When truth shifts,
Totem listens.
We didn’t set out to build a device. We set out to measure something we weren’t even sure could be measured. The first sketch of the Totem was made on a cold January morning, just as Donald Trump was about to be sworn in for a second term. The news was already noisy.
The facts were already fractured. But something in the air shifted — a sense that the signal-to-noise ratio was about to collapse entirely. Suddenly, truth wasn’t just under pressure—it was up for grabs. It felt like we were entering a new era—one where fake news wasn't just a term but a tactic, where confidence was more convincing than accuracy, and where the volume of information overwhelmed its value.
What does truth even feel like anymore?
And more importantly — could we design something that registers it? Not in binary terms but as an ambient presence. A pressure. A pattern. We weren’t interested in policing the truth. We were more interested in tracking it — mapping its moods, sensing its surges, spotting when the atmosphere gets murky.
What if we could measure truth like we measure the weather?
This became our starting point:
Track it. Visualise it. Maybe even forecast it.
That was the spark. We began sketching a device — something ambient, a little odd, and oddly calming. A barometer for bullshit. Not an app. Not a dashboard. More like a presence. Something that tunes into the information climate and lets you know when the atmosphere shifts.
Think. Sketch. Make. Build
We didn’t want to build another screen. We wanted to build a signal.
So we turned to instruments — things that listen more than shout. Barometers. Synth dials. Flip clocks. Print mechanisms. Tools built to register invisible forces and quietly translate them into something you can see and feel.
We set a few ground rules:
No screens. The world is full of them. The Totem had to be tactile — physical.
No binaries. Truth isn’t on/off. It has texture. Pressure. Scale. We wanted to show its gradients.
No single story. The Totem reads the climate, not just the headlines. It maps patterns, not verdicts.
The result was a modular system — part interface, part sculpture — with four main components:
Introducing Totem
Not just a device. A system
A system made up of three heads, each tuned to a different part of the spectrum:
—One that visualises the monthly patterns of truth and distortion
—One that alerts us to incoming waves of deception
—One that shields us from manipulative pressure
Together, they form a kind of barometer for the post-truth era. A calm, quietly expressive instrument for a time of escalating noise
T00:
The control centre. The dashboard. The tuning interface.
This is where everything begins — the body of the Totem.
T00 doesn’t just hold the system together; it sets the tone.
It contains four key controls:
Political Spectrum — a slider that shows how narrative tone shifts across ideological lines.
Topic Tuner — lets users rotate their focus across different domains–from culture and science, to economics and politics.
Scale Tuner — allows you to zoom in on local whispers or out to global patterns.
Truth Equaliser — a set of five sliders that break a lie down into its component parts:
→ Fudge, Impact, Bluff, Effort, Size (F.I.B.E.S.)
T00 doesn’t give answers. It helps you make sense of the noise.
Truth Equaliser
A set of five sliders that break a lie down into its component parts. The Truth Equaliser came from a frustration: the word “lie” is too blunt. Too binary. Too… human. We needed more precision. More language. So we built a system that breaks a lie down into its parts — using a set of five adjustable sliders:
Fudge — Subtle distortion or soft bending of the truth.
Impact — Who gets hurt, and how badly.
Bluff — Confidence used to mask the absence of evidence.
Effort — How elaborate, rehearsed, or constructed the lie is.
Size — The overall scale and reach of the deception.
The Topic Tuner
Let’s you rotate between topics–culture, economics, politics and science because what passes as fact in one world by might be fiction in another.
The Scale Tuner
Helps you zoom in or out. From local whispers or out to global patterns. Because the scale of a story changes the shape of its truth.
The Political Spectrum
A slider that shows how narrative tone shifts across ideological lines. It reveals how stories are shaped not just by facts, but by framing.
T01:
The seer. The archivist. The Big Chief.
T01 draws on the role of a tribal elder — someone who sees the bigger picture, holds collective memory, and keeps the signal strong. Its head houses a compact print system that produces daily outputs — circular, map-like prints of the truth atmosphere.
Calm months print light. Chaotic months grow dense and stormy. Each disc becomes a visual record of how truth flowed — or faltered.
T01 doesn’t shout. It shows.
Turn on, tune in, print out.
TO1 records what it sees. Literally. Truthfully. Each day, the Big Chief prints a slow, radial accumulation of atmosphere. The disc becomes a monthly map. Light and open in moments of clarity. Dense and erratic in periods of distortion.
Part weather chart, part-time capsule–the print-out captures the mood of the month, etched in ink.
The Face of Truth.
At At the centre of T01 is the Truthometer — a facial-like interface that balances three key forces:
Veritas — The presence of clarity, evidence, and balance.
Mendax — The presence of deception, distortion, or strategic omission.
Stability Index — A central gauge that reflects how volatile the informational atmosphere is.
Rather than declaring what’s real, the Truthometer visualises the pressure system between these forces.
A shifting face, tuned to the climate of trust.
He Who Watches, Knows
T01 doesn’t alert. It observes.
It watches for patterns — not outliers.
Trends in tone. Repetitions in language. The slow creep of narrative shifts. It doesn’t blink. It doesn’t log off.
It simply sees what others miss — and records it.
The Visualiser is the Totem’s calmest voice.
And also, maybe, its sharpest.
T02:
The listener. The protector. The bear.
T02 channels the spirit of a guardian — constantly listening with ears pricked, monitoring incoming noise. When it detects distortion, it reacts fast.
A flip-clock display categorises the lie: Whopper. Porky Pie. Fib. Each one helps you gauge the scale and intent of what’s being said.
This isn’t a panic alarm. It’s a pulse. Your quiet inner ear for the post-truth age.
Bare Instincts
In Native American traditions the bear is a figure of protection, strength and stability.
It represents grounding. Its the backbone of the totem. The one who holds steady while others rise. TO2 takes the same stance. Its form is broad and unforgiving. Built to defend. Like its totemic inspiration, it doesn’t chase threats. It waits. Listens. And moves with purpose.
Ready to flip. Always listening.
TO2 operates on instinct. It listens. Constantly, quietly and relentlessly. Tuned into the airways, it sifts through the noise–picking up porky-pies, tall stories and headline grabbing whoppers. It doesn’t respond to everything. Only when it knows. That’s when the flip kicks in. A reassuring mechanical snap, flipping to the category of the lie detected: Fabrication, Falsehood, White lie or Whopper.
There’s no panic. Just a focused, physical cue–calibrated for precision.
Turn on, tune in, print out.
TO1 records what it sees. Literally. Truthfully. Each day, the Big Chief prints a slow, radial accumulation of atmosphere. The disc becomes a monthly map. Light and open in moments of clarity. Dense and erratic in periods of distortion. Part weather chart, part-time capsule–the print-out captures the mood of the month, etched in ink.
T03:
The sentinel. The filter. The owl.
T03 scans incoming content and redacts known falsehoods before they hit your feed.
It doesn’t scream or block — it simply replaces the noise with space.
Sometimes a placeholder. Sometimes a soft warning. Always protecting.
Like skin, it works quietly in the background — shielding you from harm without asking for thanks.
It syncs with an app to filter headlines, visuals, even posts — an Authenticity Shield for the everyday scroll.
Seeing through the noise
TO3 doesn’t blink. It eyes are in constant rotation– like twin radars sweeping your feed. the left eye scans for the scope, topic and political lean of the story. The right eye is locked on F.I.B.E.S.–tracking the units of all the fabrications.
A full-field scan of what’s coming in–before it reaches your feed.
Form follows spirit
Inspired by the owl’s role in tribal totem poles–not just a watcher but a spiritual guide during moments of change. It’s raised wings and wide-set eyes suggest readiness.
Although static, it doesn't sit still. It hovers. It watches from above. Keeping eye on things when you need it most.
Noise, Quantified.
See What Was Filtered. Learn What It Means.
The T03 app doesn’t just shield — it shows.
Each redaction, alert, and intervention is logged, analysed, and visualised.
From weekly redaction counts to bias trends and F.I.B.E.S. breakdowns, it gives you a data-driven picture of what your feed could have been — and what it was saved from.
It doesn’t nudge. It doesn’t judge.
It simply holds up a mirror to the atmosphere around you — so you can understand the noise, not just avoid it.
This is insight as protection.
A record of distortion, shaped into something you can act on.
We didn’t make Totem to solve misinformation.
That would be naïve — and probably a little arrogant.
What we made instead was a kind of mirror. Not one that shows you, but one that shows the atmosphere around you — the emotional climate of information we live inside. The things we absorb without noticing. The slow drift in what feels normal.
Because truth isn’t just a matter of facts — it’s about attention, framing, pressure. And we wanted to design something that helps people see those forces at play. To pause. To tune in. To adjust.
Some people have asked us if the Totem is a product. Others see it as an artwork.
Some say it feels like a provocation, a warning, a data visualisation tool, a conversation starter. The honest answer is: it’s a bit of all of those.
It’s part instrument, part sculpture. Part protest, part proposal.
Part attempt to build a language for something that usually stays invisible.
We don’t know where it ends up. Maybe it becomes a working device. Maybe it lives on as an interface, a print, a prompt, a story. But for now, it’s done its job: it’s made people think about truth not as a static thing to have, but as a living thing we all participate in — together, every day.