Your words
It knows no words at first. Tap the berries in its world and say “berry”, three or four times, and it links the two. Later it uses the word to ask you for food.
Hatch an egg and a creature comes out knowing nothing. It works out the world by trying things, learns only the words you teach it, listens to your stories and remembers you. It is a small learning program running on your own device, not a chatbot.
Free and no download. An account is optional.
Every creature hatches with a personality nobody chose: more curious or more cautious, cuddly or independent, always a bit hungry or not. Then how you treat it changes who it becomes.
Speaks only in chirps. Explores, gets hungry and sleepy, and starts making up its mind about everything it meets.
A second leaf grows. It uses the words you taught it, and asks you for things by name when it wants them.
A flower opens on its head when it is happy, coloured by its strongest trait. It is fully grown, and still learning.
It only grows when you spend time together. Days pass on your clock: the sun and moon in its sky follow your own time of day.
Pip learns the way a young animal does: from rewards, from mistakes and from you. You can watch every bit of it happen.
It knows no words at first. Tap the berries in its world and say “berry”, three or four times, and it links the two. Later it uses the word to ask you for food.
Say a word, then praise it the moment it does something. Do that a few times and the word becomes a trick, whichever word you choose.
It tries things: berries, mushrooms, the pond, the berry bush. One red mushroom gives it a tummy ache, and it never eats one again. Nobody told it.
Read it one of five storybooks, or your own words. It keeps what it understood on its bookshelf, sometimes a little wrong, the way a small child does.
Lay a second egg. The two play tag, share food when the other is hungry, overhear each other and teach each other the words they know.
Big moments stay forever; small ones fade over days. When it sleeps, it replays memories as dreams, and the replayed ones last longer.
Pip has a journal with four pages: Today, Mind, Self and Memories. Nothing about its brain is hidden.
You don't need an account. Your creatures are saved in your browser and on Seidr's server under a private id for that browser. A free account lets you visit them from any device, and you can take them with you any time.
Close the page and come back later: it picks up where it left off, tells you what it got up to while you were away, and knows when you usually visit. With an account, the same creatures wait on your phone and your computer. Delete the account and they are erased.
One tap downloads a small file with everything that makes your creature who it is. Bring a saved Pip here wakes it up on another phone or computer, with all its memories.
Ask what it's thinking, who it is, or for its diary, and it answers in its own words, using only the words it knows. To write them, its name, mood, known words, a few memories and what you type to it are sent to Anthropic's Claude. Your account and email are never sent. When the day's voice budget is used up, the voice rests and Pip chirps instead. Privacy