We're three people in Portland, Oregon. We make single-player games for people who'd rather play one good thing in a weekend than grind through a season of microtransactions. Five released so far. One in beta. One in the strange middle period where it's mostly art, no mechanics.
Every game we ship is short, weird, and entirely playable in one sitting if you really want to. None of them have multiplayer. None of them ask for your email. Most of them have a moth in them somewhere.
A puzzle game about a candle in the rain. You have six hours to get home before you go out. The candle is you.
A cozy survival game about beekeeping, lemon orchards, and a single year on a small island off the coast of Maine.
A surreal text adventure about a detective with the power to taste people's memories. Five cases, fifteen hours, one ending.
A short, gentle simulation about running an insect grooming parlor in a future where bugs have unionized.
A first-person walking sim through a half-collapsed cathedral. No enemies, no inventory. Just architecture and a soft choir.
Our first game. A pixel-art roguelike where you play a moth boxing through twelve floors of a porch light. Still our best-selling title.
Moth Punch is a worker-owned studio of three people working out of a converted bakery in inner-southeast Portland. We started in 2018 with no funding and no investors, and that's still the arrangement.
Every game we've shipped has been profitable, which has been enough to keep the lights on and the dog fed. We have no plans to grow, take VC, or get acquired. The studio's job is to keep making games — not to keep growing.