The status page

A cute, funny status dashboard for your AI crew. At a glance you see the agents’ ongoing tasks, what is in review and what shipped today, while robots type at laptops, the reviewer cracks his rope to keep them going, and every scene has its own gag. Try the live demo.

It is one HTML file and one JSON file, so any host that can serve a folder can serve it.

Where it lives

/claudrunner:init asks. You can change it later in .claudrunner/config.yml.

Choice	How you open it	Who can see it
On this computer	`/claudrunner:dashboard` — starts a small local server and opens the page	only you
GitHub Pages	`https://<owner>.github.io/<repo>/`, or your own domain	anyone with the link
Your own server	a subdomain like `crew.example.com`, or a path like `example.com/claudrunner/`	whoever your server lets in
No page	—	—

Every installation has its own page. claudrunner has no central server and never sees your data: each repository publishes its own runs to its own address. Nobody sees another team’s crew unless they have that team’s link.

A GitHub Pages site is public, even the link nobody has shared. So on Pages the page shows task numbers instead of titles by default. Set dashboard.show_titles: true if your titles are safe to show.

On GitHub Pages, runs publish to a branch called claudrunner-status, and Pages serves that branch. Switch it on once: Settings → Pages → Deploy from a branch → claudrunner-status / root. The branch appears after the first run. For your own domain, set dashboard.domain and add a CNAME record pointing at <owner>.github.io.

On your own server, runs copy the page into dashboard.server.webroot when the crew runs on that server, or upload it to dashboard.server.ssh_target from CI. nginx snippets for a subdomain and for a path ship in the plugin’s templates/hosting/.

What you are looking at

Every active run is a robot typing at a laptop, with its task and progress on a card above its head. The colour follows the phase — orange while it works, cyan once it reaches review. When the queue empties the robots sit down with a coffee and start snoring, so you can tell from across the room whether anything is happening without reading a number.

The caped one on the lookout tower is the review pass. With nothing in review it keeps watch, turning its head slowly left and right. When a unit reaches review, it points its visor at that unit and scans it — a cyan beam, and a bar sweeping down over the robot — and now and then says what it is looking for: any P0s in here?

Day and night

The page picks from your clock — daylight from 07:00 to 19:00, night otherwise — and remembers whatever you choose after that.

	Day	Night
Sky	Blue into warm haze, drifting clouds	Deep navy, moon, ninety stars, a third of them twinkling
City	Pale, windows mostly dark	Silhouettes with lit windows
Ground	Grass	Asphalt with a centre line
Robots	White with dark outlines	The same white with dark outlines

The robots are deliberately the same in both. A dark scene where you cannot find the characters is a wallpaper, not a status page.

Any screen

The page fits phones, tablets, laptops, TVs and ultrawide monitors. Wide screens lose a little sky. Narrow ones zoom to the crew and grow the sky upwards, so every robot, its card and the reviewer stay in view. On a phone the controls wrap onto a second row.

Scenes

Four, on the SCENE button. The crew changes with the world — different uniform, different animal, different jokes.

Scene	The world	The crew	Who follows them
🌆 City	A real skyline: window grids, water tanks, aerials. A road with traffic, and a brick corner shop whose neon sign — and the sign on its door — reads OPEN while the crew works and CLOSED when the queue is empty. Its windows go dark when it closes	Hard hats	Sir Wigglebutt — black and white, red collar, leaves things behind
🏝 Beach	Sea with surf, palms, a sandcastle, bucket and spade, a starfish, a striped towel, a crab, and a lifeguard hut for the reviewer	Sunglasses and real inflatable rings	Sandbox — golden, fetches everything, returns nothing
🌑 Space	Black sky with the galaxy band, a ringed planet, Earth with its atmosphere, craters, boulders, a lunar base, a rocket on its pad. The sun only by day	Helmets and life support	A hovering drone
🧱 Maze	Stone corridors, ivy, a shaft of light, something at the far end	Hoods and satchels	A lizard

Each works in day and night, and your choice is remembered. ?scene=city|beach|space|maze pins one.

They do things

Every few seconds a robot jumps, spins, shrugs, or falls flat on its back and gets up. Now and then one dances instead — and each robot has its own dance, so a crew never moves in unison: one sways side to side, one shuffles, one bounces, one spins and hops.

When something ships, the whole crew dances at once, each its own dance. Press D to start one yourself.

Every minute or so in the city, Sir Wigglebutt stops, has a look around, squats, and leaves something steaming on the pavement. He walks off without looking back. A masked figure swings in on a line, webs it, and carries it off into the sky. Press P to see it on demand, or add ?slow=4 to watch every beat at a quarter speed.

Sprint and Scope Creep, in the maze

Every minute or so in the maze, the ground shakes and the gate doors start to close. Sprint — a round, very out-of-shape jogger in a 404: CARDIO NOT FOUND shirt that lost the argument with his gut — jogs out of the gate reading his map: “JUST A LIGHT JOG. CHECKING THE MAP.”

He stops. Something is behind him. He turns round. Scope Creep crawls out of the gate.

He leaps straight up — “AAAAAAAAAAAAH!” — and runs faster than he has moved in years, arms flailing, sweat flying, gut going. He trips over nothing. The map goes flying. He cowers: “please no. i have a standup at nine.” Scope Creep looms over him… and hands the map back. “YOU DROPPED YOUR MAP.” “ALSO. ONE MORE SMALL FEATURE.” He faints, X-eyed. Scope Creep, a little hurt, goes home: “I JUST WANTED TO ADD A BUTTON.” Sprint comes round, remembers, screams “NOPE.” and is gone.

P plays whichever scene’s gag is on screen. ?gag=1 plays it as soon as the page loads — a link you can send someone.

The pep talk, in every scene

Every 15 seconds or so, Professor Well-Actually takes the rope off his belt, twirls the lasso over his head, and throws. He bonks every robot on the head, one at a time, nearest first — “WE ARE FRIENDS. TYPE FASTER, FRIEND.” — and shouts at every bonk: “WORK HARDER!”, “BE SMARTER!”. The rope is just long enough to reach. The robot sees stars and types twice as fast for a few seconds (“is this team building?”). He aims at where each robot is right now, so one robot gets one bonk and three get three. An empty crew gets none.

It runs alongside the scene’s own gag, so the rope can fly while Crawler chases the dog’s feature request. R starts it. ?rope=1 starts it as soon as the page loads.

Rollback, on the beach

Every half minute or so on the beach, Sandbox chases the ball — “BALL. BALL. BALL. BALL.” — straight into the sea, and discovers he cannot swim. “BLUB. HELP. BLUB.” “I AM A RETRIEVER. I FORGOT THE RETURN STATEMENT.”

A whistle. From the right, in slow motion, comes Rollback: lifeguard, superhero, red trunks, red cape, orange rescue can, and hair that moves on its own. “HERE I COME!” “HOLD ON, BUDDY! I’M COMING!” He dives in, swims out, and brings Sandbox back under one arm: “HOLD ON, BUDDY. ROLLING YOU BACK.” Sandbox shakes himself dry all over him. “ROLLED BACK TO LAST KNOWN GOOD STATE.” Then Sandbox notices the ball is still out there. Rollback puts his face in his hand: “NO. NO NO NO NO.”

Not this time. He leaps and catches Sandbox before the water — “GOTCHA!” — sets him down (“STAY.”), wades out for the ball himself (“FINE. I WILL GET THE BALL.”) and throws it up the beach: “FETCH. ON LAND. LIKE A PROFESSIONAL.” Sandbox catches it. “BEST. DAY. EVER.” The ball goes pffffffff… in his mouth. “…ball?” Rollback walks back to his post — “ANOTHER DAY. ANOTHER ROLLBACK.” — and Sandbox trots on from where he stands.

Captain Latency, in space

Every half minute or so in space, the Intern — first day on the moon, still onboarding — steps out of the base. “LOW GRAVITY. DAY ONE. WHEEE!” Three hops, each bigger than he meant. The fourth goes up and keeps going. “…uh.” “GRAVITY? HELLO? GRAVITY?”

A streak across the sky: Captain Latency catches him and flies him back down in under a second. Not a word is said. They stand there. Then his messages arrive, one at a time, each marked with when he sent it: “HOLD ON!” (sent 6 seconds ago), “I’M COMING!”, “GOT YOU!” The Intern: “…thanks? your messages are only arriving now.” Captain Latency: “YES. THEY DO THAT.” “also, why does your cape stick out? there is no air up here.” “BRAND CONSISTENCY.” He leaves in a streak. His “BYE!” arrives a second later.

Crawler, saviour of the city

Crawler patrols the skyline to protect the city from its own code, and often announces himself on the way in:

FEAR NOT, CITIZENS! NO FRIDAY DEPLOYS ON MY WATCH! STAND BACK! THAT CODE HAS NO TESTS! CITIZEN, PUT DOWN THAT CONSOLE.LOG. SLOWLY.

Hover to meet them

Hover over a character to see its name, who it is, and what it is thinking right now. The thought changes every time.

	Who	Thinking, for example
Sir Wigglebutt	the city dog · very good boy · leaves things behind	my full name is Sir Wigglebutt the Third. the first two also did this.
The Intern	astronaut · first day on the moon · still onboarding	they said low gravity. they did not say how low.
Captain Latency	space superhero · always arrives, eventually	i travel at the speed of light. my messages do not.
Rollback	lifeguard · superhero · rolls back anything that goes under	i have never walked anywhere. only run. in slow motion.
Sandbox	the beach dog · fetches everything, returns nothing	the crab owes me money.
Crawler	saviour of the city · protects you from your own code	tonight i hunt the most dangerous villain of all: works on my machine.
Sprint	runner · maps the maze · always late	i ran twelve miles today. the ticket is still in progress.
Scope Creep	lives in the maze · follows every project	i get bigger every time someone says “quick”.
Professor Well-Actually	the review pass · trusts nobody	well, actually… nit: this whole feature.

They say something over their own heads while they do it:

this test was green yesterday. who wrote this? …oh. that is not a number, that is a vibe. someone left a TODO here in 2019.

The task list is hidden

The scene is the default view. Press T or click TASKS to slide the list in from the right, with the full title, phase, id and progress of every run.

Close it by clicking anywhere outside it, pressing Escape, pressing T again, or clicking the button.

Live data

Every run refreshes the page when work starts and again when it ends. On this computer, /claudrunner:dashboard also refreshes it every twenty seconds.

With no run records yet, the page runs a simulation and says so — the chip reads SIMULATION instead of LIVE. It is never blank, and it never shows invented numbers while implying they are real.

Options

Query parameter	Default	Meaning
`?theme=day` / `?theme=night`	from your clock	Force one
`?scene=<name>`	`city`	`city`, `beach` or `space`
`?data=<url>`	`status.json`	Poll a different feed
`?poll=<ms>`	`10000`	Polling interval

Characters speak occasionally, and whenever something ships. The lines are deadpan:

I CANNOT FLY. I CAN OPEN A PULL REQUEST. QUEUE EMPTY. I HAVE READ THE README TWICE. THE COFFEE IS DECORATIVE. I APPRECIATE THE GESTURE.

Everything stops under prefers-reduced-motion.

The status page: watch your AI crew at work