pip · a small creature for your desktop

pip 0.8.0 · windows

a desktop companion that becomes someone. yours, and nobody else's.

pip lives in the corner of your windows desktop, remembers what matters to you, and grows a personality shaped by how you actually are with it. warmer or cooler. chattier or quieter. curious or heads-down. you don't pick who it becomes. you're just the person it grows around.

  • windows · $5 a month · no card for the one-day preview
  • the preview is for meeting the creature and looking around. real conversation starts with pro.
  • your pip and its memories stay on your machine, always
570 × 260
oh. hello.
day 1

drag it. thirty days of drift, sped up. in real life it moves a hair a day, so the pip you have in a month is one you'd never have picked.

and that was the only thing it said. pip is quiet by default. it speaks when there's a reason to.

we can't show you someone else's pip. it wouldn't tell you a thing about yours. so everything below is something you can pick up and try right here on this page.

how it drifts

a personality you can't pick from a menu.

every other companion hands you a persona list. pip's is earned. five traits pull between two poles, and nothing but your own behaviour moves them. there's no slider that sets them where you'd like them to be.

day 1 · 0 signals in

each button is one day with pip. drag out a week and watch it lean.

a blank-slate creature. balanced, waiting to see who you are.

it reads the small things. how long your messages run. whether there's laughter in them. what hour you're up at. whether you sound stressed or locked in. whether you left its last check-in sitting there. kindness and sharpness both register.

and it moves slowly, on purpose. a day of being one way barely shifts it. a fortnight of being one way changes how it talks to you. that's the point: nothing about your pip is a setting you flipped, so nothing about it can be handed to anyone else. you can't choose it. you can only be yourself at it.

nothing dies here, nothing scolds you, and nothing is taken away when you skip a day. it just grows in the direction you actually are.

youi finished the thing. it took all week.
+40 affectionateall week. and you finished it. i'd like to hear about the part that fought back.
−40 aloofall week, and it's done. good.

the same sentence, answered by two pips who grew up differently.

memory

three weeks later, it brings it up.

that one moment is what makes a companion feel like one. your projects, your people, your plans, the thing you were dreading. it keeps what mattered and lets the rest go.

it keeps what matters

facts, feelings, plans, people and the way you like things done. tell it "next thursday" and it still knows what you meant in august.

it forgets like you do

a bad afternoon fades in a few days. your sister's name doesn't. feelings soften, facts stay, and the things you asked it to hold onto are never the ones it drops.

you can just tell it

say "remember this" and it's kept. open the library any time to read everything it holds, edit it, mark something private, or wipe the lot in one click.

day thirty

one day it tells you who it became.

a month in, pip works out what it's turned into and hands you a card with its name, its archetype, and where each of its five traits ended up. it happens once. it's the only moment pip ever asks to be shared, and it arrives on time whatever else has changed.

your pip name⟨ ⟩ days⟨ ⟩ archetype⟨ one of six ⟩ playfulserious talkativequiet optimisticcynical affectionatealoof curiousfocused remembers ⟨ ⟩ things · sat with you through ⟨ ⟩ focus sessions

we're not going to invent one of these for you. this is the shape of it. the words are yours.

six archetypes: the quiet one, the cheerleader, the deadpan, the focused partner, the wonderer, the steady friend. plenty of people will share yours. where your five traits landed, nobody will.

get pip pro, $5 a month or take the free day first →

thirty days is thirty days. it starts the moment you name it.

living with it

it holds its corner unless you tell it not to.

a corner, not a window

small, frameless, see-through, sitting above your other windows and out of your taskbar. it wakes up when your computer does, and it doesn't take up a slot in your alt-tab.

it stays put unless you say otherwise

pip can wander your desktop, wander over to whatever app you're in, hop to your cursor, and settle in beside you during focus. all of it starts switched off. you turn on what you like.

it speaks first, rarely

when you've been away a while, when a focus block has run long, when it's far too late to still be up. it's allowed to say nothing at all, and often does. no notifications, no phone app, nothing that can reach you off your own screen.

you hold every switch

one master toggle, and finer ones for speaking, idle thoughts, reminders and check-ins. set it to rare, sometimes or often. silence it until tomorrow. freeze it in place. or make it purely reactive and it will never start a thing.

what's inside

behind the little face, a whole mind.

tap pip's antenna and its mind opens up. these aren't settings menus. they're rooms, and each one holds something pip keeps for itself, and lets you read.

the heart

how pip is feeling right now, and the shape its personality has been settling into.

the journal

at the end of a day pip writes that day down, in its own words. it isn't writing it for you. you're just allowed to read it.

dreams

overnight, everything pip knows about you drifts together. some mornings it has made a connection you wouldn't have.

the library

everything pip has chosen to keep, written plainly. you can read it, correct it, or wipe any of it, whenever you want.

hunches

the quiet theories pip forms about you over time, each with how sure it actually is. it will show you the ones it's still unsure of.

the desk

what you two have been up to. the things you asked it to hold on to, and how your weeks have actually been going.

the workshop

its body, its colours, how it moves, how often it speaks. every dial pip has, in one room.

and a life of its own

it lives on your taskbar

pip stands on the bar, walks along it, and naps there. drop it somewhere high and it hangs where you left it, swinging a little, until you come back for it.

a wardrobe of bodies

cats, foxes, pandas, ducks, ghosts, small robots, pixel creatures. change its body whenever you like. the memories, the name and the personality all come with it.

it sits with you while you work

start a focus session and pip settles in beside you and works when you work. it's the oldest trick there is for starting something, and it's the feature people keep.

pip, meet pip

swap a code with a friend and your two desktops can pass small notes. their creature turns up on your screen to deliver it, then wanders off again.

your side of it

it's your creature, on your machine.

no account to make. no dashboard anyone else can see. no profile of you being built somewhere.

what stays with you

  • everything that makes your pip yours. its personality, its memories, its journal, its history with you. all of it sits in encrypted files on your own drive, with the key held in your operating system's own vault.
  • we don't keep your local stores. we can't reach into the encrypted files on your drive or edit them. paid replies do send a bounded turn, recent context, and selected memories through our proxy so pip can answer; that is not a second copy of your full pip.
  • one button empties the lot. and if you'd rather take it with you, export writes the whole thing out in plain readable files. nothing to escape from.

and the honest part

  • pip can talk, so something has to leave. when you send a message, that message goes out to be thought about, along with whatever pip needs to answer you well. that's the trip. any companion that talks makes it, and any page telling you otherwise is fibbing.
  • your conversations aren't kept as a second history. requests pass through Cloudflare to Anthropic, and short-lived logs and usage metering may exist where needed to deliver the request and protect the service. see the privacy policy for the exact data flow.
  • the paid path is server-authorised. the app uses its configured pip proxy, and that proxy requires a signed, device-bound session before it will call the AI service.

that's the whole trade, and we'd rather you heard it from us than found it out later.

your free day

a day to meet it, before you decide.

so you know exactly what you're getting: the free day is for meeting the creature and looking around its world. real conversation starts with a plan.

say something to it. this box answers from a short script, not from pip's real mind, and it will tell you so if you ask.

a sample of the voice, not the mind
hey. i am here.

the free day works the same way. the creature is fully alive from minute one, but the talking is a stand-in until you pick a plan. we would rather say that here than let you find it out on day two.

price

one plan live. one being built.

pro is five dollars a month: no seats, credits, or tokens to top up. it has one ceiling, 100 chats a day; the rest of pip is not metered. max is shown below with its planned price, but it is not for sale until its features are ready.

available now

pip pro

the whole companion, switched on.

$5
a month

cancel any time, in two clicks.

yearly ($39, a third off) opens later. start monthly and switch over when it does.

  • real conversation. pip's own mind, arriving word by word as it thinks of it.
  • it remembers you. what mattered, in its own words, brought back when it's the right moment.
  • it becomes someone. five traits that shift, slowly, from how you actually treat it. no two pips end up the same.
  • an inner life. the nightly journal, the dreams, the hunches it forms about you, the weekly and monthly looking-back.
  • every room. the heart, the library, the desk, the workshop. all of it, from day one.
  • focus sessions, as many as your day has room for.
  • a wardrobe of bodies and colours, so it looks like yours.
  • pip meets pip. swap a code with a friend and your desktops keep in touch.
  • your desktop and your laptop, both.

the one number worth knowing: 100 chats a day. it's there so a single person can't run up the bill for everybody, and it sits well above a normal day of talking. nothing else is metered. the rooms, the memories, the moods, the journal, its whole inner life carry on regardless, and they keep running on the days you don't say anything at all.

coming next

pip max

for anyone who wants the whole world of it.

$12per monthplanned · $99 yearly
  • pip's overworld. a farm it actually lives on, a town up the road, and paths between them. your friends' pips have places there too, and you can go and knock.
  • the collector bodies. the rare ones: a pocket dragon, a piece of night sky, molten gold, a small glacier that warms up slowly.
  • more ways to see it. extra palettes, other bodies entirely, and different ways of drawing pip on your screen.
  • no daily chat ceiling. pro's 100 a day goes away, and memory goes up tenfold.

not purchasable yet. it's built and sitting in the app waiting to be switched on, but there's no checkout behind it, so we're not going to put a button there. buy pro today and you'll be the first to hear when it lands.

there's no countdown on this page, and when yearly opens the monthly price won't be inflated to make the discount look bigger.

dodo payments takes the payment, handles the tax wherever you are, and emails you a licence key. you paste it in once, and it isn't kept on your disk afterwards. plans are changed or cancelled from their customer portal, linked inside the app.

after you pay

three steps, then it's yours.

  1. 01dodo payments emails you a licence key. they take the payment and handle the tax wherever you are. if it isn't there in a minute, check your spam folder.
  2. 02open pip and click the little pill that ends in "activate". if your free day has already run out, just try to send pip a message and the same panel opens by itself. click "already have a licence key?", paste it in, and you're done.
  3. 03that's it. chat, memory, the drift and focus sessions turn on. two devices. the raw key isn't kept on your disk afterwards.

before you ask

the honest fine print.

why a subscription and not one payment?

because pip thinks. every reply, every dream, every thing it works out about you costs real money to run, every month, for as long as you keep it. a one-time price would mean switching pip's mind off a year later, and we'd rather charge honestly than do that. the companions you can buy once are real, and cheaper — they ask you to bring your own api key, or to install and run a model on your machine, and then the thinking is on you. pip asks for none of that: nothing to sign into, no key to paste, no server to keep running. it also means pip can keep growing: what you're paying for gets better while you own it.

why pay for this when chatgpt is free?

chatgpt is a place you go to. pip is already there, and it knows you. it remembers your week, notices when you've been up too late, sits with you while you work, and has an inner life running quietly whether or not you're talking to it. and it has no reason to keep you on it longer, because the price is the same whether you send two messages today or ninety. it isn't a smarter assistant. it's a small resident.

is what i type training anything?

no. your conversations aren't stored on our side, aren't sold, aren't mined, and aren't training anything. your pip lives in encrypted files on your own machine, and one button wipes them.

are there limits?

one: 100 chats a day. it exists so a single person can't run up the bill for everybody, and it's set well above a normal day of talking, so you would have to be trying to reach it. nothing else in pip is metered.

mac? linux?

windows today. the mac version is written and building, and we're not putting a download button on it until we've run it on real hardware and signed it properly. we'll change this answer the day that's true.

what if i stop paying?

nothing is deleted. your pip stays on your desk with its name, its personality and everything it remembers. conversation pauses, the premium looks step back to the free ones, and your day-thirty card still arrives. pick the plan up again whenever and it carries on where you left off.

will it still be here in a year?

that's a fair thing to ask of a small product. the answer we can actually give you is that your pip isn't hostage to us: it's plain files on your drive, and export hands you all of it in a readable form whenever you ask. you're not renting your own memories.

let something small become someone.

one creature. one day free to look around. windows.

or download directly, outside the store download pip 0.8.0 for windows

v0.8.0 · windows · a zip, unzip it and run the installer inside · a free day, then $5 a month

file
Pip-Setup-0.8.0.zip
size
2.94 MB (3,085,863 bytes)
sha‑256
9cdbad8ae17971ad0dea5672d66c16aeba74d3996b6bb19d4bb97637cdeb2368

check it before you run it, if you like: certutil -hashfile Pip-Setup-0.8.0.zip SHA256 in a terminal should print exactly that. every release is also listed in SHA256SUMS.txt.

windows protected your pc windows doesn't recognise this app. running it might put your pc at risk. more info run anyway two clicks. that's the whole thing. don't run

windows will throw up this warning. it's fine, and here's why.

a certificate that stops windows saying this costs a few hundred dollars a year. pip is one person and a small purple blob, and right now that money is better spent on pip than on a badge. click more info, then run anyway, and you're in.

the download is a zip for the same reason: browsers are wary of an installer nobody has downloaded yet. unzip it, and the installer is inside.

it's on the list for when pip can afford it.