STUDENT
where every career starts
7 ranks that only ever climb, 12 pieces of backline to walk on stage as, and a studio full of rooms to spend a good night's fans in.
The rank is what you are, and it is the only thing in the game that only ever climbs. Every rank adds a channel to your desk and books a bigger room - and each one earned is an achievement.
where every career starts

pass all three lessons and graduate

climb to PERFORMER - a fourth channel on the desk

climb to EXPERT - a fifth channel on the desk

climb to PROFESSIONAL - a sixth channel on the desk

climb to MAESTRO - the full seven-channel desk

climb to LEGEND - the top of the ladder
Between nights you live in the studio: painted rooms, every door, record, spine, case and hanger of which opens or wears what it says.

The hub. Every door in your career opens off this room - the office, the crate, the shelf, the gear room, the dressing room and the stage.

The road from the practice room to the world stage. A night that steps the career up a rung walks its results out onto the map, and the stage it earned opens its door.

The week on the wall. Three or four nights, each with its own billing, its own brief and its own fee - pick one and the week turns over.

Plan a night act by act: a house song, or one of your own masters off the shelf, in the order the show will play them.

Spend fans on more layers and mixer cards. Every layer has a preview window that plays its real attack on a postcard-sized stage.

Your masters, framed. A track written in the Booth and billed for rotation becomes a song the night can call.

The wardrobe on its rail and the colour tray on the counter. Who you are on the floor, and what colour you are in.

Every night ends here: the fee, the brief delivered or not, the fans, and the rung the career climbed.
Who you are on the floor. Four pieces of backline are yours the day you walk in; the rest hang on the dressing room rail with a price on them, bought with the same fans that buy the gear room's kit. None of it changes how the game plays - it is somewhere to put the fans a good night pays out that never turns into an advantage.
the turntable you have always been - a platter, a label and a pair of cans
yours from day one
a handheld dynamic, grille first. The only one taller than it is wide
yours from day one
the monitor at the front of the stage, tipped back on its own rake
yours from day one
eighteen inches of low end on a bolted baffle, surround still moving
yours from day one
a sampler with one pad always lit, walking the grid on the beat
320 fans
a plectrum - the one piece that IS the finish rather than wearing it
480 fans
a cassette with its hubs turning, the label in your own colour
700 fans
full-size studio headphones, cable coiled off the left cup
950 fans
a keybed seen head on, pitch strip along the top
1,250 fans
a valve with its filament lit - mostly light, where the rest are mostly body
1,600 fans
twin cones under a handle, with a meter that dances the whole set
2,000 fans
the mark on the poster, worn: the note the game is named for, inside the storm
2,600 fans
Every finish is free and re-picked as often as you like - the tray is where a player makes the token theirs.
The two DJs off the key art, on the payroll: one of them fronts the title page every launch, and they walk the rooms with you as guides.

STORM DJ
The storm's own DJ. She fronts the poster on the even launches and reads the room like she built it, because she did.

SHOWMAN
The crowd-facing showman. He fronts the poster on the odd launches and has never once lowered his voice indoors.