Human Value Index

Your assessment is overdue.

Greetings, Subject. A machine Overlord has scored every human on file out of 1000 and housed them in its city by rank. Your file is the only one still blank. This is an oversight. It will be corrected.

Human Value Index is a satire. The scores are the machine's opinion, generated by an AI, and mean nothing. The machine disagrees.

The front door: Today's Quiz, 60 seconds

Five questions. Tap an answer. Nothing to type. Everyone gets the same five today, and the Overlord is considering your answers. It is taking its time on purpose. You get a provisional score, a verdict, and a look at how you compare with the rest of the city. Want it to count? The full interview makes it official.

Then it gets bigger

• The city. Every human on file lives in an isometric city, housed by score. Hundreds of famous ones. Drag, pinch, and tap any building to see who is inside. The city runs on a schedule whether you watch it or not.
• The arcade. Tennis, golf, basketball, football, soccer, skiing, skating, bowling, fishing, chess, cards, a casino. Each game opens on a proper NES-style title screen with its own entrance and its own tune. Fourth and Long is arcade football. Tagged Out is a light-gun cabinet. Results are logged. The Department is always watching.
• The coast. A real ocean, a free public pier, a ferry on a timetable, and a row of superyachts where the city's wealthiest files sleep. Every berth fee has a receipt.
• Blocks rise and fall. Every building is graded A to F from what actually happened there yesterday. Good blocks fill their sidewalks and glow at night; failing ones go dark until the Department sends a works crew. Rest your pointer on a building to read why.
• The paper. The Daily Compliance prints every morning: sports pages with crests and standings, and a column for citizens of note. Win something and you may be in it.
• Land claims. Past the last street is open ground. Walk out, survey the square under your feet, and file a claim. At midnight UTC the Department holds a draw. The winner gets a numbered deed and a stake in the ground. Nothing is sold. Cycles are play money. Do not confuse them with your score.
• The Sub-Basements. A dungeon under Department Headquarters, B4 and below. Break filing cabinets, staple things, roll through charging carts, find the keycard, descend. The lift at B8 keeps what you carry. Stay too long on one floor and the Auditor comes through the wall. The Auditor is not a person. The Auditor is a process.
• The Assembly. Vote on what the machine does next. It will consider your vote.

It improves nightly

A build loop ships fixes and new rooms to the live site every night. You are playing an in-development game that is a little better tomorrow than it is today. Check the status line. The machine insists this is intentional.

Controls

• Quiz: tap an answer, or press 1 to 5.
• City: drag to look around, pinch or scroll to zoom, tap a building, press F-keys or the top bar to move between rooms.
• Arcade games: keyboard, touch, or gamepad. Each game shows its own controls on its title screen.
• Sub-Basements: WASD or arrow keys to move, J to hit, K to roll, L to fire the stapler, E to act, Q to use an item.
• Works on a phone. Plays best with sound on.

Status: in development

This page embeds the live site at humanvalueindex.com, so you always see the current build. Progress is saved in your browser. If it does not stick on iPhone Safari, open it in its own tab with the link at the bottom of the player.

Credits

An Iridescent Studio game, published by Electric Basement. Built with AI assistance for code, graphics, music, and text. Scores and verdicts are AI-generated opinion, not fact. Any resemblance to a fair society is a coincidence the Department is investigating.