Scroll to discover. Tap to try it on yourself.
Needs memory switched on — it works off months of your own chats. You get 10 truths, ranked mildest to worst, each citing its evidence.
Say what's going on — should you text them back? — and get a three-card reading. The traditional meaning first, then what it actually means for you.
Photograph your room or desk. It lists what it can actually see — the sticky notes, the cables — then calls your four letters from that.
Say what you're walking into, what actually scares you, and pick a voice: drill sergeant, grandma, hype friend. Back comes 60 seconds of it.
Photograph your bookshelf with the spines readable. Back comes a profile that cites a visible book for every claim, the ones you never opened included.
Take two photos of your hands in daylight: palms up, then palms down. It reads the calluses and knuckles, then guesses what you do all day.
Type your coffee order exactly as you say it, plus where and when. Every modification is read as evidence, ending in a barista's nickname for you.
Answer five questions about them, down to what they complain about. Three ranked picks come back, plus the obvious gift to avoid.
Paste your ten most-played songs — the real stats, not the playlist you show people. It reads what that says about you, and flags one track.
Attach your three most recent photos, no scrolling for better ones. They're read as what's behind you, where you are, and what's approaching.
Answer six ordinary questions about how you behave around people. It names oldest, middle, youngest or only — and quotes the line that gave it away.
Describe a dream. You get what it probably means, what it definitely doesn't, and one question to ask yourself. No crystals.
Answer five questions about them, down to what they complain about. Three ranked picks come back, plus the obvious gift to avoid.
Paste your ten most-played songs — the real stats, not the playlist you show people. It reads what that says about you, and flags one track.
Say what's going on — should you text them back? — and get a three-card reading. The traditional meaning first, then what it actually means for you.
Attach your three most recent photos, no scrolling for better ones. They're read as what's behind you, where you are, and what's approaching.
Photograph your room or desk. It lists what it can actually see — the sticky notes, the cables — then calls your four letters from that.
Say what you're walking into, what actually scares you, and pick a voice: drill sergeant, grandma, hype friend. Back comes 60 seconds of it.
Photograph your bookshelf with the spines readable. Back comes a profile that cites a visible book for every claim, the ones you never opened included.
Type your coffee order exactly as you say it, plus where and when. Every modification is read as evidence, ending in a barista's nickname for you.
Answer six ordinary questions about how you behave around people. It names oldest, middle, youngest or only — and quotes the line that gave it away.
Take two photos of your hands in daylight: palms up, then palms down. It reads the calluses and knuckles, then guesses what you do all day.
Needs memory switched on — it works off months of your own chats. You get 10 truths, ranked mildest to worst, each citing its evidence.
Describe a dream. You get what it probably means, what it definitely doesn't, and one question to ask yourself. No crystals.
