Neon
A brick wall at night and real neon tube signs, brackets and wires included: the title flickers on, and every room has its own sign and colour.
The Design+ option
Complete designs, not just colours. Your texts, rooms, pictures and colours stay yours: only the style changes.
A brick wall at night and real neon tube signs, brackets and wires included: the title flickers on, and every room has its own sign and colour.
Layers of cut paper drifting at their own pace; the rooms are pop-up book cards whose layers spread apart on hover.
Primary colours, circle, square and triangle on a strict grid: the composition builds itself, then keeps moving, with a band of words scrolling by.
A departures board: letters flip into place, and the next games are listed like departures, with their places and a button to book.
A technical drawing: the venue's plan draws itself from the rooms, and every room is a detail sheet with its dimensions.
A pearly page and iridescent sheens that never stop moving; the rooms are holographic trading cards that tilt under the pointer.
Puffy shapes in pastel modelling clay: the title's letters squash and bounce, a clay padlock and key, tiles that squish on hover.
Thick black outlines, bright colours and hard shadows; a “Next game” window shows the next free time, and the cursor picks it by itself.
A comic page: panels, halftone dots, speech bubbles and bursting sound effects. Every room is a panel with its own sound.
The venue as a little 3D model: one block per room, built from your rooms, with its icon or picture on the front. The blocks rise into place, then breathe.
A northern night: curtains of green and violet light ripple over mountains and a lake that mirrors them, and every room is a pane of night glass crossed by the aurora.
Folded washi paper: a paper crane floats over the title, and every room is a folded card whose corner opens on hover, with its red seal.
Gold on black, 1925: a sunburst turns behind a stepped frame lined with bulbs, and every room is an arch whose golden fan opens on hover.
A tape playing on an old TV: the counter runs, a tracking band rolls down the screen, and every room is a cassette sliding out of its sleeve. No flashes.
The drawing toy: a gear rolls inside its ring while rosettes draw themselves in ballpoint, and every room has its own rosette, always the same, which redraws on hover.
A solar system: the business is the sun and every room a planet on its own orbit, drawn from your rooms, its name always facing the visitor.
Watercolour on textured paper: blooming pigments, translucent washes with delicately feathered edges, and each room in its own touch of colour.
Milan, 1981: squiggles, confetti and clashing patterns. Shapes float around the title, and every room is a patterned tile that jiggles on hover.
The year 2000 as it imagined itself: liquid chrome lettering, a spinning ring, aqua gel buttons and sparkles, and every room is a media-player window.
Generative art: hundreds of ink lines follow an invisible current with bright streaks running along them. Every room has its own current, traced from the room itself.
Your venue through a thermal camera: every room is a heat source, hotter as its next game fills up, and a reticle moves from one to the next.
A school blackboard in its wooden frame: the next games written in chalk, players counted in tally marks, the length on a clock and, when your rooms have them, their success rates as a chart.
Painted, symbolic posters with hand lettering, pasted on the wall: every room has its own, its composition and colours drawn from the room itself.
An 8-bit game: a title screen, a world map with one level per room and a castle at the end to book, cartridges with hearts and stars, and the next games as a high-score table.
A hiking map: every room is a summit, higher by what you choose (difficulty, length, group size or price), the contour lines traced from that terrain and a trail that joins the rooms in their order.
A stone nave lit through glass: a rose window with one petal per room, the names carved round it, coloured beams sweeping the page and a lancet window for every room.
A theatre playbill in wood type: the number of rooms written in words, the evening’s performances with a “Full” stamp, and every room billed as an act with its length in words.
The Swiss grid, broken on purpose: the number of rooms as a giant numeral, the day’s timetable with one row per room and one block per game, and the rooms as bars and discs to scale.
A gig poster and a record turning under stage lights: its grooves cut room by room, the setlist of rooms, tour dates from the next games and a record sleeve for every room.
A turning kaleidoscope whose pattern never stops changing: a pair of mirrors per room, the rooms’ icons under the mirrors, and a small kaleidoscope for every room.
A clear sky, drifting clouds and a rainbow drawn arc by arc: one arc per room with its name, and every room in the colour of its arc.
Kraft paper, torn scraps, tape and polaroids: every room’s name cut out letter by letter, always with the same letters, and the next games as ticket stubs.
Orange, mustard and brown: a supergraphic with one stripe per room running along the floor and up the wall, a striped sun, wood-grain television sets and a TV guide with one channel per room.
A glossy monthly: the newest room on the cover, cover lines written from your rooms (how many, the largest group, the hardest when your rooms have success rates) and a table of contents with a page per room.
Bright satin ribbons unrolling across the page: one ribbon per room, its wave drawn from the room and its width from its number of players, and a bookmark on every card.
A long exposure at night: the title is written in light, every room has its own light trail (longer when the game lasts longer) and the next games float like distant lights.
Black ink on rice paper, washed mountains and mist: a hanging scroll per room with an ensō closed further or less by what you choose (difficulty, length, group size or price), a red seal carved with its initials and a great ensō that paints itself.
Silkscreen prints and Ben-Day dots: one tile of the print per room in its own colourway, every room in four colours on its card, and the next games in comic speech bubbles.
A patient monitor in a dark room: one channel per room that beats at each of its times that day, taller when the game is full, with its vital signs, then every room as a file on a clipboard.
Bright liquid that flows, splits and merges: one drop per room, bigger when the room takes more players, melting into its neighbours, the next games as bubbles and every room as a drop that keeps changing shape.
Clear panes that bend and brighten what lies behind them: a coloured light per room behind the glass, a lens wandering over the title, a dock with one lens per room, the next games as notifications and every room as a glass widget.
A notebook filled in with a felt pen and highlighters, every line a little shaky: a sketched floor plan with each room wider when it takes more players, a stick figure per player on each card, and the next games as a to-do list, full ones scribbled out.
Raw board-formed concrete, monumental stencilled letters and one signal orange: a concrete box per room stacked in steps like Habitat 67, its window lit while its next game is open, and the sun turning round the building.
A video whose key frames went missing, so the picture smears, slides and bleeds. The day becomes an editing timeline, one track per room and one clip per game, full ones corrupted; each room’s picture is more or less broken by what you choose: difficulty, length, group size or price.
Bouncing shapes with eyes, thick outlines and bright colours: a shape per room that jumps higher or lower by difficulty or price, in a rhythm from its length, a die that tells it and the next games as tokens.
A dream sky in pastels: a cloud per room, higher or lower by difficulty, length or price, a moon whose phase tells how many of tonight's games are already full, and a constellation per room, one star per game left.
A sunset over the savanna and a field journal: one animal per room crosses the horizon, larger when the room takes more players, each room has its observation card, and the next departures hang like luggage tags.
A churchyard under the moon, blackletter and pointed arches: a headstone per room, its success rate as its epitaph when it has one, a candle per coming game, shorter as it draws near and blown out when full.
Soft controls moulded from one material, raised and pressed in: a dial per room pointing at its next time with its status light, a keyboard of the day's times where full games stay held down, and sliders for the players.
Blocks of solid colour, giant shapes and huge headings: the day as a treemap where each room takes as much room as it has games, a full-width band per room with its shape, and the next games in big blocks.
Spinning rays, melting letters and saturated 1960s colours: a wavy ring per room turning as slowly as the game is long, the rooms billed like a concert line-up, and a swirl per room.
A sled race in the snow, like a carved poster: one dog per room in the team, the room's number on its bib, a dog per player on each card with the minimum in red, and the next departures as race bibs.
A serious annual report with a wink: the next games run along a stock ticker, the key figures count up, an org chart gives each room a department, a chart shows the day hour by hour and each room has its sparkline.
Letters that stretch, thicken and scroll on black: a band of type per room, slower when the game is longer, heavier by difficulty or price, wider when the group is larger, and the next games breathing.
A fashion show in animal prints: a coat per room, leopard, zebra, giraffe, tiger, dalmatian or cow, every spot drawn from the room itself, on a runway and as swatches, the title cut out of a leopard print, and the next games as paw prints.
A living room on Christmas Eve: tartan, wood and kraft paper, a crackling fire under a mantel with a stocking per room, a garland with a bulb per game of the day and a gift tag per coming game.
A winter night in a giant snow globe: a house per room whose windows stay lit while its next game has room, a toy train with a wagon per coming game and an advent calendar of the day’s games.
Valentine’s Day in candy colours: a candy heart per room stamped with its next time, then its players, length and, when it has one, level, and a love letter per coming game, sealed with wax when it is full.
Valentine’s Day as a luxury box: crimson velvet, black lacquer and gold foil on the title, a rose per room that opens a petal per game still free today, and a heart-shaped box with a chocolate per coming game, bitten when it is full.
An Easter morning cartoon: hills, clouds, a hopping bunny, an egg per room hidden in the grass (better or less hidden by difficulty, length or price) and a dozen eggs for the coming games, hatched when they are full.
Easter eggs painted in wax-resist folk style: an egg per room, its bands of motifs drawn from the room and one more for a larger group, turning on its stand; the next games hung from a ribbon.
A playful Halloween night in orange, purple and lime: a carved pumpkin per room, its face drawn from the room, lit while its next game has room and dark when it is full; bats across the moon, and the next games as candies.
A Victorian mansion in a green fog: a window per room, higher or lower by what you choose (difficulty, length, group size or price), with a ghost while its next game has room and the curtains drawn when it is full; a Ouija board of the day's times and spirit photographs.
A bright Québec winter day, blue sky and big snowflakes: a snowman per room, one more snowball for a larger group and its tuque or hat drawn from the room; the next games skating round a rink and a thermometer of how busy the day is.
A botanical garden waking up, cherry petals in the wind and a passing shower: a plant per room, a sprout, a bud or a bloom by the share of its games of the day still open; a seed packet per room and the next games as garden stakes.
A 1960s holiday postcard: the business’s name in block letters filled with a beach, a parasol and towel per room, wider with the group, and the next games as popsicles that melt as they draw near.
A Québec autumn in rust, mustard and burgundy: a tree per room whose leaves turn red as its day fills, falling maple leaves, a herbarium of the rooms and the next games as market tags.
Charcoal and molten metal: flames rising from the bottom of the page, embers drifting up, a brazier per room as high as its day is booked, and the next games as a matchbook.
Crystal, cyan and white light: an ice crystal per room turning on a frozen lake with glowing cracks, the next games as icicles and frosted-glass cards.
A slate sky, slanted rain and now and then a dim flash: a weather radar with a storm cell per room, an hourly forecast of the next games and a barometer of the day.
No theme matches your search.
The Design+ option
The seventy themes and their customization come with the Design+ option of the CrenoSync plans. Write to us to learn more or for a demo.