Half time

Friday, teatime. The running week had been, let's say, patchy (the Chase has the honest version). So naturally I started another game.

Three, as it turned out.

Car Football

When I was a kid, the best football in our house wasn't in the garden. It was on the lounge carpet. My brother and me, a pile of Matchbox cars, and a ball off a mini snooker table. Five a side. Between matches we traded, properly, with marbles. I had permanent patches on the knees of my jeans from it. It got VERY competitive.

So that's what I asked Claude for. A one-file prototype first, which I played, and then the proper build started at quarter to six on Friday.

One sentence changed the whole thing. "Imagine the cars are controlled by an invisible hand. Or better, they're radio controlled." So now they steer with the front wheels, can't turn on the spot, carry their momentum, and brake and reverse like the real thing. There are no flying tackles. A tackle is a turbo barge. Keepers lunge along the line and pop a wheelie for the high ones.

Then the carpet. Slate blue cord. When that came up on the screen, it lined up with my memories perfectly.

The cars are the Bangers Revenge cars, shrunk to 1:64 die-cast. The goals are shoeboxes, the pitch is taped out by hand, and the crowd is table-football players and action figures stood on the board game boxes. My first proper go said the pitch needed to be bigger, with a few more players, and passing should pay. So now it's seven a side.

There's a season too, and that's where the marbles came back. Pocket money, playground swaps, the corner shop where a blister-pack car costs 75p, a sticker album, and a cup final in the lounge on Christmas Day. The years run from 1990 to 1994, with new kids moving onto the street.

Batteries run down, tyres go flat, and you make substitutions. This morning it got a half time, mostly as a breather for the batteries. The characters, including Little Joe on commentary and Ref Pardo, are drawn in my own felt-tip and watercolour cartoon style.

Put it on the telly and everyone's phone becomes a controller. Or play a mate online. Forty-six commits, Friday teatime to Sunday morning. Little Generals came from the same carpet, and the Second World War army men we fought with on it.

Play it at carfootball.pardounlocked.com.

Pardo's House Party

This one started just after midnight on Sunday. Earlier in the week I'd built a phone quiz game for a big group. Then the obvious question. What if the same engine did a family Christmas? One telly, everyone on their phone, Nan joining on a video call.

I answered a few questions and went to bed. By the morning there was a Christmas version. Then Halloween is next week, so a Halloween pack. Then a name. It started as Crackers and became Pardo's House Party, a nod to Noel's, which tells you exactly how old I am. It was live by half eight.

The first phone in runs the show. At Christmas that's the Head Elf. At Halloween it's the Pack Leader, with a moon instead of a star (my idea). The heart of it is drawing. Everyone draws a secret prompt, everyone else fibs about what it is, and then you vote. Then you write punchlines to cracker jokes, spot the true fact hiding among the fibs, and finish on a podium with awards. Picasso of the Pumpkin. Biggest Fibber.

It's built for 7 to 70. Big buttons and simple words, it reads the questions out, and a kid and a grown-up can share a phone. No AI in it, no accounts, nothing recorded.

My favourite bit is that there's a kindness check. Every prompt gets tested so nothing picks on looks, weight, age or ability. It has already caught one. "Santa on a diet" is now "Santa on a scooter". I'd never have thought to check that.

Halloween runs until 1 November, then it switches to Christmas by itself. Play it at houseparty.pardounlocked.com. Put the telly page on the TV and everyone joins with the code.

Style Studio: a game designed by an 8-year-old

My daughter used to have a dress-up game on her old Samsung tablet. You picked a character, chose their clothes, did their hair and makeup, and made them look amazing. Then the tablet went missing, and the game went with it.

So she decided to make her own. Her brief was simple: pick somebody, dress them up, and style their hair and makeup. And the characters had to be cool kids like her.

I built it with Claude, an AI assistant, with my daughter as creative director. The first version had nine kids to choose from, each with their own style, plus a "make a new friend" option so she could design herself. There were hairstyles from space buns to a big afro, rainbow hair colours, face paint, tutus and roller skates, a pet sidekick, and places to visit. When you're happy with a look, you tap Show off! and a panel of animal judges (Judge Whiskers, Judge Sparkles and Judge Hoot) give scores and compliments while confetti falls.

Then the feedback started coming in.

Round one: "More pets and places, please." A unicorn, a baby dragon, a hamster, a fox, a penguin and a duckling joined the cast. New scenes included under the sea, a fairy forest, a castle ballroom and a funfair.

Round two: a whole category for bags and handbags, and proper shoes, including high heels and platforms. There are now nine bags (the kitty purse is a favourite) and fourteen kinds of shoes, from wedges to light-up sneakers to bunny slippers.

We also added Style Challenges. The game gives you a theme, like Royal ball, Rock star or Mermaid splash, and you earn stars for dressing to match it.

Now the game lives on its own web page and works on her Kindle Fire, even offline. And it keeps growing every time she has a new idea.

Play it at style.pardounlocked.com.

Back to the running

Same lesson as last time. Play it, then fix what isn't fun. Car Football's first proper go rewrote the pitch. House Party's kindness check rewrote Santa. Her feedback rewrote the shoe rack.

And yes, the running. There's a time trial on 7 November, and a Split before it. The games were supposed to be the interesting bit in the meantime. They might have got a bit out of hand.