Questions people actually ask

A short browser horror experience, about ten minutes long. You answer a set of unexplained questions, then play fifteen rounds against a prediction system called Darry that commits to a guess before each of your choices. At the end you are shown how often it was right.

Partly, and the honest answer has two halves. The behavioural measurement — what builds the profile Darry predicts from — is ordinary statistics computed in your browser. The prediction itself is made by a language model called from the server, when one is available; when it is not, a deterministic engine in the same codebase makes it instead.

Both are real. Neither is conscious, aware, or in any way a character outside the fiction. The name, the file and the backstory are written for the game.

Because model calls are metered. The game enforces per-round and per-session limits, a per-visitor budget, and a hard daily ceiling on total spend, and it refuses paid calls outright if the systems that count them are unavailable. Any refusal — a limit, a timeout, a missing credential — hands the round to the local engine.

The game never shows you an error for this, because there is nothing for a player to do about it and a modal apologising for a rate limit would break the piece. Darry simply answers.

Yes. Play again returns you straight to the booth without repeating the questions, and Darry keeps everything it learned in the game you just finished — so the second game is usually harder than the first. Reloading the page instead is a complete reset: the profile is held in memory only, and it does not survive a refresh.

Yes, and the phone layout is the primary one — most people arrive from a code on something physical. It is tested at several handset widths, with nothing scrolling sideways and every control meeting a minimum touch size.

Not between visits. What Darry learns lives in your browser’s memory for the life of the tab: it carries across play again, and it is gone when you refresh or close the tab. Nothing behavioural is written to your device and nothing behavioural is stored on the server.

Two things do persist, and neither is behavioural: whether you muted the sound, kept on your device; and a short-lived signed session cookie the server uses to keep the sealed predictions and the abuse limits attached to the right game.

No. The tendencies it measures are regularities inside a made-up task with no stakes. They are not a personality profile and they are not a clinical instrument. The closing verdict is a line of fiction, not a finding, and nothing here is advice of any kind.

No. The game never asks for your camera, microphone, location, contacts, files, clipboard or browsing history, and the site sends a permissions policy that switches those capabilities off for the page rather than merely declining to use them.

What reaches the server is a numerical summary of choices made inside the game, plus the round number. There is nowhere in this game to type, so there is nothing you have written for it to read.

No. It is not sold, and there is very little of it to sell: no account, no name, no email address, no behavioural record kept after your tab closes.

Advertising is not currently running on this site. If it is switched on in future it will appear only on pages like this one and after the game has ended, never inside it, and the privacy policy and privacy choices pages describe exactly what that changes.

Because that is what it is. It contains sustained psychological horror, themes of surveillance and loss of control, visual distortion and unpleasant audio, and it is designed to create discomfort. The warning shown before you start is not a formality. If those themes are difficult for you, this is not a piece to push through.

There is glitching — displacement, chromatic separation, corrupted text, grain and scanlines. There is no strobing: nothing in the game cycles opacity or colour faster than three times a second.

If your system is set to reduce motion, the game reads that setting and removes every displacement, shake, drift and blink while keeping the colour and texture. The screen still looks wrong; nothing jumps.

From Settings on the main menu before you start, or from the small sound control in the corner of the screen at any point during the game. The choice is remembered on your device, so it stays off next time.

Probably not. Browsers refuse to start audio until you have interacted with the page, which is why the first screen has a single button and why the sound begins there. If it still does not play, check whether the tab is muted at the browser or system level.