The first prototype was a printer, a microphone, and a stapler
We built the ugliest possible version to find out whether the idea survived contact with a four-year-old. It did, mostly.
Why MirthTale has a display at all, why it shows only the cover, and why it goes dark the moment the book is out.
During the prototype weeks, children found the laptop under the tea towel within minutes. Once they knew there was a screen, the screen became the thing. They wanted to see the story appear on it. They wanted to scroll. The book, when it came, was second best.
That was the moment we understood that a device which makes books could very easily become a device that replaces them. So we wrote a rule and put it on the wall: the screen is not the book.
We tried a version with none. It felt dead. A child presses a button, talks, and then nothing happens for three minutes. Children need to see that something is coming. So the display shows one thing: the cover. Their title, their name, their hero. It is a promise, not a page.
We chose e-paper because it cannot do the things a screen does. It does not glow. It does not animate. It cannot scroll or play video, and it holds an image without power. When the book slides out of the slot, the display goes blank and stays blank. There is nothing behind it to find.
Studies comparing print and screen versions of the same picture book, read by an adult with a child, find more story-related conversation and better comprehension with print. Interactive features on the screen tend to pull attention toward the device and away from the adult. We didn't want to build another thing that competes with the parent for the child's eyes.
A child presses the button, talks, and lets go. The cover appears. The child looks at it, usually says the title out loud, and then looks at the slot. When the book comes out, the display goes dark and the child does not look back at it. In the prototype weeks we didn't once see a child try to touch the display after the first day. It simply isn't where the story is.
We built the ugliest possible version to find out whether the idea survived contact with a four-year-old. It did, mostly.
We built MirthTale on three findings. Here they are, in plain language, with what we do about each one.