RAPTOR is a flowchart-based programming environment, designed specifically to help students visualize their algorithms and avoid syntactic baggage. RAPTOR programs are created visually and executed visually by tracing the execution through the flowchart. Required syntax is kept to a minimum. Students prefer using flowcharts to express their algorithms, and are more successful creating algorithms using RAPTOR than using a traditional language or writing flowcharts without RAPTOR.
Are you interested in running RAPTOR on Chromebooks, iPads, or just in a browser? Check out the pre-release here!. This is NOT fully tested. Send feedback via
A Multiplatform version of RAPTOR is now available for Windows, Mac and Linux built on top of [Avalonia]! See the downloads section below. Uses fonts from Noto Sans CJK for internationalization. Key differences:
Figure 1 RAPTOR for Windows
Figure 2 RAPTOR Avalonia
Papers on RAPTOR application:
RAPTOR referenced in following books or publications:
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At first, it was exquisite nostalgia: characters remembered lines long forgotten, optional boss fights appeared with altered dialogues that hinted at secret histories. Then the edges began to blur. NPCs spoke in half-phrases that drifted like smoke: "You returned earlier than…", "We kept the night for you." The map showed a region that had never existed on any official map: Utage Isle, ringed by a black sea pixelated like spilled ink.
Kaito's thumbs hovered over the buttons. The room smelled faintly of rain and old plastic. He thought of his uncle — who had left the taped note — and the way people sometimes keep secrets out of love, believing they protect others from pain. He thought of the players whose logs he’d read, of their scattered sentences that sounded like candles flickering out.
Kaito shut the console down after the credits rolled. The TAMAT save remained, timestamped now to this night. He considered deleting it, consigning the secret back to darkness, but the urge to preserve truth felt heavier. He copied the file to his laptop, encrypted it behind a password he could not remember waking to again. He wrote nothing to message boards. He kept the cartridge in the drawer, not for nostalgia, but because some songs, once heard, demand that someone else might one day listen too.
The save file had welded together two timelines: what had been and what had been deleted. Basara’s cheerful propaganda now carried undercurrents of something else: an imperial ritual, a vanished festival, a pact made with performers who traded their voices for prosperity. The more Kaito uncovered, the less certain he was whether the original creators had buried the truth to protect their own reputations — or whether someone else had rewritten the world to hide a deeper wound.
Weeks later, messages arrived anonymously on his account: "We heard." "So did we." A thread of players, scattered and wary, forming a slow, careful chorus. They compared fragments, exchanged audio captures of the game's new melody, and pieced together a timeline of events that the canonical history had never allowed. The community split, as communities do: some insisted the restoration caused more harm than good; others argued that truth — no matter how bitter — must be carried forward.
The concert began. Notes spilled into the night: minor keys, sudden hushes, and a soprano line that wept on a single held pitch. The game’s sprites gathered in a tableau of grief: a queen removing her crown, a jester dropping his mask, a crowd that remembered all at once. Outside the screen, Kaito felt the air charge; his speakers hummed as if vibrating with another layer of sound. Names, long deleted from codices, reappeared in the margins of the save file. The chat logs updated, milliseconds later: "We’re whole again."
The opening theme was the same: brass fanfares, a chorus of voices that smelled of nostalgia. The overworld was familiar — banners, bustling bazaars, the same pixel-sprite of the hero with a hand on his sword. But the save menu had an extra entry: TAMAT — dated to a day that never existed in Kaito's calendar, yesterday’s timestamp stamped with impossible certainty. The cursor trembled as if expecting his hesitation.
At first, it was exquisite nostalgia: characters remembered lines long forgotten, optional boss fights appeared with altered dialogues that hinted at secret histories. Then the edges began to blur. NPCs spoke in half-phrases that drifted like smoke: "You returned earlier than…", "We kept the night for you." The map showed a region that had never existed on any official map: Utage Isle, ringed by a black sea pixelated like spilled ink.
Kaito's thumbs hovered over the buttons. The room smelled faintly of rain and old plastic. He thought of his uncle — who had left the taped note — and the way people sometimes keep secrets out of love, believing they protect others from pain. He thought of the players whose logs he’d read, of their scattered sentences that sounded like candles flickering out. save data tamat basara 3 utage wii new
Kaito shut the console down after the credits rolled. The TAMAT save remained, timestamped now to this night. He considered deleting it, consigning the secret back to darkness, but the urge to preserve truth felt heavier. He copied the file to his laptop, encrypted it behind a password he could not remember waking to again. He wrote nothing to message boards. He kept the cartridge in the drawer, not for nostalgia, but because some songs, once heard, demand that someone else might one day listen too. At first, it was exquisite nostalgia: characters remembered
The save file had welded together two timelines: what had been and what had been deleted. Basara’s cheerful propaganda now carried undercurrents of something else: an imperial ritual, a vanished festival, a pact made with performers who traded their voices for prosperity. The more Kaito uncovered, the less certain he was whether the original creators had buried the truth to protect their own reputations — or whether someone else had rewritten the world to hide a deeper wound. Kaito's thumbs hovered over the buttons
Weeks later, messages arrived anonymously on his account: "We heard." "So did we." A thread of players, scattered and wary, forming a slow, careful chorus. They compared fragments, exchanged audio captures of the game's new melody, and pieced together a timeline of events that the canonical history had never allowed. The community split, as communities do: some insisted the restoration caused more harm than good; others argued that truth — no matter how bitter — must be carried forward.
The concert began. Notes spilled into the night: minor keys, sudden hushes, and a soprano line that wept on a single held pitch. The game’s sprites gathered in a tableau of grief: a queen removing her crown, a jester dropping his mask, a crowd that remembered all at once. Outside the screen, Kaito felt the air charge; his speakers hummed as if vibrating with another layer of sound. Names, long deleted from codices, reappeared in the margins of the save file. The chat logs updated, milliseconds later: "We’re whole again."
The opening theme was the same: brass fanfares, a chorus of voices that smelled of nostalgia. The overworld was familiar — banners, bustling bazaars, the same pixel-sprite of the hero with a hand on his sword. But the save menu had an extra entry: TAMAT — dated to a day that never existed in Kaito's calendar, yesterday’s timestamp stamped with impossible certainty. The cursor trembled as if expecting his hesitation.
Do you want more older versions? Check out older versions of RAPTOR here
Did you know RAPTOR has modes? By default, you start in Novice mode. Novice mode has a single global namespace for variables. Intermediate mode allows you to create procedures that have their own scope (introducing the notion of parameter passing and supports recursion). Object-Oriented mode is new (in the Summer 2009 version)
RAPTOR is freely distributed as a service to the CS education community. RAPTOR was originally developed by and for the US Air Force Academy, but its use has spread and RAPTOR is now used for CS education in over 30 countries on at least 4 continents. Martin Carlisle is the primary maintainer, and is a professor at Texas A&M University.
Below handouts are by Elizabeth Drake, edited from Appendix D of her book, Prelude to Programming: Concepts and Design, 5th Edition, by Elizabeth Drake and Stewart Venit, Addison-Wesley, 2011. Linked here with author's permission.
Comments, suggestions, and bug reports are welcome. If you have a comment, suggestion or bug report, send an email to .
David Cox has put together a user forum at http://raptorflowchart.freeforums.org. This provides a place for users to exchange ideas, how tos, etc. Note however, that feedback for the author should be sent by email rather than posting on this forum.
Randy Bower has some YouTube tutorials at http://www.youtube.com/user/RandallBower. You can also search YouTube for "RAPTOR flowchart".
The UML designer is based on NClass, an open-source UML Class Designer. NClass is licensed under the GNU General Public License. The rest of RAPTOR, by US Air Force policy, is public domain. Source is found here. RAPTOR is written in a combination of A# and C#. Unfortunately, I don't have the time to provide support on compilation issues