to the code to scan.
New
Tap the code and the dark modules pair up into domino tiles standing on the card; from where you tapped a chain reaction starts and the tiles topple one onto the next, each with its shadow and a small bounce. Tap again and they stand back up in reverse, lie down softly and the code to scan returns.
New
Tap the code and the sheet folds like paper: the creases start where you touched, every dark module rises as a pyramid, a V-fold or a star, and the three position squares become three paper cranes (or three flowers). Then the sheet tilts and raking light sweeps across; tap again and it smooths flat, back to the code to scan.
New
Tap the code: the dark modules hollow out into their outlines, which become bent glass tubes; the room goes dark, the wall, the brackets and the cables appear, and the sign lights up piece by piece, flickering, a few tubes hesitating. Tap again and it dies with a last flicker, the light returns and so does the code to scan.
New
Tap the code, the view tilts a little and the dark modules grow from the ground into clipped box hedges; the three position squares become flower beds with a playing fountain, the light modules gravel paths, with cypresses, flowers and lamp posts. Change the season and the time of day, then tap again: the hedges are trimmed to the ground and the code to scan comes back.
New
Tap the code and the camera swings into isometric view: the dark modules rise into buildings, the three position squares become towers inside a moat, the light ones streets, parks and water. Change the time of day and the city colours, and tap it again to get back the code to scan.
New
Tap the code and it becomes a split-flap station board: the flaps fall in a cascade from where you touched, shuffle random letters and spell the site’s name in big letters. Then they flip on to the code, lit on black flaps inside a screwed metal frame.
New
Tap the code and it turns into Aida cloth from the point you touched: a wooden hoop springs down and fourteen threaded needles cross-stitch it row by row. Tap again and the thread is yanked out, the hoop lifts and the flat code to scan comes back.
New
Tap the code and every dark module becomes a ceramic tile that lifts off, flips in mid-air and settles into the grout with a small bounce: glossy crackled glaze, slightly irregular white stones and three rosettes in place of the position squares. A light follows your pointer or finger and catches the glaze tile by tile.
New
A QR code made of thousands of grains: tap it and the wind lifts them in waves into swirling clouds, then the sand pours back like an hourglass, heaps up inside the modules and the grains roll down until the code returns. After the wind it stays a dune under a low sun with long shadows; change the address and every grain flies to its place in the new code.
New
At rest it is a clean QR printed on a sheet with a torn edge. Tap it, a drop falls and the ink blooms like watercolour: the blots spread along the fibres and their edges darken as they dry, the position squares become stamped red seals, and a second tap lets the paper drink the ink back.
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