Burnt-In Timecode Generator

Knowledge Base

What a burnt-in timecode is for

Burnt-in timecode is the number painted into the picture rather than carried alongside it in metadata. It survives everything: a screen recording, a phone photograph of a monitor, a compressed review copy, a file whose metadata was stripped by an upload. That durability is the whole point. When a director says the shot is wrong at 10:04:12:07, the number is visible to everyone looking at the same frame.

It is also how a review copy is kept honest. A cut sent out with visible timecode cannot quietly become the finished version, and notes written against it can be matched to the edit without guesswork.

What this tool makes, and what it does not

Two things. A clip with running timecode, recorded in your browser, and a single frame as a transparent-background PNG. Nothing is uploaded. The clip is drawn frame by frame onto a canvas and captured as it plays.

The clip is a test and demonstration clip, not a timing reference. A browser records in real time from a live canvas, so the file it produces is subject to whatever the machine was doing at that moment. Frames can be dropped under load, and the recorded frame rate is a request rather than a guarantee. The numbers drawn on each frame are correct, and the spacing between them in the finished file may not be exact.

That is fine for checking a player, eyeballing sync, demonstrating a workflow or making a slate. It is not fine as the reference you conform against. For that, generate the timecode in the tool that owns the timeline, or use an LTC audio track, which carries the number as a signal rather than as pixels.

The single frame has no such problem. It is drawn once, exactly, at the timecode you choose, so it is safe to use as an overlay or a position guide.

Where to put it in frame

Low and centred is the convention, because that is the area least likely to hold the thing being judged and most likely to survive a crop. Keep it inside the graphics safe area, a 5% inset on every side under EBU R 95, or the number is the first thing an overscanning display eats. The safe zone tool on this site draws that boundary if you want to check a layout against it.

Legibility beats elegance. A monospaced face stops the digits jittering as they count, because every glyph occupies the same width. A solid or semi-opaque panel behind the text keeps it readable over a bright sky or a white wall, which is exactly where a thin drop shadow fails.

Drop frame, and why the punctuation changes

At 29.97 and 59.94 the counter drifts against a real clock, because those rates are the whole number multiplied by 1000 divided by 1001. Drop frame corrects it by skipping two labels a minute, except every tenth minute. No pictures are discarded, only numbers that are never used.

You can see it in the count. In drop frame the sequence runs to 00:00:59;29 and the next frame is 00:01:00;02. The separator before the frames changes to a semicolon or a full stop to mark that the clip is counting this way, which matters because the same digits mean a different instant under the two schemes.

FAQ

Q: Why is my exported file a WebM rather than an MP4?
A: Browsers differ in what their recorder can encode. The tool asks for MP4 first and falls back to WebM when the browser has no native MP4 encoder. Both carry the same picture.

Q: Can I trust the frame rate of the exported clip?
A: Treat it as approximate. The numbers on each frame are correct; the interval between them depends on what the machine managed during the recording. Use the single frame, or a tool that owns the timeline, when the timing itself has to be exact.

Q: Why does the frame field stop at 23 on a 24 fps clip?
A: Frames are counted from zero, so a 24 fps second runs 0 to 23. The tool refuses a start timecode whose frame number cannot exist at the chosen rate.

Q: Should I burn timecode into a delivery master?
A: No. Burn it into review copies and working versions. A master carries timecode as metadata, where it can be read by a machine and does not sit on top of the picture forever.