A gaming club site that finally looks like something
Zero Station is a concept landing page for a Berlin gaming club. I built it around one idea: checking in should feel like docking at a space station, not filling out a booking form.
Project at a glance
A solo concept, built to portfolio quality.
Overview
Why this exists
I kept opening gaming-club websites that all looked the same — dark theme, one neon accent, a "Book Now" button, done. None of them said anything about the actual place. So I picked a real kind of venue, a Berlin gaming club, and designed the site I'd want it to have.
It's not a client job — a solo concept, built end to end in Figma. But I treated the brief seriously: one idea has to survive the whole page, not just the hero. The floor plan reads like a deck layout. Membership tiers read like access levels. Even the footer keeps the same system-readout type as the header.
Color does most of the identity work: deep navy background, one electric blue for anything active or clickable, green reserved only for "live" status. Three colors, used consistently, instead of five accents fighting each other.
Design language
One type, one palette, one shape language
Typography, color, and geometry — the three systems everything else on the page is built from.
Monospace type reads like a terminal, an onboard computer. One typeface across the whole site is a deliberate choice — it holds the station concept together from the headline down to the smallest technical label.
The palette is built on restraint: a deep navy background creates a sense of space, accent blue directs attention, green signals status. Every color has exactly one job.
Sharp corners with one clipped edge, bottom right, reference technical drawings and industrial design.
The challenge
Most of these sites solve the wrong problem.
The booking flow is usually fine. What's missing is a reason to remember the site five minutes after closing the tab.
Key design challenges
One story, not just a hero
It's easy to nail a landing screen and lose the thread by the pricing table. I tested this by jumping straight to the footer — if it didn't feel like the same product, the page wasn't done.
Pricing nobody wants to read
Standard three-column pricing asks people to compare features line by line. I wanted tiers you understand from the icon alone.
A shelf, not a poster wall
Cover art tells you nothing about whether a game is actually free to play right now.
One layout, two very different screens
The desktop version leans on side-by-side panels. None of that survives at 375px without an actual rework, not just a squeeze.
Design decisions
Once the concept was set, most decisions made themselves.
I didn't design the pricing table and the booking flow as separate problems — treating the club as a station gave both an obvious shape already.
Membership tiers became access levels — a physical pass, not a checklist of features.
Access as a passBooking became a 3-step docking sequence: scan, pick a zone, confirm.
Booking flowBracketed labels — // 01, // 02 — and mono type carry the system-readout feeling all the way to the footer.
TypographyMost gaming-club sites treat pricing, booking, and the games list as three unrelated modules built by three different people at three different times. Here they're one decision, applied three times.
The facility
What you'd actually see walking in
Floor plan, real stats about the space — enough to prove this isn't a stock photo pretending to be a gaming club.
A lot of club sites jump straight to pricing. I put the facility tour first on purpose — you should know what you're walking into before anyone asks you to pay for it.
Zones
Not every desk is the same desk
Each zone — including the new VR deck — gets its own card instead of getting buried inside one shared floor plan.
Game library
Status tags instead of a poster wall
Active, queued, in maintenance — the same status language a game client uses to describe its own servers.
Access, not a price list
Three tiers, shown as levels you unlock instead of plans you compare line by line.
This is the one screen that's barely changed since the first sketch in the original deck — the pass-card layout was right on the first pass.
Three steps, one scroll
Scan, pick a zone, confirm. No separate checkout page — the whole flow reads in the same section as everything else.
Gallery & community
Proof the room is real
Photos of the actual space next to the events strip — the part of the page keeping this from reading like a one-off mockup.
How this compares
What's different from the default
Not a takedown of any one competitor — just the pattern I kept running into, next to what I did instead.
Typical gaming-club site
Zero Station
Mobile version
Same system, stacked for one hand
Side-by-side console panels don't survive a narrow viewport. The mobile version keeps the same seven-part structure — enter, facility, zones, games, access, gallery, community — full-width and trimmed to what still reads at a glance.
Mobile adaptation notes
One panel at a time
Side-by-side console panels become full-width stacked cards, same reading order as desktop.
Zones stay scannable
Zone cards, VR deck included, keep their status tags and icons — just resized for one column.
Access levels condense
Pass-style tier cards drop secondary detail but keep the level number and headline perk visible without a tap.
Typography holds the identity
Mono type and bracketed section labels carry over unchanged — mobile still reads as the same product.
