The free version is a complete app.
Premium is for people who want more weight.

Press, hold, and physically push each task up the screen. Uniform resistance - every task feels the same weight going up.

Create as many tasks as you need, name them what you want, assign your own weight.

Turn on a daily clean slate at 4 AM, or leave it off and let tasks persist. Your call, not ours.

A home-screen widget that shows how much of today has already passed. No tasks, no numbers to chase - just time, going by.

A rotating set of dry, self-aware reminders. Opt-in. Never guilt-based.

No cap on active tasks. Push as many mountains as you want, simultaneously.

Full haptic range - heavier tasks physically feel heavier as you push them. The free tier’s resistance is uniform; this is where the weight becomes real.

Tasks that return, like Sisyphus’s boulder does. Set it once, push it again tomorrow.

A text field with no save button. Write what’s bothering you, hit “Scream,” and watch it dissolve - particle, burn, fade, corrupt, or straight to black. Nothing is stored. Not in the cloud, not on the device, not anywhere.

Tap the button in the corner. Ten seconds later you’ve zoomed from your exact spot on Earth out past the solar system, the galaxy, to the edge of the observable universe - and back to black. Three uses a day. After the third: “You can’t escape this often.”

Quiet acknowledgments, not gamified trophies - from “First Push” (complete one task) to “The Myth” (fifty tasks) to “Void Walker” (open Cosmic Perspective ten times). No leaderboard. No sharing prompts. Just a record, for you.

A record of what you’ve actually pushed. Proof, not a progress bar.

Strip everything away and push one rock at a time.

The full library, not the sample.

Terminal Green is the default. Premium unlocks Blood Red, Ocean Blue, Sunset Orange, and Monochrome, plus an adjustable film-grain overlay for a heavier, analog feel throughout the app.

Tracks consecutive days, with milestone messages that mock the concept of streaks even while counting them: “Day 30. This is a habit now.” “Streak ended. As all things do. Start again?”