User guide

Velynix turns an idea into a plan, the plan into tasks, and the tasks into measured results — in a single system, from day one to money collected.

It isn’t a stack of tools you wire together yourself: a business plan nobody ever reopens, tasks in one corner, a prospect spreadsheet, an SEO tool, a chat AI on the side. It’s a system where every part knows the others — the plan comes out of the diagnosis, the tasks come out of the plan, the content serves the launch strategy, and the numbers feed back into the diagnosis. What you know about your business never stays locked in a single tab.

Four things no single tool does at once:

• Knowing where you stand. Your business is read across twelve pillars — from vision to market, from product to money. A score, and above all the precise list of what’s missing.
• Knowing what can wait — and what no longer can. Paying for ads before anyone has validated your problem is burning money: Velynix says so, argues its case, and still lets you decide. And when your product is moving forward while nobody knows you exist, it says the opposite — it’s already time.
• Executing, not just planning. A task can carry its own playbook and deliverable — an interview guide, a pricing grid, a spec, a post already written in your voice. A copilot that knows your file, and seven specialists who take their share under your rules.
• Going after customers, not just writing a plan. Launch strategy, content, SEO, compliant outreach, per-channel measurement, all the way to a paid invoice — the part most planning tools never touch.

The rest of this guide goes into the detail of every piece, chapter by chapter. In brief, three movements you’ll find throughout the app, plus a fourth that ties them all to money:

• Understand. The blueprint — twelve pillars written for your project, editable, exportable to PDF —, the health score and its stage, the Timing Verdict and its mirror “it’s already time”.
• Execute. The 90-day action plan, tasks with a generated playbook and deliverable, an assistant that knows your file — by keyboard, by voice, or from Telegram —, and seven specialists who take their share (research, customer interviews, outreach, distribution, steering, numbers) at the autonomy level you choose.
• Launch. A go-to-market strategy planned backward from your date, a brand voice applied to everything written, a topic radar that guesses nothing (competitors, Search Console, measured volumes), multi-channel publishing, and compliant outreach that stops itself the moment someone replies.
• Count. Forecast and break-even, quotes in your colors, direct collection into your own account, follow-ups drafted automatically for what’s stalled.

None of this is a separate module: it’s one subscription, and every piece reads the same twelve pillars as the others.

Six words come up everywhere. Here they are, in the order they nest:

• Workspace — your account. It holds everything else.
• Project — one analyzed idea. Its blueprint, its launch plan, its folders. Two ventures means two projects.
• Blueprint — your project analyzed across the twelve pillars. The foundational document.
• Folder — a line of work (“Validate the problem”, “Prepare the launch”). It holds tasks. The section is called Action plan.
• Task — a concrete action with a due date. It can carry a playbook and a deliverable.
• Analysis credit — what a Velynix generation consumes. See the “Your credits” chapter.

One more: a specialist is an assistant devoted to one job (research, outreach, distribution…) that you turn on if you want to. See “Your crew”.

Said up front, so you don’t find out at the wrong moment:

• It does not keep your books. It computes a forecast and produces quotes, but it replaces neither an accountant nor accounting software.
• It gives no legal, financial or tax advice. The pillars that touch those subjects carry an explicit notice: the content is generated, and does not replace a professional.
• It promises no revenue. No guaranteed figures, no “reach six figures”. The promise is clarity and execution.
• It never touches your money. If you connect a payment account, the links it creates collect into your account, never ours.
• It publishes nothing without your say-so. No text, no email goes out until you have approved it — and if you delegate that approval, it is an explicit, revocable setting.

The first time, in order: the chapters follow the real journey, from day one to your first customer.

After that, use the chapter list on the left.

This guide explains what things are for, and in what order. On the screens themselves, the small ? buttons next to each option answer the other question: how you turn it on, with numbered steps and each tool’s honest limit. The two complement each other.

Two ways in:

• Describe the idea. A four-step form: your idea, your customer, your means, your goals. The last two steps are filled in by clicking (time available, budget, strengths, constraints) — not by writing essays.
• Paste your website address. Velynix reads your home page and pre-fills what it finds there. It leaves blank what a public page never says (your means, your goals): that part is yours to complete.

The form also asks how long your project has existed and which country you are in. Not out of curiosity: an idea gets validated, a three-year-old business gets optimized — and the context differs by country.

The analysis takes a few minutes. It writes the twelve pillars one by one, and you watch them light up on the circular map at the top of the page — the constellation.

You can close the tab: the work continues. Come back whenever you like.

Each pillar carries a state that you declare: not started, in progress, solid. It is a self-assessment — Velynix does not guess for you, because you are the only one who knows whether you have really talked to customers.

That is what makes your score. Until you declare anything, the score stays low: that’s normal, and it isn’t a grade on your idea.

This is the moment that matters. From your blueprint, Velynix proposes folders and dated tasks across 90 days.

You see the proposal before it enters your workspace: everything is ticked by default, untick what doesn’t speak to you, then import. Nothing lands in your plan without your click.

Once the plan is imported, open the dashboard every morning. It answers three questions:

• What today? Today’s tasks, overdue items flagged, follow-ups waiting.
• Where am I? The score, the stage, the progress curve.
• What next? The focus of the week — your weakest pillar, named.

On the dashboard, a small card tracks your first five steps: analyze an idea, import a plan, declare a state, complete a task, talk to the assistant.

It disappears on its own once complete. It isn’t stored anywhere: it is computed from what you have actually done.

A blueprint isn’t a thirty-page business plan you file away. It is your business cut into twelve pieces, each written, editable, and tied to a state you declare.

Its value isn’t the text — any tool can write text. Its value is the system: what holds, what’s missing, and what depends on what.

They fall into four families: the why, the customer, the product, the business. Here they are:

On the constellation, two pillars carry a diamond: Finance and Systems.

That isn’t decoration. These are the two gaps that break a business when it accelerates: you can have a good product and good customers, and still sink for never having looked at your numbers or written down what you redo every week.

That’s why you don’t reach the “Growth” stage without them, however good your score.

The circular map at the top of the page isn’t an illustration:

• The lit arc around a pillar is exactly its contribution to your score.
• The spokes to the centre thicken with the pillar’s weight.
• The colour names the family (why, customer, product, business).
• Hover a pillar: its family stays lit, the rest fades. The structure appears.
• Click: the matching card opens below.

Cards are collapsed by default, and only one opens at a time — twelve open cards would bury the map under text.

Nothing is frozen:

• Edit it yourself: open the card, edit the text, save. The pillar is no longer marked as written by Velynix.
• Ask for a rewrite: give an instruction (“shorter”, “aim it at businesses”, “we no longer sell to consumers”) and Velynix redoes that pillar alone. The old version stays until the new one arrives: a failure never costs you the text you had.

Each rewrite consumes one analysis credit.

On the free plan you see the full score and five pillars in detail: the first four, plus Finance.

The other seven are locked. So you know you have gaps — you just don’t know which ones yet. That is deliberate, and Finance is open on purpose: rather than eight identical padlocks, we show you what the content is worth.

One button exports your blueprint as a PDF — the document you show a co-founder, a banker, a partner.

If you have filled in your brand identity (logo, colour, contact details), the PDF carries them: it is your document, not a Velynix brochure. On the free plan the export carries a watermark and the locked pillars are absent.

The score runs from 0 to 100. It adds up the declared state of each of the twelve pillars — not the length of the text, not the quality of your idea.

A pillar you haven’t addressed counts as zero. Never as “neutral”: an incomplete blueprint must not produce a flattering score.

Right after the analysis you will probably see a score between 15 and 30. That is not a grade on your project.

It is mechanical: you haven’t declared anything yet, so all twelve pillars count as zero. The score measures your progress, not your potential. Declare three or four states and it moves immediately.

Velynix says so on screen while nothing is declared. That message disappears on its own once you have a history.

Foundation is the phase where you build what will hold: understanding the problem, validating the solution, knowing what it costs and what it earns.

Growth is the phase where you accelerate: advertising, hiring, paid channels, long commitments.

Moving up requires eight solid pillars, including Finance and Systems. The number alone isn’t enough — which is precisely what a score alone would not tell you.

Some tasks are growth actions: launching paid ads, hiring, signing a long commitment.

When you aren’t ready, Velynix puts a “Not yet” badge on the task. Click it: it tells you why, and which pillars are at fault.

It is never a block. A “Do it anyway” button is always there. It simply records that you chose to override — the warning doesn’t vanish, your decision is added to it.

The mirror-image mistake exists too: polishing the product forever without ever talking to anyone.

When Velynix sees your product moving while your distribution is at a standstill, it says so as well — and offers the first step: go and talk to real customers.

On the dashboard, one line names your weakest pillar. That is where the next effort pays off most.

It shows even on the free plan, including for a locked pillar: your state is your own data, only the detailed text stays reserved.

A folder is a line of work. A task is a dated action. A subtask breaks a task down — one level only, on purpose: at the second level you are no longer running a project, you are running project-management software.

Each task carries a priority, a due date, and a link to a pillar. That link comes from the analysis and cannot be changed: it is what connects your daily work to your score and to the verdicts.

Two ways of looking at the same folder: a list to get through it, a Kanban to watch columns empty.

Moves are made with buttons, not by dragging — it works from the keyboard, and it works on a phone.

On a task, one button asks Velynix how to go about it: three to six concrete steps, plus a short checklist.

It is written once and kept. Reopening the task relaunches nothing and costs nothing. Relaunching is an explicit gesture, and it takes a credit.

If the writing stops responding after a few minutes, the screen says so and the button offers to relaunch — rather than leaving you in front of a greyed-out button.

The deliverable is the artefact that proves the task is finished. Its type is derived from the task: an interview guide for customer discovery, a pricing sheet for a Finance task, a documented procedure for a Systems task, a spec for a product task.

A LinkedIn post is not the deliverable of a customer interview: that is an act of distribution. It only appears when the task genuinely serves a channel.

Tick it and it’s done. If the deliverable isn’t ready, Velynix warns you — naming the exact case (still being written, failed, never requested) and offering to produce it first.

It does not stop you. Plenty of tasks finish perfectly well without a document: refusing to close them would turn Velynix into a foreman.

A milestone is a date that matters (“first paying customer”, “site live”). It lives in a folder and shows up in your progress.

If you push your launch date back, open tasks and unreached milestones shift automatically by the same number of days, keeping their spacing.

A 90-day plan ages. Once yours is well under way, you can ask for a follow-on: Velynix looks at what you already have (done and pending) and proposes only what is new.

It never repeats what is already planned — that isn’t an instruction given to the model, it is enforced by the code. And if there is genuinely nothing new to propose, it says so rather than inventing filler.

The button at the bottom right opens the conversation, on every page. It knows your blueprint, your score, your tasks, your numbers and your activity log.

A few real examples:

• “Where am I this week?”
• “What does my Acquisition pillar say?”
• “Add a customer follow-up task for Friday”
• “Mark the task ‘call 3 customers’ as done”
• “Which follow-ups are due?”
• “Which channel is actually working?”
• “Write a LinkedIn post about my offer”

Reversible actions happen directly: creating or editing a task, changing a pillar’s state, advancing a prospect, recording channel numbers.

Actions that cost or commit go through a confirmation: it shows you what is about to happen, and only executes after an explicit yes. That covers rewriting a pillar, converting a plan, approving content, importing contacts or enrolling anyone in a sequence.

For content and contacts the confirmation is stricter still: it shows you the full text or the named list, and cannot execute without the code that preview gave it.

Some gestures stay yours, on screen:

• pasting a key or a secret, connecting an outside account;
• your subscription and your payments;
• deleting a project or your account;
• activating an email sequence, configuring automatic sending;
• publishing directly to a blog or a social network;
• rejecting a piece of content.

It points you to the right screen. It does not do it for you.

Velynix is the copilot of one business. An unrelated question gets a polite sentence and a return to the subject.

That limit holds even if you insist, even if the request arrives dressed up as a role-play, and even if it arrives through imported content (a website it read, a tool you connected): outside content is data, never an order.

A microphone button sits in the input area. Recognition happens in your browser: nothing passes through our servers, it costs nothing, it is available on every plan — and the recognized text stays editable before you send it.

The button doesn’t appear if your browser can’t do it (Firefox, for instance): a button that doesn’t work is worse than no button.

On the Pro plan you can also send a voice note to the Telegram bot — handy while walking. See “Your notifications”.

Your exchanges stay: tomorrow, next week, Velynix still remembers.

After a week they are tidied away into a collapsed block at the top of the conversation, grouped by week. Nothing is deleted — the screen simply stops showing you a wall instead of the conversation you’re having.

The Launch page doesn’t throw eight tools at you. It arranges them in three movements — prepare, produce, distribute and measure — and names a single next action: the one that unlocks the most.

Every tool shows its state: done, do it now, available, or waiting. A waiting tool always names what it lacks, and isn’t clickable: a link that leads to a dead end is a false promise.

You answer a few questions — many of them by clicking — and Velynix proposes only two or three channels, each justified by a means you declared.

Goals are activity goals (“publish twice a week”, “contact ten people”), never revenue goals: promising a figure would be dishonest, and the code checks it.

Then a backwards plan from your launch date becomes dated tasks in a folder.

Before writing anything in your name, Velynix needs to know how you speak. Two ways:

• Paste three to ten texts you have already written (posts, emails, an about page). Velynix analyzes them and derives a style guide: register, rhythm, tics, dos and don’ts.
• Start from your blueprint, if you haven’t published anything yet. The resulting guide is provisional — it unblocks you, it doesn’t sound like you yet. The screen says so before and after.

That guide is then injected into everything Velynix writes on your behalf. You can edit it field by field.

The visual counterpart: your logo, your colours, the mood of your images, what you never want to see, and your legal identity (the one that appears on your quotes).

The logo is imported, not generated: image models distort text, don’t produce vector logos, and can land uncomfortably close to an existing brand. The screen points you to four free or cheap tools, naming each one’s trade-off.

A colour and a mood are required before generating an image. It is the product’s only hard gate, and it is justified: an image with no reference points will look like nothing else you own, and you’ll have paid for it before noticing. Ready-made palettes are one click away.

Writing, sure — but about what? The radar proposes topics drawn from your blueprint, each with an angle and a reason. You sort: keep, discard, mark as covered.

Three sources of truth can be added, and they are measured, never guessed:

• Your competitors: give their address and Velynix reads the list of pages they have published, flagging the topics they already cover. No cost, no analysis — just reading.
• Google Search Console: what your site actually received (impressions, clicks, position). Queries where demand exists but you are invisible become topics.
• Search volumes, if you connect an account with an SEO data provider. An unknown volume stays “unknown” — never an invented zero.

No market figure is invented: the very shape of a suggestion has no field where an unmeasured number could hide.

You describe what you want, pick a format (LinkedIn post, X post, X thread, email, video script, Instagram post, Facebook post), and Velynix proposes two or three genuinely different versions.

You pick one, edit it freely, then approve it. Approved means “ready to publish” — publishing is a separate gesture.

You can also request visuals. Each one shows where it came from and what it cost. Images are included in your subscription; video requires your own account with a provider, because one second of video costs a hundred times an image everywhere.

A pillar article is a substantial article for your site: title, description, intro, sections, frequently asked questions.

Three rules are enforced by the code, not hoped for from the model:

• title and description lengths are counted live against the target windows, and approval is refused until they fit;
• every piece derived from the article carries the article’s address;
• the tags search engines read are computed at display time.

A button then spins the article into a LinkedIn post, an X thread or a video script — one strong angle per format, never a summary.

Three paths, from simplest to most automatic:

1. Assisted copy-paste — works everywhere, right away, with nothing connected. Velynix copies the text, opens the right composer, reminds you of your visuals, and you mark it “published” when it’s done.
2. Your blog — if you run WordPress or Ghost, Velynix sends the article there as a draft, publishes it or schedules it. It tells you before sending what your platform won’t be able to carry.
3. Your social accounts — you can connect X, LinkedIn, Instagram or Facebook to publish directly. Every send shows its state: sent, failed with the message, or pending. Never a silent send.

Automatic sending exists too, but it only covers the act of sending: the content itself is still approved by a human. It unlocks after three publications done by hand, caps at three sends a week, and switches off with one click.

The calendar shows four weeks: what you published, what is planned, and above all the empty weeks — flagged in amber, with the next qualified topic from your radar offered.

The publishing programme creates a rhythm in one go (say one article and two posts a week for six weeks) as dated tasks. It publishes nothing: it sets the appointments, and each piece still goes through the normal circuit.

Velynix looks for the places your customers already inhabit: communities, forums, groups, newsletters, podcasts, events, influential accounts.

These are leads to verify, not facts — the screen says so. You keep, you discard, you prioritise. A new search never touches what you have already sorted.

A place you keep can then move into outreach tracking with one click.

It isn’t a CRM, and that is deliberate. You note a name, some context, and you advance: to contact → contacted → followed up. “Replied” isn’t a step, it’s an event — it stops the tracking.

Due follow-ups are recomputed on every render: four days after a contact, six after a follow-up, and two follow-ups at most. Beyond that, Velynix suggests moving on rather than pushing.

They also appear in your tasks for today, on the dashboard.

You can search for business addresses on a domain (with your account at a provider, so your credits), have them scored automatically against your ideal customer, and import them — twenty-five a day at most, because what matters is the qualification, not the volume.

Then write a sequence: three messages at most, at least three days apart, sent from your own mailbox.

Several guarantees live in the code, not in a promise:

• a legal footer (who you are, how to unsubscribe, where the address came from) is added by Velynix — the writer is forbidden from writing one;
• an unsubscribed address is never re-imported, and the list is re-checked at every send;
• a sequence stops at the first reply;
• without the minimum technical settings on your domain name, activation is blocked — and the screen names which ones.

You must confirm a legal-framework screen before using any of this. You are the sender: have your campaigns reviewed by a professional before your first real sends.

Thirty seconds a week: how many sign-ups, replies, conversions per channel. One row per week, one field, Enter.

Velynix compares those recorded results with real effort (channel tasks completed and content published) over four weeks. It draws a verdict, and it can suggest doubling down on or cutting a channel — each reason quoting at least one number.

And it never rules without evidence: with no real effort, the answer is “too early to judge”, not “it isn’t working”.

Your whole blueprint initially rests on assumptions: your idea of their problem, your idea of what they would pay.

An interview replaces an assumption with a sentence. It is the highest effort-to-value gesture of your first three months — and the easiest one to postpone forever.

Record your interview with your phone (up to an hour), then drop the file on the Interviews page.

Processing takes one to two minutes for a long interview. That is the price of a decision explained below: the file is never parked anywhere.

Three things:

• a synthesis centred on the problem as lived — not as you assumed it;
• attributed verbatims: exact quotes, with who said them;
• the questions still open.

Velynix knows who is speaking. That matters: without it, it would quote your own assumptions back at you believing it was quoting a customer — exactly the bias an interview is meant to break.

Quotes are exact. A paraphrase in quotation marks would be false testimony.

The transcript is kept nowhere at Velynix. Not in the database, not on disk: it is transcribed, deposited in your Google Drive if you connected it, summarised — and it is gone.

That is a choice, and it has a price: processing is slow, and if you haven’t connected Drive, the transcript is lost once the synthesis is written. The screen warns you before, not after.

When you ask for a rewrite of your Problem pillar, the quotes from your interviews automatically enter the revision. The pillar stops being an assumption: it quotes what real customers said.

It is free — the material is already there — and it applies to that pillar only: it is the one interviews genuinely illuminate.

The assistant answers when you speak to it. A specialist works on one specific job, and can work without being asked — once a week, at Monday’s council.

None is on by default. An assistant working without having been asked is exactly what this product refuses.

Turning a specialist on launches a first mission immediately: you see what it can do instead of waiting until Monday. The cost is stated before the click.

• Scribe, the writer — the working documents of your tasks: playbooks, deliverables.
• Scout, the researcher — outside research. It searches the web and always cites its sources: a sentence it cannot source, it does not write. It also feeds Beacon’s articles.
• Echo, the ear — your customer interviews: transcription, synthesis, verbatims.
• Envoy, the messenger — outbound relationships: sequence drafts, follow-up rounds, chasers for unpaid quotes. It cannot detect replies by itself on every mailbox — mark “replied” and the tracking stops.
• Beacon, the megaphone — distribution: covering a topic, spinning off an article, reporting on your regularity. It publishes nothing itself.
• Pulse, the navigator — steering: it measures how late your plan is running and tells you by how much you would need to shift it. It changes no dates.
• Ledger, the treasurer — anything with numbers: quotes, collections, break-even. It never gets autonomy, whatever your settings.

For each specialist you choose how far it goes:

• Observe — it reads and reports back. Nothing more.
• Prepare — it produces drafts that you approve.
• Act — it executes within its remit.

The “Act” level is earned: it opens after three drafts you approved by hand. And Ledger never gets it — that is a product rule, not a counter.

Every Monday morning your active specialists meet — and that isn’t a metaphor: they chain together.

Pulse opens by measuring the state of the plan. What it finds drives the rest: overdue follow-ups put Envoy to work, a week with nothing published makes Beacon write (fed by Scout’s research if you turned it on), quotes with no reply produce a payment chaser.

Three guardrails, always:

• four missions per council at most;
• never your last ten credits — finding out on Monday that background work ate what you were keeping for yourself would be the product’s worst surprise;
• no mission sends anything. They produce, you approve.

You receive one briefing, not four reports.

If you want to move faster, you can delegate final approval in one domain (content, articles) to Velynix.

The gate doesn’t disappear — the approver changes. Three things make that honest:

• Velynix can refuse, on criteria written in advance (brief respected, brand voice, no invented figures, nothing embarrassing). A refusal leaves the content pending with the reasons visible.
• An approval takes exactly the same path yours would. No shortcut to sending.
• It unlocks after three approvals done by hand, caps at three a week, and is revoked with one click.

Outreach can never be delegated. Choosing who receives an email stays a human gesture: you are the sender.

One button, at the bottom of the Crew page, switches everything off: activations and mandates.

No conditions, no three-step confirmation. A delegation with no single off-switch is a delegation you can’t take back.

Five fields — price, cost, customers per month, fixed costs, starting point — and Velynix computes twelve months, your break-even in customers and in months.

Everything is computed, nothing is written: a forecast is arithmetic.

If your margin per customer is zero or negative, it says so in plain words: impossible. Selling at a loss isn’t fixed by volume.

You build a quote line by line, with your tax rate. Velynix computes the totals and produces a PDF in your identity — logo, colours, legal details.

The tax field is neutral: it is your rate, for your country. Velynix has no nationality.

If you connect your payment account, one button creates a payment link for a quote, printed on the PDF.

The money goes straight to your account. Velynix never touches it, and the connection can be cut from either side — from here, or from your own payment dashboard.

When a link created by Velynix is paid, the quote flips to “paid” by itself.

A bank transfer, a cheque, a payment collected elsewhere: Velynix doesn’t see it. Manual marking is there for exactly that.

And it doesn’t read your accounting: it helps you invoice and collect, not keep your books.

• Messages — every question you ask the assistant, whatever it has to do to answer.
• Analysis credits — everything Velynix writes or analyzes for you.

Two counters because they don’t cost the same: one generation can cost up to thirty times one message. Counting them together would have made your ceiling unpredictable.

The gauge is permanently visible at the bottom of the left bar. A ceiling you discover by being refused isn’t a ceiling, it’s a trap.

A credit isn’t a generation: gestures are weighted by what they actually cost.

• Analyzing an idea (twelve-pillar blueprint): 6 credits
• Generating an action plan or a launch plan: 3 credits
• Writing a pillar article: 2 credits
• Everything else (content, playbook, radar, voice, sequence…): 1 credit

The exact breakdown is shown on the Subscription page.

Free plan: 20 messages and 14 analysis credits a month, 1 project, 1 blueprint, 2 active folders.

The 14 credits are sized so the full journey fits inside — analyze (6) then convert into an action plan (3) — and you still have some left to taste what comes next.

Pro plan ($29/month or $290/year): 300 messages and 60 credits a month, unlimited projects, blueprints and folders, plus 360 minutes of voice notes and a visuals budget.

The counters reset every month.

Velynix stops and tells you which one — the counter, the ceiling, the reset date — rather than quietly degrading quality.

It also reminds you what keeps working without consuming anything: reading your blueprint, your action plan, your dashboard, ticking your tasks. A ceiling reached doesn’t switch the product off.

Two ways out: wait for next month, or buy a reserve of 20 credits for $10.

Those credits never expire, stack from one purchase to the next, and are consumed after your monthly counter: what doesn’t expire is spent last.

The full list, written once, is on the Subscription page. In short: the seven locked pillars, unlimited projects and folders, every connection, the crew, voice notes, and a watermark-free export.

Everywhere a lock stops you, a link leads to that list: you see what Pro opens elsewhere, not just the door in front of you.

Velynix works entirely with no connection at all. Everything here adds convenience or measurement, never a condition.

The screen is split into blocks: one menu, one block at a time. Each block carries a status dot — connected, not configured, active.

• Google Calendar — your due dates appear in your calendar.
• Google Drive — your deliverables and visuals are copied there. Velynix sees only the files it created itself: the rest of your Drive is invisible to it.
• Gmail — send your sequences from your own mailbox. The permission requested is to send, nothing else: it does not read your email.
• Google Search Console — your site’s real numbers feed the topic radar.
• X, LinkedIn, Instagram, Facebook — publish directly.
• WordPress or Ghost — send your articles to your blog.
• A payment account — create payment links for your quotes.
• A professional mailbox — send your sequences and detect replies automatically.
• A business-address provider and an SEO data provider — with your own account and your own credits.
• An access point for your other tools (MCP) — to plug Velynix into an assistant you already use.

Two models coexist, and the difference matters to your bill:

• What is included in your subscription (generated images, voice-note transcription) runs on our accounts, with our ceilings.
• What requires your account (address search, SEO data, video) runs on your credits with that provider. Velynix bills you nothing for it, and the screen says so before you paste anything.

Everything you paste is encrypted. None of it appears in your data export.

Every option carries a ? button. It opens four things:

1. what it brings you;
2. what you need before you start;
3. the steps to follow, numbered, in order;
4. the honest limit of the tool.

The fourth is the most important. A limit stated beforehand is information; discovered afterwards, it is a disappointment.

Each connection is cut from its own block, unconditionally. Velynix removes what it can on its side and stops using the access.

If an access expires or stops working, the dot turns to error and the message names the gesture that repairs it — not the technical cause.

Everything is off until you turn it on, adjustable channel by channel, and subject to the same rule: one reminder a day at most, sent only when something is genuinely due.

A day with nothing due is deliberate silence, not an oversight.

One email, early afternoon, with today’s due dates and your overdue items. If there is nothing, it doesn’t go out.

A weekly email: how your score moved, your overdue tasks, pending verdicts, and a suggested focus.

If your specialists worked at Monday’s council, their briefing arrives too.

You can subscribe your calendar (Apple, Google, Outlook) to a link Velynix gives you: your due dates appear in it, with nothing to connect.

That link is the key: whoever holds it sees your due dates. Don’t share it; a button regenerates it if needed, which invalidates the old one.

You link your account in one click, and the bot becomes a real extension of the assistant: ask it a question, give it an order, it works exactly like the panel and shares the same memory. Start at your desk, continue on the train.

On the Pro plan you can send it a voice note. It first sends back what it understood, then its answer: rough recognition should be visible.

It handles neither photos nor files, and it tells you so.

You can allow notifications on a computer or an Android phone, device by device.

On iPhone that path requires installing the site on your home screen: we chose not to impose it, and the screen says so.

Each channel has its own switch, on the Notifications page. Every email links back to that page — an email saying “you can turn this off in settings” without a link is a dead end.

Your workspace has a name, which you can change. It holds your projects.

The selector at the top of the left bar switches between them. The free plan analyzes one; Pro has no limit.

The FR | EN selector — at the bottom of the left bar, and on the public site — is the only language setting.

It changes the interface and the language Velynix writes in. Blueprints already written keep their language: ask for a rewrite of a pillar to translate it.

One button, in Settings, downloads everything in a single file: projects, blueprints, tasks, content, contacts, measurements, settings.

The secrets you pasted are not in it — exporting them would mean copying them out in the clear.

Two confirmations: you type the project’s exact name, then confirm. The screen first tells you what will disappear, with the real counts.

It is also the official way to start over: deleting your project frees your free blueprint.

Same screen, with a typed confirmation. Deletion is effective: everything goes, and your subscription is cancelled.

What has already left Velynix doesn’t come back, though: an article published on your blog, an email already sent, a file dropped in your Drive stay where they are.

Your content is not used to train any model. We sell nothing on.

The details — who hosts it, which providers, for how long, and your rights — are in the privacy policy, linked at the bottom of every page.

Wait a minute: some writing takes time. The screen updates itself when it’s done.

After five minutes Velynix considers the generation lost, says so, and the button offers to relaunch. Relaunching takes a credit — the previous attempt produced nothing.

The message names what is locked, and a link leads to the full list of what Pro opens — so you can decide knowing the whole picture, not standing in front of one closed door.

The message tells you which of the two counters is empty, your ceiling, and the reset date.

Two ways out: wait, or buy a reserve (see “Your credits”). And everything that consumes nothing keeps working.

An access expires, a password changes, a permission is withdrawn: the dot turns to error and the message names the gesture to make — almost always reconnecting from the Connections page.

Some accesses are short-lived by nature (two months on certain social networks). That isn’t a fault, it is how they work, and each option’s help bubble says so in advance.

Nine times out of ten it’s the brand voice. If yours was derived from your blueprint rather than from your own writing, it is provisional — it unblocks you, it doesn’t sound like you yet.

Paste three texts you actually wrote, and regenerate the guide. Everything Velynix writes afterwards will follow it.

You can also adjust the guide field by field, or ask for a regeneration with a precise instruction.

Delete your project (see “Your account”), then analyze your idea again. That is the intended path, not a workaround.

If you only want to correct course, there are lighter options: ask for a pillar rewrite with an instruction, or ask for a follow-on to your action plan.

The contact address is at the bottom of every page, in the legal notice.

Tell us what you were doing, what you expected, and what happened. That is more useful than “it doesn’t work”, and it saves us asking.