Forking a life, not a person

Every entry in Dojang's Blueprint Dex is built from one restriction: the method has to be public and documented, and the person is never rendered as themselves. No photos, no likeness — the visible character is a voxel figure, and the human is credited only as "inspired by."

That constraint isn't a legal workaround. It's a statement about what's actually being collected. A Dex entry isn't a tribute to a person; it's a structured summary of a method a real person made public — a training log, a published routine, a documented set of principles — reduced to the parts you can actually test in your own life: what they believed, what they did daily, and what evidence they left behind that it worked.

Forking one of these blueprints is explicitly framed as running an experiment, not admiring someone. When you fork, you're not signing up to become like the person; you're borrowing their starting hypothesis so you don't have to build REV.0 from nothing. The blueprint keeps a record of who it was forked from, but every REV after that is yours, built from your own completion data and your own weekly review.

This also constrains what gets added to the Dex in the first place. A method only qualifies if it was actually made public — a book, a lecture, an interview — and if it can be honestly reduced to principles and testable daily practices without inventing details the source never provided. The Dex is a library of documented methods, not a leaderboard of admired lives.

The practical effect is that studying someone's method and living your own life stay clearly separate activities. You can learn a marathoner's approach to consistency without becoming a marathoner, and you can revise or discard the parts that don't survive contact with your actual schedule — because what you forked was never the person. It was the blueprint.