The Wizard of XOR
A white-bearded wizard in a star-speckled blue robe stands in a stone tower observatory, gesturing at a floating row of glowing cyan orbs, some lit and some dark, above gold circuit lines etched into the floor; an owl, a brass orrery and a starry window keep him company.

A bitwise puzzle tower

Every spell is an XOR.

High in a tower made of logic gates lives a wizard who knows exactly one spell: the exclusive-or. Point it at a row of runes and every rune it touches flips, dark to light, light to dark. Cast it twice and it undoes itself. That's the whole trick. It is a very good trick.

The tower: eight seals

Make the runes match the seal. Each spell flips the runes it touches. Order doesn't matter, and any spell cast twice cancels itself out, so there's always a way back. Try to open each seal in par.

Seal I

Runes

Seal

 

Casts 0 · Par 1

The wizard's only lesson

The exclusive-or, as carved over the tower door
runespellresult
000
011
101
110

Different makes light. Same makes dark. That's XOR. It's how a computer adds without carrying, how a cipher hides a message and finds it again, how a game remembers which tiles you've flipped, and how a single parity bit can tell that something went wrong.

The tower teaches it the way a good puzzle teaches anything: you stop thinking about the rule and start seeing it. By the eighth seal you're doing binary in your head. You may not notice. The wizard will.

Curiosities in the tower: 0 of 0

    Should the wizard write a whole spellbook?

    A hundred seals, new spell types (shifts, rotations, the dreaded AND), a daily seal and a classroom mode. Tap what you'd actually pay for. Nothing is charged; this tells us what to build.

    Get the spellbook

    We'll write when the full spellbook opens, and occasionally with a new seal to solve over coffee.