A 50-page children's book and single-switch accessible game
Three kids. Three sets of alligators. One story about what happens when you find your people.
Cerebral palsy. "Very physically alligator-mauled." Folded limbs and twisted hands. His wheelchair is falling apart because America's healthcare system doesn't give a shit about trod-upon kids. But his eyes work. His mind works. His birds — vision-owls, communication-mockingbirds, memory-wrens — are fast and fierce.
Blind. She wheels him around. They're a bonded pair who've known each other for years. Fast friends. They've been through some shit together. Her hearing-robins lead the way. Her memory-wrens map everything. She doesn't need eyes to see what matters.
Autistic. Non-binary. No speech. The bonded pair is searching for them. When they find each other, three different ways of communicating — verbal, tactile, non-verbal — weave into something none of them could build alone. Focus-hummingbirds. Pattern-recognition birds. A new kind of language.
Every kid is a mage. That's the power position.
Their abilities are birds — quick creatures that harry the alligators, distract them, fly circles around them. Owls for vision. Cardinals for courage. Hummingbirds for fierce, hovering focus. Mockingbirds for communication. And doves — because friends can send you hope when your own birds are too tired to come.
Their disabilities are alligators — real predators that never stop hunting. No dancing with alligators. No learning to love them. They want to eat your birds, and they never give up.
But sometimes The Pond offers grace. A lily pad to rest on. A burst of beauty. A moment where everything works and you can just breathe. These aren't gifts from the alligators. They're the world occasionally remembering that all creatures belong.
Single-switch accessible. Every choice is binary: YES/NO. A kid with one working finger, one head switch, one sip-and-puff device can play the entire game. No compromises. No "accessibility mode" that strips out the good parts.
Energy system: Masking drains you. Self-advocacy costs energy but builds strength. Friends restore you. Pity and stares and "have you tried yoga?" drain you faster than anything.
Disability simulation: Players experience unfamiliar alligators. Not for pity. For understanding. For the moment a non-disabled kid realizes how many decisions disabled people make before breakfast.
This isn't inspiration porn. Nobody "overcomes" anything. The alligators are still there at the end of the story. They'll always be there.
But the kids have their birds. They have each other. And they have proof that the hardest thing about disability isn't the disability — it's a world that wasn't built for them.
We're building a different world. One game at a time.