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The tile it opens on. A greeting, then the check-in above everything else, then one suggestion beside Breathe, then three small things you could do. Nothing on it animates.
Free · No account · Every feature works with the network off
A quiet place to say how you are.
You say how the day went. Moorwell reads it on your phone, offers one small thing, and then stops.
- No account there is none in this version
- 2,227 written entries in the app
How are you feeling right now?
Move it. This is the mood strip, as the app draws it.
It makes sense that today took something out of you.
- One small thing to try Unclench your jaw. Put both feet flat on the floor.
- And one thing you might like
- Really low “That's a lot to be holding at once.” Then something steadying, and one thing you might like.
- Low “It makes sense that today took something out of you.” Then one small thing to try.
- Okay “Whatever brought you here, you turned up. That's the part you controlled.”
- Alright “Sounds like a decent day. Those are allowed to just be decent.”
- Good “Nice one. That's a real thing and it counts.”
Every line here is quoted from the app’s own content, unchanged. Nothing you pick is kept. The slider cannot reach a crisis state — its bottom is a bad day, and the route to help is in the footer of every page, including this one.
If you are using it
What happens when you open it
Three taps, about a minute, and then it gets out of the way. No feed, no streak, nothing waiting for you tomorrow.
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One
It opens
There is no signup screen and no email to give. The app works from the first tap.
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Two
You say how you are
A word, or a few sentences. Whatever fits the day. There is no wrong way to do this.
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Three
You get one small thing back
A short reply, and one thing you could try. Never a lecture, and never a chat that keeps going.
If you are using it
Four places, and the one it opens on
Three of them are tiles in a bar that stays put while the page changes under it. The fourth is the round face beside them: it pushes the check-in over whatever you were doing, and closes back to it. That is the whole of the app’s structure.
The check-in
The face with the mark on it, always in reach. Five words from “Really low” to “Good”, then what is weighing on you if you want to say, then one answer back. About a minute, and the third step is optional.
Everything
The shelf. A hard-moment card sits pinned at the top — helplines, and the plan you wrote yourself — and under it three groups named for a state rather than a category: when you want to do something, to be somewhere else, or to keep track. Games, reading, films, sleep and a goal live in those.
Lately
Your own weeks, compared with your own days and nothing else. Your check-ins in your own words, how the nights have been, where you are with reaching out. No target and no score, and it opens saying “Nothing here, and nothing owed.”
Discreet mode is a switch rather than a place: with it on, the app is called Notes on screen, in its notifications and on the home-screen icon. Nothing underneath changes, and the helplines and the safety plan read identically either way.
If you are assessing it
What it refuses to do
Each of these is a property of the code, not a promise in a document. Beside every one is the test that goes red the day it stops being true.
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Nothing you write is uploaded to be understood
No account, no sign-up, no server holding your notes, and it keeps working with the network off. It makes one call on launch — it asks which features are switched on, and carries on regardless of the answer.
privacy_defaults_test -
The crisis route is never behind a disclosure
Not behind an interaction, not after onboarding, not once an account exists. The rule is carried by a type rather than by a paragraph, and the test derives the set of first-run screens from the app’s own entry point.
crisis_reachability_test -
No score, no streak, no comparison with anyone
No points, no badges, no levels, no percentage complete. A named threshold turns an ordinary bad week into a failure, so the app shows what you did and never what is left.
features_test -
No model writes a sentence anyone reads
Where a model is consulted it is handed a fixed menu and allowed one letter back. An answer that was not on the list is not rejected — it is unrepresentable.
composition_guard_test
If you are assessing it
What was built, and how you can check it
Facts about the thing itself, all of them verifiable. Nothing here is a claim about what it does for anybody — it is easy to cite the study that agrees with you, so the register carries the replication that failed, the effect that shrank, and the one claim nobody could verify at all, at the same size as the rest.
- 2,227 written entries — across 25 libraries in assets/content/
- over 160,000 lines of tests — more test code than the 110,000+ lines of app it checks
- 0 accounts required — there is no sign-up, and no server holds a check-in
If you are assessing it
Why it is built like this
Moorwell does not go after a diagnosis. It goes after the loops that keep a bad week going — the ones that quietly make tomorrow harder than it needed to be. Every part of the app has to name the loop it interrupts, which is what makes it one thing rather than a pile of wellness widgets.
The whole argument — every loop, the five stages, and the moment a model is handed an identifier instead of a sentence — is on the How it works page. Two things we will not make you go looking for.
And at the worst moment
- Nothing generated reaches you in a crisis. If what you write looks like danger, the app stops and shows fixed words. Not generated, not reworded, not made personal.
- The risk check is a list you could read. Reviewed phrases, matched as whole words, with "never" and "not" handled. A person can say exactly what it will and will not catch, and the project writes that down as a floor rather than a guarantee.
The rest of it
- Nothing that reframes at high distress. Quotes and reframing content are held back there, and the gate sits inside the library rather than on each screen, because a rule every screen has to remember is a rule one screen forgets.
- Help numbers come from a checked directory, never a web search, and one counts as verified only after a person has dialled it. Opening the app tries every step on its own, so one broken piece cannot leave you with a blank screen.
- It never notices out loud that you stopped. It never scores you and never puts you in a category. Your safety plan does not leave the device, and what the app keeps between visits is a handful of tags such as low energy, night, quick. Never what you wrote.
And the size of it. The literature behind these techniques is research on the techniques, not on Moorwell. Apps of this kind help by a small amount on average, and that is measured against people who were getting on with something else, not against people doing nothing. Small, free, at two in the morning, with no waiting list, is worth having. It is not treatment, and it is not a person.
Plainly
Your words stay where you put them
The whole of what can leave your phone, in the order that matters: the two with no switch first. There is no analytics package in the build and no advertising identifier anywhere in it.
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A feature check, on every launch
No switch. Moorwell asks our own database which features are switched on and carries on regardless of the answer. It sends nothing about you.
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Error reports, when it breaks
No switch. A failure type, where it happened, and the chain of code that led there. No message text, no identifier, no clock finer than a date.
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Anonymous usage counts
On when you install, said on the first screen, and off in one tap. Counts of which activities were opened — never a word you wrote.
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Everything you write
Check-ins, notes and your safety plan stay on the phone. The plan is encrypted there and never leaves in readable form.
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Advertising
None. No ad SDK, no advertising identifier, and no third-party script — not in the app and not on this site.
Two more facts and one cost. Nothing is withheld: there is no paid tier and no locked feature, so what opens is the whole of it. Uninstalling deletes everything: no copy survives it, because no copy was made, and there is nothing to write to us to have removed. The cost is that if you lose the phone, the history goes with it — that is the trade for having no account, and for now it is the only one on offer. A way to keep your own weeks across devices may be built; if it is, it will be optional, off until you turn it on, and deletable, and the privacy policy will say so before it ships rather than afterwards.
If you are interested in the project
The rest of it
Each of these goes further than this page does. You can stop at the first sentence on a bad day, or open every claim underneath it if you want to check us.