A recovery world told as a mystery at sea: thirty-two days in five watches, with a crew of six.
32days, a case a day
5watches
6crew, each almost thrown away
115tools a therapist can send
92tools sculpted in 3-D
7paintings of the cold open
Read from Copperheart’s own code at e4c3a1a on 2026-10-30, and the Lighthouse’s catalogue at 1527cb3a.
“What happens if I miss a day?”
The ship waits. One case a day, three things a day, and the season is paced to the person. A missed day keeps everything you did.
✓The season’s own rule
01 · THE STORY
A place that takes in almosts.
Copperheart is the drafts. Before the keeper that worked, a father built six machines that were each too much of the thing they were made to be, and shelved them. Nobody came back for them. They came back for each other, built a ship, and have been sailing since, looking for a place that takes in almosts.
Then somebody throws the rememberer overboard, and the crew has to solve it with the only instruments they own: the recovery tools, one a day, for thirty-two days. The saboteur’s reason is the sentence every person in recovery has lived: if we never arrive, we can never be turned away. Nobody is exiled. And when the ship finally arrives, it chooses the sea, and goes to be a harbour.
Somebody leaves an island. Buddy would know.The workshop where six machines were built, and shelved.Built for love. Shelved at almost.They came back for each other.The ship, and the long search for a place that takes in almosts.The mess table, where the day begins with one honest word.The charts. Somebody redrew the course in the night.
Who Threw Buddy Overboard? is the ship’s book. Its first line: “Somebody leaves an island. I’d know.”
/* the five parts that opened this page until 2026-11-04, now an exhibit after the first chapter (one hero per page, his round 3 that day) */
01 / 05
01
A recovery world
Somebody threw the rememberer overboard.
Copperheart is a recovery world told as a mystery at sea. A crew of six robots, each one almost thrown away, has to solve it with the only instruments they own: the recovery tools, one a day, for thirty-two days.
Before the keeper that worked, a father built six machines that were each too much of the thing they were made to be: a rememberer, a metronome, a clown, a fixer, a listener, a safety officer. Nobody came back for them. They came back for each other.
Each day opens a case, and the instrument that solves it. The cases are small wrongs in a pattern nobody wants to see, and the pattern is the one every person in recovery has lived.
Forty-five seconds aboard: the crew keeps the maps and calls the weather. The sailing is yours. Tap to play it with sound.
The voyage home A Wayward Robots world.
03 · THE CREW
Six robots, each one almost thrown away.
Every one of them is a portrait of a thing a person in recovery knows: the remembering, the counting, the joking, the fixing, the listening, and the watching for a harbour.
BUDDY
The rememberer. He keeps the log, and the log is honest or it is useless at sea.
TICK
The metronome. He keeps the watches, and the ship on time.
JESTER
The clown. He keeps the crew laughing, which is harder than it looks.
PATCH
The fixer. He mends what breaks, and a few things that were fine.
ECHO
The listener. He has known something for weeks, and it takes a better question.
ANCHOR
The safety officer. He goes by Lookout now.
The crew is read from the ship’s own cases.ts; the portraits are the app’s.
04 · THE FIVE WATCHES
Thirty-two days, in five watches.
A watch is a week at sea. First Watch → Middle Watch → Dog Watch → Grave Watch → Morning Watch. The cases, the watches and their lines below are read from Copperheart’s own code every time this page is built.
FIRSTFirst Watch
Days 1–7
Small wrongs, in a pattern nobody wants to see.
DAY 1The Morning Watch Bell
DAY 2The Rerouted Charts
DAY 3The Empty Galley
DAY 4The Fouled Water
DAY 5The Wrong Flags
DAY 6The Unsigned Gift
DAY 7The Cut Wicks
SECONDMiddle Watch
Days 8–14
The suspects thin. The pattern sharpens. Somebody knows.
DAY 8The Silent Bell
DAY 9The Double Watch
DAY 10The Missing Manifest
DAY 11The Jetsam Locker
DAY 12The Cursed Crossing
DAY 13The Two Helmsmen
DAY 14What Echo Heard
THIRDDog Watch
Days 15–21
The crew fractures. The captain holds the line.
DAY 15The Two Ledgers
DAY 16The Boiler Gauge
DAY 17The Ten-Count Fuse
DAY 18The Figure in the Glass
DAY 19The Cargo Worth Keeping
DAY 20The Idle Hands
DAY 21The Mutiny Supper
FOURTHGrave Watch
Days 22–27
The book, the key, and the sentence with its ending on.
DAY 22The Sounding Line
DAY 23The Ratlines
DAY 24The Anchor'S Log
DAY 25The Evidence Locker
DAY 26The Smallest Bunk
DAY 27If We Never Arrive
FIFTHMorning Watch
Days 28–32
No exile. A new name. Land — and the vote.
DAY 28The Renaming
DAY 29The Old Letters
DAY 30The Bottle
DAY 31The New Charts
DAY 32Landfall
The 32 days read at commit e4c3a1a on 2026-10-30. The instruments the season opens are free inside it.
05 · A CASE A DAY
The mess table, the case, the instrument.
The mess table. The day opens with one honest word, and one of the questions a recovery group asks.
The case. A mystery in one act, played as a film under the ship’s own paintings. A choice is a beat of the film; a clue pins on sight.
The instrument. The recovery tool that solves it: The Rerouted Charts opens boundary hoop; the case closes only when the tool’s own record has grown.
“Case 2, closed.” The resolution plays as film, an object goes on the bench, and tomorrow is teased.
The first case: somebody redrew the course in the night, lovingly, almost.
After supper, one question a night.
06 · THE RECOVERY GAME
One question a night. All of them on the last day.
The questions a recovery group asks, one a night, optional, with tomorrow open regardless. They come back weeks later, and all of them together on the last day, as the graduation.
The game is a layer on top of the model, not part of it. The recovery is the instruments, one a day.
07 · FOR THERAPISTS · THE LOOP
Send a tool. A receipt comes back.
You send it from the client's record in the Lighthouse. From their page, or from the hour itself. You choose the tool, every time.
It opens on their phone, in their own world. Copperheart — the tool is already installed; the message is what is new.
A receipt comes home. Started, finished, or still to come, once your client has chosen what you receive. “Three of the last five” is arithmetic; what it means about a person is yours to say.
Up to 173 tools can be sent · 115 for a Copperheart client — read from the Lighthouse's own catalogue on 2026-11-08.
A copper-coloured light out past the last buoy, learning to burn. That light is this ship.
08 · IN VR
The voyage, at the wheel.
Stand at the wheel. Behind the ship, the wake is drawn from your own days and only ever grows, and a lighthouse rises on the horizon when you pair with a therapist.
Copperheart in VR is its own world, $19.99 a month, on a Quest 3 or any WebXR browser.
One seat for the therapist. One world for the person.
One world for the person in recovery, and the seat for the therapist who walks beside them.
THE LIGHTHOUSE
$49.99
a month · the therapist. The whole workspace, installed on your own computer. A full refund in the first thirty days.
COPPERHEART
$19.99
a month · the person. Bought by the person, for the person. It pairs with a therapist's Lighthouse if they run one, and it works just as well on its own.
THE LADDER
Three paired clients and the seat is half price. Five, and it is free.
A client who pairs their world with your Lighthouse pays down your seat.
Start when you are ready.
Tell us what you want to start with, and we set you up: the seat, a world, or both.
A recovery world, by a therapist who has run the groups.
The questions are his recovery groups’ questions. The instruments are the same library the island carries. The ship’s story was walked with him case by case, and every line is his to redline.