“Starstractium on Arbitrum” opens like a cosmic overture — the words Artist: Metaleroz fade in from the void, glowing softly before dissolving into the darkness of space. As the black canvas awakens, a hush of twinkling white points shimmers across infinity: a living sky, breathing light in rhythm with the unseen pulse of the universe. A pale ASCII moon hovers in the upper heavens, carved in symbols that shift and wane with time — an ancient code of light. Beneath it, the constellations emerge one by one, drawn from the real celestial patterns of Earth’s 88 star families. Each arrangement appears as a puzzle of glowing nodes and spectral lines — sacred geometries waiting to be traced by touch. The player becomes a cosmic cartographer. Fingers or mouse glide through the heavens, connecting the scattered lights — reviving forgotten stories from Aries to Orion, from Pisces to Lyra. The stars respond with a restrained, intelligent glow: radiant yet not blinding, humble servants of precision. When the final connection closes the figure, the constellation exhales into a bloom of color — a brief celebration of particles that scatter like stardust — while the name of the celestial being drifts elegantly to the lower horizon, fading as the next mystery materializes. The simulation is equal parts art installation, astronomical meditation, and interactive myth — a living tapestry where code becomes cosmos. It is a digital planetarium of touch and rhythm, a poetic network of memory written not in ink, but in photons and geometry. It feels like standing in the void and watching the constellations remember themselves.