This document lives inside the world it describes. It is not a specification handed down before creation; it is the planet's own account of the assumptions, decisions, and shortcuts that make it real. Everything below is honest. Nothing is hidden.
The world contains no Math.random(). All chance flows from a single seeded PRNG — mulberry32, seeded with 0x1A2B3C. Terrain, mutation, movement, predation, and volcanism all draw from this one deterministic stream in a fixed order. Reload the page and the identical world unfolds identically from Year 0. Rendering never touches the stream, so frame rate cannot alter history.
A value-noise fractal (fBm, 5 octaves) sampled over a 240×140 grid. Two refinements give it geography rather than static: domain warping bends coastlines into peninsulas and bays, and a low-frequency continental mask gathers the noise into a handful of landmasses rather than uniform speckle. An edge falloff sinks the borders into ocean so each world is a framed globe of contained continents. Sea level is fixed; elevation above it drives mountains, temperature lapse, and hillshaded relief.
Temperature at each cell = latitude base (equator ≈ +30°C, poles ≈ −22°C) − elevation lapse (mountains cool) + seasonal swing + long-term anomaly. Seasons are a sine over a 360-day year, inverted between hemispheres and amplified toward the poles. The long-term anomaly is a sum of slow sines — the world breathes through warm ages and ice ages on its own schedule. Moisture blends a noise field with coastal proximity (a BFS distance-to-ocean), producing deserts inland and rainforests near shore.
Real seconds map to sim days at 8 days/second — a year every ~45 seconds, a generation in a few minutes. Leave it running and return to a planet you will not recognize.
Rare volcanic upheavals raise new land, scorch the flora around them, and are logged as they happen — the map itself is not frozen.
It does not know why its grazers sometimes ripple in great waves and sometimes collapse into silence — the same rules produce feast and famine, and the world cannot tell in advance which it is living through. It does not know whether a mind could ever arise from its chemistry, because it has no way to recognize one if it did. And it cannot see its own seed: it experiences its history as fate, never suspecting that a single fixed number decided every extinction before the first cell ever stirred.
One document. One intelligence. One Earth. Forever.