I'm Marius, and I make small games you play in a browser tab. Free, no download, no launcher, no account. Angry Marius Games is the sign over the door — behind it is one person in Denmark.
Why I make these
I write business software for a living. It is useful, and it is not very exciting. Nobody has ever asked me to make a spreadsheet feel fair.
Games are where I learn the things that job never asks for. And I learn them by building, not by reading. You cannot read your way into knowing how a system behaves once it has been running for ten seasons — you have to build one, let it run, and watch it go somewhere you did not expect. Trial and error is slower to start and much faster to arrive.
So these are real games, made to be played, and they are also how I find out what I do not know yet. Both of those things are true at once.
How they get built
I don't write most of the code by hand. I work with an AI: I decide what gets built, why it should exist and how it ought to feel, and a lot of the typing happens somewhere else. That is not a confession, it is just how I work — and it is the reason someone with a day job can finish a game at all.
What comes out is plain HTML, CSS and JavaScript. No frameworks, no bundler, no build step. The file I edit is the file your browser runs.
That is unfashionable and unreasonably durable. There is no toolchain underneath to rot between releases, no dependency tree to break when something upstream is abandoned, and nothing standing between spotting a bug and fixing it. Games built this way are still running years later, because there is nothing under them to fail.
It also keeps them small and fast, which matters more than it sounds: an old phone on a bad connection is the design target here, not the edge case.
What building them has actually taught me
Finishing. Starting is easy and starting is not the job. The last ten percent — the edge cases, the empty states, the part where you put it in front of strangers — is where the actual learning lives, and it is the part a day job rarely hands you on your own terms.
Numbers that feel right. Difficulty, luck, how often a season should go wrong. You cannot reason your way to the right value for any of these. You pick one, play it, notice it feels unfair, and change it. Then you do that forty more times.
Working with an AI rather than at it. Knowing when to trust it, when to take the keyboard back, and how to describe a thing precisely enough to get the thing you meant. That turned out to be a skill of its own, and most of what I have learned here is about that rather than about any one game.
What I make
- Pig Derby — pig racing. Tournaments, championships and a breeding programme that runs across seasons.
- PrisonBaLL — seven-a-side prison football with no referees, in two modes: run a crew across ten seasons, or serve a ten-season sentence as one inmate.
- La Grande Course: Directeur Sportif — a cycling management game set in 1903, run from the team car rather than the saddle. Released September 2026.
- Mud & Whiskers: The Great War Below — a strategy game about the rats fighting their own Great War in the mud beneath the trenches. Released September 2026.
- Beneath the Grass — an ant colony that forages, digs and buries its own dead whether or not you are watching. In development, with no date.
The full list, with what each one actually plays like, is on the games page.
Saves, money and privacy
You can play everything without an account. Your progress is stored in your own browser, which is fine right up until it isn't: clear your cache, open the game in a private window, or pick up your phone instead, and a ten-season career is gone. Every game says so plainly before you start, rather than after you have lost one.
If you want the save to survive that, make an account and it follows you between sessions and devices instead of living in one browser. It stays optional — nothing is locked behind it, and the game works the same either way.
The games are free and stay free. There is no premium currency and nothing behind a payment. Revenue comes from my own banner system, sold and served in-house, which means no third-party ad network gets to decide what appears next to the game. If you want to buy a banner, the same account does that too. I don't sell player data, and I'm not going to.
Getting in touch
There is a form on the front page. No account, no newsletter, and I read every message that comes through it — bug reports, ideas and complaints alike. Say hello.