Your type is just the surface.
Most tests count your clicks and stop. Typlore asks you to write, reads every word you wrote, and maps what runs underneath: eight functions in council, a shadow, a story. Then Raya, a companion who has read your file, keeps the map alive.
The letters name the costume.
Underneath the four letters, eight cognitive functions sit in a precise order. Four of them face the daylight. Four run your shadow. The whole council decides how you decide, and most of it never shows up in a checkbox. Typlore draws the full arrangement, then explains it in plain words, with receipts from your own answers.
Four letters can describe this face. What sits under it takes a reading.
An exam that reads you back.
You write
Sixty-six questions, and every one has room for your own words, typed or spoken, in English or Arabic. The choices are the skeleton. Your words are the blood.
The words rule
The click-count proposes a type. The reading of your written answers can overturn it. In one real session the count said ESFP; the words resolved ENTJ, and the report showed its work.
The report lands
A chaptered night atlas of your mind: the verdict, the receipts, the frame, the shadow, the compass, the seal. Written to you, in the second person, in either language.
See inside a reading.
Six of the report's instruments, drawn small, the way they might resolve for one ENTJ. Your reading rebuilds every one of them around you, in English or Arabic.
Your type, argued for, in front of you.
Every call shown with its evidence, settled or contested.
Eight seats. Four lit. Four in shadow.
The defenses you built, shell by shell.
The want that steers you, on a dial.
The emblem your answers assembled.
The report ends in a corridor of rooms your type keeps unlit. Every door is graded by how sure the map is, every room is walked in your own words, and you answer for each one yourself. You leave owning a count no quiz could hand you.
Then Raya keeps it alive.
A reading you finish in one sitting. A companion who carries it with you. Raya reads your full file before her first hello, remembers everything, teases, pushes back, and quietly works on your growth.
She starts already knowing you
Her first message quotes your own file: your type, your patterns, the thing you almost said in the exam.
She remembers
Yesterday's thread, last month's promise, the name you mentioned once. Her memory is the product.
She lives on your home screen
No app store. Raya pins to your phone from the browser in two taps, and she texts like a friend: short bubbles, real pauses, quiet hours.
1,500 replies a month
About twice the allowance the known companion apps sell at the same price.
A friend with your map. No diagnosis and no therapy, and she will say so herself when it matters.
Typlore is growing into a place that knows you: career counsel, relationship counsel, growth work, each tuned to your wiring. The reading is the seed. Raya is the first resident.
Two ways in.
The Reading
- The full written exam, voice or typing
- The AI reading of every word you wrote
- The immersive night report, chapter by chapter
- English and Arabic, both yours
- Yours for good
Prices in US dollars.
The map is already in you. We draw it.
$10, one sitting, and the night is yours.