TiltLab: the tilt maze — roll the steel ball home
The classic tilting labyrinth, rebuilt for your thumb. You never steer the ball — you tilt the plate, and gravity does the rest. Levels are generated from seeds, so Level 41 is the same maze for every player on Earth, and the Daily Maze resets for everyone at midnight. Every maze has a challenge link — send a friend the exact maze you just survived.
Touch-drag anywhere on the plate to tilt (or arrow keys / WASD). Collect the 🪽 feather and tap it (or Space) to glide over holes. ⚪ opens the ball garage — each ball you unlock with stars rolls slightly differently (size, speed, grip), 🔗 copies a challenge link to the exact maze on screen, ⤢ for fullscreen, ↻ to restart, 📅 for today’s Daily Maze. Progress saves in your browser.
A game older than the joystick
The tilting labyrinth is not a video-game idea that got a wooden toy — it is the other way round. The Swedish toymaker BRIO has been selling its wooden Labyrint game, with two knobs that tilt the plate on two axes, since 1946, and it remains one of the company’s longest-running products. Millions of copies later, the design has barely changed: a maze, sixty holes, a steel ball, and your unsteady hands.
This version swaps the two knobs for one thumb. A single joystick controls both tilt axes at once, which is easier to learn and — as it turns out — harder to master, because you can no longer “lock” one axis while you correct the other. The holes here also cheat slightly in your favour: only cells off the solving route can contain one, so every level is beatable without ever crossing a hole. The holes punish exploring the wrong branch, not walking the right one.
Why indirect control feels so good (and so unfair)
In most games your input maps to velocity: push right, move right. Here your input maps to acceleration — you command the tilt, the tilt commands the ball’s acceleration, and the ball’s position is two integrations away from your thumb. Control theorists call this a second-order control task, and it is a famously hard class of problem for humans: it is the same class as balancing a broom on your palm or flying a lunar lander, which is exactly why NASA-era human-factors research studied it so closely (Jagacinski & Flach cover it at length in Control Theory for Humans).
The practical skill is braking early. Because you can only decelerate by tilting the other way, the ball needs stopping distance — start counter-tilting before the corner, not at it. Watch the specular glint on the ball: when it stops sliding, the ball has stopped accelerating. That little highlight is your instrument panel.
The physics under the plate
A ball on a tilted plane accelerates at a = g·sinθ along the slope. At this game’s maximum tilt (about 12 degrees), that is roughly 9.81 × sin 12° ≈ 2.0 m/s² — a fifth of free-fall, which is why the ball feels heavy and deliberate rather than twitchy. The simulation runs its physics in fixed sub-steps at 240 Hz so fast balls never tunnel through thin walls, walls return about a third of the impact energy (that muted tock is the collision speed driving the sound synth), and each hole projects a small “gravity well” — drift inside its shimmer ring and it starts pulling. Near-misses are supposed to feel close, because they are.
How the levels work — one seed, one world
Every maze is generated by a recursive backtracker — a depth-first search that carves corridors until every cell is reachable, producing a “perfect” maze with exactly one route between any two cells (the algorithm is described in Jamis Buck’s Mazes for Programmers, 2015). The generator is fed a seeded random number stream, and the seed is simply the level number: your Level 41 and my Level 41 are the same maze, wall for wall, hole for hole. Stuck on a level? The number is shareable.
Difficulty climbs on a sawtooth: the plate grows from 5×7 cells toward 9×13, holes appear from Level 6, and from Level 16 the mazes start growing loops — multiple routes, which sounds kinder but means more junctions to overshoot. Every fifth level is deliberately a breather. From Level 10 patches of sand drag the ball to a crawl; from Level 14 cracked potholes pit the route itself — hit them at speed and you skip straight across, dawdle and you drop; from Level 20 a wings pickup appears and one hole moves onto the route itself — collect the feather, glide the gap, or fall (the feather respawns when you do); from Level 22 glassy ice lanes strip away nearly all friction, and braking distances triple. Checkpoints (the amber rings) sit along the solving route; fall in a hole and you return to the last ring you touched, not the start. Beat the par time for three stars. The Daily Maze uses the date as its seed — one shared puzzle per day, worldwide, same for everyone.
Sources
- BRIO AB — company history: the wooden Labyrint tilting-maze game, in production since 1946 (brio.net).
- Richard J. Jagacinski & John M. Flach, Control Theory for Humans: Quantitative Approaches to Modeling Performance, Lawrence Erlbaum, 2003 — second-order (acceleration) control tasks and human tracking performance.
- Jamis Buck, Mazes for Programmers, Pragmatic Bookshelf, 2015 — recursive backtracker generation, perfect mazes, and braiding.
- Halliday, Resnick & Walker, Fundamentals of Physics — acceleration of a body on an inclined plane, a = g·sinθ.
Related on howmany.pro
Eighty years after BRIO put a steel ball on a tilting plate, the game still comes down to the same honest bargain: the maze never moves — only your hands do.