Drag a piece out of the tray and drop it on the nook · drop it on a flat surface to stack · drag a placed piece to move it
Shelflight is a free cozy decorating game about styling one small nook at a time. A client tells you the feeling they want, you drag plants, books, vases and lamps onto the shelf until it looks right, and nobody can fail — a day always ends with a result, never a loss.
What makes it a game rather than a paint program is that the score reads how you arranged things, not what you picked. Up to four meters sit in the corner and they are the entire brief, and the first four days introduce them one at a time, so day one only asks about Balance and nobody is handed four numbers at once. Balance is where the visual weight ends up. Rhythm is how much the heights change from one neighbour to the next — a flat row scores zero, a jumble scores high, and most briefs want something in between. Air is how much shelf you leave empty. Palette is how close your colours sit to the wall. Each meter carries a target band showing what this client wants and a word beside it saying whether you need more or less, and the brief card writes the same thing as a plain instruction — “keep the heavy things near the middle”, “leave about half the shelf empty” — so styling is reading the gap and closing it rather than guessing what a word means.
The briefs argue with themselves on purpose. Cozy wants the shelf full; airy wants it empty; a gallery look wants everything the same height while a collected look wants the opposite. You cannot max every meter at once, so every day has a real decision in it: what do you give up, and where.
Stack things. The tray says which ones can take the weight: every piece is named and the ones that behave differently carry a chip — STACK for a flat top, LIGHT for a lamp or candle, LEANS for framed art. Anything with a flat top — a pile of books, a wooden crate, a wide bowl, a stone plinth — will hold another piece, and lifting something up is the cheapest way to buy height without buying a taller object. Pull the bottom out and whatever was sitting on it comes down too.
The nook itself changes the rules rather than the numbers. A long shelf is pure left-to-right arrangement. Two tiers punish a heavy top row. A windowsill adds a Light meter and blocking the glass costs you dearly. A mantelpiece hangs a mirror overhead and swaps Balance for Symmetry, so centring one thing stops being the right answer and pairs start to be. A ladder shelf sits so close together that anything tall only fits on the top step. A glass cabinet splits the problem into three narrow shelves that each have to earn their space.
Framed art leans against the back wall instead of standing on the shelf, so it costs height but almost no floor — which means a small piece can sit in front of it. That one property is the difference between a shelf that looks arranged and a shelf that looks stocked.
The same six people keep coming back. Nora runs the flower stall two doors down and wants it full and warm; Wren draws all day and cannot think in a crowded room; Marek collects things and never explains why; Sable hangs shows at the gallery on the corner and wants everything even; Otto builds model ships and thinks in layers; June moved in last week and owns almost nothing. A style always brings its own person, so by the second chapter you recognise the brief before you read it, and the result card is them talking back — not a grade.
Every shelf you style is saved. Your Shelves keeps them all, and opening one puts it back on the bench exactly as you left it, so a day you were not happy with is never finished. Free Studio picks up where you left it too.
The last day takes the brief away. The client says surprise me, and instead of handing you targets the game reads what you actually made and grades you as that style — the only day where you decide what the shelf is for.
Twenty-four days across six chapters, with one-off events that arrive once and stay — the shop cat picks a spot you have to style around, a regular leaves a gift you must include, evening light makes lamps matter more, a fussy client tightens the tolerance. Petals earned from every day buy more pieces; the nooks are not for sale — each one opens on its own when its chapter arrives, so progress unlocks them rather than a price tag. And Free Studio has no brief, no meters and no score: just the shelf and everything you own.
It plays with one finger on a phone or a mouse on desktop. No download, no account, nothing to install.
Drag a piece out of the tray and drop it on the nook; drop it on top of anything with a flat surface — stacked books, a crate, a wide bowl — to stack it and gain height. Drag a placed piece off the shelf to put it back.
Every piece in the tray is named, and the ones that behave differently say so on the chip: STACK means a flat top you can build on, LIGHT means it feeds the Light meter, LEANS means it rests against the back wall and barely touches the floor.
Every client asks for a style rather than a shopping list, and the meters in the corner are the whole brief: Balance is where the visual weight sits, Rhythm is how much the heights vary from neighbour to neighbour, Air is how much shelf you leave empty, and Palette is how close your colours sit to the wall.
You are never left to guess what that means — the brief card spells out the day's job in a line per meter, each meter shows its target as a band with a more/less reading beside it, and tapping the meters explains all of them. The first four days bring them in one at a time: day one is only Balance, then Rhythm, then Palette, and only day four asks for all four at once.
Briefs disagree with themselves on purpose — cozy wants it full, airy wants it empty — so something always has to give. Lean framed art against the back wall and it only takes a sliver of floor, so a small piece can sit in front of it.
Six nooks, one per chapter, open as the campaign moves, and each one changes a rule rather than a number: two tiers let you build upward but punish a heavy top row, a windowsill trades Air for Light and goes flat the moment you block the middle, a mantelpiece hangs a mirror and swaps Balance for Symmetry so centred stops meaning right, the ladder shelf sets its steps so close together that anything tall only fits on the top one, and the glass cabinet gives you three shelves and asks every one of them to earn its space.
Petals pay for new pieces. Every shelf you style is saved and can be reopened and reworked from Your Shelves. The last day drops the brief entirely — make whatever you like and the game works out which style you were going for. You cannot fail a day; a low score is just a result, and Free Studio has no brief and no score at all.
Six regulars keep coming back and each one wants their own thing: Nora the flower seller wants it full and warm, Wren cannot think in a crowded room, Marek wants it to look gathered over years, Sable hangs shows and wants everything even, Otto builds in layers, and June just moved in and owns almost nothing. The same style always brings the same person, so by the second chapter you know who is at the door before you read the brief.
The first day walks you through it in three steps — put one thing on the shelf, watch the Balance bar move, then get it into the green band — and never appears again.
ArcadeWhale 
