One company in Ålesund, one app.

The entry, as it stands

An aksjeselskap is Norway's everyday limited form. Capital goes in before any trading happens, the company alone carries the liability, and a set of accounts is filed annually whether or not the year contained anything worth reporting. You are not asked to believe any line in that table: Brønnøysund holds all of them.

You can count the shadow before you can place it

Here is a fact about Hitori worth working out rather than taking on faith. Before a single cell is shaded, before any deduction at all, the grid already tells you roughly how much of itself has to go — and it tells you twice, in two different voices that disagree.

Select a row or a column with the buttons along the edges of the board.

The rule driving it is a short one. When the board is finished, no number may repeat in a row — so every value left unshaded in that row is different from every other. A row of seven cells holding only four distinct values can therefore keep at most four of them, and at least three must be shaded, whatever else happens. That is knowable by counting, with no reasoning about position at all.

Do it for all seven rows on this board and the demands total 11. Do it for all seven columns and they total 10. Both are true at once, so at least eleven cells must go. And the unique solution shades 13. The two extra are not demanded by any single line — they are forced by the other two rules pulling against the first: shaded cells may not touch edge to edge, and the unshaded cells must stay joined in one piece.

How it was checked: the grid was built around a chosen shading, then handed to a solver that walked the entire space of shadings — cell by cell, rejecting any two shaded cells that touched, any row or column in which a duplicate survived, and any arrangement that broke the open cells into islands. It found one solution and no second. The row and column demands were counted straight from the grid, and the page recounts them in front of you.

One person, start to finish

Arctic Eagle AS publishes software for Android. Designing it, writing it, testing it and keeping it alive afterwards are all one person's work, so nothing is handed between departments here — whoever opens your message is whoever goes and changes the thing it was about.

The output is logic puzzles — rules you can read out in one breath, getting harder by degrees small enough that nobody needs instructing. There is no network behind them, because a puzzle is not improved by one, and no account either — nothing about the player is any of the game's business.

You will not find an outcome, a metric or a promise of growth stated anywhere here, for us or for anyone else. A company exists; so does an app.

Writing in

Two addresses. post@arcticeagle.online takes anything to do with the company; skygg@arcticeagle.online takes anything to do with Skygge — a fault, a grid that behaved oddly, a question about what the app keeps. The same person opens both, so splitting them is tidiness rather than routing.

Write in Norwegian or English, whichever suits. No automatic reply goes out, which means a gap of more than two working days is far likelier to be a lost message than a slow one — send it a second time.

Skygge

A Hitori puzzle in cool slate and stone. You begin with a grid full of numbers and shade cells away until no number repeats in any row or column — while keeping to two further rules: no two shaded cells may touch side by side, and the cells left open must all stay connected in one piece. Shade too eagerly and the board splits; shade too timidly and a duplicate survives.

Each level has been put through a check confirming it has exactly one solution, so guessing is never required. Nothing connects, nobody signs in, and no advertisement is shown — which between them explain why the privacy policy is as short as it is.