https://verse.works/series/polypaths-by-aluan-wang

Polypaths is an interactive playground born from this wave: by simply dragging lines and dropping dots, you can conjure forests, vines, rock piles, and even trippy glitch-lands. Below are four practical tips that show how to trigger Polypaths’ secret modes and add new layers of surprise to your work.

Once you open the Polypaths canvas, you’ll see a grid and two basic elements to play with: Dots and Lines. The tips below assume you already know how to draw lines and place dots with your mouse or stylus.

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Tip 01 – Forest Mode

• Draw at least 8 straight lines
• Each line must span 15+ grid units

Meet both rules and Polypaths assumes you’re planting a forest: towering trunks and woody blossoms sprout along your long lines, while shorter segments turn into shrubs and saplings. Perfect for instantly growing dense, layered vegetation.

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Tip 02 – Vine Mode

• Draw Draw 7 or more downward lines least 8 straight lines
• Each line’s arrow tilts ≥ 30° from vertical

When Polypaths detects multiple slanted downward lines, it “reads” them as gravity-pulled vines. Once triggered, every line—any length, any direction—morphs into curling stems and leaves, creating a waterfall of greenery.

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Tip 03 – Single-Object Mode

• More than 20 dots on the canvas: activation chance rises
• More than 30 dots: about 80 % of new lines become single objects

“Single objects” are clusters such as rock piles, grass tufts, or wood blocks. The more dots you scatter, the denser the landscape Polypaths predicts. Beyond 30 dots, nearly every fresh line is absorbed into stone, grass, or timber—ideal for quickly populating ground detail or crafting an abandoned, ruin-like scene.

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Tip 04 – Daze Mode

• Draw 6 straight lines
• Add 6 dots—the magic “66” password

Daze Mode is like spiking the canvas’s punch: lines warp, colors pulse neon, and the whole screen slides into a woozy haze. Want a psychedelic twist? Lay out some structure with Tip 01 or 02, then drop the “66” combo to push the scene over the edge.

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Tip 05 – Control Front-Back Layers

• Lower Y → front layer
• Higher Y → back layer

Set the short tree’s start point lower than the tall tree’s, and it will appear in front—depth control done.

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Keyboard Shortcuts

Key	Action
Enter	Download current canvas as a PNG
Space	Download the scene JSON (includes garden DNA)
I	Toggle on-screen DNA readout
G	Export a layered PNG with transparency

URL Flags

Add these to the end of your URL for extra functions:

Flag	What it does
&3d	Makes the garden sway left/right—light breeze effect
&view	Opens the layer-slice viewer (scroll with the mouse)
&debug_1-7	Dev mode; any digit combo (&debug_123, &debug_4567) shows different readouts
&pix_4	Ups the render resolution (higher number = higher res). Default is &pix_2 ≈ 2048 × 2048
&puta	Full developer console—shows every debug panel

Example
https://....hash.....&3d&pix_4
turns on the 3D, and renders at 4× resolution.

In Polypaths, plants don’t grow blindly along predefined routes. They respond to flow and tension—like a traditional East Asian landscape painter who studies the entire scene’s qi (energy flow) and shi (momentum) before making the first brushstroke.

Behind the scenes, the system runs an invisible pre-process: it analyzes whether the drawn path contains a strong downward pull or elongated strokes. If the trajectory feels heavy and sinking, it activates one mode; if the lines expand outward with force and direction, it shifts to another.
This echoes a fundamental principle in classical Chinese painting—not deciding what to draw, but sensing how the energy moves through the composition. It’s about responding to flow, not filling in shapes.

In “Forest Mode,” plants grow taller, denser, and more expressive—like dark ink strokes shaping a mountain. In “Vine Mode,” the main plant is intentionally left bare, its structure serving as scaffolding for vines that will later coil and complete the image. This is the philosophy of using emptiness to reveal form—a central lesson in East Asian aesthetics.

Nothing grows randomly here. Every gesture has intention, breath, and rhythm. And all of it emerges as a programmatic response to the sensed energy in the path.
This is what I strive for—not machines drawing plants, but plants that draw like painters. They read the momentum first, then let form follow intention.

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第六篇 從構圖邏輯到植徑哲學

在《植徑集》裡，植物不只是順著路徑盲目生長。它們會「觀勢而動」——像古代山水畫家一樣，在落筆之前，先閱讀整體的「氣」與「勢」，再決定如何運筆。這個系統的秘密藏在一段你看不到的前置程式：它會統計路徑中是否出現了大量「長線」或「向下」的動態。如果太多筆觸往下垂，就會啟動模式；如果筆勢開展、張力十足，就會進入模式。

這其實就是東方山水畫裡的基本概念——不是先決定要畫什麼，而是看「整體氣場」如何流動。是「順勢寫景」，不是「強行填圖」。森林模式裡，植物會長得更高，筆觸更厚重，像用重墨皴擦山形；藤蔓模式裡，主植物會刻意被留白，只留下骨架，為後續纏繞的藤蔓預留空間。這正是「以虛托實」的佈局哲學，也是東方美學中最重要的一課。

畫面皆不是亂長的，而是有取捨、有呼吸。而這一切，來自程式「讀懂了氣勢」之後，做出的回應。這就是我想做的：不是機器畫植物，而是讓植物像一位書畫家讀勢，而後下筆，成其形，達其意。

I use the z-axis (actually just a value between 0 and 100) to decide which layer each element should appear on.This z-value isn’t for creating 3D depth—it’s simply a sorting tool. It helps me determine: should this stroke appear above or below? That’s all.This structure introduces a sense of layering and depth, but without the forced logic of “near is big, far is small.”It doesn’t imitate real-world perspective. Instead, it preserves an internal order within the image.

Parallel Projection vs. Single-Point Perspective: I Choose a Freer Gaze

In this world, space is no longer determined by distance or scale, but constructed through layered position, broken rhythm, and temporal division.Each plant is a visual unit—independent from any singular viewpoint or focal hierarchy.They’re arranged by position, like stage scenery appearing in sequence.The higher a plant sits on the canvas, the further back it appears in space.This isn’t a simulation of volume—it’s a reconstruction of spatial logic.

I’m not drawing a plant’s space—I’m composing a rhythm for seeing.

This entire layer system isn’t meant to enhance realism, but to allow the image to be composed—to be viewed with a sense of rhythm.The z-axis here doesn’t represent physical depth, but visual logic.I’m not shifting objects closer or farther; I’m giving them entry points and timing—like actors on a stage, each with their own position and cue.

In the end, this is a kind of scattered perspective written in code.You’re not standing outside the image looking in. You’re moving through its structure—feeling the rise and fall, the rhythm of growth.It’s not a window. It’s a scroll.

A picture to be read, to be roamed.The algorithm isn’t designed to generate realistic plants—It’s designed to construct a fragmented, sliced spatial structure, and to reassemble the world through layered composition.

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第五篇｜切片化佈局與沒有消失點的世界

我用 z 軸（其實只是 0 到 100 的範圍）來簡單決定它們該出現在哪個圖層上。這個 z 值不是為了創造3D，而是一種排序工具：它只是幫我判斷「這筆應該在上層？還是底層？」，就這樣而已。
這樣的設計，讓整個畫面看起來有前後關係，但不會有「近大遠小」的強迫感。它不模仿現實世界的透視法，而是維持一種「畫面內部的秩序」。

平行投影 vs 單點透視：我選擇讓視線自由

這裡的空間，不再由遠近或比例來決定，而是透過位置的疊壓、節奏的斷裂、時間的分層來構成。每一株植物都是一個視覺單元，不從屬於單一視角，也不服從焦點。它們被依位置編排，如舞台佈景般依序出現。畫面越高的植物，視覺上就越後。這不是立體的模擬，而是空間秩序的重組。

我不是在畫植物的空間，而是在編排一套觀看的節奏

這整套圖層系統，其實不是為了增加真實感，而是為了讓整張畫能被「編排」，能夠被節奏性地觀看。Z 軸在這裡不是物理距離，而是視覺邏輯。我不是讓物體遠近變化，而是讓它們有秩序地出場。這就像一場劇，一筆一筆都有自己的站位與時機。

總結來說，這是一種用程式語言寫出來的「散點透視」。你不是站在畫面外，而是走進這個圖層結構中，看見植物的起伏與韻律。它不是一扇窗戶，而是一卷畫。可以被閱讀的、可以被遊走的畫。

演算法不是為了生成真實的植物，

而是為了建構一種被切片、被斷裂的空間結構，再以圖層堆疊重組出一個新的世界。

Logic sometimes makes monsters.

I always remember The Mist, that old film.The monsters didn’t come from distant galaxies — they emerged from the fog: familiar, blurred, unpredictable.That image stuck with me: fear itself isn’t terrifying, but once you realize rules can collapse, anything becomes possible.
In PolyPaths, most plants are born within a stable system:node density, leaf pattern logic, branch length, color distribution—together they form a predictable world.But I always embed a glitch, a mutation, a logical detour—like this line of code:

let number=random(0, 1) > 0.1 ? random(2, 5) : random(10, 20);

90% of plants grow 2 to 5 branches.But in that rare 10%, some explode with 10–20 offshoots.They flicker out of the algorithm like monsters in the mist—familiar yet unexplainable.I call them miracle effects: aesthetic ruptures born from logical anomalies.They’re not bugs. They’re seeds of surprise.
Rarity is rhythm

This isn’t randomness for randomness’s sake.It’s narrative by probability—plotlines buried in numbers.Some vines only appear on sparse plants. Some flowers randomly grow oversized, like corrupted signals or memories gone wild.At the highest points, you might find clusters of whorled leaves or a burst of impossible blooms.Each one is a system-approved anomaly, not a mistake.
Not symmetry—rhythm

Since Chaos Research, I’ve asked: what if generative art doesn’t simulate nature, but simulates the unexpected rhythms within it?Rhythm isn’t repetition—it’s the shock of exception.
You think everything’s following the rules… then a plant mutates.It flips, it flares, it blooms too much or in the wrong place.It might be nothing.Or it might be a story.

There’s a phrase I love:Logic sometimes makes monsters.The more stable your forest of logic, the more room you make for that one impossible plant.The monster in the mist doesn’t always emerge from chaos—it can be born from order itself.My role isn’t to control it. Just to leave a door open for it to appear.

Will it show up?
I don’t know.
But I always leave it the chance.

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第四篇｜常態中的奇觀：霧裡的怪獸

Logic sometimes makes monsters.

我一直記得那部電影，《迷霧驚魂》。
怪獸並不來自遙遠星域，而是從迷霧中浮現——熟悉、模糊，又無法預測。這樣的想像在我童年裡留下一個印記：恐懼本身沒什麼，但如果你知道「規則會崩潰」，那就什麼都有可能發生。

在《植徑集》裡，大多數植物都在一套穩定的秩序中誕生。節點密度、葉序邏輯、色彩分佈、枝條長度……這些「常態」構成了一個可以被預期的世界觀。但我總會在某些地方埋下一個分岔，一個錯位，一個不合理的邏輯岔路，例如像這樣的程式碼：

let number=random(0, 1) > 0.1 ? random(2, 5) : random(10, 20);

90% 的植物只會長出 2 到 5 枝，但那 10% 裡，有些會突然爆出 10 到 20個分枝，像霧中閃現的怪獸，既熟悉，又無法解釋。我稱它們為奇蹟效應，也是一種邏輯異變的美學。這些不是錯誤，而是伏筆。因為你永遠無法只靠預期，捕捉真正的生命感。

稀有性，是一種節奏設計

這不是單純的隨機。這是機率敘事，是數據裡的情節安排。有些藤蔓，只在幾乎無分岔的細小植物上生成，它們不是主角，而是某種附生的延伸。有些花朵，會在極低機率下異常放大，像是一個失控的訊號，或一場突變的記憶。有時植物的最高點，會是一叢特殊的莖頂，也許是燦爛的花朵，更大的機會是叢生或輪生葉。這些看似偶然的生成結果，都是被系統允許的「怪物」。我只是把這些機率放進去，剩下的，交給時間、演算與觀看者的選擇。

不是平均，而是節奏

從 Chaos Research 開始，我就在思考：生成不是為了還原自然，而是為了設計一種「非預期的節奏」。這節奏，不來自對稱與重複，反而來自偶爾發生的錯亂與爆發。你以為一切都在軌道上，下一秒卻有一株植物失控生長、突然翻轉、突變。它可能什麼都不是，但就是比其他植物更像「一段劇情」。這讓我想到一句話：

Logic sometimes makes monsters.

越是穩定的邏輯，越能容納極端的例外。當你建立了一整座森林的秩序，那株奇異的植物，才有可能出現。霧裡的怪獸不一定來自混沌，它也可能是秩序自己長出來的異形。我做的，不是控制它出現，而是留下一個可以讓它現身的機率口。

它會不會出現？我不知道。但我永遠給它一個發生的機會。

In PolyPaths, there is a kind of plant that doesn’t grow from itself.It doesn’t establish a trunk, nor seek its own direction.Instead, it spirals upward, gently clinging to the remembered path of a previous plant.These are the vines.They are born only under rare and specific conditions—through a narrow and exacting gate.The system dictates: only when a plant is nearly branchless, structurally minimal, and physically slender,its original identity is quietly erased.At that moment, the system relinquishes its typical growth logic, and generates a parasitic, winding replica.

This vine does not grow on its own initiative.Instead, it humbly reads the recorded path left behind by another plant (globalHighestPoint.path).Here, the aesthetic of the algorithm comes alive:spirals are drawn through trigonometric functions (sin, cos), then softened with a layer of Perlin noise,giving this mathematically precise form a fragile, trembling kind of life.

As it follows the memory, the vine sometimes appears in front, sometimes behind.This isn’t visual randomness, but a deliberate spatial logic:the program checks the Z-coordinate of each point, layering back-facing segments beneath, and front-facing ones on top.This creates a sense of weaving—an illusion of passing through and wrapping around.The vine embraces what is not its own, and becomes one with it.

I love this logic.It echoes the essence of polypaths: a plant that doesn’t decide its own way, but reinterprets someone else’s.Not all plants must stand alone—some emerge as responses, not beginnings.Each growth can extend a previous node, echo a former branch.What you’ve passed through doesn’t vanish.What you leave behind will, someday, be entwined.

I love this logic.It echoes the essence of polypaths: a plant that doesn’t decide its own way, but reinterprets someone else’s.Not all plants must stand alone—some emerge as responses, not beginnings.Each growth can extend a previous node, echo a former branch.What you’ve passed through doesn’t vanish.What you leave behind will, someday, be entwined.

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在《植徑集》裡，有一種植物不從自身出發。它不建立主幹、不尋找自己的方向，而是沿著前一棵植物的記憶路徑，螺旋向上，緩緩攀附——他們是藤蔓。這些藤蔓，只在極少數的條件下誕生，是一道極其嚴苛的窄門。系統的規則寫著：只有當一棵植物被命定為 幾乎不分岔 、結構足夠簡單，且體態纖細，那份屬於它自己的主體性才會被抹除。此刻，系統會放棄它本來的結構，轉而生成一個纏繞的、寄生的副本。

它不主動生長，而是謙卑地「讀取」上一棵植物留下的路徑數據 (globalHighestPoint.path)。演算法的美感在此刻展現：程式以三角函式 (sin, cos) 描繪出工整的螺旋軌跡，再疊加一層 Perlin 噪聲 (noise)，賦予了這數學般精準的纏繞一絲有機的、顫抖的生命力。

藤蔓沿著記憶的路徑，時而在前，時而在後。這並非視覺上的偶然，而是程式對三維空間的冷靜判斷：它檢查著每個點位的 Z 軸座標，將位於後方的片段繪製於下層圖層，前方的則繪於上層。於是，藤蔓實現了視覺上的「穿梭」，它擁抱、纏繞，最終與那段不屬於它的枝幹融為一體。

我很喜歡這個邏輯，跟polypaths 有種呼應：一株植物寄生在前一株植物的記憶裡，不重新決定方向，而是重新詮釋方向。未必都是一棵棵獨立的植物，而是一條條交錯的路徑。每一次生成，都可能延續前一次的節點、呼應上一次的分岔。

你走過的，不會消失；你留下的，終將被纏繞。

In PolyPaths, leaves don’t sprout immediately from the base or stem.

Much like in the natural world, many plants first lift their bodies upward before unfolding their foliage.

To echo this, the system delays the appearance of leaves, letting the growth process breathe — with tension and rhythm that feel more organic, more alive.

Behind the scenes, a parameter called ProgressStart controls this delay.

Each plant sets its own threshold, typically between 10% to 40% of its growth progress.

Only after reaching this benchmark do leaves begin to appear.

You can think of it as a kind of ecological strategy:

“Make sure I can survive, then invest in leaf surface.”

It’s also a form of visual restraint, allowing the structure of the plant to emerge with clarity and intention.

That’s why in many scenes, the lower segments of the stems are clean and sparse,

while leaves, flowers, and fruits cluster toward the middle or top.

This subtly guides the viewer’s gaze upward —

as if drawn by the plant’s will, inviting us to witness where it truly wishes to flourish.

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Leaf Arrangements: Poetic Logic at the Node

When a leaf is finally ready to grow, its pattern follows one of three poetic grammars of botany:

Opposite, Alternate, or Whorled.

• Opposite: Two leaves emerge symmetrically from the same node, like a pair of wings. The system places them at mirrored angles — 0.5 and PI-0.5 radians — relative to the branch.
• Alternate: Leaves zigzag along the stem, one at a time, switching sides. A variable called alternateCount toggles the direction with each new leaf.
• Whorled: Multiple leaves (usually 3–4) explode from a single node, arranged evenly in a circle. This uses a WhorledCount to divide the circumference and assign leaf angles.

Each plant randomly selects one of these patterns at birth,

but exceptions occur — especially near the branch tip, where whorled mode often kicks in.

This creates a visual accent, a kind of natural punctuation.

I’ve used this trick in previous works too, like Chaos Research, where Perlin noise surges near the path’s end — a kind of expressive burst, like the dry-brush flick of ink or an intentional splash.

I love that moment — when structure releases into spontaneity.

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The Tip Holds a Secret

When growth reaches over 90%, a condition called progressFinalCheck is triggered.

At that moment, the system initiates a special growth logic for the apical tip of the stem.

Often, this results in a burst of whorled leaves (WhorledCount = 3) at the very top.

It’s less about realism, more a declaration:

“This is the plant’s highest reach toward the sun.”

If specialPlantMode is enabled, even more dramatic endings may occur.

For example, in SP2 — the “Rhododendron oldhamii mode” — a vivid cluster of green leaves appears at the top, signaling its botanical identity.

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From Chaos Research to PolyPaths, I’ve been honing this choreography of hesitation and emergence.

Leaves never rush in.

一枝未語葉先知

就像自然界中許多植物會先「拉高身體」再展開葉子，

這套系統也刻意延遲葉片的生成時機，

讓生長過程呈現出更接近真實植物的節奏與張力。

在程式邏輯中，我設定了一個葉片的生成的啟動門檻：

變數為 ProgressStart，意思是生長進度需達到一定百分比之後，葉子才會開始長出來。

這個百分比大多落在 10% 到 40% 之間，隨每棵植物隨機設定。

你可以想像它是「植物先確認自己能活下來，才決定投資葉面」，

這除了擬真生態的策略，更是視覺上的留白，讓植物的結構有種秩序。

也因此你會發現，很多畫面中，枝條下段常常是乾淨、單純的線條，

葉子、果實與花多集中在中後段，這讓觀看者的視線會不自覺向上移動，

像是被某種「植物的意志」引導著，去尋找它真正想開展的地方。

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三種葉序：節點上的分身術

當葉子開始生成，它們會依照隨機指定的葉序邏輯展開。

這三種葉序——對生、互生與輪生，是植物語言裡非常基本卻富詩意的句型。

• 對生 Opposite 每節生長點同時長出兩片葉子，左右對稱，像一對開口的翅膀。 系統會在相對的兩個方向各生成一片葉子，以 0.5 與 PI-0.5 的角度對稱配置。
• 互生 Alternate 葉子在枝條上交錯生成，一次一片、左右輪替。 程式透過一個名為 alternateCount 的變數，在每次呼叫間切換方向。
  
• 輪生 Whorled 是一種在同一節點上爆發出三至四片葉片的陣列式排列。 程式會根據隨機設定的 WhorledCount，將葉子平均分布在圓周上。

每棵植物在初始化時，會隨機被指派其中一種葉序，

但這並非絕對，有些特例條件下，葉序也可能被強制覆寫，

例如在枝條的末端，就常常會進入「輪生」模式——這是一種視覺上的重音，也是一種自然收束。

我在過往作品還常使用這個技巧，例如chaos research，perlin noise 的力道，會在路徑的結尾處大爆發，這也像是水墨的筆觸的刷白，或是潑濺，我很喜歡的技巧。

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莖頂的秘密：最後一節，總是特別

當生長進度超過 90%，系統會觸發名為 progressFinalCheck 的條件，

啟動一套為莖頂設計的特殊生成邏輯。

最常見的情況，是在莖頂生成一簇輪生葉（WhorledCount = 3），

這種爆發式的結語，未必仿真，更像是在說：「這裡是植物吸收陽光的置高點。」。如果啟動特殊模式（specialPlantMode），莖頂則可能生成更具戲劇性的構造。在SP2也就是紅茄苳模式下，會長出一叢綠葉。

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從 Chaos Research 到《植徑集》，我不斷練習這種節點上的判斷。葉子從不倉促地現身，它們等待適合的時機，然後，在對的位置，用驕傲的姿態說出自己的語言、邏輯。

In PolyPaths, every image is more than just decoration — each frame serves a structural purpose. Much like traditional scientific illustration, you’ll often find small, almost invisible notches, symbols, or densities of linework in the corners — subtle cues meant to guide the eye and decode the work.

The layouts and frames in this series draw inspiration from my personal collection of botanical encyclopedias and museum specimen sheets. These references don’t just depict plants; they convey a measured world — proportions, annotations, specimen labels — all signaling: this is not merely an image, it is a system that has been observed, quantified, and archived.

That’s why each scene in PolyPaths follows its own visual syntax. Circular, rectangular, or elongated — each ratio has a corresponding type of framing. The outermost ring, often lined with fine notches, acts both as a loading bar during animation rendering and as a subtle indicator of plant count. In circular formats, these marks resemble the hour divisions of a clock.

You might ask: why include these at all?

Well, beyond helping me debug the number of plants on screen (yes, I’ve lost count in my own overgrown simulations), they offer an alternative rhythm of looking. When a scene gets dense and chaotic, these tiny markers become anchors — a way to count, navigate, and reorient.

And once you start noticing them, a new layer of viewing opens up. Perhaps this is where my deepest artistic inquiry lies: embedding hidden measurements and coordinates beneath the surface of organic growth, where the viewer, unknowingly, becomes the surveyor — part observer, part participant, part archivist.


隱藏在畫面裡的尺標

在《植徑集》裡，任何畫面都不只是裝飾，它們都被賦予了結構性的用途。就像傳統的科學繪圖，往往會在角落留下看似不起眼的刻度、符號與筆觸密度，它們其實是引導觀看、解構作品的一種方式。

這一系列作品採用了多種 layout 與外框設計，靈感來自我長期蒐集的植物圖鑑與博物館標本照。這些圖鑑不僅強調植物樣貌本身，也透過比例、標示、標本紙的格式與說明欄位，傳遞「這不是圖像，而是一個被測量過的世界」。

因此，《植徑集》的每一幀畫面，也都對應一套視覺語法：

圓形、方形、長幅，根據不同比例會出現不同的標示框。最外圈的那一圈微小刻線，既是動畫生成時的 loading bar，也是隱性地標示這群植物的數量。這些刻線，在圓形的外框中，形成類似時鐘的節點。

你可能會問：為什麼要加這些？

其實除了 debug 系統中植物數量的功能（沒錯，我也曾被自己畫面裡爆炸的植叢搞到數不清），它還提供了另一種觀看的節奏與方法——當畫面變得複雜、不易辨識時，這些刻線就成為計數與定位的依據。

而當你開始注意這些細節，也就打開了另一種觀看模式，也許這就是我創作時最深刻探勘，

讓「自然生長」的背後，藏著一套嚴密的尺規與座標，

而觀眾，在不知不覺中也成為測量者、參與者、紀錄者。

Lately, I’ve been hearing the word “Agent” more and more. People often ask me, “Can AI truly become an agent — someone who acts on your behalf?”

As someone who’s spent years working with generative tools, I still have my doubts. The truth is, none of the tools we use today can be called true agents. Sure, they can complete tasks — summarize notes, check your schedule, send emails — but they can’t decide for you. They don’t understand you.

The agent I envision is something else entirely. You’d tell it, “You’re my scheduling assistant,” and from then on, it would handle everything: resolving conflicts, suggesting reschedules, even talking to others on your behalf. You wouldn’t need to micromanage it — it would act in your spirit, guided by principles you set.

Right now, no AI system is truly wired that way. No one has connected all the necessary pieces into a working whole.

So in the meantime, I’m working on something else: training the future agent by feeding it myself.

My tone. My preferences. My decision patterns. The hashtags I use, the platforms I post on, the way I think. All of it. Because if we want AI to someday become us — or at least resemble us closely — we need to start giving it the right input now.

Many people talk about SEO, and honestly, training an AI isn’t so different. You’re leaving signals — breadcrumbs for the machine. Platforms like GitHub, Twitter, Medium, and personal websites are the places models can most easily learn who you are. Meanwhile, Facebook and Instagram are mostly closed off to major LLMs. So where you post matters.

In short, you’re not just creating content — you’re shaping which future AI gets to know you.

That’s why I believe: if we ever want to build our own Agent, the time to start feeding it is now. Strategically, consistently, maybe even a bit obsessively.

In nature, every plant emerges like a finely tuned set of parameters in motion.Phyllotaxy may present as opposite, alternate, or whorled; internode length adjusts with light; leaf margins vary between entire, serrated, or undulate.The angles of branching and the density of nodes together compose the posture and rhythm of a plant’s body.
These seemingly incidental traits are in fact the product of a deep and intricate logic—one shaped by time, adaptation, and systemic interaction.

To me, nature is the earliest and most profound generative artist.
Generative art, in this sense, becomes a way of reading its original language.Polypaths is a system I have cultivated since 2023.
In truth, its foundations were laid even before Equinox was completed.
It does not aim to imitate plants, but to understand them—
to explore how they branch, how they negotiate limits,
and how they thrive in the tension between order and chaos.

Each version of the work begins with the same initial conditions,
yet diverges through subtle shifts to form an outcome that is entirely unique.
This uncertainty is not mere randomness, but a structured openness—
a reverent acknowledgment of the world’s inherent multiplicity.

In programming, a “fork” refers to version control—
a split in the timeline where new possibilities emerge.
In life, a fork is a decision, a turning point, the shape of a fate.
And in Polypaths, it becomes the aesthetic core:
Each of us is shaped through countless bifurcations,
continuously generated by the choices we make.