Touch the cloth
Pick a cell inside the hoop and the needle travels there and leaves a cross. One stitch runs at a time and three more can wait behind it. Thread is awarded when the stitch is stamped, never at the click.
restore what was forgotten
In a candlelit workshop you set one stitch at a time into the bare cloth stretched in the hoop. The faded pattern printed on it never tells you what to do — it only sees what you did. The colours are not there: they are on a parchment that takes both your hands. You study it, you put it down, you work from memory. That gap is the game.
There is no way to go faster — only ways to work better. Each stitch takes a beat, and pays out when it lands, not when you click.
Pick a cell inside the hoop and the needle travels there and leaves a cross. One stitch runs at a time and three more can wait behind it. Thread is awarded when the stitch is stamped, never at the click.
Every stitch spends one of your Thread Supply, and the spool refills slower than stitching drains it. With none left, taps do nothing: you either wait, or you learn to waste less.
Every animal you free stays on the bench and does its own work: one stitches while you are away, another will take over the unpicking. You are still the one at the hoop — they simply work the way you do.
Every cell inside the cloth stays stitchable in any thread. You can stitch outside the fox, or in the wrong colour — and the game notices rather than prevents it.
The coloured chart is not on the cloth. It is on a parchment you hold up — and while it is raised both hands are on the paper, so stitching and marking are blocked.
A washable pencil lets you transcribe what you saw. Those marks are notes, not game state — nothing checks them, so a mistranscribed mark leads to a genuinely wrong stitch.
It is a creature trapped in thread, and finishing its stitches is what lets it out.
When every cell the pattern asked for is filled in the right thread, the ordinary furniture steps back and one button rises in the clear strip of bench. The press writes the whole thing down at once: the stitches lift off the cloth, the sheet crosses to the middle of the screen, loses the hoop's tilt on the way, and breathes.
Everything after that press is presentation. A ceremony that is interrupted costs nothing: what was earned had already been paid.
The animal lets go of its shape, takes its first breath and introduces itself: its name, its trade and what it is offering you. Accept and it starts working beside you; decline and it is still yours.
The introduction happens once. Every finished tapestry enters the collection and that animal is never earned twice: the cloth goes back up, the companion stays.
Needlings is in development. The workshop, the hoop, the pattern's judgement, the reference scroll, the pencil, the waking ceremony and the collection all run — every image on this page was taken from the working game. More patterns and companions are being drawn and a second, freer mode is on the way; unpicking and the tapestries after these are the next work.
All from the running game — click to open one.









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A game in no hurry. Nothing chases you, and nothing punishes you for being away.
Needlings is coming to Steam. Leave your email and we'll write when the store page opens and when the beta starts — nothing else.