Studios are tempted to widen: more tools, more styles, more kinds of work, until the place does many things passably and nothing memorably. This studio chose the opposite discipline. Its world is small on purpose — a handful of fictional regulars, eight tools, one method — and everything in it is kept to a standard that a larger world would dilute.
Smallness is what makes the transit card possible. A card can hold a character because the studio is not simultaneously asking her to be twelve other things. Sittings are briefed in one setting under one light. Judging is done against one record. The gallery shows only what makers deliberately released, and it stays small enough to be honest.
The economics agree with the aesthetics. Standard frames at 6 credits do the proving; premium and finishing money lands only on frames that earned it; nothing is spent maintaining the appearance of scale.
One small world, kept well, beats a large one kept loosely. The instrument in the corner is the reminder: fix the line, keep the world small, sight everything.