ORIRI turns what you already do into progress you can see. You finish something, and it feeds a skill, an dimension of your life and your level. There is no life to configure before you start: it shows up as you go.
The beta opens in batches. Leave your email and I'll tell you when there's room.
One person, six lives inside
Nobody is only one thing. Work, your body, the people around you, what you like doing when no one is watching: it all happens at once, and usually at the expense of the rest. ORIRI doesn't ask you to pick one: it puts them all on the same map.
How it works
What you do today feeds something you want to build tomorrow.
You do something
A task, a workout, the call you've been putting off for weeks. You mark it done.
→
It counts where it matters
That XP goes to the skill you were training, to the dimension of life it belongs to, and to your level.
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And it stays
Nothing resets on Monday and nothing expires because you missed a week. What you built is yours.
Before
After
Screenshots of the app, with sample data.
It adapts to you, not the other way round
Skip three days and the journey rearranges: whatever was left over spreads into what's coming, with no red numbers and no broken streaks holding it against you.
You don't start from zero either. As you set your system up it asks where you are with each thing, from Starting to Mastery, with the criteria for each level in front of you, and your level begins where you are, not at 1.
Changing course doesn't erase what you built: you wear it.
The beta opens in batches. Leave your email and I'll tell you when there's room.
What happens along the way
Go to the gym+30 XP
Strength+30 XP
level 7
A path opens
Move better
rung 1 of 6
The session moves
MondayThursday
Complete
You mark a task and it releases XP. The consequence is immediate, and you can see it.
Go to the gym+30 XP
Grow
That XP doesn't land in a counter: it raises one real skill, the one you were training.
Strength+30 XP
level 7
Open
With the skill up, a path opens: a long journey with its own steps and its own name. You didn't pick it at sign-up: it showed up because you got there.
A path opens
Move better
rung 1 of 6
Adapt
You miss Monday and the plan rearranges itself. Nothing to redo by hand.
The session moves
MondayThursday
And the character is you
Not a mascot keeping you company: it's what your life looks like from the outside. Your name, your level, your streak, your dimensions and the stamps you choose to wear, on a card that changes by itself.
Every day
The bar moves. Every task counts straight away, and the bar measures the level you're on: not the ceiling, which only discourages.
The moment you start
You gain a level. The second one costs 150 XP: a couple of days after you've begun. From there each one asks a little more, and they never run out.
Every week and every month
The week tells you how much of what you planned you've done. And on the 1st, the month shows you the shape it had: the dimension that carried it, what you unlocked. A portrait, not a grade.
When you pull something off
Your rank changes. The calendar doesn't bring it: it arrives when you certify a skill, reach a step or close a month. It marks chapters, not days.
And the name changes with you
There are fourteen names, and which one you carry isn't decided by a counter: it's decided by what you have already built. Going up one isn't hitting a figure: it's your life having changed enough that the old name no longer fits. The level, that one does keep going, always and with no ceiling: a life has no max level, and an app telling you «that's it» would be lying. And you pick whichever of the three ladders sounds like you: the names change, never what you have to have done to get there.
A system that asks for no upkeep
Pieces that fill themselves in while you do things. None of them needs a Sunday spent tidying it.
Paths
Long journeys, move better, write more, with their own steps.
Quests
What you want to pull off, with its tasks hanging underneath.
Skills
What you're getting better at, with its level and its history.
Dimensions
The parts of your life, so you can see which one you haven't touched in months.
Plans
A calendar of sessions for one concrete thing, with an end date.
Achievements
What you only earn once, kept on display.
The month
A portrait of the shape it had, on the 1st. You don't have to ask for it.
Stamps
Every step you reach leaves one. You pick five to wear.
