I didn’t set out to make a game. I set out to make my wife smile on a Tuesday.

She’d been wanting to walk more — not for steps or rings or any of the little guilt-machines our phones are so good at. Just to be outside. To go somewhere. The problem was never the walking; it was the reason. A walk around the block is the same block every time.

So I asked a small question: what if the block changed because you walked it?

That’s the whole idea. You step outside, and the world quietly fills in behind you — grey to gold, grey to green — like you’re coloring a map with your feet. No timer counting down. No streak to break and feel bad about. You can walk for five minutes or fifty. The only thing that ever happens is the world gets a little more beautiful.

And because no good walk happens alone, our dog Gatsby came too. He’s a black-and-white Cavalier with more feelings than sense, and in the game he trots along beside you, getting happier with every step you take.

The first version was almost nothing — a single block that bloomed pink when you reached it. I showed it to her and she said “do the next one,” and I think that’s the moment it became real.

More soon. We’ve got a city to paint.