In internal testing · Android
It speaks in its own neural voices, hears you right on the phone, remembers what you tell it about yourself, picks the right moment to speak up — and plays eighteen games with you.
Everything below is already in the app — nothing here is “coming later”.
Neural voices for Russian, English and Polish are synthesised right on the phone, with proper stress and intonation. Faster, slower, quieter — just ask: “speak quieter” works at once, and its volume is its own, apart from the phone's.
Speech is recognised on the phone itself; the recording goes nowhere — only the text reaches the chat. The ear opens on a button or right after a reply in hands-free mode: two notes up as it opens, two down as it shuts. No wake word, and it never switches itself on.
From the phone's sensors it knows where the phone is — pocket, bag, table, face down — and whether you walk or ride. From a pocket it never starts talking on its own: first a knock with a buzz, then it waits for your hand. Face down means “hush”. The sensor readings stay on the phone.
Before speaking up on its own, the monster listens for about three seconds for people talking nearby — the words are not made out, the sound is neither kept nor sent anywhere. If people are talking, it waits for a pause. And while you're busy in the phone — someone else's sound, a voice message being recorded — its own thoughts wait for a free minute.
The monster has an imaginary day: sleep at night, exercises or breakfast in the morning, a walk or a nap by day, a favourite series in the evening. Write after a long break and the reply may open with one line in that mood. It never gets in the way of help.
Facts about you, a diary and an archive of every talk — ask “do you remember…” and it looks. Mention an interview and later it asks how it went; name your mum's birthday and every year it reminds you to wish her well. Any fact can be corrected or forgotten.
On the phone: Gemma 4 by Google — about 3 GB, no internet, nothing from the conversation leaves. In the cloud: the provider of your own key, DeepSeek by default, where harder questions can be thought over before the answer. You choose when you first meet.
In the morning — sleep (with health access), weather, calendar and tasks; by day — water and a stretch; in the evening — the day summed up. Quiet hours are kept.
A to-do list and reminders on time or on a schedule: “three times a day”, “weekdays at 8:30”. A task left alone too long — it asks how it's going.
Alarms go into the phone's own Clock, so they ring even with the app off. It reads the calendar, adds events by voice and warns you a quarter of an hour before.
“Remember, this is my home” — and “remind me when I get home” fires right on the doorstep. “Nearest pharmacy?” — real places, metres away, with a route link.
Now, today and tomorrow: feels-like, wind, the chance of rain. In the morning a weather card shows on the monster's screen.
“Show me a red panda” — the picture lands in the chat with its source underneath; a tap opens the original. Send a photo yourself and it looks and answers (with the cloud brain).
News, prices, timetables: it searches, reads the pages and answers from what it found. What it doesn't know, it says so. A “not a robot” check is yours to pass — it never gets around it.
A mood → internet radio, a name → a track from a free catalogue. Spotify and other players are driven with no keys — pause, next, volume — even on a locked screen.
You choose which apps. A burst of messages becomes one short summary. From a pocket or a bag, without headphones, nothing is read aloud at all.
A name, a character and a humour dial — from “no jokes” to “a joke in every reply”. All by voice, mid-conversation.
“Don't tell me the weather in the mornings”, “talk slower” — a card with two buttons appears in the chat, and nothing changes until you tap. Only “hush” and “speak quieter” work at once.
Only after you sign in: a hidden app folder no other program can see, the last seven copies plus one a month old. A new phone — and the monster remembers everything.
The same faces as in the app, running right here: they blink, look around and change expression. Pick an emotion and all four answer at once. In the app, a double tap on the face opens its page, where you choose.
Rounded eyes from the firmware — the face it all began with.
A lit white, a pupil with a glint, lids and brows. Looks right at you.
A face of 32×16 “LEDs”; when it speaks, the mouth turns into an equaliser.
Kaomoji line art: symbol eyes, a tear, an anger vein, a drop of sweat.
Say “let's play chess” and a board takes the place of the chat. Moves by finger or by voice; the monster comments, adapts to how you play and can teach from scratch — “teach me to play…”. Everything is under the Skills button.
NEWA real 3D world of cubes — with your monster, or online: up to eight players in a world, each with a monster of their own. The monster really plays along: fetches things, puts up torches, warns and talks — and on your word builds a cottage, a lighthouse or a windmill, block by block. Survival or creative, villages of monster-neighbours, an arena on islands in the void — and a finale on the Moon with Hani, the white wolf.
The game's page →
NEWA race on foot: Hani — a white wolf with a crescent moon and a little star between the eyes — against the monster's robot pup with its face on the screen. Two thumb zones: jump and slide. Eight worlds from the yard to the Moon, memes on billboards, and an endless run for the record.
The game's page →
The engine offers a few good moves; the monster picks the one it likes and sometimes says why. Say “knight to f3” or drag a piece. “Teach me” starts from how each piece moves.
Russian rules: capturing is compulsory, men capture backwards, a king flies any distance. Moves by voice, hints, take-backs — and a started chess game waits aside.
Name a cell — “the centre”, “top left” or a number from one to nine. Fair but not flawless: the more you win, the sharper the monster gets.
The game of Russia and the Caucasus, not backgammon: fifteen checkers off the head, nobody is ever hit. The dice are honest — the monster's strength is only in the choice of move.
The full set of 28, the bazaar, the dead round and a session to 101. Name a tile — “six four”, “double six” — or lay it with a finger.
With transfers: 36 cards, the trump under the deck. “Beat it with the queen”, “take”, “transfer”. The monster never sees your hand — only the table and the discard.
A duel, not a casino: the stakes are points and the bank passes back and forth. “More” for a card, “enough” to stop; twenty-one off two cards pays double.
Five-card draw, heads-up: “check”, “raise”, “fold”, “change the second and the fifth”. Sometimes the monster bets on a weak hand — a bluff, within the rules.
Jelly pieces with little eyes drop into a glass jar. Steer one with a finger, tap left or right to turn it, flick down to drop it — a full row pops into bubbles. Ten levels and a run for the record.
A plush snake on a felt mat, and its head is a little screen with the monster's live face. Apples, a little house at the end of each level, three hearts and a rewind; then burrows, balls of yarn, a firefly and night.
Swap two neighbouring stones with little eyes — three in a row pop. The Bomb, the Cross and the Rainbow; ice, chains, boulders and chests on the way to the Heart of the Mountain. A hint only when you ask.
Beads roll down a groove towards a robot vacuum. Point with a finger and the monster puffs a bead right there; three of one colour fly off onto a necklace — and after a win, the necklace goes round the monster's neck.
Your paddle below, the monster's above, a wall of bricks between. Ten levels: capsules, bombs, fog, portals — and a boss on the tenth.
Toy cars seen from above; your finger is the wheel and the throttle. Eight tracks — hairpins, rain, oil, night, the Grand Prix — a photo finish in slow motion and your lap records kept.
A simplified Russian pyramid: pull your finger back from the cue ball — a line shows the direction, a ghost ball the contact. First to eight; there are no draws.
One tooth is sore and nothing gives it away. Press in turns, one joker each. While you think, the monster teases you and tells absurd little stories — “go easy” or “harder” tunes the jokes.
A trainer, not a game: seven levels, up to percentages and squares of numbers ending in five. Thinking too long? It offers the trick for that very example — “nine is ten less one”.
A word stands large on the screen, the monster says it in a separate English voice, and you say the meaning aloud. “The other way” swaps the roles. The words grow harder with you.
The same lesson with Polish words and a Polish voice — the same voice pack as English, nothing more to download. Each language keeps its own level and score.
A game put aside waits under the Skills button.
The alarm rings — and the monster won't let go until you're up; then sleep, weather, the calendar and today's tasks.
You leave home on foot — the weather and the day's tasks, from what it already knows.
The phone is in your pocket and a reminder is due: first a knock with a buzz, then the words.
There's something to say, but people are talking nearby — the monster waits for a pause.
You come home: a hello — and “water the plants”, right on the doorstep.
The day summed up, then a game of chess. Losing? It plays softer.
Phone face down — the monster falls quiet. Then the quiet hours.
A 3D-printed body with an OLED face, a tiny XIAO board inside and Bluetooth to the phone. The face lives on your desk: emotions, weather cards, timers — and its button starts a conversation. Or no body at all: then the monster lives entirely in the phone. Print and flash your own — the firmware and the models are open source (MIT).
An Android app by Peter's Engineering from Poland: a little monster that lives in your phone and truly talks. It speaks in its own neural voices in Russian, English and Polish, hears you right on the phone, remembers what you tell it about yourself, keeps your tasks and reminders — and plays eighteen games with you, plus three lessons: maths, English and Polish.
The app is in internal testing on Android now and is coming to Google Play. Want to know when it's out? Write to the author: ceo@ptrs.ltd.
You choose when you first meet. On the phone: Gemma 4 by Google — about 3 GB, no internet, nothing from the conversation leaves. In the cloud: the provider of your own API key — DeepSeek by default, or any OpenAI-compatible provider.
Yes, with the brain on the phone: speech is recognised on the phone itself, the voices are synthesised there too, and the conversation needs no connection. Web search, pictures, weather and radio go online when you ask for them.
No. The ear opens on a button, or right after a reply in hands-free mode — two notes up as it opens, two down as it shuts. There is no wake word, and it never switches itself on. Before speaking up on its own, it listens for about three seconds for people talking nearby: the words are not made out, and the sound is neither kept nor sent anywhere.
Eighteen games: Cubes, Run Hani, run!, chess, draughts, tic-tac-toe, long nardy, dominoes, durak, twenty-one, poker, bricks for two, racing for two, billiards, crocodile dentist, and four arcade games — Tyutelka, Snake, Little Diamonds and Beads — where you play and the monster cheers you on. And three lessons: mental arithmetic, English and Polish. Moves by finger or by voice; the monster adapts to how you play and can teach from scratch.
Your voice is recognised on the phone, and the sound never leaves it. Memory, tasks and places live on the phone; the Google Drive copy is optional and goes only into your hidden app folder. With the cloud brain, the conversation goes to the provider of your own key. No ads, no analytics, no trackers — the details are in the privacy policy.
No. Without a body the monster lives entirely in the phone. The body is for makers: a 3D-printed case with an OLED face and a Seeed XIAO board, connected over Bluetooth LE; the firmware and the models are open source (MIT). Everything is in the assembly guide.
The app is in internal testing now. Want to know when it's out, or have a question? Write to the author.
Made with love in Poland by one engineer — and one small monster.
