A map on a screen: the pyramid, the pixel, and the tile
tile-pyramid, zoom-ladder and pyramid-tradeoff are the quadtree; resolution-ladder, screen-scale and scale-bar the metres a pixel stands for; pixel-grid and quantisation-grids the grid the pixels make against the grid of degrees; world-cut and square-worlds the choice of a square world; tile-clip the geometry cut at a tile edge; and tilted-view the camera that has no zoom level at all.
Every one of these is the same generator answering a different question, which is why they share a file, a set of colour roles and a set of assertions. Changing it changes all 12.
17 essays call it. Every call below passes it something, because a placement that passes nothing draws whichever member of the family the generator happens to default to rather than the one its essay argues about.
What it draws
One picture per question the family answers. Each has a page of its own.
tile-pyramid
resolution-ladder
screen-scale
scale-bar
world-cut
pixel-grid
quantisation-grids
tile-clip
pyramid-tradeoff
square-worlds
zoom-ladder
tilted-view
Where it is called
Changing this changes every one of these figures.
A screen map is a pyramid of tiles
The scheme every slippy map runs on is a coordinate system with three integers and one projection, and almost all of it is forced. A square world is what makes the quadtree work, the levels are exact powers of two, and the published resolution — 156,543 metres per pixel at zoom zero — is a distance on the ground at exactly one latitude.
The scale of a screen map is not one number
A zoom level prints one scale for the whole world, and the map is at that scale along exactly one line. At 60° north the picture labelled 1:136,495 is a 1:68,765 map — and the factor is not quite sec φ either, because the projection puts a geodetic latitude into a spherical formula.
A scale bar is right in one place
The bar in the corner of a world map is a picture of a distance, and it is a true picture along one line. On Mercator it reads 500 kilometres for a thousand at 60° north — and on an equal-area map it reads 500 one way and 2,000 the other, so the projection recommended for measuring is the one on which no single correction exists.
The square costs the poles
The cut at 85.0511287798° is the most-quoted number in web mapping and is almost never derived. It is where Mercator's northing equals half the world's width — the condition for a square — and it drops 1,901,487 square kilometres. A two-tile root would have reached 89.786° and dropped 3,558.
The pixel is a place with a size
Drawing a coordinate rounds it to a pixel, which moves it by up to half a diagonal — 16.8 metres at zoom 12. Whether two points 43 metres apart appear as two dots is not a property of the data at all: they merge for 12 per cent of the positions the tile grid could take, and the closed form predicts 12.4.
A tile is drawn without its neighbours
Independence is what makes the scheme scale: one request touches one square of the world. It also means a feature crossing nine tiles is nine features, each labelled at its own centroid — up to 1,863 kilometres from the whole one — and the displacement is bounded by the size of the feature rather than the size of a tile, so it grows as the reader zooms out.
The pyramid did not have to be Mercator
The usual defence is that a quadtree needs a square world and Mercator supplies one. So does the cylindrical equal-area with standard parallels at ±55.654° — the solution of π cos²φ₀ = 1 — and it needs no polar cut at all. What Mercator actually buys is conformality, and the price of giving it up is 13.8° of shear at 60° north.
The antimeridian is a cut in the numbers
A twenty-degree box across 180° has a bounding box of 359.4°, a planar area seventeen times too large, and a midpoint 20,015 kilometres from where it belongs — which is the antipode, exactly. Moving the cut moves the failure and never removes it, because a circle cannot be numbered by an interval.