The Mana Box on a desk in daylight, its dial glowing amber, a window behind it.

plays forever.
never repeats.

download the engine

an invented desk receiver, running a real supercollider patch that generates endless ambient music and never plays the same thing twice.

it has been playing the whole time.

mana box isn’t a synthesiser.
it’s a receiver.

the receiver is invented. the patch underneath it is real: supercollider, one folder, free, and already running.

The mana box alone on a desk in a small music studio, its dial lit amber and a pale blue stone floating above the antenna. The edge of a mixing console, a studio monitor on a stand and acoustic panelling sit softly out of focus behind it.
The mana box on a scarred wooden bench in an alchemist's kitchen, its dial lit amber and a pale blue stone floating above the brass antenna. A copper still, a set of brass scales, a stone mortar and an open handwritten ledger crowd the bench to its left; bunches of dried lavender and herbs hang over it; shelves of labelled apothecary jars fill the wall behind. Low sun comes through a window at the far left.

the same box.a different sort of room.

seven parts.
six of them are fake.

the stone, the antenna, the deck, the glass, the grille and the case were invented for the photographs. the seventh is a supercollider patch, and it will run on a laptop, a raspberry pi, or anything else you can conjure a speaker onto.

  1. the floating stone receives. it never touches the antenna.
  2. the antenna brass. bent by hand.
  3. the top deck eight knobs. three buttons. two switches. no screen.
  4. the dial glass amber by day, blue by night. lit glass, not a screen.
  5. the grille oatmeal linen over the speaker.
  6. the case cream enamel. it chips.
  7. the circuit board a supercollider patch. the only real part, and the entire product.
Daylight in the study: the Mana Box on the desk beside a notebook and headphones, its dial window glowing amber, a wall of records and a turntable behind, the owner in a blue robe at the desk.

day warm, dusty, jazz-tinged ambient. the dial glows amber, and the right front knob means evolve.

The same study after dark, lit by one lamp: the Mana Box on the desk with its dial window glowing deep blue, the records and turntable behind it in shadow, the owner in the same blue robe at the desk.

night a grid of arpeggios and low bass. the dial glows blue, and the same knob means rate.

flip the switch.
the room changes.

day is for working through. night is for coming back from.

what the ownerssay about it.

  • An old man with a long white beard and small round spectacles, wearing a blue paper crown and a blue and white star cape over brown robes, sitting in a study walled floor to ceiling with books. A staff leans against the shelves behind him. On the desk at his side the Mana Box plays under an anglepoise lamp, its dial lit amber and a small blue stone floating above the antenna.

    “i keep it on past midnight. the room stops being empty.”

    declined to give his name

    night study · verified owner

  • An older man with a long grey beard, a worn dark green robe and a heavy pendant, sitting low in an armchair in a lamp-lit front room. A spare pointed hat is parked on the chair beside him. His hand rests on the Mana Box on the table at his side, its dial lit amber and a small blue stone floating above the antenna.

    “i put it on before the kettle. it is on now.”

    merric vane

    front room · hedge-wizard, fourth circle

  • A woman in a heavy leather apron over a green working robe at a workshop bench, holding the half-built side of a wooden case. Her pointed hat hangs on the wall behind her. Chalk sigils are drawn on the bench edge and the Mana Box stands at the end of it, dial lit amber, a small blue stone floating above the antenna.

    “the switch is stiff for a month, then it loosens. mine is four years on.”

    wren halloway

    workshop bench · instrument-maker

  • A woman in a deep green pointed hat and half-moon spectacles at a scrubbed table, shelves of labelled apothecary jars and bunches of drying herbs behind her, one hand around a stoneware mug. An open ledger of tally marks lies in front of her and the Mana Box stands beside it, dial lit amber, a small blue stone floating above the antenna. A pocket watch lies on the table.

    “a year on, it has not repeated itself once. i have checked.”

    odelia fenn

    kitchen table · one year in

  • A young man in an oversized grey pointed hat with a hoodie worn under his robe, sitting on the floor of a small bedroom among stacked textbooks, headphones and a jar of layered potion that is going badly. Fairy lights hang on the wall behind him. The Mana Box is on a low table at his shoulder, dial lit amber, a small blue stone floating above the antenna.

    “issued in our third year. they all scuff in the same place, by the left foot.”

    aldermoor conservatory

    student rooms · standard issue

01 / 05

real posts from our creator network.

sent for review to

4.5

“the mana box does not make music. it admits it.”
arcane audio tobias quill · issue 17
Arcane Audio, issue 17: a full-page review of the Mana Box by Tobias Quill, with two reader photographs and a specification table.
arcane audio ran the review.
A torn column of newsprint from The Ley Line headed Corrections and Clarifications. Three ordinary corrections — a misidentified bird, a misspelt surname, the wrong date for a village fete — surround a fourth that has been ruled off in a box: last week's notice described the Mana Box as a synthesiser. It is a receiver. We regret the error.
the ley line ran a correction the following week.
A 35mm contact sheet: thirty frames of the Mana Box shot on a workbench from every angle, and every single frame struck out with an orange grease-pencil cross. Across the top, in the same pencil, someone has written Grimoire Quarterly — not running.
grimoire quarterly sent a photographer. printed nothing.
Page twenty-four of the Runic Dispatch classifieds, headed Classified — Desk Instruments. Among the barographs, comptometers and cheque writers, one entry has been ringed in blue biro: Mana Box — desk receiver. Plays continuously. Does not repeat. No screen. Enquiries by letter.
runic dispatch ran it in the classifieds.
A trusted-review page laid out as a magazine spread.
a reader, at length, unprompted.
A star-rated review page scoring the Mana Box four and a half out of five.
and four and a half out of five, from a stranger.
The Mana Box seen from directly above: six ivory preset knobs and three small brass buttons across the top deck, a sun and a moon engraved beside two steel toggle switches, and the amber tuning window and woven grille on the front face below.

the manual

for a box nobody built.

thirty-nine knobs exist in the software. seven earned a place on the panel. this is what they do.

the seven knobs

volume
master level, through the limiter.
evolve
how long the pad sits on a chord before it moves. all the way down, about a minute. all the way up, about five seconds. it ships at fifteen or so.
density
melody notes per minute, from fourteen down to none. zero is a real setting: the melody stops and the pad carries on without it.
brightness
master tone, 200 hz to 12 khz. the weather moves around wherever you leave it, rather than resetting it.
room
how much of everything goes into the reverb.
space
the length of the reverb tail. a second and a half at one end, fifteen seconds at the other.
texture
dust, crackle and tape wobble. this is the knob that makes it sound like a record instead of a computer.
the eighth knob
tempo. night only — the day engine has no clock to set.

the four buttons

next chord
move the harmony on now, instead of waiting for it.
event
ask for a melodic phrase. it answers immediately.
scene
jump to a different mood. it takes effect at the next chord change.
hold
pins the weather where it is. a latching switch, so its position is the state.

day and night

day
no clock. the harmony moves when it decides to.
night
a clock, 70 to 132 bpm, and it glides when you move it rather than jumping. the arpeggios lock to the grid.
the switch
one parameter. 0 is day, 1 is night. in the software it’s a single message: /ambientbox/set mode 1
The back of the Mana Box, straight on: two gold RCA line outputs, a USB-C socket and a row of milled ventilation slots in the bone-coloured shell.

it plays out of the system default — whatever your computer is already using.

about a tenth of one laptop core, measured on an m-series mac.

Night. The Mana Box sits lit on a desk with its tuning window glowing and the stone at the tip of its antenna alight; a reading lamp, a mug and a stack of paper share the desk, and its owner has sat back out of focus behind it while it plays.

you cannot buy it. you can download it.

the engine is a supercollider patch, one folder, that starts playing and then doesn’t stop.

download the engine

github.com/lvl13icewizard/mana-box

mana box — by leont.is

the engine is a file.

supercollider, one folder, no account. it runs on a laptop, or on a raspberry pi in a shoebox, and it needs none of the woodwork above.

every person, publication and review on this page is invented. the engine is not.

no magic. just supercollider.