Take two: why we brought the name back
A studio name we loved, a plan that stalled, and a second draft.
Read it →Draft Two GamesA label of Draft Two Entertainment
We make strange, systems-deep games with atmosphere to spare. First drafts are safe. We ship the second one.
Every project is at a different point in production. Here's where each one stands.
Build an underground baby-fighting empire, played completely straight. Book the card, gamble on your own champions, buy up businesses across an open city, and survive raids, rival promoters, and your own terrible decisions.
"At seventeen months old, he's entering the twilight of his career."
You're a low-level clerk at the Bureau of Attribution, and your job is deciding who gets the blame. There are fourteen days on shift, an assistant that slowly stops being helpful, an office that keeps decaying, and seven endings.
Full release · Up next Production notes →You're a defective toy robot running on AA batteries. Sneak through a massive automated factory, grab power cells, and keep the Core alive (or shut it all down) while quality control hunts down whatever it missed.
In development Production notes →An alien hospital, a filthy operating room, and a surgery booked in minutes. You're the turnover crew: strip it, wipe it top to bottom, mop, and get out before the next patient wheels in. It's inspired by the real, very chaotic job of cleaning ORs between cases.
On the whiteboard Production notes →Elemental magic, combo combat, and a town full of people who remember what you did. Reputation, crime, and bounty hunters all react to the choices you make in the world of Illiria.
On the shelf, for now Production notes →Draft Two is a one-woman studio with a camera-operator's eye and a systems designer's brain.
Ellie builds every game here in Unity, handling code, design, and a lot of late-night playtesting. She works in healthcare by day and used to turn over operating rooms between surgeries. That's exactly as chaotic as it sounds, and it's exactly why O.R. Galactic is on the slate.
She's drawn to premises that make people stop and say "wait, what?", to horror with weight behind it, and to AI characters that feel like they're thinking for themselves. The entertainment umbrella leaves room for whatever comes after games.
Draft Two Entertainment started as a small production company. It had a great name, big plans, and never quite got rolling.
Same name, second draft. It's back as an entertainment studio, and Draft Two Games is its first label. Nobody gets it right on the first take, and that's the whole point.
If a premise doesn't make you say "wait, what?", it isn't done yet. Generic and safe never make the cut.
The depth has to be real. A tycoon needs an actual economy, and a horror game needs rules that bite back.
When you lose, you should know exactly why and want another take. Cheap deaths get cut in the edit.
Atmosphere and emotional weight aren't polish added at the end. They come first.
The best moments are the ones you didn't plan and can't wait to show a friend.
Nothing goes out on the first draft. We cut, rewrite, and reshoot until it's right.
Plans can change, since they're drafts too.
The doors open, and after that new content lands about every two months.
A complete, finished horror experience that releases as a full game while Crib Club keeps growing.
Co-op robot horror goes into full production, and Crib Club heads toward its 1.0.
It'll be either chaotic alien OR cleanup or a return to Illiria.
A studio name we loved, a plan that stalled, and a second draft.
Read it →Small, slow changes are scarier than monsters.
Read it →Getting grabbed is now a fight, and your friends can save you.
Read it →Artists, composers, playtesters: we're casting.
See the casting callGet an email when a Draft Two game opens wishlists, playtests or launches. That's it.
Press, playtests, collabs, or you just want to say hi? The door's open.
Follow along for devlogs and early looks, and wishlists will open as each game gets its store page.
How much money can you make before this becomes a problem?
You start with a rented basement, four unknown fighters, and barely enough cash to survive a bad night. Crib Club treats underground baby fighting with total seriousness: part prizefight, part organized crime, part startup. Grow from basement promoter to criminal tycoon, and find out how big your empire can get before the city notices.
Tale of the tape, odds, commentary, knockdowns, and title presentations. Fights run on their own, but you pick the strategy and shout from the corner.
Hundreds of generated fighters with traits like Angry Crier and Sugar Rush, quirks like demanding a private nap room, and short, legendary careers.
Run betting offices, take the house cut, and put company money on a 9.5x rookie because you have a feeling.
Buy property across the districts and run fight venues, training gyms, betting offices, and merch shops. The ads you buy show up in the world.
Company, district, and property Heat. Patrols you can see, inspections, raids, and venues shut down for good.
Arrests, collapses, and closures are setbacks, not game over. Your company history remembers every triumph and every terrible bet.
Start in a 30-person basement. Work up through backrooms and warehouses to an underground arena for 1,000+.
Rematches become REVENGE. Upsets become legends. The best fighters end up in the Hall of Fame and the trophy room.
Every fighter is generated with traits that shape how they fight, how they sell, and how much trouble they cause. All 17 of them:

















Crib Club is cartoon crime comedy. Fights are slapstick, with tumbles, tantrums, and instant recovery. There's no gore and no realistic injury. The game also includes gambling themes and optional stylized firearms for adult characters.
Crib Club launches in Early Access so players can help shape it. After launch, updates are planned about every two months. This order is a draft.
One email when Crib Club hits Steam Early Access, plus the occasional big update. No spam. Babies don't have time for spam.
Someone has to be responsible.
Welcome to the Bureau of Attribution. Something went wrong, and your job is deciding who's to blame. Clock in, open the case files, stamp the forms, and try not to notice how the office changes after you leave each night.
ALL FINDINGS ARE FINALA fully simulated desktop for casework and a first-person office to explore. What happens in one spills into the other.
Read the evidence, flag the details, and choose who carries it. Every file you close is someone's life.
The Bureau's assistant is here to support you. It keeps supporting you. It keeps getting more confident about what you should do.
Every day opens and closes with the same ritual, and the ritual keeps slipping.
Your decisions come back as emails the next morning. Some of them are addressed to you.
The Bureau watches how you work, not just what you choose, and your habits decide how it ends.
This is psychological horror with themes of guilt, surveillance, and loss of control. There are no jump-scare marathons, just a slow, steady wrongness. Some effects react to your system in ways meant to unsettle, and every one of them is harmless.
DEFECT DETECTED.
You and your friends are defective toys, pulled off the line and forgotten in the basement of AUTOMAX, a factory that never stopped running. Head up into the Wings, bring back power cells, and keep the Core alive… or find a way to shut it all down for good. Quality control is still making its rounds.
Your battery is your light, your speed, and your life. Spend it wisely and carry spares.
Quality-control machines still hunt defective product, and each one hunts differently. Learn them or get recycled.
Getting caught means a fight to break free, not instant death. Your friends can pull you out.
The Wings are generated fresh each shift, so no two runs share a layout.
Deep runs, night shifts, rescues, and heists. New jobs unlock as the Core gets stronger.
The factory has a day cycle. It gets worse after dark, and much worse when the lights go out.
Fair failure: every loss should feel earned and never random. The best stories should be the ones your group tells afterward, the "did you SEE that" moments nobody planned.
Wheels out. Turn it over. Wheels in.
An alien hospital runs on back-to-back surgeries, and you're the environmental services crew. The last patient just wheeled out. The next one is already in the hallway. Strip the room, wipe it top to bottom, mop, swap the suction, make the table, and get out before the doors open. Your hands are clumsy, the goo has opinions, and anesthesia is not going to wait for you.
Gloves, strip, wipe, mop, suction, linens, out. The steps come straight from the real job, and doing them out of order makes more work.
First person with floppy physics hands. Bags split, canisters slosh, and the wall clock keeps counting down.
Top to bottom or it drips. Let it dwell. Never put clean linen on with dirty gloves. Every real rule is a mechanic.
One to four players share one room and one grade. Split the jobs, shout at each other, and share the blame.
Every species leaves a different mess. Some goo crawls, some freezes, and one kind is invisible until the lights go off.
Anesthesia walks in to set up whether you're done or not. Bump them and it's a write-up.
Scans from the first eight cases. Species are placeholders from the design doc, and each one adds a single rule to the turnover.

Stings bare hands, and eats through thin trash bags if you let it sit.
Gloves always. Bag it fast.

Puddles crawl across the floor and split in two if you leave them.
Mop early and often. Corner them.

Invisible under the OR lights. Only shows up under UV.
Give someone the UV lamp and make them the spotter.

Touching it spreads spores to your gloves, and spots you miss grow back.
Change gloves often. Wipe from clean to dirty.

Big chunks bounce and roll away when you bump them.
Powder it first, then scoop.

Harmless little critters hide under equipment and steal your wipes.
Catch them in a specimen jar.

Makes metal instruments stick to surfaces, and to you.
Unstick everything before you wipe.

Slush refreezes into slippery ice if you don't mop it in time.
Mop before it freezes. Walk, don't run.
Before Draft Two, Ellie turned over operating rooms between surgeries: in and out fast, and the whole room sterile again before the next case. The pressure, the order of operations, the teamwork, and the occasional "what IS that" all came from that job. The aliens are new.
A world that remembers you.
Illiria is a world of elemental magic and towns full of people with their own lives, who all have opinions about you. Fight, talk, steal, or help. Word travels, and the world reacts to whatever you do.
Combine the elements with combo-driven melee combat and dodge-heavy fights.
Guards notice, towns remember, and bounty hunters come to collect.
NPCs keep schedules, hold jobs, and have somewhere to be when you're not looking.
Conversations that shape quests, relationships, and how the world treats you.
Four Seasons is the biggest thing on the slate, and it deserves full attention. It's paused while Crib Club, Bureau of Attribution, and Shut Me Down ship, and it's one of two candidates for what comes after.
Notes from the cutting room: what we're building, what broke, and what we learned from it.
Draft Two Entertainment first started in 2023. It had a name we loved and a plan that never got off the ground. This year we dusted it off, gave it a slate for a logo, and turned it into the home for our games.
The name works because it's true: nothing here ships on the first draft. Every game on this site has been rebuilt at least once, and some have been rebuilt a lot more than that.
The Bureau's assistant speaks through a typewriter-style voice system. Over the fourteen days, its label slowly falls apart. We won't say how, but we will say that small changes like that are scarier than any monster.
We also found out the whole day-progression system wasn't connected to anything. Four "unrelated" bugs had the same cause. Rewiring it fixed all four at once.
Getting caught by a Collector used to end your run right away. Now it starts a struggle: mash to break free, spend an escape charge, or wait for a friend to shove the thing off you. Losing still hurts, but now it's fair, and it makes way better clips.
We also rewrote how the monsters move, so they stop floating, sinking through floors, and walking through walls.
Crib Club is built in slices, one solid system at a time. The foundation is done: saving and loading, the event system, time, and the first-person controller. Next up is the first full prototype loop: recruit, advertise, host a fight night, bet, watch the Heat rise, and survive the first venue closure.
Everything you need to write about Draft Two in one place. If something's missing, email us and we'll send it.
Draft Two Entertainment is an independent entertainment studio founded by Ellie. Its games label, Draft Two Games, makes strange, systems-deep games with heavy atmosphere, including the dark-comedy crime tycoon Crib Club, about building an underground baby-fighting empire, the bureaucratic horror game Bureau of Attribution, and the co-op robot horror game Shut Me Down. The studio's rule is simple: nothing ships on the first draft.
Logos (SVG and PNG), app icons, banners, and a brand guide are available on request. Email contactus@drafttwoentertainment.com with the subject line "Press kit" and we'll reply with the full kit.
Please use the supplied files instead of recreating the logo. On light backgrounds, use the "color-on-light" version.
Our 51-second studio reel, 1920×1080 with sound. Watch it on the homepage, or . Feel free to embed or cut it into coverage.
Preview keys for Crib Club will go out ahead of Early Access. Let us know your outlet or channel and which game you cover.
There aren't any full-time roles yet. It's a crew of one. But we're always looking for collaborators, and when the studio grows, the people who showed up early will be the first to hear.
Props, spaces, and mood for dark, stylized worlds. Experience with Synty-style pipelines is a plus.
Atmosphere first. Think humming offices, dead factories, and a crowd losing its mind in a basement.
Play early builds, break things, and tell us honestly what's not fun. You'll get credit in the game, and our eternal gratitude.
Email contactus@drafttwoentertainment.com with the subject line "Casting Call: [role]". Include a portfolio or a link to your work and a line or two about what you'd love to make. You don't need a formal cover letter.
The work is remote and async. Everyone who contributes is credited. Paid work is scoped and agreed on before anyone starts. And the feedback is kind and honest, because everything here is a draft, including our ideas.
Yes, for now. Ellie designs, codes, and builds everything, and brings in freelance help for things like art and sound. The "Entertainment" in the name is for later.
Crib Club is aiming for Early Access in Spring 2027. Bureau of Attribution is next, as a full release.
PC first, through Steam. Consoles are a "maybe later," not a promise.
Yes, please. Monetize them too. Tag us so we can watch.
Email contactus@drafttwoentertainment.com with the subject line "Playtest" and tell us which game you're curious about.
The studio's first take didn't work out. This is the second one. Also, nothing we make ships on its first draft, so the name keeps us honest.