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I usually write here about Next.js, caching, and the bugs that steal your sleep. But this post is...

Teams make dozens of architectural decisions every month but document almost none of them. The rest dissolve into Slack threads, hallway conversations, and the minds of people who will leave the company within a year. Six months later, a new developer stares at the code and asks: "Why Redis here instead of PostgreSQL for queues?" Nobody remembers. An archaeological dig through Git history, Slack, and Notion begins. Two hours spent investigating a decision that originally took 15 minutes. Architecture Decision Records (ADRs) solve this problem. But they don't get written. The reason is simple: drafting an ADR takes 30-40 minutes, and the developer has already moved on to the next task. AI compresses that to 3-5 minutes. This article covers ADR structure, prompts for LLM-based generation, real-world examples, and CI pipeline automation. What ADRs are and why capturing architectural decisions matters An ADR (Architecture Decision Record) is a document that captures one specific architectural decision. Not a spec, not an RFC, not a design document. One decision, one file. Michael Nygard introduced the concept in 2011. The format took hold at large companies (Spotify, Thoughtworks, GitHub) but remains rare in smaller teams. The main reason: the writing overhead feels higher than the value it delivers. Three situations where the absence of ADRs hurts the most: Onboarding. A new developer reads the code and encounters an unconventional decision. Without an ADR, they either spend hours investigating, or treat it as a mistake and "fix" it. Both paths are expensive for the team. Revisiting decisions. Context changes: load increases, new requirements emerge, a dependency goes stale. Without a record of why the current solution was chosen and which alternatives were rejected, the team re-runs the entire analysis from scratch. Audits and compliance. In regulated industries (fintech, healthtech), architectural decisions require documented justification. ADRs close that gap automa

One day the browser automation flow started failing right after plugin updates with NameError: name 'plugin_form_selectors' is not defined in the post-update "residual check" step. The refactor that introduced this had landed back in v1.6.1. The error didn't surface until many rounds later. Reading the code, the cause is obvious in seconds — but nobody hit it for ages, because Python's lazy evaluation kept the leftover reference hidden until exactly the right execution path ran. This post walks through what the bug was and how we structurally prevented its kind via an AST static-analysis test. What happened — a reference that crossed a scope boundary browser_utils.py has two functions involved: run_browser_update_flow() , which orchestrates the whole update flow, and browser_update_remaining_plugins() , which handles only the plugin-update logic. The list of plugin-form selector candidates, plugin_form_selectors , used to be a local variable inside run_browser_update_flow() . In the v1.6.1 refactor — "let's split plugin update into its own function" — we created browser_update_remaining_plugins() and moved the plugin_form_selectors definition into it . # After v1.6.1 refactor def browser_update_remaining_plugins ( page , site , update_url ): plugin_form_selectors = [ # ← defined here ' #update-plugins-table-wrap form ' , ' form[name= " upgrade-plugins " ] ' , ' form[action*= " do-plugin-upgrade " ] ' , ' .plugins-php form ' , ] # ... update logic ... def run_browser_update_flow ( site , page ): # ... call to plugin updater ... browser_update_remaining_plugins ( page , site , update_url ) # ★ post-update "residual check" still uses the old local name for selector in plugin_form_selectors : # NameError if page . locator ( selector ). count () > 0 : pending_browser . append (...) The " after updating, make sure no plugin update forms are still visible " residual check stayed in run_browser_update_flow() . During the refactor, the call to extract this loop alongside the

Have you ever been in a computer lab, classroom, or office where you needed to quickly send a file between your phone and laptop? I run into this problem all the time. Sometimes there's no USB cable, no pendrive, Bluetooth is painfully slow, or uploading to cloud storage just to download the file on another device feels unnecessary. So I decided to build SilentShare . What is SilentShare? SilentShare is a browser-based peer-to-peer file sharing application that lets you instantly share: 📁 Files (up to 50 MB) 💻 Code snippets 📝 Text 🖼️ Images No installation. No account. No server storing your files. Your data goes directly from one device to another using WebRTC . Whether you're sending files from your phone to your laptop, between classmates, or across the internet, SilentShare keeps the process simple. Why I Built It I wanted something that: Opens instantly in any browser Doesn't require creating an account Doesn't upload files to someone else's server Works on desktop and mobile Feels lightweight and fast Instead of relying on cloud storage, I wanted the browser itself to become the transfer tool. Features ✨ Peer-to-peer file transfer using WebRTC 📂 File sharing up to 50 MB (including ZIP files) 🔒 Optional end-to-end encrypted rooms using AES-GCM 📷 QR code invitations with built-in camera scanner 📊 Live progress, transfer speed, ETA, pause & resume 🖼️ Preview support for: Images Audio Video PDFs 💻 Share code snippets with syntax highlighting 👥 Multi-user rooms (around 5 participants) 🌙 Dark & Light mode 📱 Installable as a Progressive Web App (PWA) How It Works Create a room Receive a random room code Share the code, QR code, or invite link Other devices join Start sharing instantly The files are transferred directly between devices instead of passing through a storage server. Privacy One of the goals of SilentShare was privacy. No user accounts No cloud storage No permanent database Nothing stored after the browser tab closes If you set a room password, all transf

I Built an AI-Powered CLI That Migrates Legacy Java Code to Java 17/21/25 If you've spent any time in enterprise Java, you know the feeling. You open a service that's been running since 2014 and you're greeted by walls of anonymous inner classes, verbose null checks, Collections.unmodifiableList wrapping a new ArrayList , and switch statements with more break keywords than actual logic. Individually each pattern takes 30 seconds to fix. But across a codebase with 300 files, it's a week of mechanical work — and that's before you factor in the code review. So I built java-migrate : a CLI tool that scans your Java files, detects legacy patterns, and sends them to Claude with a precise system prompt to get them modernised. One command, instant diff, no surprises. What it looks like in practice Here's a typical legacy file before migration: public class LegacyService { // POJO with getters/setters public static class User { private String name ; private int age ; public String getName () { return name ; } public void setName ( String name ) { this . name = name ; } public int getAge () { return age ; } public void setAge ( int age ) { this . age = age ; } } public List < User > sortUsers ( List < User > users ) { // Anonymous Comparator users . sort ( new Comparator < User >() { @Override public int compare ( User a , User b ) { return a . getName (). compareTo ( b . getName ()); } }); return Collections . unmodifiableList ( users ); } public String describeObject ( Object obj ) { // instanceof + cast if ( obj instanceof String ) { String s = ( String ) obj ; return "String of length " + s . length (); } return "Unknown" ; } public String classify ( int value ) { // switch statement String result ; switch ( value ) { case 1 : result = "one" ; break ; case 2 : result = "two" ; break ; default : result = "other" ; } return result ; } } Run java-migrate LegacyService.java --dry-run --verbose and you get this diff: - public static class User { - private String name; - privat

Every time I shipped something, the same thought hit me a few hours later: It works on my machine. It works in staging. But is it actually working for the people using it right now? I had analytics. I had a green dashboard. And I still had no honest answer to that question. Users would quietly leave, a button would silently break on Safari, a page would crawl on a mid-range Android, and I'd find out days later, if at all. That gap is what I ended up building HeronSignal to close. But before I talk about the tool, let me talk about the pain, because I think you've felt at least one version of it. The pain, depending on who you are If you're a vibe coder / solo builder You ship fast. Cursor, Claude, v0, a Vercel deploy, and it's live. Beautiful. Then… nothing. You have no idea what happens after "Deploy successful." Is the checkout button throwing an error on mobile? Is your landing page slow enough that half your visitors bounce before it paints? You don't know, because setting up "real" monitoring feels like a second job: a Datadog dashboard you'll never look at, a Sentry config you half-finish. So you just… hope. And hope is not a monitoring strategy. If you're an engineer Your problem isn't no data. It's too much . Ten dashboards, alert fatigue, a Sentry inbox with 400 issues where 390 are noise. Something's clearly wrong, but which thing actually matters? You spend your morning triaging instead of fixing. And when you finally pick an error, you get a stack trace with zero context: no idea what page it happened on, what the user was doing, or how to reproduce it. Triage is not the job. Fixing is the job. But the tools make you do the triage first. If you're a product person You can see in your funnel that people drop off at step 3. What you can't see is why . Was it a JS error? A slow page? A confusing layout? Your analytics tool tells you what happened but never why , and the engineering dashboards that might explain it are unreadable walls of numbers. So you gue

Hey what's up guys👋🏻 Remember our last Perfect Circle challenge? We had some amazing attempts! While...

When an autonomous agent gets an email address of its own, the first question your security team asks isn't "can it send mail?" It's "can you prove, six months from now, exactly what it said and to whom?" That's a different problem from "does it work." A demo that fires off a few support replies looks great in a sprint review. But the moment a real customer says "your bot promised me a refund," or a regulator asks for the complete record of what an automated system told a data subject, you need a defensible trail — an immutable record of every outbound and inbound message the agent touched, captured outside the mailbox the agent can also delete from. I work on the Nylas CLI, so the terminal commands below are the exact ones I reach for. But the architectural point here is provider-agnostic and it's the part most "AI email" tutorials skip: the live mailbox is not your audit log. It's mutable, it has retention limits, and the same agent that sends mail can also trash it. If your only record of what the agent did lives in the inbox, you don't have an audit trail — you have a working copy. What "audit-log everything" actually means There are two stores in this design, and keeping them separate is the whole point. The live mailbox — the Agent Account grant. Messages flow in and out here. It's queryable, it's real-time, and it's mutable . Flags change, messages move folders, things get trashed. On the free plan it's also retention-limited: 30 days for the inbox, 7 days for spam. The audit store — your system. An append-only, write-once log keyed by message_id and thread_id . Nothing in it is ever updated or deleted in normal operation. This is the record you hand a reviewer. The audit store is the thing you build. Nylas gives you the two capture points — the send response and the inbound webhook — but the immutability is your responsibility. That means a WORM (write-once-read-many) object store, an append-only table with no UPDATE / DELETE grant for the app role, or a has

Most multi-tenant SaaS apps that send email do it from one shared identity. There's a notifications@yourapp.com , every customer's mail flows through it, and the tenant is just a from_name you stamp on the subject line or a footer you swap out. That's fine until it isn't — until Tenant A's spam complaints drag down Tenant B's deliverability, until a reply from a customer lands in a single firehose inbox you now have to fan back out, until one tenant wants a stricter send cap than another and you realize you built none of that into the data model. So let's not share. Let's give every tenant its own real mailbox — a dedicated Agent Account per customer, each with its own grant_id , its own send identity, its own policy and limits, grouped into its own workspace. Not one inbox with a thousand label hacks. A thousand inboxes, isolated by construction. I work on the Nylas CLI, so the terminal commands below are the exact ones I reach for when I'm wiring this up. Every step gets the two-angle tour: the raw curl call and the nylas command that does the same thing. Why per-tenant beats one shared sender The shared-sender model fails along a few predictable seams. Per-tenant Agent Accounts close each one: Deliverability blast radius. When everyone sends from one address, one tenant's bounce rate and spam complaints poison the reputation everyone shares. Per-tenant accounts — and, if you want, per-tenant domains — keep one customer's bad behavior from sinking the rest. Inbound that actually belongs to someone. A shared sender means replies come back to one mailbox and you're left correlating them to tenants by hand. When each tenant has its own grant, an inbound message.created event already carries the grant_id . The routing is done before your handler runs. Per-tenant policy and limits. Different customers, different rules. A trial tenant capped at a low daily send; an enterprise tenant with a higher quota and longer retention. With a shared sender you'd build all of that y

Most teams test email by not testing it. The send path gets a mock — expect(transport.send).toHaveBeenCalledWith(...) — and everyone agrees that's "good enough." The receive path gets skipped entirely, because there's no honest way to assert on a real inbox from a test runner. So the one part of your system that talks to the outside world over an unreliable, asynchronous, third-party channel is the part with the least coverage. That's backwards. The reason email is hard to test isn't the sending. It's the asserting . You can fire POST /messages/send all day, but to prove the message actually left, rendered correctly, and arrived with the body you expected, you need a real mailbox you control — one you can read programmatically and throw away when the run finishes. Shared Gmail test accounts almost get you there, but they bring OAuth on the runner, catch-all races between parallel workers, and a 90-day token that expires the night before a release. This post is about a different fixture: a disposable Agent Account created at the start of a CI run and deleted at the end. You mint a real mailbox per run (or per test), point your application at it, send and receive real mail, assert on the actual message body, and tear the whole thing down. No OAuth. No shared inbox. No leftover state. What an Agent Account gives you here An Agent Account is just a Nylas grant with a grant_id . That's the whole trick, and it's worth saying plainly because it's what makes this pattern cheap: an Agent Account works with every grant-scoped endpoint you already know — Messages, Drafts, Threads, Folders, Attachments, Webhooks. There's nothing new to learn on the data plane . If you've ever called GET /v3/grants/{grant_id}/messages , you already know how to read a test inbox. The difference from a normal grant is provisioning. A regular grant needs a real human to complete an OAuth flow. An Agent Account is created with a single API call — no OAuth screen, no refresh token, no human. It's a m

Most "AI email agent" demos end with a triumphant send . The model writes a reply, the code POSTs it, and a real message lands in a real stranger's inbox. That's a great demo and a terrible production default. The moment your agent can send mail with nobody watching, you've handed an LLM a corporate email address and the standing authority to use it. One hallucinated price, one confidently wrong refund promise, one apology to the wrong customer, and you're explaining to legal why a bot signed an email as your company. There's a boring, durable fix that predates AI by decades: don't send — draft. Stage the message, put a human in front of it, and only send once someone with a name and a pulse approves. Email systems have had a "Drafts" folder forever for exactly this reason. The Nylas Drafts API turns that folder into something better — an approval queue your agent writes into and your reviewers drain. This post builds that queue. The agent creates a draft, a human reviews the pending drafts, and an approved draft gets sent byte-for-byte unchanged . No re-rendering, no "the agent regenerates it on approval" race where the thing you approved isn't the thing that ships. I work on the Nylas CLI, so the terminal commands below are the exact ones I reach for, and I'll pair every one with the raw curl so you can wire it into a backend in whatever language you like. This is deliberately not about escalating inbound threads to a human (that's a different problem, where the trigger is a message arriving). Here the trigger is the agent wanting to send , and the gate sits on the outbound path. Why a draft is the right approval primitive You could build approval a dozen ways. You could buffer the agent's output in a queue table and call send later. You could stash a JSON blob in Redis. Both work, and both quietly reinvent something the email stack already gives you. A draft is a real, persisted email object , on the mailbox, with a stable id . That buys you three things a homegr

This is a condensed version of my preprint ( DOI: 10.5281/zenodo.21345310 , CC BY 4.0). Reference implementation: askbar.pro . The library problem For thirty years the website has been a library: a visitor arrives with one question and is expected to find the answer themselves, navigating menus, pages, and filters. Visitors read a small fraction of site content. Most leave without doing the thing the site owner hoped for. Chat widgets bolted onto such sites change nothing: the maze remains, the widget just answers questions about the maze. The pattern The Librarian Pattern inverts the relationship. The site does not present itself; it asks what you need and assembles the answer. The bar as the primary interface. One persistent input, text and hold-to-talk voice. It replaces navigation. Scene reassembly (generative UI). The center of the screen is not a page but a scene, composed per recognized intent. Transitions morph rather than reload. A guide with a plan. The conversational layer is a consultant with a goal ladder, asking one next question, never presenting menus of three options. Two button systems. Global suggestion chips above the bar are visually separated from in-scene action cards. This prevents the "six buttons" degeneration of chat UIs. The static shadow. Every live scene has a server-rendered twin page: full text in the DOM, question-shaped headings, FAQ schema, llms.txt, freshness stamps. Humans get the agent; crawlers and AI answer engines get complete, citable pages, generated from the same content source. Structural GEO-readiness. Content already organized as questions and answers matches how generative engines retrieve and cite, by construction. The result that surprised me 24 hours after the discoverability layer went public, Yandex Alice (the largest Russian AI answer engine) began citing the reference implementation as its prime example for the "next-generation website" query, describing the mechanics correctly and distinguishing it from "a chat

VistralNova began by developing Web3 gaming experiences and is now expanding toward developer...

How I Built CodeGraph: A Living Knowledge Graph That Tells You What Breaks Before You Break It Built for HACKHAZARDS '26 — powered by Neo4j AuraDB, tree-sitter, Groq LLaMA, and Next.js The Problem That Frustrated Me Every developer knows this feeling. You join a new codebase. There are 50,000 lines of code. Your manager says "just fix this small bug in the authentication module." You make the change. You push. And suddenly three completely unrelated features are broken — a payment flow, a notification system, and a dashboard widget you've never even looked at. You spend the next four hours tracing function calls manually, reading code you've never seen, trying to understand why changing one function in auth.py broke something in notifications.py on the other side of the codebase. This is not a rare experience. According to JetBrains' developer survey, engineers spend 58% of their time reading and understanding code — not writing it. One wrong change in a large codebase can cost hours of debugging, failed deployments, and frustrated users. I built CodeGraph to solve this. Not with another AI chatbot that guesses at your code. With a real, queryable knowledge graph that actually understands how your codebase is connected. What CodeGraph Does CodeGraph takes any public GitHub repository URL and within seconds: Parses every function in the codebase using tree-sitter Maps every call relationship between functions as a directed graph Stores everything in Neo4j AuraDB as a live knowledge graph Lets you ask questions in plain English — answered by AI grounded in real graph data The result: paste a GitHub URL, see your entire codebase as an interactive graph, click any function, and instantly know what breaks if you change it. The Tech Stack Here's what I used and why each choice mattered: Backend: Python + FastAPI (REST API server) Neo4j AuraDB (graph database — the core of everything) tree-sitter (AST parser for Python, JS, TS, TSX) Groq API with LLaMA 3.3 70B (free-tier L

Welcome back to The Everyday Backend Engineer: Practical Design Patterns . In our last post, we made our core algorithms interchangeable using the Strategy Pattern. Today, we close out our design patterns roadmap with arguably the most native pattern in the entire Node.js ecosystem: The Observer Pattern . Let’s look at how to master event-driven decoupling to trigger secondary workflows seamlessly without bloat. 🔴 The Problem: Direct Inline Side-Effects Imagine you are writing a video processing engine or a simple order fulfillment system. When a specific event happens—such as an order being finalized—multiple unrelated departments want a piece of the action: The Notification Service needs to send an SMS and Email receipt. The Logistics Service needs to generate a warehouse fulfillment ticket. The Analytics Service needs to update marketing tracking boards. If you don't decouple these events, your primary execution service ends up managing a giant web of secondary micro-services: // ❌ Bad Practice: The primary service is drowning in secondary dependencies const EmailService = require ( ' ../services/email ' ); const WarehouseService = require ( ' ../services/warehouse ' ); const AnalyticsTracker = require ( ' ../services/analytics ' ); class OrderProcessor { async finalizeOrder ( order ) { console . log ( " Saving primary order to the database... " ); // Core business logic ends here // The codebase smell: Procedural cascading dependencies await EmailService . sendReceipt ( order . userEmail ); await WarehouseService . createShipment ( order . id ); await AnalyticsTracker . trackSale ( order . totalAmount ); } } module . exports = OrderProcessor ; Why does this slow your system down? Your core OrderProcessor is now structurally dependent on three separate systems. If the AnalyticsTracker throws a network timeout error or if the warehouse API changes its interface, your core transaction fails or hangs. Furthermore, adding a fourth side-effect (like an auditing logger

The failures that cost me the most in three years of self-hosting were never the ones that threw an error. An error is a gift: it tells you where to look. The expensive ones are the failures that report success while being broken . A page that returns 200 OK . A healthcheck that says the container is fine. A backup that exits cleanly. A command that prints nothing wrong. Everything green, everything lying. Here are four of them, all from the same box (a 2016 desktop, i7-6700 / 32 GB, Docker behind Caddy, reachable only over Tailscale). Each fails by handing you a success signal. Each cost me an evening the first time. The fixes are boring once you know them, the point is knowing the failure exists. Sanitized skeleton with all the config at the end. 1. A loading page that returns 200 This one I could find nothing written about, so it cost me the most. To keep the box quiet, I run the heavy services on-demand: Sablier stops idle containers and starts them on the first request. Caddy (with the Sablier plugin) gates a virtual host behind a container group, serves a "please wait, starting up" page while the group boots, then proxies through: myhost . my - tailnet . ts . net : 8081 { route { sablier http :// sablier : 10000 { group office session_duration 30 m } reverse_proxy nextcloud : 80 } } I gate my whole Nextcloud vhost, WebDAV included, this way. And here is the silent failure: if the gated group is not healthy, Sablier serves that HTML loading page for every request, and it serves it with 200 OK . A browser shows a spinner, fine. But my Obsidian vault syncs over WebDAV, and a WebDAV client asking for a directory listing got a 200 with a chunk of HTML instead of the XML it expected. Sync died with a cryptic no root multistatus found . Nextcloud itself was up and perfectly healthy the whole time. Every uptime check I had was green, because the gate in front kept answering 200 . The structural lesson: the moment you put a service on-demand behind a reverse proxy, tha

TL;DR Some things can't be checked with a number, like whether an animation feels right. So a second, read-only agent grades the first one against a written rubric it is not allowed to edit. In my run the reviewer rejected the builder three times, and the most interesting problem it caught was in the test evidence, not the code. In Part 1 I built a loop that chased a number, frames per second. But most of what we care about in software is not a number. "Does this region switch feel good?" has no assert. You cannot write expect(feelsRight).toBe(true) . So this part is about how you check quality when there is nothing to measure. The approach I used is a second agent that grades the first one against a written rubric. In my run the reviewer turned the builder down three times before it approved anything, and the most interesting problem it found was not in the code at all. A quick reminder of the definition, since this is Part 2 of 3: a loop is an external script that runs the agent, a separate check the agent cannot edit decides pass or fail, and it repeats until it passes or hits a limit. In Part 1 the check was a Playwright test. Here the check is another agent. The problem this loop solves In the browser you can switch regions, say from Tamil to Korean, which swaps out hundreds of posters at once. Done badly, the grid flashes blank and jumps around. Done well, it fades from one set to the next, keeps its layout, shows a loading state, and puts you back at the top. "Done well" is subjective, which is the kind of thing you cannot unit-test. So I wrote it down as a rubric and had a second agent apply it. The bar: a rubric a person owns The rubric is seven plain-English checks in a file, and the first line is the one that matters: Overall APPROVED requires every item PASS. This file is human-owned. Only a person changes the bar. The seven items are things like a crossfade instead of a flash, no layout shift, a visible loading state, posters that stay 2:3, and landing

TL;DR This loop runs on a schedule and succeeds by doing nothing almost every night. The pass/fail check is plain deterministic code, with no AI in the decision. It can run entirely free on your own machine. Only the cloud/CI version needs a paid API key. Plus the one bug that broke all three loops. The first two loops in this series work the same way from your side: you start them and watch. This last one runs on a schedule, like a nightly job, while you are not looking. That changes what success even means. A scheduled maintenance loop is doing its job when it does nothing. It should run every night, find nothing wrong, cost almost nothing, and still be there on the night something actually breaks. This part covers that loop, the hook mechanism that the whole series relies on, and a bug that broke all three loops in the least convenient place possible. The definition one more time, since this is Part 3 of 3: a loop is a trigger that runs the agent, a check the agent cannot edit that decides pass or fail, and a repeat, or here a wait until the next run. The only new thing this time is the trigger. A timer starts it instead of you. The problem this loop solves The browser's poster data is baked ahead of time into JSON files and images. In a real deployment that data goes stale as films are added and metadata changes, so you want to regenerate it every so often and confirm it is still valid before it ships: on a timer -> regenerate the data -> validate it -> green ships, red shouts The gate: a plain check with no model in it The check is a Node script. For every region file it confirms three things and exits non-zero if any of them fail: it matches the expected JSON schema, it has at least the minimum film count, and every poster file it points to actually exists on disk. There is no language model in that list. The regeneration step might use Claude, but the decision about whether the data is good is plain, deterministic code. That is on purpose. You do not want the

Why build something? And what if nobody ends up using it? There are good answers to the first one. You build because you need a thing that doesn't exist yet. You build to see if you can, the technical challenge, the "is this even possible?" You build to impress someone, or just because you think it'll make people's day a little less annoying. All of those are real reasons, and at different points, I told myself most of them. Then, a few days ago, late in the day, at the end of a coding session, five months into the project, I asked myself those two questions back-to-back. And for the first time, I couldn't answer the second one. Zeri worked. Every feature did what it was supposed to do. Both processes handshake cleanly, a variable set in one context showing up in another a second later, the TUI rendering exactly as I'd pictured it. And I sat there and couldn't come up with one honest sentence explaining why anyone would actually download it. That gap, between something built well and something that has a reason to exist, turned out to be the most useful thing this whole project taught me. So I'm shipping it anyway, and I'll tell you why. What I built Zeri is a TUI multi-language REPL. You launch it, pick a language, Python , JavaScript (with Bun ), Ruby , or LuaJIT , and you get an interactive session in your terminal. You can switch languages mid-session, share variables across them, save and reload your work, manage snippets, and talk to a local LLM through a command running on Ollama . The feature list isn't the interesting part, though. The interesting part is what's underneath. Two processes, one app Zeri is split into two processes: a headless engine written in C++23 and a TUI frontend built in Go using Bubble Tea and Lip Gloss . The engine does all the evaluation, state, and runtime coordination. The frontend does rendering, input, and everything the user actually sees and touches. They talk to each other over a custom binary IPC protocol that I built from sc

🎧 DJ ROOTS – Building a Real-Time Collaborative Music Platform with Gesture Control Crowd Vibes. You Control. Music is one of the best ways to bring people together. However, during parties, college events, hostel gatherings, or study sessions, one common problem always exists— who gets to control the music? Usually, one person owns the playlist while everyone else keeps requesting songs. This often creates confusion, interruptions, and arguments over what should play next. Our team wanted to solve this problem by creating a platform where everyone in the room gets an equal voice. Welcome to DJ ROOTS . 🚨 The Problem Traditional music streaming at group events has several limitations: Only one person controls the playlist. Song requests are ignored or forgotten. No real-time collaboration. Existing queue systems don't truly represent the crowd's choice. There is no simple browser-based solution that works instantly without downloading an app. We wanted to build something that makes music democratic . 💡 Our Solution DJ ROOTS is a real-time collaborative DJ platform where anyone can join a room using a simple room code. Participants can: Create or join a music room Add songs using YouTube Upvote or downvote tracks Automatically reorder the queue based on crowd votes Watch every change happen instantly across all connected devices Let the host control playback using webcam hand gestures Instead of one person deciding the playlist, the entire crowd decides what plays next. 🛠 Tech Stack Frontend React 19 Vite Tailwind CSS v4 Framer Motion Three.js GSAP OGL Backend Node.js Express.js Database & Authentication Supabase PostgreSQL Supabase Authentication Supabase Realtime Computer Vision Google MediaPipe Gesture Recognizer Audio Pipeline yt-dlp youtube-dl-exec HTML5 Audio API Web Audio API Deployment Vercel (Frontend) ⚙️ How It Works Users create or join a room using a unique room code. Songs are added using a YouTube link or search. Song metadata is automatically fetched. E