Every edition of A Maze A Day, catalogued. Seventy-seven are drawn fresh daily and live now.
The original. Same maze, same day, everyone — resets 00:00 UTC.
Same fog-of-war rules as the original — just sized to take a lot longer to crack.
A new 25×25 hedge maze daily. Small enough to solve in a couple of minutes.
A new 50×50 hedge maze daily. The middle ground between little and grand.
A new 100×100 hedge maze daily. Nothing hidden — can you still find the way?
Your torch burns down as you walk. Tablets light the way for good — but wake the sand behind you.
A new coastline maze daily. No fog — only the beacons you light stay charted.
A new night-sky maze daily. Telescopes fix a sightline through the dark, for good.
A new stretch of countryside daily. Reach any of three windmills for a different ending, with a cart-path shortcut between them.
A new 25×25 maze daily. Every 25 steps or 12 seconds, the system glitches and redraws the maze around you — the exit never moves.
A new arena daily. Requisition upgrades at fallen armories, then see how you ranked against every other gladiator who ran today's ruins.
A new tundra maze daily. Warmth fades as you wander, your fox can hop clean over a wall, and your fastest tracks show up in the snow.
A new orchard daily. Day and night trade places as you walk, moonlit gates open only after dusk, and scarecrows might help you — or might not.
A new 25×25 maze daily, fully visible. It's watching how you move — which turns you get wrong, where you hesitate — and quietly redraws itself around exactly that.
A new 25×25 maze daily. The page starts blank — walls sketch themselves in as you approach, then fade back out like ink that never dried.
A new 25×25 maze daily, fully visible. Certain passages are barred by clockwork gates that only open on their own beat — read several at once, and step through on time.
A new 1000×1000 labyrinth daily. Ariadne's thread lights your way, the Minotaur hunts you through it, and not every door leads out.
A new 500×500 labyrinth daily. Same Ariadne's thread, same Minotaur — the same beast, over shorter stone.
A new 250×250 labyrinth daily. Same thread, same Minotaur, over the shortest stone yet.
A new 25×25 maze daily. No ambient vision at all — fire a ping to briefly light up nearby walls, then navigate the afterglow as it decays back to black.
A new grid daily. Craft tools from chips at data terminals, hack encrypted gates by memory, and keep your adrenaline up — it's the only thing widening your view.
A new wreck daily. The ship tilts port and starboard as you walk, opening and closing gates — chain doubloon grabs for a combo, and crack open chests for permanent upgrades.
A new 25×25 maze daily, fully visible. Spacetime is unstable — every 7 to 12 seconds you're bumped to a random, distant, unhelpful part of the maze.
A new drift daily. Void Drifters block your path — attack for a shot at a star fragment, or dodge and move on. Fragments slowly widen your sensor range.
A new cave daily. Your lantern charge is your light, your speed, and your stamina all at once — spend it wisely, or find a refuel station.
A new dome daily. Craft Sun, Moon, and Comet keys from star fragments, solve constellation patterns at the obelisks, and match each key to the one gate it opens.
A new glacier daily, fully visible. Nothing is hidden — but the ice shifts between Stable and Shifting every 15 moves, and rival climbers block the narrow bridges.
A new lagoon daily. One reef clan blocks your only way out — court their favor with tribute, but every gift makes an enemy elsewhere in the reef.
A new 1000×1000 descent through Hell daily. Nine circles, each worse than the last — hellhounds, brimstone vents, and something waiting in the ice at the bottom.
A new 500×500 descent through Hell daily. Same nine circles, same horrors — over half the stretch.
A new 250×250 descent through Hell daily. Same nine circles, same horrors — over the shortest descent yet.
A new stretch of deep ocean daily. Bioluminescent coral glows briefly as you pass, then fades back to black — but something bigger is drawn to the light.
A new mountain trail daily. You only see the ground right around you — the stone lanterns you light are what stay charted, and the summit gate won't open until every one burns.
A new stretch of river daily. Follow it to any of seven destinations — every junction seals behind you as you commit, and the rising tide claims what you leave unresolved.
A new stretch of spring-fed cave daily. Something blind lives in the water with you, and it hunts by feeling every move you make.
A brand new 35×35 maze every single race. Race three rivals starting in the other three corners — everyone's exit is different, but all four sit equally far from home. Every trail leaves a mark, and mixes where they cross.
A new mirrored maze every day. Your reflection moves exactly as you do, flipped through the center — it can never collide with you, except at the one seam where you swap sides. Linger too close to the glass and it cracks.
A new honeycomb maze every day, built on true hexagonal cells — six-sided junctions instead of four. A worker bee dances out a shortcut near the start, and the dance never repeats.
A new honeycomb maze every day, built on true hexagonal cells. Every wrong turn leaves alarm pheromone behind — build up too much and the hive's guard bees start hunting you down.
A new honeycomb maze every day, built on true hexagonal cells. Brood cells seal and hatch in a rippling wave from the queen's chamber — time your crossings or wait the wave out.
A new tilting wooden maze every day. The board itself leans on a timer and drags your marble one cell further with it — hold to brace against the pull, or ride it for extra ground. Fall in a hole and you're back at the start.
A new glasshouse maze every day. The whole pane fades in and out of fog on its own rhythm, whatever you do — everything always visible, just harder to read whenever the glass thickens.
A new ridge every day. Nothing is hidden — the whole maze is visible from the start. But the ground you started on catches fire behind you, and it never stops spreading.
A new 35×15 dual-layer circuit board every day. Route across two overlapping copper layers through vias, and solder switches to power the logic gates blocking your path.
A new 25×25 grid every day. Corrupted cells start on the outer edge and branch outward — touch one and lose control, teleported randomly for the rest of the run.
A new 25×25 grid every day, fully visible from the start — but static creeps in from the edges toward the center, permanently, until nothing's left but what you remember.
A new pair of mazes every day — a white maze with black walls, and a black maze with white walls. The active one swaps on a timer or step count. Clear both to win.
A new vault every day. Navigate by memory through the dark — but the failing emergency lights strobe the whole vault into full view on a steady, learnable rhythm.
A new 1000×1000 enchanted forest maze every day. No monster hunts you — the wood itself shifts beneath your feet.
A new 500×500 enchanted forest maze every day. No monster hunts you — the wood itself shifts beneath your feet. A smaller wood, over sooner.
A new 250×250 enchanted forest maze every day. No monster hunts you — the wood itself shifts beneath your feet. Smaller still, over the fastest.
A new cave every day. You carry almost no light of your own — but bioluminescent blooms scattered through the dark permanently light a patch the moment you touch them.
A fresh set of four lanes every single race — never the same maze twice. You and three rivals each solve your own thin, long maze, side by side. Race to your own finish line first.
A new 25×25 dune maze every day. Every few seconds a sandstorm blows in and buries the board in swirling color — when it clears, the dunes have shifted into a different maze.
A fresh set of four neon lanes every single race — never the same maze twice. Race three rivals, grabbing power-ups on the way, to your own finish line first.
A new grove every day. Navigate by memory through the leaf-fog, gather sunlight seeds from the side paths, and collect enough before the bramble gate lets you through.
A new circuit every day, nothing hidden — but your own pulse climbs the longer you take, and the vignette closes in with it. You can't control it. You can only hurry.
A fresh 1-on-1 duel every single race — never the same maze twice. Two mazes, one contested power-up lane between them. First to your own finish line wins.
A new 25×25 marsh every day, fully visible from the start — but the ground you started on fills with toxic gas, and it never stops spreading.
A new 25×25 yard every day, fully visible from the start — but stretches of live rail run through the route, pulsing between safe and lethal on a fixed, learnable rhythm.
A new sky every day. Navigate by memory through the dark — several identical portals are scattered through the maze, but only one is real, and only a compass bearing can tell you which.
A new 25×25 maze every day, fully visible — but sentry drones walk fixed looping patrol routes through the corridors, forever. Time your crossings.
A new 25×25 floor every day, lit in traveling bands of disco color. Lit panels grant random power-ups on your way to the exit.
A fresh once-around race every single time — never the same loop twice. You and three rivals, each on your own closed loop, no power-ups. First all the way around wins.
A new 25×25 wax maze every day. Scattered wax seals melt the stone around them for a few seconds when touched, opening a shortcut before it hardens shut again.
A new arctic maze every day. Stress points send cracks snaking through the corridors, and once a crack breaks, the ice gives way — step on it and it's over.
A fresh once-around race every single time — never the same loop twice. You and three rivals chase power-ups scattered around every ring. First all the way around wins.
A new 25×25 maze every day. Spore colonies spread outward permanently, never resetting — there's no safe window to wait for. Touch an active bloom and it's over.
A new print maze every day. Sunlight develops the paper left to right as you play — wherever it's crossed turns Prussian blue and stays visible forever.
A new volcanic maze every day. Vents rumble, then erupt, then cool on their own cycle — step into one mid-eruption and it's back to the start.
A new baby-pink maze every day. Chew a stray gumball and stretch straight through the next wall you hit, permanently, no matter how many times you've done it.
A new 25×25 maze every day. The maze snap-rotates and mirror-flips on you, the walls strobe and glitch, and your controls periodically invert — the exit never moves.
A new 25×25 maze every day. Your lantern only ever shows the true walls in the 3×3 square around you — everything past that edge is a decoy that shifts the moment you look away.
A new desert floor every day, fully visible from the start. Ground you've never walked stays solid forever — but backtrack over your own trail, or stand still too long, and it starts sinking for good.
A new vault every day. You carry almost no light of your own — numbered runes reveal themselves on touch, but only lock in and light your way once every lower number is already lit.
A new chamber every day, fully visible from the start. Water rises from several low points at once, spreading and merging into one flood that never recedes.
A new factory floor every day, fully visible from the start. The walkway you started on corrodes behind you, and once it rusts through, that section is gone for good.
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