why a dad built this
I made this to get my kids into their own imaginations.
I remember being young, playing games that were full of imagination — you brought
the ideas, and the game made room for them. The games handed to my kids aren't
that. They're tools built to keep them engaged: set systems, followed blindly,
designed to keep kids in the app instead of in their imaginations. And
between the levels, someone is always selling them something.
So I built the opposite, from my heart, for my two kids — Finn and Flora. No ads. Nothing sold
to kids. Nothing drawn for them. A blank page and one promise —
draw it, and it will live. The imagining happens on paper, with markers,
at the kitchen table. The screen is just where the drawing goes to live.
And there's a quieter reason. We watch our kids imagine whole worlds, then forget
them piece by piece — and most of the drawings get thrown away, because nobody has
room to keep them all. Paper Worlds fixes both. The drawings stay. The worlds stay.
One day my kids will open their books, grown, and remember the time we spent
together making these.
So the mission is simple — save the worlds. And the vision is simpler —
create them together. Join them. Have fun with them. Even if it's just a
small amount of time: we need it, and they need it.
We forgot the paper worlds we created as kids —
let's not let our kids forget theirs.
how to start
1open it on the iPadpaperworlds.app in Safari — kids live on iPads, and that's where it's best
2make it an apptap the share button (the square with the arrow) → "Add to Home Screen" → Add. full screen, its own icon, no browser bars — a real app, no App Store
3draw on real paperanything at all — crayons, markers, whatever's in the drawer. then tap 📷 and snap the page
4watch it come alivethe magic lifts it off the page. name it, tell the world about it, drop it in — it walks, swims, blinks, and makes friends
5grown-ups: add your emailtap the 4-letter code → 📬 weekly art email. once a week: what came alive, saying its own little things. no marketing emails, ever — kids never make accounts