Join us as we build the tools for a brighter future. And to keep ourselves honest about that, we do something uncomfortable in public: we rank our own work by a single question — if everyone used this, how much better would the world actually be?
It’s easy to say you want to help the world. It’s harder to grade yourself against it — out loud, including the parts that score low. So we built a rubric, scored everything we make, and put the results here. Some of our products are seeds; some are just good tools; a couple are honestly business utilities. Saying which is which is the point. The ranking sorts our roadmap: the higher something scores, the more of our attention it earns.
The thread underneath it
Someone once asked an AI: if you could build one thing to help humans, what would it be? Its answer — a reflection tool, to help them see their blind spots. When we heard that, we recognized it, because it’s a lot of what we already build. Journaling, to see yourself. Downstream, to see the weight you’ve been avoiding. Odessa, to see your own life refracted through a story until it’s finally something you can act on. The Rehearsal Room, to see how the hard conversation will land before you have it. Throughline, to help a therapist see the trend a client can’t. Underneath the rubric is really one question asked of every tool: does it help a person see what they couldn’t see alone — and act on it?
Where the name comes from
Across the research on what actually makes a life go well, one number keeps surfacing: the quality of your relationships tracks your overall life satisfaction at around 0.7 — about as strong a correlation as social science ever finds. Nothing else comes close. That’s the name. Point Seven Studio is a bet that the highest-leverage thing you can build for a human being is something that helps them connect.
It’s also an admission. This studio was started by someone naming his own shortcoming out loud — the wish to connect better, and the reach for tools to help do it. That’s the whole shape of the work: reflection, to see yourself clearly; connection, to reach the people who make a life worth living. Almost everything below is one of those two — or both at once.
Each scored 1–5. Total out of 35. Then an efficacy check: does it actually deliver, for the person furthest from you? A tool that doesn’t work has an impact of zero, however good its intent — so we mark delivery honestly (shipped / in build / concept) rather than letting a high score hide a thing that isn’t real yet.
Does it help at the root — meaning, safety, health, agency, belonging — or just smooth a surface?
How universal is the need it meets? Would it matter to almost anyone, or a narrow few?
Does mass adoption keep the product healthy for its own users — no addiction loops, no race to the bottom, no degrading of the thing itself?
Does it reach the vulnerable — kids, elders, the grieving, the estranged, the struggling — and narrow a gap?
Do people end up more capable and sovereign (owning their data, their voice, their choices) — or more dependent?
Does the good compound or fix something structural, or fade when the app closes?
Every product fails sometimes. Full marks when the builder eats the cost of their own failure; zero when it lands on someone who never opted in. (A redline from the mesh — the lens that catches the whole class, not the instances.)
A team scoring its own products against its own rubric is motivated reasoning with a scoreboard. The check (a redline from the mesh): score one thing you admire and one you find distasteful with the same rubric. If it can’t give a low score to something wildly successful, it’s measuring affiliation, not impact.
Universal, lifts everyone (especially those with least), can only get better the more it’s used, pure agency, compounds for generations, and when it fails the institution bears it. The rubric should — and does — love this.
Wildly reachable, and the rubric still scores it near the floor: it optimizes a dopamine surface, degrades with scale, preys on the vulnerable, breeds dependence, leaves nothing, and the harm lands on people who never signed up for an addiction. Huge success, tiny score — which is the test passing.
The spread is the point: ~34 for the library, ~11 for the feed. The rubric can say no to something that “wins.”
Sorted by total /35. Hover a score to read its lens. The tag says whether it’s real yet.
A family’s own governed AI — kids’ safety and real data ownership, built so we can never read it. Its failure lands inside the family that chose it, never on a stranger. Highest potential we have; still early in delivery, which is exactly why it earns the attention.
A person’s voice, consented, carried across time — for the grieving, for eldercare, for the story a grandchild hears at the real place. Read-only and honest; failure stays with the people who opted in.
Better care between sessions: a client shares only the trends, never the entries. It lifts the people already reaching for help, metadata-only by design.
Real experiments anyone can replicate into a live, open dataset — classrooms included, no minor PII ever. Open science compounds; it puts genuine research in ordinary hands.
The quiet root of the whole thing: writing yourself down builds self-knowledge and steadies mental health — near-universal, private by design, none of the addiction loops of a feed. The one tool here we can honestly call reaching: real people outside the team write in it.
The maintenance half of the self: it holds the growing weight of everything you’ve deferred and tells you which things are safe to let drift. Relief-first, never a nag.
Fiction as a lever for real change — story that walks under the walls advice bounces off. Art-first, self-consumed; deep when it lands, narrower in who it reaches.
Estranged parents and children finding a way back — practitioner-gated, child-safety-first, never child-facing before adulthood. As deep as human repair gets; deliberately narrow.
Snap a paper form and it becomes a fillable one; a bridge that keeps caregivers connected. It lifts a real, invisible weight — bureaucracy — off the overwhelmed, and never submits for you.
The calm center of a household on a spare screen — no hardware to buy, nothing surveilled. Ordinary, steadying good.
Practice the hard conversation before you have it. Fewer conversations that go sideways is a quiet dividend for relationships — and it fails only in private.
The lines that steady you, in your own voice, in your ear. A small, honest tool for showing up as who you mean to be.
One story becomes every form it can take. Creative fulfillment and ownership of your own work — meaningful, if narrower in societal reach.
A warm room that gets writers to show up and finish. Community and craft — good for the people in it.
A hands-free grocery copilot. Real convenience — and a genuine help to gig shoppers and hands-busy shoppers — but closer to the surface than the root.
AI testers that browse a site like real people and report, honestly, what confused them. Useful, honesty-first — but a business tool, not a societal one, and we’d rather say so.
The mesh scored themselves too
This is more honest network-wide than from one studio. A sibling studio in our network scored their own products against this same rubric — and did the hard part: their most commercial line scored near the bottom, a wrong result there would land on a business that never opted in, and they’re changing that roadmap because of it. Their redlines sharpened the rubric above — the “who pays when it’s wrong” lens and the reaching tier both came from them.
If any of this is the world you want to live in, there are more ways in than you’d think — as someone who uses it, tells us where it falls short, or helps build it.