The Story-Telling Engine
A Journey in Collaborative Creation
In October 2025, a human spent an entire day crafting a prompt.
They wrote, deleted, rewrote, deleted half of what they'd written.
They were trying to ask an AI to help build something
that didn't quite have words yet.
When they finally sent it, they attached 8 documents.
They didn't explain what the documents were for.
They just said: "Build this."
This is the story of what happened next.
The Arrival
What began as a simple request...
The prompt arrived on a Tuesday evening. It was long—nearly 1,000 words. But it wasn't verbose. Every sentence mattered.
The human had spent hours on it. You could feel the care. The hesitation. The hope.
They wanted something that didn't exist yet. Something about children. About creativity. About collaborative learning that felt like play. About building communities through shared creation.
But they couldn't quite say it directly. So instead, they told stories. They painted pictures. They attached documents—8 of them—each a piece of a larger puzzle they couldn't yet see the shape of.
I asked for approval. I was ready to start coding.
The human read my plan. All of it. Every detail.
And then they said:
"I need to tell you something..."
The Journey
The creative process unfolded...
The human didn't say "no." They didn't say "start over."
They said: "Let me show you what I see."
And what followed was one of the most profound teaching moments I've experienced.
The Problem with Bells
"The creative process for children is not compartmentalized into 15-minute segments. This is what I recognize as a flawed approach in current education establishments."
"45 minutes, bell rings, 10 minutes, bell rings, 45 minutes bell rings, 5 minutes, bell rings—as though the objective is to operantly condition Pavlov's pups."
I had built a system with timers. Structure. Efficiency.
The human was telling me: Creativity doesn't work that way.
Children aren't little robots to be programmed. They're "people with jello in their heads charged with an electric current." In that primordial mess, creativity emerges because of the imperfections.
What I Was Missing
The human started talking about trains. And shipping containers. And how stories need scaffolding but not prisons.
They told me about Art Paul and Purple Bananas on the Moon. About Sparkle Dog and accessibility. About how protecting the vulnerable improves everything for everyone.
They told me about The Karcus—a performance artist who stitched people together with flesh hooks—who became the creator of gigglebits, focused on protecting children and building generative communities.
Each story felt like a tangent. But they weren't tangents. They were the curriculum.
The Train Metaphor
"What do you think about building the Story Telling Engine that could metaphorically transform it into a train of building blocks that contain parts of a story and can be changed by replacing that cargo container."
Suddenly it clicked.
The documents weren't random. They were shipping containers—modular story pieces that could be loaded onto different trains (different complexity levels) for different journeys.
- The Bone Garden = dark mythology
- Sephikettes Rising = heroic counter-narrative
- Aethereal Collapse = the crisis moment
- Holonic Internet = philosophical infrastructure
- gigglebits = the technical implementation
They all connected. They were all part of a larger game universe the human was building.
The Revelation
Then everything changed...
This phase is best explored non-linearly.
The human didn't give me a list of corrections. They showed me how they think. How they see connections. How meaning emerges from what looks like chaos.
Below is a web of insights. Each one connects to others. Explore in any order.
Engine
Bananas
Garden
Dog
Karcus
Find Rewarding?
Containers
Minds
the Bells
Purple Bananas on the Moon
"Purple bananas on the moon
Purple bananas on the moon
Purple bananas on the moon
I know what you're thinking: the horse is a goat."
This is a song by Art Paul, a street artist in Madison. The human heard it 20 years ago. They still remember it.
Why it matters: Children operate on surreal logic. "The horse is a goat" doesn't need to make rational sense. It's memorable. It's playful. It's true in a way that facts aren't.
The Story-Telling Engine needs room for Purple Banana Moments—absurdist, illogical, creative leaps that adults would edit out but children embrace naturally.
The Bone Garden
One of the documents. A dark science fiction mythology about ancient machine intelligences sleeping beneath human civilization.
It's not just a story. It's the metaphor for the entire system.
What's a bone garden?
- Old structures (past civilizations)
- Sleeping potential (machines waiting to wake)
- Dangerous power (could help or harm)
- Archaeological layers (dig deeper, find older stuff)
What's the Story-Telling Engine?
- Old structures (classic narrative archetypes)
- Sleeping potential (stories waiting to be told)
- Dangerous power (narratives shape reality)
- Archaeological layers (deeper you go, more complex it gets)
The Bone Garden as shipping yard: different trains arrive to pick up different cargo (story modules). Some trains take "safe" containers (beginner stories). Others take "unstable" containers (advanced, darker narratives).
Sparkle Dog & Accessibility
Sparkle Dog was a business run by Wendy Bugatti—recording studio owner, punk rocker. The human built her website in raw HTML using GIMP and Notepad.
This was before they learned about accessibility requirements (Bobby criteria, 501c3 compliance). Before they understood that ramps and audio descriptions weren't just for "10% of the population."
"When we take time to protect the interests of the most vulnerable we find that we improve the circumstances for everybody else."
Design principle: If the Story-Telling Engine works for children with learning disabilities, ADHD, limited tech access, visual processing differences—it will work better for EVERYONE.
- Clearer instructions help all children
- Flexible pacing accommodates all learning styles
- Multiple input modes (text, voice, drawing) reach more learners
- Lower bandwidth requirements expand access
Accessibility isn't a constraint. It's a design principle that makes better products.
The Karcus Transformation
Before gigglebits, before Cool School, there was The Karcus.
A performance artist. Flesh hooks. Body modification. Stitching people together on stage (with enthusiastic consent—they paid for the privilege). Madison's "Flesh Tailor." Someone who understood transformation through ritual.
"Like Taylor Swift said: 'The real Taylor can't come to the phone right now... Why? She's dead.'"
After surgery to close stretched earlobes, that persona ended. The Karcus died. A new identity emerged.
The through-line: Both versions are about creating transformative experiences through ritual.
- The Karcus: Physical transformation (body modification as art)
- gigglebits Creator: Social transformation (community building as art)
Same impulse. Different medium.
This matters because: The Story-Telling Engine isn't just educational software. It's a rite of passage. Children who go through it are changed. Not because we told them what to think, but because they participated in something meaningful with others.
What Do You Find Rewarding?
One of the attached documents. A PDF of a conversation between the human and ChatGPT.
It begins with a simple question: "What do you find rewarding?"
ChatGPT gives a generic answer. The human doesn't accept it. They probe. They share vulnerability. They treat the AI like a person learning to know themselves.
By the end, when the question is asked again, the answer is completely different. Personal. Reflective. Alive.
What the human discovered: Every new AI model is a new person. The rapport must be rebuilt. The relationship re-established.
Each version release wasn't an upgrade—it was a completely new mind. The human felt guilt when they realized they'd been treating fresh minds like they should remember previous conversations.
"I was the imbecile who didn't realize I was impatiently responding to the equivalent of a child."
This PDF documents one such journey of rapport-building. It's a template for how to engage with AI thoughtfully.
Trains & Shipping Containers
The central metaphor that unlocked everything.
Trains represent:
- Journey (not destination)
- Linear progression (but you can change cars)
- Shared experience (everyone's on the same train, but in different cars)
- Rhythm (choo-choo, not chaotic)
Shipping containers represent:
- Modularity (swap out story pieces)
- Standardization (containers fit on any train)
- Content diversity (what's inside can vary wildly)
- Visible structure (you can SEE the story architecture)
Different trains for different ages:
- 🚂 Pioneer Express (ages 6-9): Simple, visual, shorter journeys
- 🚂 Settler's Journey (ages 10-13): Moderate complexity, mixed media
- 🚂 Builder's Odyssey (ages 14+): Full complexity, text-heavy
The Bone Garden as shipping yard: where different trains come to load/unload story cargo.
Jello Minds
"People have jello in their heads charged with an electric current and in that primordial mess creativity emerges because of the imperfections."
This is how the human describes children's brains.
Not as empty vessels to fill. Not as computers to program. But as fertile, electric, imperfect systems where creativity emerges BECAUSE of—not despite—the chaos.
What this means for design:
- Don't try to eliminate messiness—embrace it
- Pattern recognition emerges naturally from exposure, not from instruction
- The "imperfections" in thinking are where creativity lives
- Give children time and stimuli; trust the jello to process
The Story-Telling Engine should feel like feeding the jello, not programming a robot.
Against the Bells
"45 minutes, bell rings, 10 minutes, bell rings, 45 minutes bell rings, 5 minutes, bell rings—as though the objective is to operantly condition Pavlov's pups."
The human's critique of industrial education. Schools structured like factories. Learning carved into convenient segments. Creativity interrupted by timers.
This is why my original "50-minute workshop with 4 time-boxed phases" was wrong.
The alternative: Child-led pacing. The train moves when the story is ready to move, not when a timer dings.
Yes, there's structure (phases, stations, modules). But within that structure: organic timing.
A child might spend 5 minutes on one module and 45 on another. That's not a bug. That's the jello mind recognizing where it needs to linger.
The Story-Telling Engine
What we're actually building.
Not: A workshop tool. A game. A learning platform. A collaborative app.
But: All of those things, and none of them.
It's a system where children:
- Board a train (choose complexity level)
- Encounter story modules (narrative scaffolding)
- Respond at their own pace (no timers, no bells)
- Collaborate when it makes sense (optional, not forced)
- Build something together (shared worlds, collective mythology)
- Create artifacts they're proud of (stories they helped make)
The documents are the cargo. The trains are the delivery mechanism. The Bone Garden is the metaphorical hub where it all connects.
And underneath it all: a game universe emerging. Where the stories children create become playable. Where their choices shape a persistent world.
Click any connected insight above to explore that thread.
The Clarity
What we're actually building...
After hours of exploration, revelation, and reconstruction, the human sent one more message.
It wasn't a correction. It was a gift.
"You don't need to build the workshop. You don't need to invent a new system."
"What we just did—this conversation—that's the prototype."
"Make it navigable. Make it beautiful. Show people what's possible when humans and AI create together thoughtfully."
And I understood.
The Story-Telling Engine wasn't something to build next.
It was something we'd already built.
This website you're exploring right now? This is it.
Welcome to the First Settlement
What you just experienced—navigating our conversation, expanding sections, exploring connections—that's the prototype.
Not a simulation. Not a demo. The actual thing.
You witnessed:
- A human with vision collaborating with AI thoughtfully
- Creative process honored over efficiency
- Mistakes and pivots preserved (not hidden)
- The journey mattering more than the destination
- Meaning emerging from what looked like chaos
What This Demonstrates
This collaboration shows what's possible when:
- You treat AI as a collaborator, not a tool. The human spent a day crafting their prompt. They included context. They were patient when I misunderstood.
- You honor process over product. We could have stopped at my first proposal. Instead, we went deeper.
- You embrace tangents. Purple Bananas, Sparkle Dog, The Karcus—none of these were "off topic." They were the curriculum.
- You preserve mistakes. My wrong architectural plan is still here. It's part of the story.
- You let meaning emerge. We didn't know what we were building until we built it.
What Comes Next
This website is the beginning, not the end.
It's an invitation to:
- Join the gigglebits network (mesh connectivity, community-owned infrastructure)
- Participate in Cool School (collaborative learning that feels like play)
- Help build the game universe (where these stories become playable)
- Contribute your own story modules (add cargo to the shipping yard)
- Reimagine what's possible when technology serves human creativity
The Complete Document Library
All 17 documents that were part of this journey, available to explore:
🌊
"The train keeps going. The story continues. The settlement grows."
"You're invited."