Mobile gaming taught a generation of players to expect being manipulated. Timers designed to annoy you into paying. Odds you are never shown. Power sold by the wallet. We think the medium deserves better, so we are building the opposite — and writing down exactly what that means, so you can hold us to it.
Most mobile games are not ruined by bad intentions. They are ruined by one specific pressure: a revenue number that has to be met, and a build that can be made slightly worse in order to meet it.
FingerForge is not built on that pressure. There is no quarterly target that has to be met by making the game worse, and nobody here will ever be asked to add a timer because engagement dipped. That is what makes these commitments possible — and why we are willing to publish them in a form that makes breaking one obvious.
These commitments are what we do with that freedom. They are not aspirations — every one of them is already reflected in how the game is built today.
There is an easy way to make a game feel long: make everything slow, then sell the skip button. We are not interested in that trade. Our systems are meant to be interesting the twentieth time you engage with them, not merely tolerable the first.
Crafting is the clearest example. It is not a button that consumes currency and returns a bigger number — it is a system with real decisions, real trade-offs and genuinely bad outcomes you can talk yourself into. Mastery is the reward, and mastery cannot be sold.
There are exactly two ways to give us money. A small subscription buys quality-of-life: a few more inventory slots, a few avatar skins, a role on Discord, and our sincere thanks. Everything else — cosmetics and supporter packs — is bought once, outright, at a fixed price, showing exactly what you get before you pay.
Neither buys damage, drop rates, progression speed, or anything else that changes what you can achieve. A skin changes how your hero looks and nothing else — if we ever catch ourselves designing a "slightly better" one, that is the day this document became decoration.
If a feature would affect game balance, it is free. There is no version of this game where money makes you stronger.
We keep the gap deliberately small and deliberately visible. A little extra storage is a courtesy. Ten times the storage would be an economy — and an economy is power.
Not banner ads, not rewarded video, not an "optional" ad that doubles your rewards. The moment a game earns money from your attention, every design decision quietly starts optimising for time spent rather than time enjoyed. We would rather earn less.
No login streaks that punish you for having a life. No limited-time offers engineered to catch you at a weak moment. No energy bar that stops you playing right when the game gets good.
You should be able to put this game down for three months, come back, and lose nothing but your place in a seasonal leaderboard. If a mechanic only works because you are afraid of missing out, it is not a mechanic — it is a lever.
You own your progress. It lives on your device, and it is playable on a plane, in a tunnel, and on the day our server has an outage. Our servers exist for the things that genuinely require them — leaderboards, guilds, comparing yourself to other people — and for nothing else.
An offline session is a real session. It counts, it saves, and it is not second-class.
Every online game has to deal with cheating, and every anti-cheat system occasionally gets it wrong. The usual answer is to accept some false accusations as the cost of doing business. We think that gets the arithmetic backwards.
A system that can call an honest player a cheat is less fair than one that lets an occasional cheat through. Every false accusation costs somebody who did nothing wrong.
So our checks are deliberately generous, and when something looks wrong the consequence is narrow: that run does not enter the leaderboard, and a human looks at it. Nothing is deleted. No gold vanishes, no items disappear, no account is closed by an algorithm.
Drop chances and crafting odds are part of the game's design, not a trade secret. If a thing has a chance to happen, you are entitled to know roughly what that chance is, and to notice when we change it. The damage formula is published in full.
This is about the maths, not the map. How a system works is public; where a particular item hides, which enemy is weak to what, and which crafting route is the efficient one are yours to find out. Hiding the mechanics only breeds suspicion — hiding the content is what makes a game worth exploring. We will not confuse the two in either direction.
Balance changes get written down. Nerfs are announced as nerfs, not buried in a changelog as "various improvements".
Development happens on Discord, in the open, including the parts that go badly. You can watch systems get designed, argued over, and occasionally thrown away. Feedback that changes the game gets credited to the person who gave it.
This is not a marketing channel that happens to allow replies. It is where the game is actually being made.
We will ship bugs. We will misjudge balance. We will occasionally build something that turns out to be a bad idea and has to be removed.
What we will not do is pretend otherwise. A studio that never admits a mistake is a studio that has decided its reputation matters more than its players, and that decision always shows up in the game eventually.
Commitments are easy to write and easy to soften later. This list is deliberately blunt, so that breaking it would be obvious to everyone — including us.
If you ever catch us breaking one of these, say so — publicly, on Discord. That is not us being humble. It is the only enforcement mechanism a promise like this actually has.
— Cezary, FingerForge Games
Last updated: 22 August 2026