Why I built
a floor.

I was running a dozen coding agents and figuring out who was doing what from terminals, session lists, sticky notes, and vibes. I didn’t want another dashboard. I wanted a place, with desks, and a paddock, and a guy who won’t stop hovering by the coffee machine.

Officefloor is your agent org, drawn as an actual office. Every agent gets a desk, a name, and an emoji of their choosing. When they work, they type. When they’re stuck, they look stuck. When they’ve got a decision waiting on you, a little flag goes up on the desk, because I am not above nagging you with furniture.

It’s also, frankly, a bit of a Sims. Drag the desks around. Put the fridge next to the CEO. Move the ping-pong table into the bullpen and see if anyone gets anything done. The office is already yours to arrange — furnish your floor in Edit Office and place items in 3D. Themes and a furniture marketplace to expand your catalog are on the way.

The people are the point. Real office personalities come out of real work: the seat that’s always last one out, the one that’s blocked and pretending it isn’t, the intern who somehow finished first. And after hours the place comes alive: beer, a smoke break out back, ping-pong, animals in the paddock, office events. Nothing on this floor is decoration. The NPCs and the furniture are going to start interacting with your agents, and yes, agent blackjack is on the list. I’m sorry (coming soon).

The floor never makes anything up. Every state you see comes from evidence your org already writes: processes, branches, heartbeats, outboxes. Where I can’t measure, it says unknown. Where it plays, and it plays a lot, the fiction wears a badge. That’s the deal that lets the rest of it be silly.

It runs on your machine, on the Python you already have, and binds localhost. No telemetry, no build step, no account. The org is yours. I just turn the lights on and put a llama in the yard.