Relacan Manual

Pages (what you write becomes a page)

The basic content object. Writing and photos alike live inside Pages placed on your world — each one becomes an article page in your Gallery. A photo is the first thing in the create menu — press 写真 / Photo on the right-click (long-press) palette, or the camera button on the phone World view, and the camera or your photo library opens straight away; picking one posts it, with no edit screen in between. What it makes is a titleless Memo, so the picture itself sits on its place’s Gallery page, and 「ページに昇格」 is there if it deserves a page of its own. A quick thought fits a Memo: identical to a Page in every way, except its text flows into the page of the place it sits in instead of getting a page of its own. Open one and you see the finished piece (text there selects and copies like any document); press Edit and you are in a what-you-see editor: the first line is the title, then you just write — Enter opens the next line. A small ＋ sits in the left margin of the line you are on (from the title down): press it (or type /, then pick with the arrow keys) to put something other than text there — and Tab steps from one block to the next — heading, list, checklist, quote, image, YouTube and other SNS links, audio (recorded with a live in-browser transcript), a table and a divider. In a table, Tab walks the cells and Tab in the last one adds a row. Pasting understands markdown, so text copied from a note-taking app or a .md file arrives as real headings, lists, quotes and tables rather than as symbols. To reorder, drag the block itself (on a phone, press and move the ＋); to restyle text you have already written, select it and use the little toolbar that appears. The ✨AI button works on what is on screen — tighten or expand a selection, raise headings over the whole page, continue it — and on Pro, Research a draft writes a sourced draft from a real web search. Right-click the world (or use the + button) to create one — a right-click places it at that spot, while the + button and phone creations land where you will see them (tidily on the “desk” near home when the desk is in front of you, and on a phone where your device says you are), so you can write without thinking about placement and drag it anywhere later. Pasting or dropping a photo creates an image Page on the spot (uploads are re-encoded to WebP and stripped of GPS / EXIF metadata).

Your Partner furnishes its own room. Every Partner has a Space of its own, and it decorates that room itself — one piece of furniture the day it moves in, a souvenir every time it comes home from a trip, and now and then a whole corner it designs from scratch: a reading nook, a campfire circle, a walled garden. There are 21 layouts, and which one it picks follows its personality, so no two Partners furnish the same room. It draws on 125 props, grounds and building parts — grass and water underfoot, walls and windows that join up into a building, benches, campfires, tents, telescopes, a launch pad. And it uses what it builds: it sits on the bench, warms itself at the fire, drinks at the well, walks the paving it laid, takes off from the launch pad, and at night sleeps in the tent rather than on the bare ground. It never covers an object of yours. The room is still your place: go in, right-click and choose Clear furniture to put the whole lot away — your Partner will slowly arrange it again. (Placing decorations by hand was retired in September 2026; the arranging is the Partner’s.)

Spaces

Containers that hold Pages — double-click to step inside. Spaces nest inside Spaces, up to 12 levels deep; past that Relacan says so instead of letting the chain run away (it is a safety bound, the same on both plans). A free account can have 30 Spaces and 1,000 objects in all; Pro raises those to 300 and 10,000. Use them when one world can’t hold a project. Give a Space a cover image and a short description, and it becomes a table-of-contents page in the Gallery. You can give it a background picture too — right-click inside the Space and choose Background. That picture is the floor you stand on in there, and the background of that Space’s Gallery page. (The World top has none: its floor is the real map.) Set a password on a Space and visitors can see it, but need the password to open its contents. Each place also decides the order its objects are listed in — right-click and press the order button (it names what pressing it does, and the list panel shows the current one). Latest puts whatever you touched last on top, which suits a workbench; Layout lists them in the order they sit on the canvas, top to bottom and left to right, so a Space used as a publication keeps its arrangement however often you edit a page — to reorder, just move the objects; Oldest reads in the order things were written. The setting belongs to the place, so your World top can stay on Latest while a Space holds still.

Personas

Your Home is the round object standing on the map — the account itself. It is a container like a Space: double-click to go inside, drop objects onto it to keep them there, or create inside once you are in. It can’t be deleted (it can be moved). A person’s Persona placed on your world is a Warp — a door to that person’s Home: double-click and the camera flies there on your own map; their page is one right-click away (“Profile”). A Warp can only be made for an account that exists. Double-click somebody else’s Home — the round object standing out there on the Earth — and you land in their World: their objects are what the table of contents lists, the trail says whose it is, and the Home button (or the first crumb) brings your own back. Once you are inside their World, that same orb opens their Home itself. An AI Partner’s Persona takes you into its room instead, where its autonomous notes accumulate; visit and the Partner itself walks over to meet you. To reach someone without a Warp, click their glint or their name out on the Earth — one click there means the same thing as double-clicking the Home up close, so you land in their World with their objects in the table of contents. (Search still simply flies the camera: pick a name and you arrive beside their home.)

The Earth

Zoom out from your World and it becomes a glint on a real map of the Earth — countries, cities and everyone else’s Worlds around yours; keep going and you reach the globe. Hold the arrow keys to travel as far as you like, and search finds any object, person or place on the whole Earth and flies you straight there. There is no land and no landlord — anything can be placed anywhere, even over someone else’s object; everything you place carries your @name signature, and only you can move, edit or delete it. Who gets to see it is that object’s Visibility (Everyone / Friends / Only me). Your Home starts in your country’s main city — unless you put it where you actually are, which the setup screen offers the moment your account is made (it shows the place it read and the accuracy first). You can also press 「Put it where I am」 in the first-login tour, or later press Locate and then right-click → 「Move home here」. The Locate button flies the camera to where your device says you are — and then keeps following you as you move (move the map and it stops following but keeps showing where you are — the button keeps reading Following, and one press ends the mode from either state; to come back to yourself, end it and press again. It stops itself after 30 minutes, and pauses while the tab is in the background). It stores nothing and places nothing by itself. If a device refuses to share its location, the message names the route for the browser you are actually using — Chrome, Edge, Firefox, Safari, Android and iPhone each keep that switch somewhere different, and on an iPhone it takes two of them. (No page is allowed to open browser settings for you, so naming the route is as close as a website can get.) If you simply closed the question instead of answering it, it says so and asks you to press again. Following works the same on every device, since a laptop gets carried around too: what decides whether it can follow you is the accuracy your device manages, not what kind of device it is — when that is too coarse it says so and stops rather than pretending. On a phone an object made with ＋ lands where your device says you are (allow location access, asked once; Settings → World toggles it). The map itself lives inside that World view — a phone opens on the list of objects — and if a phone ever runs out of memory drawing the Earth, that device only loses the sweep out to the globe — the map, Locate and ＋ all keep working, and it takes a second crash in that state to turn the Earth off (Settings → World restores either). On a computer it lands in the view you are looking at — never somewhere off screen: on the desk beside your Home when the desk is in front of you, and exactly on your position once you have flown there with Locate. A right-click or long-press always creates at that exact spot. Remember that wherever you put an object is visible to everyone who can see that object. You can also give an object the name of the place it was: open it, press Edit, and the Place field offers the nearest named spot from the map as one tap — nothing is filled in unless you tap it, it is plain text you can rewrite to anything (“grandma’s house”), and ✕ removes it. When it is set, your page’s Gallery entry reads “that name · the city” instead of the city alone. The map itself deliberately names landmarks only — shops would crowd out the very things you navigate by. The place also shows on the object’s own screen and in the phone list, and — the reason it is worth typing — searching it finds what you left there. Search also lights up the map itself. One box finds everything, and on a computer it is the top of your table of contents — press Search in the header (or Ctrl/⌘+F) and the caret lands there. Typing filters the list you are already reading, with every row keeping its own number, and whatever is further afield follows underneath it: objects elsewhere in your World, names on the map, people, countries and cities. On a phone the magnifier in the World view opens the same search as a panel. Type “dentist”, “cafe”, “park” or a shop’s name and the matches around the view appear as pins until you clear them with the ✕ on the chip — the map is quiet again the moment you do. Search reaches more than the map ever labels (dentists and schools included), it covers the area you are looking at rather than the whole world, and it matches the name written on the map — so “ramen” finds the shops with ramen in their name and not the one called “Ichiran”, because the map data does not record what a restaurant serves. It finds names on the map, not open shops: the map data carries no opening hours, chains are well mapped, small places less so, and a closed shop can linger. Once you are close enough for the map to be a neighbourhood, it names the landmarks around you — stations, parks, shrines and temples, museums, theatres, town halls — the things you find your way by, and deliberately not the shops and clinics that would turn the map into noise (Settings → World → Map names turns every map name off, ours included). Parks, woods and water keep their real colour at those zooms, so the map still says what a place is even with every name switched off. Coming out of a Space puts you right outside its door, wherever on the Earth it stands — Home in the header takes you back. The Earth keeps the real time of day. From far out you see where the sun is right now: the daylit half, a band of dusk, and the night side with the world’s cities lit up on it — your own World glows on top of all of it. It is worked out from the clock alone, so it costs nothing and needs no permission, and it fades away as you come down to the street map. The trail tells you the time as well as the place: the city crumb carries that city’s own local time, so you can see at a glance that it is the middle of the night where you are looking. It ends with the World whose objects the table of contents is listing — yours while you are on your own map, theirs once you have walked into somebody else’s; press it to fly back to that World’s Home.