Quify: an app for quitting that adapts instead of counting

Poppins carries the whole product. It is a geometric family with enough character to stay distinctive, simple but not plain, modern with a faint retro undertone — which is what let a dark, clinical subject read as calm rather than cold. Three sizes do the work: 63, 48 and 16.

The one decorative element is a generated geometric form, drawn out into eighteen variants so the product has something of its own on every surface without repeating a single illustration. It becomes the app icon, the assistant, the empty states and the accent inside cards.

Nothing about a personal plan can be personal if the product does not ask. ONBOARDING is the longest single flow in the app: sign-in, then a stepped questionnaire that collects the habit, the pattern of use, the physical baseline, the avatar and the personal details the plan is built from. The subscription step that testing removed used to sit here, four screens in.

The length is deliberate and the cost of it is paid in pacing. Each step carries one question and a progress marker, the input is the largest object on the screen, and the flow ends on a screen that says the plan is being prepared rather than dropping the person into an empty home.

The home screen shows what is tracked in real time and only what is relevant right now: the current state, the daily challenges, the two questions the person is most likely to ask next. Everything else is one step away rather than permanently on screen.

The tab bar was removed to cut clutter and give the key features the whole surface. Notifications, the animated assistant, fast questions, the profile and the analytics all live in the same place regardless of the screen, so navigation stays in one grammar. In prototype testing, 87% of users described it as simple and convenient.

The TRACKER holds the whole record of the habit and lets a person read it back: the running count since the start, the tiles for what has been avoided and saved, the incident log with time and quantity, the progress curve and the calendar.

Logging a slip is a first-class action, not an admission tucked away in settings — the button sits directly under the counter. Advice is generated against the record rather than the calendar, so what the app says after a bad week is about that week.

The AI FEED assembles a personal stream of articles, video, music and exercises tied to the specific habit being quit. Search and four filters sit above it, so a person who knows what they want does not have to scroll for it.

Every card states its type and its length before it is opened — a two-minute read, a fifteen-minute session — because the whole point is to be useful inside a window that is measured in minutes.

Cravings do not keep office hours, and the chat exists for the hours when nobody else is available. A person asks in their own words and gets a personalised answer back, with the option to be handed straight into an exercise or a track rather than another wall of text.

The assistant is the only animated object in the product, and it animates while it is thinking. That is the whole reason it exists as a shape rather than a label: waiting for an answer is the moment the product feels most like nothing is happening.

The system offers exercises and music designed against medical analytics rather than assembled by taste, and articles drawn from medical research and tailored to the individual. This is the layer that answers the three minutes an urge actually lasts.

Every article carries its author, its publication date and its source, reachable from the article itself. A claim about what happens to a body twenty minutes after the last cigarette is either sourced or it is decoration, and the reporting control sits on the same screen for the case where it is neither.

The gamification system is built so that every reward in it is reachable within two years. That single constraint decides the shape of the whole ladder: the levels, the point values, and where the trophies sit.

Levels are named rather than numbered, progress is shown as a filled bar against the next threshold, and the first trophy lands after twenty-four hours — the first interval in which quitting anything is genuinely difficult.

The profile collects the three things a person comes back to check: the rewards earned so far, the totals for what quitting has saved, and a calendar that shows the record as a shape rather than a number.

The savings tiles are the argument of the whole product in three figures — what was not consumed, what that is worth in time, what it is worth in money. They sit above the calendar because they are the reason someone opens the screen at all.

The feed is the part of the product that gains most from a larger screen: on a tablet it becomes a two-column reading surface instead of a single scroll, with the filters permanently visible.

The watch takes the opposite half. It carries the count, the next checkpoint and the exercise launcher, and nothing else — a wrist is a place to be reminded, not a place to read. Pairing is handled inside the phone app, in the same stepped pattern as onboarding.