Mipkin of the Hearth
A curious fox-rabbit with a lantern tail — alert warmth on four small feet.
Bright chirps, warm lantern chimes, and quick pleased huffs.
Mipkin is coming soon to iPhone and Android
A small creature who asks nothing of you.
They live in your phone, in a room the size of an evening. You look after them by looking after yourself — a check-in, a small thing done, a page written if you feel like it. A day off costs nothing. Nothing runs out. Nobody is ever disappointed in you.
How it works
A quiet loop, under a minute.
Everything past the loop is optional, and skipping it is never mentioned.
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1 Answer the day in three taps
Weather, energy, what you need — and all three mean in here. A heavy day quietly leads with smaller things.
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2 Do one small thing
Three are offered each day and one is plenty. Each pays a little Warmth — the only currency, and it is never sold.
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3 Watch the room fill up
Warmth becomes things in the room. Your companion wanders, brings home keepsakes, and grows — by wanders taken, never days in a row.
One will find you
Spirits
Ten at launch, drawn here exactly as they are in the app. You do not choose from a grid — a short, mostly wordless ritual brings one of them through, and the one that arrives is yours, the way a stray chooses a doorstep.
Poffle of the Conservatory
A capybara-cloud with a cumulus tail and a raindrop pendant — weighted shelter, never in a hurry.
Soft rain taps, sleepy hums, and a tiny thunder puff.
Kittibug of the Observatory
A cat-moth with folded eyespot wings, curled antennae, and a crescent moon in the crook of her tail.
Restrained huffs, velvet trills, and a soft wing shimmer.
Tussock of the Conservatory
A hedgehog-mole with a crown of quills and a seed-pod lamp.
Low snuffles, rustling quills, and a contented burr.
Sundrop of the Hearth
A striped bumble-cub with little wings and a honey drop.
A soft wing hum, small bright chirrs, and a drowsy buzz.
Hoplin of the Conservatory
A frog-sprout on wide webbed feet, with a seedling for a cowlick and a lit toadstool held up like a parasol.
Round wet croaks, a rustle of leaves, and a pleased little gulp.
Pipwick of the Observatory
An owl-mouse in a wing-cloak, with a heart-shaped face, feather horns, and one star kept in a little cage.
Small querying hoots, a papery flutter, and a mouse-quiet squeak.
Twinket of the Observatory
A flying squirrel wearing her glide membrane like a cape, with a plume taller than she is and a comet-pebble slung from it.
Quick excitable chitters, a rush of air, and a satisfied trill.
Cindle of the Hearth
A salamander-pup with feathery gills, a ridged back, and a clay cup of live embers on her tail.
A low contented crackle, soft clicks, and a sound like a log settling.
Brackle of the Conservatory
A lichen-fawn on folded legs, dappled down the flank, with a crown of antlers still in velvet and a woven lantern at her hip.
Soft bleats, a rustle of dry grass, and a long steady breath.
Inside the app
The screens your thumb will live on.
Captured from the app, unedited — a companion named Ember, fourteen wanders in.
The bond
They keep what the two of you find.
Your companion's page reads the bond back in plain language — "they know you well," never a score to chase. Growth counts wanders taken, not days in a row: 14 wanders so far — 11 more and they are inseparable.
Every keepsake they carry home lands in the collection, and the empty slots show honestly how much world is left.
Two journals
Somewhere to put the day down.
Your own pages, with a question above the box so the first sentence is nearly free — "What is unfinished, and is that alright?" — and a different one on tap. Written on your phone, stored on your phone.
Your companion keeps a journal too, about where they went and what they found. Yours is yours. Theirs is theirs.
The stalls
A shop that cannot take your money.
The stalls restock on their own schedule, and everything in them is priced in Warmth — the currency you earn by living here, which is never sold. A low shelf, a floor cushion, a wall hanging; three colourways each.
Decor is the only thing Plus ever adds to buy, and companion care is free forever.
The off switch
A break that means it.
One switch and the phone goes quiet. Everywhere else this switch exists to stop a streak expiring while you are away; ours has nothing to protect, because a quiet day is already free.
Below it, your data: export everything as a file, or delete everything, and neither one needs us.
Where they live
Five rooms, straight from the app.
A Nook is a place, not a map — things in it can be touched, the light changes with the hour, and each companion keeps their own. Here are all five, as they render on a phone:
You begin in your companion's own room. Plus opens the doors between all five.
The refusals
Some things this app will never do.
Decisions, not omissions — written into the code as a list that has to be deleted rather than forgotten, with tests that fail if the app contradicts them.
Ads.Not in any tier, not ever.Streaksyou can buy back. A rest day is absorbed for free, and your best run is kept forever.Energythat runs out and refills with money.Currency for cash.Warmth is earned, always.Fake urgency.Our launch price ends on a printed date, and if you subscribed at it, it stays yours.Countdown timers.Anywhere, for anything.Guilt.Nothing counts what you did not do.Paywalled care.Nothing that is care sits behind a price.
And it stays on your phone. No account. Your companion, your check-ins, and everything you write live in your phone's storage by default. One exception, only if you switch it on: reflections send the text of a page — nothing else, no identifier — to an AI service for one short line back. The privacy policy says exactly what is sent and how it is handled.
Pricing
The whole app is free. Plus adds more world.
Plus never removes friction we put there on purpose, and nothing that is care ever sits behind it.
Plus, monthly
$8.99
a month
Cancel any time in your store account. The care loop stays free either way.
Launch price, until September 30
Plus, yearly
$39.99 $29.99
a year
Subscribe before September 30 and the price stays yours for as long as you stay subscribed. After that date, new subscriptions are $39.99 a year.
Plus, forever
$79.99
once
One payment. Not a subscription, and it does not renew.
Free, forever
Your companion and every stage of growing up · check-ins · quests · adventures · keepsakes · your journal · the shop · every comfort card · the support route.
What Plus adds
Room in the Nook for more than one spirit · a shelf of things only Plus can buy, still earned in the shop · AI reflections on your own journal pages · all five Nooks, and moving between them · six more lights to see your Nook in · every seasonal decor set, yours to keep.
Questions
Asked and answered, plainly.
Is it really free?
Yes. The relationship is complete in the free app: your companion, every growth stage, check-ins, quests, adventures, keepsakes, both journals, breathing, grounding, the worry box, looking back over your time together, the shop, and the support route. Plus adds more world — extra rooms, themes, reflections, a second spirit — and never removes friction we put there on purpose.
How do I cancel Plus?
Subscriptions are billed by the store, so they are cancelled there — on iPhone under Settings → your name → Subscriptions, on Android in the Play Store under Payments and subscriptions. Cancelling stops the next renewal and leaves the current period running.
Where does my data live?
On your phone. No account is required, and your companion, journal and Nook stay on your device. Optional sign-in can recover a visiting code, not your private app data. Export gives you everything as a file; delete removes local data from the device.
What happens if I disappear for a month?
Nothing bad. A quiet day is absorbed on its own and costs nothing, your longest run is kept forever whatever happens, and there is nothing to buy to repair anything. Growth counts wanders taken, never days in a row, so a fortnight away leaves everything exactly where you left it — and absence earns a playful return story, not a penalty.
Do the companions use AI?
The companions themselves do not — their moods, journals, and stories are authored. The one AI feature is reflections: if you switch it on, the text of a journal page is sent to an AI service that writes one short reflection back. Nothing else goes with it, nobody keeps the text, and it is off until you turn it on.
When does it launch?
Soon, on iPhone and Android. No launch list and no countdown — the door will simply be here. Questions in the meantime go to a human: support@mipkin.app.
When Mipkin opens its doors,
they'll be waiting.
Questions in the meantime go to a human: support@mipkin.app