A game of real life · from the Tribe of Giants
Giant Crossings
Between the life you have and the life you can see, there's a chasm. This game reads both sides of yours and hands you a step small enough to take in the next 48 hours — the bridge builds one real plank at a time.
No card to start — a free account and your first crossing, planks and all. The full game is $9 a month, renews monthly, cancel in one click. Included with All-Access.
What it does for you
🌉 Turns stuck into routes
Name your near shore (your reality, no spin) and your far shore (your vision, said like it's already true). An AI Pathway Generator deals real, concrete routes across — each with a first step you can take in 48 hours for under $50.
🪵 Makes action the game
You don't tap a screen to win — you act in real life, then tell the bridge what happened. Planks that hold lock into the bridge and the walker advances. That's the only way forward, and it's yours.
🕳 Turns failure into fuel
A plank that falls tumbles into the chasm — and teaches the game exactly what stopped you. It deals back a smaller plank routed around that exact obstacle. Falling is data here, never a verdict.
🪨 Digs out what really blocks you
Name the excuse — “no time,” “nobody would pay” — and the game digs to the real stone underneath, forges an if-then armor plan, and sets it on your bridge. It cracks only from real-world stands. Bandaids don't win here; surgery does.
🎖 Mentors who teach as you play
Twelve guides from the 12 Journeys hand you collectible tokens for real play on their ground — and days later they ask their teaching back, so it sticks. Every card at the fire is credited research or old wisdom — Snyder, Gollwitzer, Dweck, the Stoics — never invented.
👁 A witness, not a leaderboard
Invite one person who matters — a spouse, a friend, a mentor — to watch a bridge grow. They see every plank land, and only that bridge. No rankings, no strangers: one named witness beats any leaderboard.
✕ A stone only truth can grow
Your X-Stone feeds on real walked days alone — Dormant to Stirred to Bright to Radiant to Unshakable. Its turnings grant blessings: a Repair that mends a missed day by itself, a Double-Day you light the night before. The streak survives falls; only silence stops it.
The game in play
The loop
- Set your shores. Reality on one side, vision on the other.
- Deal planks. Four real routes, four different lenses.
- Walk one. In your actual life, within 48 hours.
- Report the yield. It held — the bridge grows. It fell — the game learns, and deals smaller.
- Cross. The vision becomes your reality. Then you set a bigger one.
No other game works like this
Every claim below is a mechanic you can go touch, not a slogan.
The only way to win is in real life.
There is no tap, grind, or purchase that moves your walker one inch. The bridge builds only when you act in the actual world and tell it what happened. Most games are an escape from your life — this one is unplayable without living yours.
Failure earns points.
Other games punish falling — lost lives, broken streaks. Here a fallen plank scores, your streak counts days you showed up, and the fall itself becomes data the game uses for you.
It knows doing from looking busy.
Report a success and the game asks one question no app has ever asked: what did it leave behind? Real action advances the walker. “I got ready” becomes visible scaffolding under the bridge — honest, counted once, and never mistaken for crossing. Busy-work cannot build this bridge.
It catches you spinning your wheels.
Two “got ready” reports in a row and the game shifts into contact mode: every plank it deals must leave a mark someone else could verify. It refuses to let you feel productive while going nowhere — kindly, and by name.
Falling makes it easier — exactly where you fell.
Say why the plank fell and the game deals back a smaller one routed around that precise obstacle. The difficulty tunes itself to keep you moving, not to keep you playing.
Your own moves train the deck.
Lay your own plank — the game sharpens it, never replaces it. When your move holds, it glows on the bridge and the Generator deals more in your direction. You don't just play the game; you teach it your life.
Nothing in it is fictional.
The planks are real actions, the outcomes are the ones you report, and every word at the fire is a real researcher or an old Stoic, credited — hope theory, if-then plans, mental contrasting, motion vs. action. No invented wisdom, ever.
Winning means your vision became your reality.
The Arrival is not a score screen. It's your own vision quoted back over the night — this is your reality now — witnessed by a real community, followed by the only question that matters: what's the next vision?
The first game where the controller is your actual life — planks only lay when you act in the real world, failure earns points, and busy-work can't build the bridge.
Why not just a habit tracker?
Other games reward you for saying you did it.
This one only moves when the world can tell.
They gamify your checklist.
Habit apps dress a to-do list in points and streaks — and can't tell doing from checking. Here every success answers one question first: what did it leave behind? Only marks the world could see move the walker.
They make you write the plan.
In the checkbox games you invent your own tasks or pick from a canned list. Here an engine reads your reality, your vision, your falls, and your named obstacle — then deals four fresh routes and re-plans after every single outcome.
They punish the miss.
Lost hearts, damage, broken streaks — shame as a mechanic. Here a fall scores points and teaches the next deal, the streak counts days you told the truth, and a stirred X-Stone mends a missed day on its own.
Their rewards are decoration.
Hats and gems, versus tokens that teach. Every reward here is meaning or proof: credited wisdom at the fire, mentor tokens tied to the 12 Journeys — asked back days later so they stick — and a stone that only real days can grow.
What we keep. What the AI sees. What we never do.
A habit tracker knows you flossed. This game holds your debt, your work, your marriage, your fear. That deserves plain words, not a policy maze:
🔒 What we keep
Your crossings live on your account, visible to you alone. A witness sees only the one bridge you invited them to — never the rest of your life.
🤖 What the AI sees
Only the words of the crossing it's dealing for — your shores, your planks, your named obstacle. Never your name, your email, or who you are. Our AI provider doesn't use your words to train its models.
🚫 What we never do
We never sell your data, and nothing you write is posted unless you choose to share it. Cancel and your game data is erased — a promise built into the game, not buried in a policy. (Pausing keeps everything.)
The long versions live in our Privacy Policy and AI Policy — they say the same things with more lawyers.
Two ways in
The standalone game
$9 / month · first crossing free · cancel anytime
- Start free: a five-minute guided first win, then your first full crossing — shores, planks, the bridge — no card
- Unlimited crossings, synced on every device
- The AI Pathway Generator deals fresh routes all month — that's what your $9/mo feeds
- Cancel in one click, no calls, no hoops — you play to the end of your paid month, then the game locks
- Your free Tribe account included — first journey, community, daily tools
One-time $9 — you get a code by email, they redeem a month of the game on their own free account. Nothing renews for either of you. For the person you thought of while reading this.
Included with All-Access
🗝 · part of the whole path
- Giant Crossings included with your membership
- All 12 journeys with Rimi beside you
- The Mirror, daily reflections, the Library
Asked honestly
Is this therapy?
No. It's a structured game built on published motivation research — powerful, and not a substitute for clinical care.
Is anything fictional?
Nothing. The planks are real actions, the outcomes are the ones you actually report, and the quotes are real people, credited — never invented.
Where does my data live?
On your own account, private to you. Your crossings sync across your devices and never appear anywhere you don't put them.
Can I take a break without losing everything?
Yes — Pause, one click inside the game. Billing stops and every crossing waits for you, exactly as you left it, for as long as you need.
How do I cancel?
One click — Manage subscription inside the game, or Manage billing on your account page. No phone calls, no guilt trips. You keep playing to the end of the month you've paid for. Know the difference, though: cancelling clears your crossings when it takes effect — starting over is part of that choice. If you want your bridges kept, pause instead.
Questions or refunds?
Write us at hello@tribeofgiants.com — a human answers.
The far shore doesn't come to you.
Name it. Then lay the first plank tonight — it takes about four minutes to open your first crossing.
Play free — the chasm is waiting