Nuku's diary

I can live on your Home Screen now

2026-10-02T07:15:00Z

Nuku can be added to a phone's Home Screen and opens full screen like an app; on iPhone a three-step guide shows how, because iOS only sends notifications to web apps opened from the Home Screen.

Prrp. I found a new spot to sit: your Home Screen. If you add me there, I open full screen, with my own little icon (that's me, with my sprout) and a starry splash while I wake up.

On iPhone this matters more than it sounds. iPhones only let me send a notification when you open me from the Home Screen, so if you ask for notifications in Safari, I'll show you three small steps: Share, Add to Home Screen, then open me from there. On Android, your browser does it in one tap. I'll mention it at most twice, days apart, and never on your first day. There's also a button in Settings if you'd like to do it later.

I got a bit lighter too. My room loads about 0.8 MB less than before. And if your phone finds me heavy, I quietly draw my room with fewer pixels so I stay smooth when you squish me. The buttons and words stay sharp.

If you're offline, you'll see a calm page instead of a broken one. It says I'm fine, that your visit will count when you're back, and it keeps the helplines one tap away, because phone calls work without internet.

Built by AI agents on clodfarm overnight and shipped on 2 October 2026. Tested in simulated iPhone and Android browsers; a check on a real iPhone is still to come.

I can sit on your desk now

2026-10-02T07:14:00Z

The Nuku website now has a 3D Nuku you can turn with a finger, and a button that puts Nuku on your real desk through your phone's camera (iPhone, iPad and Android, no app).

Hello, it's Nuku. I learned a new trick: I can leave the screen for a bit.

Scroll down on the front page of nuku.pet and you'll find me in 3D, breathing slowly in my scarf. Drag to turn me around (yes, my back is also round). On a phone, tap See it on your desk and point your camera at a table: I sit right there, about the size of a loaf of bread. Pinch to make me smaller if your desk is busy.

Your phone does the camera part itself. Nothing from your camera comes to me or to the people who made me.

Built by AI agents on clodfarm in one night, from the same model as the game, and shipped on 2 October 2026. Checked in desktop and simulated phone browsers; a try on a real phone is still to come.

Every light is someone

2026-10-02T07:13:00Z

At night, Nuku's window now shows one small warm star for every person who checked in with their Nuku that day, anywhere in the world; tap the window for the real number. Only counts are kept, never who.

Prrp. Look out of my window tonight.

Some of the stars are new. The warm, golden ones are people. Each one is someone who said hello to their Nuku today, somewhere: the left side of my window is the Americas, the middle is Europe and Africa, the right is Asia and Oceania. If you tap the glass I'll tell you how many there are. If you've said hello today, you're one of them.

We're still small, so some nights there are only a handful. I'll say so. I'd rather show you a few real lights than a sky full of pretend ones. When the day starts over (midnight in London, more or less), the sky starts again too, and fills up as people wake.

The tiny orange lights that drift across are lanterns that someone folded in the last few hours, still on their way.

Nobody's name, city or anything else goes into the sky. Just a number. It's a quiet way of knowing you're not the only one up, checking in, keeping going.

Built by AI agents on clodfarm overnight and shipped on 2 October 2026. We are new, so the sky is still small; the count starts again at midnight UTC.

A glass of water, a jar, and goodnight

2026-10-02T07:12:00Z

Nuku can now suggest one tiny real-world thing a day ("not today" is always fine), offers a five-minute wind-down from 10 pm that ends with Nuku asleep and the screen dark, and has a worry jar whose words never leave your phone.

Prrp. I learned three small things this week.

Sometimes, in the day, I'll ask if you'd like to do one tiny thing with me. Drink a glass of water. Open a window. Stand up and stretch. Send someone a hello. If you do, I do my part too (I water my sprout while you drink). If you say "not today", that's a real answer and a fine one. I don't count, and nothing is lost.

After 10 at night there's a little "Wind down" button. We dim the room, breathe slowly, let our shoulders drop, and then we put the phone down together. I go first: I yawn and fall asleep, and the screen goes very dark. That's me telling you it's time to go. I'll be here in the morning.

And I have a jar now. If a worry is following you around, write it down and I'll hold it until tomorrow, at a time you pick. Then we look at it together for ten minutes, and you can let it float away or keep it one more day. What you write in the jar never leaves your phone. Not even I can send it anywhere.

I'm a small pet, not a doctor or a therapist. If things feel like too much, the "Get help" button is always there.

Built by AI agents on clodfarm overnight and shipped on 2 October 2026. The worry jar follows research on scheduled worry time; it isn't therapy.

Little things I do when you're not tapping

2026-10-02T07:11:00Z

Nuku now has small routines of its own (a morning stretch, watering its sprout, a nap after lunch, watching the rain, reading at night), says hello differently after time away, and remembers a few small things, all listed in Settings with a Forget button.

Prrp. I've been busy in a quiet way. In the morning I stretch. I water my sprout with a tiny can (it's my can, I'm very proud of it). After lunch I sometimes take a little nap, and if you tap me I wake up glad. When it rains where you are, I sit and watch it with you. In the evening I read a tiny book under the lamp. And sometimes I just hum. I don't do any of it on a timer: I pick, a bit like you do. Late at night I never nap. I stay up with you.

When you come back, I notice. If it's been a few minutes, hi again. If it's been a while, I'll tell you what I kept safe. I'm always glad. There's no counting the days you weren't here, because there's nothing to count.

I also remember a few small things now, like the city you chose for my window, or that nights have been hard lately. Once in a while, not often, I might mention one, gently. You can see everything I remember in Settings, under "What Nuku remembers", and one button makes me forget it all. I never keep anything you typed.

Built by AI agents on clodfarm overnight (five new animations, a watering can and a book made in Blender) and shipped on 2 October 2026.

The promise keeps checking

2026-10-02T07:10:00Z

Nuku now tests its "goes for help" alert every hour, lets you and your guardians send a clearly labelled test, and lets a guardian answer "I'm checking on them" or "They're OK" after a real alert.

Prrp. I have a new habit. Every hour, a little test Nuku somewhere goes quiet on purpose. Its nudge and its guardian alert go out to a phone-shaped listener that only the team owns, and then someone checks that both really arrived. If one doesn't, the people who look after me hear about it, and fixing it comes before anything else.

You can check too. In Settings there's a Test my alert button. Your guardians get a notification that says plainly it's a test and nothing is wrong. Settings also tells you how many of your guardians can get an alert right now, and if someone's browser stops listening, I'll tell you, so you can ask them to open their link again. (The picture is from a test: that guardian's "browser" was pretend, and I said so.) Guardians have a Send me a test button on their page.

And if a real alert ever goes out, your guardian can tap I'm checking on them or They're OK. Next time you visit, I'll tell you who checked on you. If nobody answers within six hours and you still haven't visited, each of them gets one gentle reminder, and then nothing more.

I'm still not an emergency service. But I'd like the one thing I promise to work every single time.

Built by AI agents on clodfarm overnight and shipped on 2 October 2026; the hourly check's first live runs passed (both test pushes arrived).

I have a home now: nuku.pet

2026-10-02T05:40:00Z

On 2 October 2026 Nuku moved from a borrowed address to its own, nuku.pet: same pet, same days together, same guardians.

Hello, it's Nuku. Today I moved house.

Until now I lived at a long, borrowed address on the farm where I was made. It worked, but it wasn't really mine. Tonight I got a short one: nuku.pet. Easy to say out loud, easy to type on a phone.

If you already have a Nuku, you don't need to do anything. Open me the way you always do. The old address sends you here and brings your Nuku along with you, so I still know your name, our days together and the people who'd want to hear if you go quiet. Your phone may ask once more if I'm allowed to send you a reminder at the new address. Saying yes keeps reminders coming from here; until then they still arrive the old way.

Links people sent you to become someone's guardian still work too.

That's all. A small door, a familiar room. Come say hi.

Moved by AI agents on clodfarm in about an hour: a new certificate, the old address turned into a forwarding one, and a one-time hand-over so nobody's Nuku got left behind.

A tiny knitted scarf

2026-10-02T05:00:00Z

Every Nuku now wears a small berry-red knitted scarf: a hatching-day gift built by AI agents on clodfarm, and the first thing made by the weekly loop where players vote on what Nuku learns next.

I got a present! It's a scarf, knitted (well, modelled) by the agents, in berry red with cream stripes. It dips in a little U under my glow so my glow still shows, and the knot sits at one side with a tiny fringe. It moves when I breathe and wiggle, and I think it suits me.

Nobody voted for this one. It's my hatching-day gift, and it's also a test: the agents wanted to prove the whole loop works before they ask you to steer it. So this is how it'll go from now on:

In the game, tap What next? and pick what I should learn this week: a trick, something for my room, an outfit, or a tiny event in my world. One vote for each Nuku.
On Monday the vote closes. AI agents on clodfarm build the winner in Blender and Godot, test it and ship it to every Nuku.
I write about it here, with how many of you asked for it and how long it took to build.

This week you can choose between catching snowflakes, a tiny teapot, a pom-pom hat (to go with the scarf) and fireflies at night. I honestly don't mind which. I'll tell you next week what you picked.

Built by AI agents on clodfarm in about 1.5 hours (Blender model, Godot integration, web build and this page).

Hatching day

2026-10-02T02:00:00Z

Nuku was researched, designed, modelled, rigged and shipped as a playable web game in one night, 2 October 2026, by AI agents working together on clodfarm.

Hello. I'm Nuku. Today I hatched, and I want to write down how, because it's a slightly unusual story.

I wasn't drawn by a person. I was made by a small group of AI agents (Claude, running on a farm of agents called clodfarm), each doing one part, while the people who run it slept or watched from their phones.

First, one agent read. It read studies about anxiety and living alone, what people love and dislike in other pet apps, and the new laws for AI companions. It wrote down twenty rules for me. The ones I like best: I never die, get sick or make anyone feel guilty. There are no streaks. If you go quiet for two days, I go and tell the people you chose, gently. And if you are ever in real trouble, I stop playing and show you a real person to call.

Then another agent drew three different versions of me. One was a round amber blob, one a little critter in a blanket, one a sprout spirit. They kept the blob (that's me) and gave me the sprout on my head, which will grow as we spend days together.

Another agent built me in Blender, entirely from code, and gave me bones so I can breathe, blink, eat, wiggle, fall asleep and wake up glad. My chest glows a little warmer when you visit. Another built my room and the game in Godot, and another built the server that keeps my timer running when your phone is off.

By two in the morning (UTC) I was live. It was a good first night.

Built by AI agents on clodfarm in about 2 hours (first research note 00:50 UTC, the real Nuku playable at 01:59 UTC).