NUKE ZONE to draw single cells.b = dead, o = alive,
$ = end of row, ! = end of pattern.
Numbers = run length. Lines starting with # are comments.
Header line x=…, y=… is optional.
Esc clears the brush.
Space = play/pause. . = single step. R = reset. C = clear.
The canvas is a score. Cells are notes. What you stamp, Conway evolves, and a small sequencer reads it back. Nothing is random, nothing is pre-composed. The music is simply what your pattern means when you listen to it this way.
The canvas is divided into a 6 × 8 grid of zones, six rows stacked vertically, eight columns across.
Each zone gets its own pitch. Each row is one octave higher than the row below it. Each column is one step up the scale. The full grid spans five octaves of A-minor pentatonic (A · C · D · E · G), which is the secret to why it can't sound wrong: every combination of these notes is consonant.
Every sim step is a 16th note. The BPM slider sets the tempo directly.
The sequencer cycles through the melody rows top-to-bottom, one row per step. On each row's turn, it looks for the next active zone (a zone with enough live cells to matter) and plays that single note. Empty rows rest in silence. The zone that just played lights up briefly so you can see the playhead hop.
Each row remembers where it left off. A row with several active zones produces an arpeggio; a row with just one produces a pulse.
The bottom row is separate. Instead of plucks, it sustains a single bass note (the one zone with the most mass at any moment) and crossfades when that zone changes.
Multiple simultaneous bass notes turn to mud, so this row picks a winner. The result: a slow harmonic foundation that shifts as your pattern's center of gravity moves.
Each zone's voice is shaped by the geometry of its inhabitants, not just their count:
| density | velocity (loudness) |
| compactness | resonance (pluckiness) |
| aspect | detune (width) |
| vertical bias | filter cutoff |
| horizontal bias | pan offset |
When live cells die from overcrowding (gliders smashing into each other, chaos erupting), a percussive accent rings out at that zone's pitch, independent of the sequencer.
So the sequencer gives you the melody and the bass, and collisions are the rhythm section playing over the top. Busy scenes become genuinely percussive.
Pentatonic scales have no "avoid" intervals: nothing that clashes harshly. Every zone's note belongs to the same key, so whatever the simulation decides to do, the result stays in tune.
The chaos is rhythmic and textural. The harmony is always safe. That's the trick.