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.
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。