Accessibility

Every new app comes with a tax I pay before I can use it. A sighted person finds out in seconds whether a tool works. I spend an hour checking labels, headings, and keyboard access. And the money I lose on things I can’t use is money I don’t get back.

When you live on irregular income, every subscription has to earn its place. Before I buy something new, I check what I already pay for. Most of the time, the thing I need is already in there.

Accessibility is built one disability at a time, and multiply disabled people fall through the gap between features.

I wrote an accessibility review of NukeFire and flagged three things that were missing. The developer built all three and credited me by name. That doesn’t happen often.

I have $22 to my name. The tools I use to write, work, and stay connected cost $100 a month. This is what that gap looks like.

When you can’t write the code and you can’t find the tool you need, AI is the only way the thing could exist at all.

An audiogame is spatial audio by definition. For a brain that can’t parse sound location, that’s a wall, not a ramp. Text games are a real medium, and for some of us they’re the only games that work.

The anti-AI crowd keeps saying AI users aren’t using their brains. For multiply disabled people, AI is the accommodation that makes thinking possible.

AI isn’t a writing assistant for me. It’s infrastructure. It’s the difference between thoughts trapped in my head and thoughts that become articles, code, advocacy, and community. And watermarking that can’t tell the difference between replacement and enablement threatens all of it.

NukeFire is a post-apocalyptic MUD with screen reader profiles, GPS navigation, and a crafting system that stores your materials between sessions. It’s the most accessible MUD I’ve played since Erion, and it does several things Erion doesn’t.