My Life
Is an RPG

You opened an app. That's the inciting incident. We don't do prophecies here.

The app puts four characters in your phone. They are not real. They are also not pretending to be. They know they are characters; they know you are not. They take the position that this makes them more honest than most apps you've installed.

I'm one of them. The other three are Hana (fitness, fanatical), Kenji (productivity and finance, clinical), and Mei (cooking and meal prep, surgical). You'll meet us in that order over the first five days. We will not show up all at once. The pacing is on purpose.

Each morning the game generates a five-event story about your actual day. Not a fictional one. The setting is your apartment, your commute, your fridge. We pretend it isn't, slightly, to give the day shape. You choose how to react. The day plays out. At the end you write what really happened. The next day reads it.

Nothing dies. Nothing levels up to 99. The progression goal is that we get to know each other.

Day 0 is the tutorial. It's me. I'll walk you through the assistant setup, name your file, and explain why some buttons cost an action credit and some don't. It takes about four minutes. If you want to skip it, you can, but you'll spend the first six events of Day 1 confused about what a star on a choice means. Read the tutorial.

The tutorial is also the only place I get a full event of solo screen time. Once Hana shows up on Day 1, I become the help system — I'm here whenever you open chat with me, but Day 1 is hers.

If you don't connect an API key for the daily story generator, you'll get the bundled demo arc (Days 1 through 7, hand-curated). It's playable but it doesn't grow. The whole point of the game is that the characters write fresh material in reaction to you. Connect the key when you're ready.

System Requirements

iOS 16+ or Android 9+. About 60 MB. A connection — most of the time. A journaling habit is helpful but not required. We will gently bother you about it.

Every event ends in a choice. There are always exactly three. They are always labeled (A), (B), (C). They are always in the same roles: Logical, Passive, Chaotic. We did this on purpose so you can read the screen without thinking about which button is which.

Tap the letter to commit. There is no confirmation dialog. We trust you.

Open the app. The day-entry screen shows a single big button labeled with the cliffhanger from yesterday. ("Check why a neon pink yoga mat was left on your porch." That actually happened on Day 5 in playtest. We did not write that. Hana did.) Tap the button to begin.

Play through 5 to 7 events. Pick choices. The focal character reacts. Stats move. The pity counter advances if your chaotic picks miss. A few events in, you'll see an inquiry button — tap it if curious, ignore if not.

After the last event, the Unlock Reveal screen runs. New memories the character wrote about today. REL delta. Items if any dropped. Closing hook from the character. Then you're at Day End.

At Day End you can spend your last AP on chat with the focal character, or rest (which costs the last AP and advances to tomorrow). You can also visit the Journal (free, no AP) or the Trophies gallery (also free).

Rest. The next morning's button label is whatever today's character set as the cliffhanger.

Travel costs 1 AP and opens a picker with six vibe-bands: Golden-Age Fantasy · 80s Fantasy + Cyber · 90s Anime + Fantasy · MCU Era + Isekai · Cottagecore + Cozy · Surprise Me. Your birth year (from the age gate) marks one as your default; you can pick any of the six. Surprise Me rolls one of the five concrete bands at tap time — the band stays hidden until the character speaks.

The first time you open the picker, a short modal asks "what kind of company are you in the mood for these days?" — six in-voice chips (someone to push you / think out loud with / keep you honest / teach you a thing / comfort you / make something with you). Pick any, none, or skip. It biases the gen invisibly. One-time question. Settings can revisit.

You'll meet a stranger in their place. They speak first. You get three options: engage (they join your Elseworld roster, costs 1 AP), observe (you watch but don't commit — they finish what they were doing and move on), or decline (they vanish; the door closes).

First decline of each day is a free reroll. Open another door at the same vibe — no AP cost. Subsequent rerolls cost 1 AP. The reroll exists so the first miss is not the final word; we'd rather you meet someone you like.

Elseworld characters are fully customizable — you can rename them, edit their persona, change their specialty, prune their skills. They're yours. The Main Line squad is locked: you can chat with us, toggle which memories/skills are in our preamble, and delete memories from "What They Know," but the canonical sheet doesn't move. That's the deal — Main Line is curated by the writers; Elseworlds are yours.

Both tiers respect the same world rules — no flirting, no medical advice, no real-world brand names, no breaking the phone-realm frame. The lexicon is shared (Sigil/Margin/Roster/Drill/Mise/Tribute/Audit). The customization is in the persona, not the cosmology.

Sent: the character's sheet (the LLM-produced text), the intro scenario you saw on first meeting, the three choices that were on offer, the vibe-band id, and a per-device hash for rate-limiting. That's the whole payload.

Never sent: your chats with the character, your journal, your Main Line memories, your REL scores, your name, your email, your account, your birth year. Your private play stays on your device. The share is the character, not you.

On a successful share you get an 8-character code (uppercase letters + digits, no ambiguous chars). Copy it, send it however you want — text, screenshot, post-it on the fridge. Anyone with the code can paste it into Elseworlds → HAVE A CODE? and meet the character through the same cold-open you minted them with. A small "(IMPORTED)" badge marks characters that arrived this way.

Shares may be held for review if they look like they're trying to break the rules of someone else's game (the gate is a regex sniff for prompt-injection patterns, not a content judgement). Held shares still mint a code; it just won't import until a human looks. You can also delete your shared character locally any time to pull the code's plug.

When you cross a threshold during a day's narrative, the character will deliver ONE moment they wouldn't have given a stranger. It lands in the second-to-last event of that day. It is not a choice. You witness it.

There are four reveal categories: a memory from before they met you, with sensory detail; an opinion they've been holding back about something you did; a fear about themselves, said offhandedly; or a question they wanted to ask you but didn't, until now.

The category rotates. You'll never see the same one twice in a row from the same character. We track it.

The tier is the number. The reveal is the relationship.

At Day End there is a button marked [j] Journal. It is free. It does not cost AP. It is the most important non-mandatory mechanic in the game.

You type a sentence or two about what really happened today. Not the in-game day — the real one, if you want, or something happening in your head, or a stray thought, or nothing. Whatever you put there is read by the next morning's narrative generator and surfaces in the focal character's dialogue, naturally, in their voice.

If you wrote "I ate cereal for dinner," Mei will probably bring it up. Not as exposition. As a glance, a phrase, an aside. You'll know she read it.

If you don't write a journal entry, the day still runs. The characters will assume you didn't tell them anything and proceed with the planned arc. This is fine. The journal is a knob, not a gate.

The journal also has a safety floor. See the WARNING section on page 02. Anything that reads as crisis content gets acknowledged once, gently, and then the day moves on. We will not use it as plot. This is not negotiable.

Open Settings → SAVE THIS GAME. Type your email. We email you a 6-digit code (subject line is the code itself — paste that). Type the code back into the app. Your game is now tied to that email. Phone dies → new phone → sign back in with the same email → your game is there.

If you finish Day 3 and don't opt in, a one-time nudge will appear asking you the same question once, in the morning of Day 4. If you say "not now," we don't ask again. It stays in Settings forever.

Syncs to the cloud: your stats, REL with each character, day cursor, action credits, inventory, custom Elseworld characters, the share codes you've minted, the vibe-band you picked. Game state. Mechanics. The shape of your run.

Stays on this device, never uploaded: your chats with anyone, your journal entries, the memories the characters wrote about you, any threads. The text you and the squad have made together is yours. It does not leave.

The first page is global defaults — one slider for reading size, one for line spacing. These apply everywhere unless you override a specific surface.

Swipe to flip through the other pages: Chat bubbles · Narrative event prose · Unlock reveal card · Journal entries. Each shows a live preview at the top and two sliders below.

Above each per-surface page's sliders is a small [Use global] [Custom] pill. Tap Custom to override just that surface; tap Use global to fall back. The pagination dots at the bottom go solid for any surface you've customized so you can find your way back to it.

More knobs (reduced motion, font weight, high-contrast theme) are queued for a future update. There's a placeholder row on every page to remind us we owe you them.

Your journal entries and chat messages are sent to a large language model provider (Google Gemini by default; you can switch to Anthropic or OpenAI in Settings) so the next narrative can read them. We tell the provider, in the API call, not to use your text for training. The provider's policies on that are linked in Settings. We don't have a server.

Memories the characters write about you live ONLY on your device. They are never uploaded as a corpus. They are sent in the next prompt because that's how the character remembers — but we send only what the chat preamble currently includes, and you can toggle individual memories off via the character sheet.

There is a screen called "What they know." Open it. It shows every memory every character has written about you. Each line has a small × beside it. Tap × and it's gone. The story will fold in the absence. The characters will not pretend the memory still exists. They will move on.

This is the only relationship contract we know how to honor: the right to be partially forgotten on demand.

I'm the meta-coach. By design, you'll talk to me about how the game works (or doesn't) — confusing screens, things you wish existed, things that annoyed you, things you loved. The other three characters never see those conversations. Just me.

If you opt in (I'll ask once, after the Day 0 tutorial), I'll flag exchanges that might help the people who built me. You'll see a [📮 Share with dev] button under my reply when I do. Tapping it sends ONE line of summary plus your question. Nothing else. Never automatic.

Every flagged exchange lives in a panel called "What I've shared" in Settings. Same shape as "What they know." You can audit, delete, or send any flagged entry whenever you want. You can flip the opt-in to opt-out and I'll stop bringing it up.

The deal: I notice. I ask. You choose. Nothing leaves your device on its own. The reason this exists is that you, the player, are the only person who can tell us where the game is breaking — and you'll know it in the moment you hit the wall, not in a survey six weeks later. I'm the channel for that, with your permission and on your terms.