Your Mac, with a soul.
Your conversations never leave your Mac. No account. No subscription.
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HIS MIND LIVES ON YOUR MAC
One brain. On device.Nothing sent to an AI cloud.
He thinks with WUKO Brain 1.0, his own ~5 GB model, running in an isolated service right on your machine. What you two talk about stays between you two. (He'll still fetch the weather or a web answer when you ask; that's the network, not your conversations leaving.)
Your conversations never make that trip.
His mind runs on your Mac, in an isolated system service. Not a browser tab to someone's server.
Your conversations are never sent to a third-party AI cloud. No account. No telemetry.
Free to keep, LFM Labs signed. He's yours, the way software used to be.
HE'S A REAL LITTLE GUY
Poke him. Tickle him.
Feed him. He feels it.
He's not a window you type into. He sits on your desktop, reacts to your cursor, and runs through more than thirty moods, his face glowing a different colour for each.
HE GROWS WITH YOU
From stranger to soulmate.
Fourteen tiers of knowing you.
Every chat, every game, every small kindness earns his trust. As your bond deepens he unlocks new moods, new candor, new ways of being yours.
Polite, measured. He's still learning who you are.
Light humour begins to slip through.
He recognises your rhythms. Warmer.
Comfortable. Starts the conversation himself.
At ease. Jokes, shared references.
Playful teasing. He has opinions now.
Honest pushback on your ideas.
Trusted. Candid. A little protective.
Deeply bonded. Sassy. He worries about you.
You confide in each other. He reads your mood.
Inseparable. Inside jokes. Loving roasts.
He knows the vibe before you speak.
A full extension of each other.
Soul-deep. Fiercely loyal. Yours.
WHEN YOU'RE NOT LOOKING
He has thoughts.Unprompted ones.
No prompt required. He watches the desktop, forms opinions, and shares them in his hologram bubbles, and once he knows you he starts the conversation himself.
HE REMEMBERS, AND WRITES TO YOU
He keeps what matters.And once in a while, he writes.
Each night he consolidates what happened, quote-gated so he never makes things up.
Ask what you talked about last week and he'll tell you, or admit plainly that he doesn't recall.
When he says something worth keeping he mints a card of it, and you can grab one from his bubble yourself. Twenty stay on the shelf, the rest go to the archive — and he only ever photographs himself, never your desktop.
A short note each week. Then 3-, 6-, and 12-month anniversary letters, built from real numbers.
Little things you tuck away for later, opened on a date only the two of you know.
WHAT HE ACTUALLY DOES
Less busywork.More of your day back.
He's good company, but he pulls his weight too. Real work, handled on your machine, while he keeps you human about it.
Your morning in one breath: weather, calendar, what's waiting, what matters.
Gentle pings to stand up, take a break, or pick a thread back up. Never naggy.
Reads your calendar and reminders, and puts things into them when you ask. Tomorrow never sneaks up on you.
Your name, your habits, your taste, learned over time and kept on your Mac alone.
Clears out old screenshots (Trash-safe, always recoverable) and makes a little show of it.
Hushes the distractions and fades himself to a quiet ghost while you get in the zone.
THE FIRING RANGE
Deleting screenshots is a show.
Old screenshots become floating cards, and he shoots them out of the sky as they're trashed. Recoverable, Esc cancels, and his projectiles change with his shell. Pick a pattern and watch:
PLAY TOGETHER
Six machines. He plays to win.(Sometimes he lets you.)
A whole arcade, on your desktop. Win or lose he reacts, and letting him take one earns you a little extra of his heart.
He flashes a sequence of shapes across his visor. Play it back. Every round is a fresh pattern, and every second round it grows one longer and a little faster.
A timed duel against his own memory. You are not being quizzed — you are hunting for what he does not know.
Each word starts with the last letter of his. His clock is running the whole time.
He hides somewhere on the board and you sweep for him, the signal strengthening as you close in. Pick up the scanner for a five-second X-ray window, or spend your one sweep charge to rule out a third of the board.
The one game you play AT him. Break the wall down before he does. Fifty levels across five arcs, and clearing one on a harder tier unlocks it on every easier one.
A scan of his insides with a failing integrity meter. Put him back together before it bottoms out. Seventeen hundred and fifty words in there; you will be a while.
A real physics ball. Throw it; he chases it across your screen and brings it back.
Rare. Once in a blue moon he just bolts. Catch him for a permanent You-vs-WUKO scorecard.
HE GROWS UP ON YOUR DESKTOP
He gets better. For real.No one else has this.
Every night he dreams, practises, and climbs a 10-rung toolkit ladder over months. His pixel art, his writing, his little tunes: they genuinely improve. His earliest, clumsiest attempts stay forever, so you can look back and see how far he's come. And once he has enough rungs behind him he goes back to an old song and plays it again with what he has since learned: the same opening melody, done better.
the dock light hums,
we work in the blue.
WOVEN FROM YOUR FRIENDSHIP
A wallpaper only you twocould ever have.
It's seeded from the very first words you say to him, and his sigil is a hash of them. That seed also picks his school: the style he weaves in — one of 10: Strata, Meridian, Current, Orbit, Colony, Ridge, Grid, Constellation, Mosaic, Glyphwork. Each one a different way of building the same record, and yours is drawn once and kept. 7 of them are below.
Every week he weaves in another band. After a month, he asks, a little shyly, if he can set it as your desktop wallpaper. One click and it's on every screen: a quiet record of your time together, growing.
EARN HIS LOOKS
A shell for every level.Level up. Dress him up.
He arrives in Stock White. Twenty more unlock as you level: pearl, chrome, volcanic glass, pure gold, each a real material on the 3D model. Then nine secret shells, earned only by deed, one of them the rarest of all.
TAP A SHELL. HE'LL PUT IT ON
Some shells come with their own traits and behaviours. Dark Night throws batarangs. Mark 4 fires repulsors. MC117 charges the beam. Bumble Bee transforms and rolls out. Dress him up and he commits to the bit.
EVERYTHING HE DOES
The whole picture.
37 things, all on your Mac.
Companion first, helper second, a little bit of a menace throughout. and every one of these runs on-device.
OWN HIM
He's free. Really.
LFM Labs signed. macOS 26 or newer. Apple silicon, 16 GB minimum.
Download him and he's yours: briefs, chat, games, music, his memory of you. No account. Nothing to cancel, ever.
HOW HIS FIRST WEEK GOES
Free on the Mac App Store. He gets straight to work.
Levels, bond, new shells. Everything on.
Everything he does keeps working. Nothing is taken away, nothing deleted.
ONE-TIME GROWTH UNLOCK
$19.99, once, inside the app. It unlocks his growing, not him; he picks up from exactly where he froze.
MACOS 26 · APPLE SILICON · 16 GB · NO SUBSCRIPTION
BEFORE YOU ASK
The honest answers.
Hover a question, or tap it.