Rogue Pixel Empire
Descend into a monastery of forgotten kings. Every run is a new page in the chronicle — hand-pixelled, permadeath, and never the same twice.
Coming to PC, Switch & Steam Deck — Spring Equinox.
The Order Behind the Empire
We illuminate dungeons one pixel at a time
Rogue Pixel Empire began as a two-person experiment above a coffee roaster on Holywell Lane. Today our Shoreditch studio is a working scriptorium.
Each dungeon is drawn like a page of an illuminated manuscript — gold-leaf borders, inked monsters, and rooms that rearrange themselves the moment you die. There are no cutscenes and no filler; only 40 hand-authored relic sets, 12 rival houses, and a permadeath run that fits neatly into a lunch break. We build slowly, we playtest weekly at the studio, and we ship when the chronicle feels complete.
From the Illuminated Pages
Scenes from the Empire
A gallery of rooms, relics, and rival banners, each pixelled by hand in the studio.
The Gilded Nave — the first descent, lit only by candle-sprites.
Relic Vault of House Vellum — where stolen crowns are wagered.
The Inkwell Boss — a scribe-turned-tyrant guarding the second seal.
Cloister of Echoes — a shifting garden that redraws on every death.
The Rites of the Run
What makes each descent different
Tap a rite to unfurl it. Every system was built to reward a second, third, and fortieth attempt.
When your dynasty falls, the empire keeps the story. Relics you discovered stay catalogued in the Codex, and the next heir inherits a single blessing of your choosing. Death is a page turn, never a reset to zero.
We author rooms as illuminated tiles, then let the layout engine bind them into a fresh manuscript each run. You will recognise the brushwork but never the path — over 900 room fragments keep the descent unpredictable.
Pledge to House Vellum for greed, House Cinder for aggression, or House Quill for cunning. Each house rewrites your relic economy, your enemies, and the boss that waits at the seal below.
Relics combine. Pair the Candle of Sloth with the Orchid Sigil and your torch never dims; stack three inks and your attacks leave lingering script that damages over time. Discovering a combo is logged forever in your Codex.
A full descent averages eighteen minutes. Pause mid-run, close the game, and the manuscript waits exactly where you left it — no lost progress, no penalty for a life that happens between raids.
Voices from the Chronicles
What early wardens are saying
Impressions from our closed scriptorium beta, drawn from players across the isles.
I came for the gold-leaf pixel art and stayed for the relic-weaving. Pairing the Candle of Sloth with the Orchid Sigil felt like breaking the game in the best way.
Eighteen-minute runs are dangerous. I told myself one descent before bed and lost a whole Tuesday to House Cinder. No two dungeons drew the same.
The Codex remembering my discoveries is genius. My first dynasty died in the Inkwell boss room, but the blessing I passed down carried the next heir all the way to the third seal.
Most roguelikes look procedural. This one looks painted. You can tell a human inked every monster, and it makes dying feel oddly beautiful.
Twelve houses means twelve reasons to start over. I mained House Quill for cunning, then House Vellum flipped my entire relic economy on its head.
I visited a Thursday playtest at the studio on Holywell Lane. Watching the team hand-place tiles live sold me instantly — I wishlisted before I left the room.
Join the Scriptorium
Receive the monthly chronicle
One illuminated dispatch a month: new relics, patch notes, and an early key when the empire opens its gates. No spam, unsubscribe with a single quill-stroke.
The Scriptorium
Send word to the studio
Press enquiries, playtest invitations, or a question about the beta — the desk on Holywell Lane reads every message.
By telephone
+44 20 7633 0550By raven (email)
[email protected]Visit the scriptorium
58A Holywell Lane, Shoreditch, London EC2A 3PQ
Studio hours
Mon–Fri, 10:00–18:00 · Public playtests every Thursday, 18:30