Lake Glimmer
A dock, a rowboat, reeds and lily pads. Eight species of fish, two of which only rise after dark.
A dock, a rowboat, reeds and lily pads. Eight species of fish, two of which only rise after dark.
Dark boughs, ferns, a mushroom fairy ring, and rabbits that bolt the moment you land.
The high point of the valley, a waterfall pouring into the lake, and crystal buried in the rock.
Berry bushes, butterflies, and a windmill you can navigate by from anywhere.
The centre. Cottages, a market, a campfire — and the Great Nest, bare and grey until you finish what it asks.
Long before the towers, Pokapia was a single valley that hummed. The hum was the Great Nest, and every living thing here was tuned to it.
Pokapia was never built. It grew — around a nest at the centre of a bowl of green, whose slow pulse set the rhythm of the tides in Lake Glimmer, the drift of the mist over the meadow, and the migration of every winged thing for a hundred miles. The birds called it the Hum. They did not worship it. They simply lived at its tempo.
Three winters ago the Hum stopped. No storm, no fire, no warning — the eggs in the Great Nest simply went grey, and the valley slid a half-beat out of time with itself. Fish stopped rising at dusk. The windmill turned when there was no wind. Old Rookery, keeper of the nest, has been standing at its foot ever since, waiting for someone to bring the first twig back.
Then the sky started dropping people. They arrive mid-glide, wings already open, with no memory of the launch — the valley calls them Drifters, and you are one. Drifters can carry the Hum in their feathers. Every twig you gather, every fish you land, every lantern you raise feeds a little charge back into the nest, and the valley pays you for it in $POKA — crystallised Hum, dense enough to hold in a wing.
Five eggs. Five thresholds. Nobody knows what hatches when the last one glows, and the five birds who have lived here longest each tell a different story about it. Pib says treasure. Marsh says weather. Mossbeak says nothing at all, which is the answer that worries everyone.
“You have your mother's wings, you know. Listen to the valley before you fly across it.” — Old Rookery, keeper of the Great Nest
Keeper of the Great Nest. Three winters at its foot, and still counting twigs.
Market magpie. Will trade you almost anything for something that glitters.
Heron. Stands very still at the lake and thinks you are impatient. Correct.
Forest owl. Knows where the old trees fell and what grows there now.
Windrider on the bluff. Will not respect you until you have glided two hundred metres.
Crystallised Hum. One fixed supply, most of it in the hands of the people playing.
A reward token with no sink is a countdown. $POKA is burned every time it is spent inside the valley, so the supply in circulation falls as the world gets built.
Every structure you place in the world burns its $POKA cost permanently.
Feeding the Great Nest burns tokens and raises the whole server's restoration tier.
Feather tints and scarves are minted against burned supply — worn, not traded.
$POKA is a game utility token. Nothing here is financial advice, and the figures above describe the game's design — not a promise of value or return.
Every reward in Pokapia comes from doing something in the world. There is no staking screen, no idle timer — you earn by flying.
Snap twigs, pick berries and mushrooms, chip stone and crystal, cut reeds at the shallows. Rarer nodes pay more.
Eight species. The two night-only fish and the waterfall-pool resident pay several times the day catch.
Eleven quests from the five villagers. Each one claimed pays out and raises the Great Nest's restoration tier.
Gliding pays by the metre. Gale on the bluff will not take you seriously under two hundred.
Every egg you light in the Great Nest pays the whole server, and unlocks a new build piece.
Survive a full night cycle out in the valley — lanterns lit, something rising in the lake — for a daily bonus.
Rates shown are in-game design targets and are balanced across seasons. Demo Wallet sessions earn in-game $POKA only.
Walk. Then stop walking.
Jump, then hold Space. Your wings lock out, you stop falling, and the valley opens up underneath you. Tap Space mid-glide to flap for height. Gliding costs stamina — pick your lines.
Press F at the water. Wait for the bobber to dip, strike on the bite, then hold to reel while keeping tension out of the red. Better spots hold better fish.
Press E at anything interesting: snap twigs from trees, pick berries and mushrooms, chip stone and crystal, cut reeds at the shallows.
Press B, aim, click. Perches, lanterns, arches, braziers, a statue. Quests unlock new pieces; the valley remembers where you put them.
A full day passes every four minutes. Lanterns light themselves at dusk, mist sits on the lake at dawn, fireflies come out over the water, and there is a fish in the waterfall pool that only surfaces at night. Ask Wren by the campfire if you get stuck — that is her whole job.
The design of Pokapia, its token, and the loop that connects them.
Pokapia is a browser-native 3D world with a play-and-earn economy attached to real in-world actions. It runs entirely on WebGL with no install, no launcher and no download gate — the whole valley streams into a tab in a few seconds. The token, $POKA, exists to move value between players and the world they are rebuilding, not to sit in a staking contract.
A single compact valley of roughly 70m radius, containing a lake, a deep forest, a rocky bluff, a meadow and a central hollow. The scale is deliberate: everything is a short glide from everything else, so a session has no travel tax. A full day/night cycle runs every four minutes, and the world's state — buildings, nest tier, discovered places — persists per player.
Fixed supply of 1,000,000,000 $POKA. No mint function. Ownership renounced at launch and liquidity locked for 24 months. Zero transfer tax — the economy is balanced through sinks, not fees: building, nest offerings and cosmetics all burn tokens permanently. 40% of supply is reserved for play-and-earn rewards and released on a decaying seasonal curve.
Rewards are event-driven. Gathering, fishing, quest completion, glide distance and nest tiers each emit a reward event server-side, batched and settled per session. Emission per action decays within a session and resets daily, so the curve rewards regular play over marathon farming, and a new player's first hour is always their most generous.
Every reward requires a physical action in a simulated world: a node that must be walked to, a fish that must be reeled, a distance that must actually be glided. Actions are validated against the authoritative terrain height field and node graph, which makes headless farming substantially more expensive than playing. Per-wallet daily caps and per-action cooldowns bound the worst case.
$POKA is a utility token for a game. It is not an investment, carries no claim on revenue or equity, and may have no value at all. Play-and-earn economies are experimental and reward rates will change between seasons as the design is balanced. Never spend money you cannot afford to lose, and never share a seed phrase with anyone — including anything claiming to be us.
The token is not live yet. Here is exactly what will happen when it is.
Phantom or Solflare for Solana, MetaMask for EVM. Install it, back the phrase up offline, and never type it into a website.
Buy SOL or ETH on any exchange and withdraw to your own wallet address.
The pair goes live with locked liquidity. Swap from this page only, and verify the contract address character by character.
You never need to buy anything to play Pokapia. The Demo Wallet gets you into the valley in one click.
Not deployed yet — nothing to copy
Pick a wallet to carry your $POKA. In a hurry? The Demo Wallet needs nothing at all.
Pokapia never asks for a seed phrase, a private key or a signature to play. Connecting only reads your public address. The Demo Wallet is a local pretend account and touches no chain at all.