Sound
There are no audio files anywhere in this collection. There is no room for any — a single second of compressed audio would not fit in the whole engine. Every note you hear is an oscillator, written out at the moment you press the button.
The controls
The same three on every machine, in the same order, in whatever place the chassis leaves room for them. Nothing else on the front is clickable. Orange and yellow run at once and stay in tune, because both are keyed and clocked by the same block.
Lit means the machine is on. Switch it off and it really does shut down: dark glass, no face, no sound. It keeps reading the chain the whole time.
The collection's own song. Same arrangement on all 369 machines, so a wall of them can be switched on together and stay together.
One of eight, fixed by the sat, in the block's key at the block's tempo. Two machines playing different songs are still in the same key as each other.
Press them. Sound needs a click first — every browser requires one, which is why the power switch is not a compromise.
The songbook
The sat picks the tune and also the part: bass, pad or lead. One machine on its own sounds like one instrument. Three of them switched on together sound like a band, and nobody arranged that — the sat did. Each card below is a real machine that plays it.
The parent
A collection parent is usually a logo — a kilobyte of PNG whose only job
is to make parents: resolve. This one is the overture. It sits on
45,000,000,000, block 9's first sat, which ord stamps
uncommon and nineball, and which was the first sat ever
sent from one person to another.
Every node has three buttons. This has none — touch it anywhere and it plays the full 91-second arrangement, where the children play 31. The mug steams on every block: a framed print would say this happened, a steaming mug says it has not stopped.