Last year my arm went through a glass window and oops, it wasn't tempered glass. It didn't shatter cleanly. My arm caught on the edge and severed the artery, I lost 80% of my blood, had five blood transfusions and spent a month in the ICU. When I came out the other side my left hand was paralysed. My dominant hand. The nerve had been severed and the doctors told me it would grow back but that it would take a long time.
I was a lifelong gamer. Not casually - genuinely, deeply. Gaming has always been my life. I grew up addicted to Football Manager. Spent years in management sims, strategy games, anything with depth and systems and that feeling that the world was actually responding to your decisions. As you do, I'd moved into controller games, RPGs, anything that needed two hands to play.
And suddenly I had one.
• • •
I found my way back to games the only way I could. Mouse only. One hand. I loaded up Crusader Kings 3 and disappeared into it for weeks. Then Football Manager. Then back to CK3. And somewhere in those long quiet hours I had a thought that wouldn't leave me alone.
What if these two games had a child?
Not a football management game. Not a grand strategy game. Something darker. A gladiatorial empire. Permadeath that actually hurts because you've spent seasons watching these fighters grow. A living world that evolves around you whether you're watching or not. The legacy systems I loved in CK3 married to the roster depth I grew up with in Football Manager, wrapped in a dark fantasy world I'd been imagining since I was a kid.
I started building it the next day.
• • •
I'd tried to make games before. Always failed to finish. The scope was always too big, the 3D assets too ambitious, the gap between what I could see in my head and what I could actually build too wide.
This time I built the tools first.
Scaffold - an AI-powered game development pipeline. The Foundry - an asset generation system. Both built so that one person, with one working hand, could build at the speed of a small team.
Then I built Ironblood.
Six months. Every day. One working hand and a PC.
• • •
At its core, Ironblood is a management sim. You run a fighting promotion. You sign fighters, negotiate contracts, build fight cards, and schedule events. Every week you advance time, and the world moves with you - fighters develop through career phases from raw prospect to ageing legend, rivalries form between repeat opponents, morale shifts based on wins and losses, and contracts expire whether you're ready or not.
The fights themselves simulate live. You watch your matchups play out round by round - strikes, takedowns, submissions, flash knockouts. Eight fighting styles, physical attributes that create real asymmetry, momentum that swings, and permadeath that means losing your champion after three seasons together actually hurts.
There's a full championship system across weight classes. Rankings update dynamically. Title fights carry real stakes. Successful defences build belt prestige. Your league has a reputation score that determines which free agents will even talk to you.
You play as the Emperor of your promotion, with six personal stats that shape how you run your empire - affecting recruitment, training, negotiations, and revenue. You unlock perks through crises and achievements that permanently change the rules of your campaign. Arena upgrades let you invest in training, medical facilities, prestige, and fighter attraction.
On top of all that - 500 unique fighters, each with four hand-generated portraits. A living world that generates completely fresh every campaign. Chronicle Events that stop everything dead and put a real decision in front of you. A spy network. Rival houses with genuine agency and their own ambitions. A crumbling shrine where a dark entity will offer you power at a price it chooses, and remembers every deal you've ever made. A trading card mini-game built from your own fighters. Press conferences before major bouts. A Blood Metre that fills during fights and unlocks permanent trophy rewards. Over fifty branching narrative events and a hundred random world occurrences that keep every playthrough different.
I've played 50-hour saves and I'm still seeing new characters, new events, new stories. The characters are different every game. As a pure sandbox there are hundreds of hours here.
All of it built by one person. One working hand. Six months.
I'm proud of myself. Not in an arrogant way. In the way you feel proud when you've been through something that should have finished you and you're still standing with something real in your hands.
This is the game I always wanted when I was a kid. The one that didn't exist so I had to build it myself.
I just want as many people as possible to experience it. And to know that you can build anything you set your mind to. No matter what's been taken from you. No matter where you're starting from.
The phoenix can rise again.