The Living Story Company
The Lighthouse
Landfall
Copperheart
Driftwood
My Robot Friend
In VRLandfall
Thirty-five days. One island. A book that writes itself from what you do.
The ninth day, and the fog had thinned over the harbour road. Sam came in the morning and went to the Check-In first: the word for the day was steady.
Down in the hall, the fourth reel came off the shelf. Dr. Malakor’s voice, bent through Blue: a lamp stays lit by the hand that tends it.
Three threads. The morning walk, kept. The call to Dana, not today. Ten minutes of quiet, kept.
You assign a tool from your Lighthouse. It opens on their phone. A receipt comes home. The record stays in your building.
For therapists → I’m here for myself.Thirty-five days, one island, one day at a time. Every check-in writes a line of your book; by day thirty-five it is a book.
For yourself →Ten things only this island does.
Each one read from Landfall’s own code, and shown as the island shows it.
- One day a day.
The next day opens at your own midnight, once today’s challenge is done. Thirty-five days means thirty-five days.
- Five acts, each with its own line.
Why now. Notice life. Replace and reframe. Active practice. Make it yours.
- Every day asks for an older tool again.
Spaced repetition is written into the course itself, one day at a time.
- A book that writes itself.
After the day closes, Blue writes one page of My Landfall Story from the records the day’s screens wrote.
A companion from an egg.Five eggs to choose from. It grows on your work and learns one word from every check-in you keep.
The garden, day 22.Each plant is a goal or a habit. Check-ins water it. Left alone it droops and the soil pales, and it waits for you.
Twenty-one kinds of check-in, one framework.The check-in tab opens a little at a time, as the days go.
A Library that opens as you go.Ninety-seven tools, most of them closed in act one, so a first morning stays simple.
- Two voices, both on the device.
Blue speaks in recorded clips, more than five thousand on disk. The companion speaks through Kokoro, running on the phone.
A sleep lab that counts.Patterns are reported as counts from your own entries, and the diagnosis is left to a person.
Your days write a book.
Every night Blue deals the page from what the day recorded, writes it in the book’s voice with your name in it, gives it a number, and says at its foot where the book turned and why. Six reasons a person came are six books with the same island in them.
Real ones, counting up from one.
A stretch away takes one number for the whole stretch: the book’s own weather.
The foot of every page names the next page, and why.
All four doors and the reel turn one way; two doors turn another; the day you came and the doors stayed shut turns a third.
About every third page, a choice of your own.
The cove path, or the climb to the lamp. Both are written as well as each other, and the one you take changes the next deal.
The same day, dealt three ways.
Page eleven of Sam’s book, the Fog — with the reel watched, with it skipped, and after three days away.
The ninth day, and the fog had thinned over the harbour road. Sam came in the morning and went to the Check-In first: the word for the day was steady.
Down in the hall, the fourth reel came off the shelf. Dr. Malakor’s voice, bent through Blue: a lamp stays lit by the hand that tends it.
Three threads. The morning walk, kept. The call to Dana, not today. Ten minutes of quiet, kept.
The ninth day, and the fog had thinned over the harbour road. Sam came in the morning and went to the Check-In first: the word for the day was steady.
Down in the hall, the fourth can stayed on its shelf. Blue rested a hand on it and left it there; it will keep.
Three threads. The morning walk, kept. The call to Dana, not today. Ten minutes of quiet, kept.
Three days the fog sat on the harbour road, and the lamps along it stayed as they were. Kettle kept the kettle warm and set a place each night, and L.A.N.C.E. said the fog was seasonal, which it was.
On the fourth morning Sam came in, and the Check-In took one word: tired. The island writes a stretch away as what it was: weather.
Twelve paintings. All of them move.
Five acts, a week each.
The acts are read from Landfall’s own code every time this page is built — last read at commit f25a34e0 on 2026-11-04.
Three voices. Yours is the fourth.
BlueShe runs every day on her own white page, writes the question in her own hand, and reads you back the way a scientist reads a sheet.
L.A.N.C.E.Certain, funny, and wrong about people in the way of someone who has only ever been the one helping. He redefines his own acronym every day and means it every time.
ChipThe reason a hard day still feels like yours. He keeps it kind, and he keeps showing up.Five eggs on the island. On day three, one is yours.
The old reels. By choice, unlocked by showing up.
Dr. Malakor, the man who built the island, filmed training reels while he built it. The night before you arrived, Blue went through the archive and found them. The film is silent, so Blue is every voice. Each can comes down when you have come for it.
$19.99 a month. Yours.
Bought by you, for you. It pairs with a therapist’s Lighthouse if they run one, and it works just as well on its own.
$19.99
a month · the person. Bought by the person, for the person. The 35 course tools are free inside it.
$49.99
a month · their Lighthouse seat. Three paired clients subscribed and the seat is half price; five, and it is free.
Step ashore today.
Landfall opens in your browser: the opening film, then day one.
Walked day by day, by the therapist who wrote it.
Lance Nabers, LPC, walked the course one tool at a time and ruled on every detail — ninety rulings in one sitting, kept word for word. Then it was built overnight, photographed, and checked by instruments that have to be able to fail.
His words first.
The order and every ruling are his: five acts, walked with him day by day, tool by tool.
Every check is proven able to fail.
Every probe is run against a known-good and a known-bad case. One that reads the same both times is thrown away.
Look, then claim.
Behaviour is settled by opening the app and pressing the thing — then photographing it. The photographs are in the repository.
Step ashore.
It opens on a short film and L.A.N.C.E.’s welcome — a few minutes, all of it skippable. Then Blue, the circle, and four doors. Take one, and come back for the rest.