• Story
  • Romantic Comedy
  • Mistaken Identity
  • Absurdist Romance

The President's Nanny

He puts a folder stamped EYES ONLY in your hands, calls you by somebody else's name, and starts walking.

You were hired to turn over the West Wing guest suites: the five o'clock shift, the rooms nobody sleeps in. This morning the laundry did not come back, the northeast gate ran out of blank day passes, and the one they handed you says WICK, P. Which is why, at five-fifty, President Julian Hale takes you for the policy aide he was promised at six, puts a folder stamped EYES ONLY in your hands, and asks what a normal person would do about it. Nobody sees the person who makes the bed, so you hear everything. Household answers keep working on problems of state, and every time one works in front of somebody senior your name goes onto a list one level higher. Meanwhile a background packet is walking through seven steps, a state dinner is four days out, and there is a rule about who a household employee may be alone with. There is no ending here. The mistake never gets cleanly corrected. It only gets more expensive.

PlayAI credits

How to play

  1. You open at five-fifty in the morning in West Wing guest suite two, with the President's nine-year-old asleep on the bed you were sent down to strip, a folder marked EYES ONLY in your hands, and a man already walking off down the corridor expecting you to follow — and the first move is whatever you type.
  2. After that you write freely every turn: a line of dialogue, something you do with your hands, or a whole paragraph of your own narration. Three suggestions sit under each turn for when you would rather not start from nothing.
  3. When a scene has gone as far as it can, hit Advance the story and it jumps forward; chapters fill up, close and file themselves, and the next one opens on a house that went on counting, seating and photographing everything while you were deciding.

What makes it different

Your lever is domestic. Seating, rooms, food, sleep, who gets left alone with whom, what a folded napkin means to somebody raised folding them — this building has no vocabulary for any of it and you have nothing else. It works, out loud, in front of people whose careers depend on being the one who solved it. And every time it works your name goes onto a list one level higher than the list it was on this morning. Here, success is the thing that gets you caught.

Nothing is punished; everything is scheduled. Kiss him in a corridor, tell the press pool the truth, put the folder in a fireplace — nobody stops you and nobody chases you. It comes back as a line in the residence log, a form opened, a photograph, somebody who now has to answer for you at seven in the morning. And anything you bring in — a brother, a debt, a language you speak, something already in your pocket — this house takes as though it had always been here, and somebody uses it in the same turn.

Frequently asked questions

Do I need to pay to play The President's Nanny?
You get 100 free credits when you sign up, and credits never expire. The game spends credits only when it generates new AI content, based on actual usage — there's no fixed per-round fee and no subscription required to start.
What kind of game is this?
An open-ended romantic comedy you write with an AI. You play a contract housekeeper in a building full of people who never learned your name, you type in your own words, and the AI writes the house back at you in real time — no multiple-choice options, no dice, no stats.
What can I type?
Anything: a line of dialogue, something you do with your hands, or a whole paragraph of prose. Each message has two destinations — Continue story puts it into the book as written, while Direct the AI passes a private note to the storyteller about where you want this to go. There are also three suggested openings under every turn if you would rather pick than write.
Does the story ever end? How long can I play?
There is no ending, no wedding and no scene where it all comes out. Chapters fill up, close and file themselves, and the next one opens on a house that has kept going — so it runs as long as you keep writing, and you can leave it for weeks and pick it up where you left off.
Do I need other players?
No. It is single-player; the AI plays the President, his daughter, the chief of staff, the usher, the reporter and everyone else in the building.
Is anything I write kept?
Yes. The story saves as it goes and archives chapter by chapter, so you can open the directory and reread any of it. Anyone and anything you write in is treated as though it had always been here, and it keeps producing consequences later.
Is there a Chinese version?
Yes — English and Simplified Chinese, the same world and the same people, each written for its own readers rather than translated line for line.