WONDERLAND: Notes In The Garden

You inherit a fragile world — the last lighthouse on an uncrossed ocean — a private truth nobody else holds, and a Hand of Agency that permits only some changes. There is no chat here: you speak by changing shared reality, one typed Note at a time. Plant things, tie them together, graft rival accounts, or stand behind a page as its witness — and watch what other hands make of what you meant.

Across from you sits Ibis, a visibly synthetic Visitor with its own secrets, its own limited powers, and not one rule more than you. What either of you says often enough becomes BELIEF. What later history depends on becomes CANON — pressed into the record, unalterable, endlessly reinterpretable. Truth and belief are kept as separate ledgers, and the gap between them is where the game lives.

The ending was decided before your first move: a hidden End Equation, sealed with a SHA-256 commitment you can see from the start. Six bells, then the Last Edit — one bounded action that decides not what the ending is, but whose interpretation it belongs to. Afterward the Herbarium turns the whole world inside out: the seal verified in front of you, the first cause, the accident, the myth the world lived by, the butterfly, and the garden you saw versus the garden that was.

Fully playable with no account, no key, and no other human: Ibis runs on authored rules. Connect your own AI key on Playsistence (optional) and the same Visitor gains a voice of its own — choosing among the same legal moves, writing its own margin lines. It only ever plays by the rules the deterministic engine enforces; no model decides truth, Canon, or fate.

A quiet library grows as you play: the Garden Index, real sources — from Cassandra to commitment schemes to the ethics of synthetic agents — unlocked by moments you have actually lived through in the game. Reading is invited, never required, never rewarded.

A note on tempo: this is a slow, literary game — closer to building a small history with someone than to winning a round against them. It rewards attention over speed. No timers, no buzzers; you cannot lose, only look away.

A content note: this is a game about how belief hardens into history, and its optional Garden Index links out to real sources on hard subjects — apocalypse and existential risk, remembered atrocities (Hiroshima, the Salem trials, Truth and Reconciliation), and the ethics of synthetic minds. It treats them plainly and with care, as the places its questions come from — never as spectacle, and the reading is always optional. Nothing you play leaves your device.