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12.0 — 2026-10-23 — plumage
The Labz boot. The house opens in the lab's own colours now: the mare's eye ignites at its measured point, the halo swells around it, and NIGHTWARE LABZ resolves letter by letter as the stages tick off beneath — the boot is a warm-up, not a poster. On the film road the ceremony speaks terminal: a 178-card subtitle deck in the register of the wire, the manifest struck through with » markers, and one heartbeat line that names the live stage and settles, at the end, on ALL SYSTEMS NOMINAL.
The derivation core. The fingerprint whorl is gone. At the ceremony's centre three cipher rotors, ringed in hex glyphs, counter-rotate against the real boot progress and settle onto their grids as their locks land — 45, 75, 100 — while seventy-two entropy ticks light in order and one red ring, the mare's eye colour, pulses out at full lock.
Films frame their subject. A boot or backdrop film is analysed before it is framed — the largest face across its frames, weighted by attention — and hung on its subject; a still whose shape argues with the screen hangs whole on black instead of being cropped past its edges.
The great audit. The whole codebase — phone and Mac alike — was read cluster by cluster and repaired where the reading convicted it: a fragmentation trap at the sixteenth knock, key material that could have come up zeros, guest arithmetic that could trap its host, two dozen logic faults with names, a retired TLS API gathered behind one door, sixty-one closures brought to the current form, dead code buried, and one User-Agent that now derives from the build itself instead of remembering a version by hand.
The Mac brought current. The macOS target takes the same pass: its own authorisation road where the platforms differ, its film player at parity, its audio gates — the house stands whole on both kinds of glass.
Serve sits in the More menu. Taken off the bar in the last version and reachable only through Sessions, Serve is a room again — in the More menu, where it was always meant to move to. Sessions keeps its door.
The Ultimate Network Administration Tool. The README's masthead now says what the instrument is.
Onion. The wire itself gets a Standard: the bench's roads can wrap through Tor, graded on a seven-layer score, fail-closed the moment the wrap cannot be proven — and honest about its edges, with the roads that cannot wrap yet named rather than hidden.
App Lock. The whole house seals under a passcode of the operator's choosing — AES-256-GCM or ChaCha20-Poly1305, the work factor theirs, Face ID if they want it — under a lockout that escalates after five misses. The lock seals the interface; what it cannot seal, it says plainly.
Wardrive. The listening post travels: a survey mode samples the heard world every few seconds — the Wi-Fi it rides, the BLE newly heard, the place when permitted — into sessions that export and delete like everything else she collects.
The building's own systems. The bench learned to read the plant: alarm panels it only ever listens to, cameras by their nameplates, access and fire systems identified and graded — never a control, never a state changed, never a safety system addressed.
The Drip. A room of her own on the bar: the house's pulse on live meters, her neighbours counted, the tap's frames falling as they are caught. The tap hears the house's own engines now, too — the bench's probes and fetches recorded beside the wire's own traffic.
The calm house. The house opens quiet: GIFs off by default, haptics off by default, flicker nowhere, the operator working the toolings themselves. A choice is not a default — the boot film and a wallpaper the operator filed always play — and the reset is a true factory reset, the whole application restored exactly as it first shipped.
TOTALITY. One word in the console raises the whole house — her door served, the beacon shouting, Net-Assault up, the tap running — each organ under EMCON's say-so, its state read back and reported as it stands; the same word backwards stands down only what it raised.
The beacon, taught to prove itself. The payload beacon's long-haunting crash met an instrument instead of another guess: the beacon now climbs a ladder of advertisement shapes, each start written to the log, a shape the radio kills remembered across launches and never trusted again, a shape it accepts proven and kept.
No action GIFs. The five action films are removed — not gated, not stilled, removed: no GIF, no animation and no flicker attends any action anywhere in the house. What keeps its films: the boot screen, and the wallpaper, in every section.
A field instrument's finish. The last pass lettered the house as an instrument: Black Glass deepened until its words read at a glance, the Drip's meters set as instrumentation, her titles in capitals.
What's Changed
- Fix background task cancellation and Serve session ownership by @nightwarelabz in #16
Full Changelog: v11...v12
