Host
- One live trail
- Up to 8 stations
- Certificate reward
- Listed publicly
- Staff PIN redemption
A café or a small museum finding out whether anyone plays.
ROK is free to play, and it always will be. This is what it costs to run one — and why the price is shaped the way it is rather than copied off a SaaS page.
The whole product rests on one sentence: a visitor with three days in the country will not install anything. Every code is a plain URL and the phone’s camera is the scanner, because anything heavier is a thing people do not do while standing in a street.
A paywall is worse than an install. An install costs thirty seconds; a card costs a decision. So every limit below is a limit on making a trail — never on walking one. Nobody is ever asked to pay to scan a code, see their progress, keep a token, or read a hunt’s wall.
A café or a small museum finding out whether anyone plays.
A pepper farm, a château, a museum — somewhere with a season and a door.
A festival, a school, a hotel week. A subscription is the wrong shape for a thing with an end date.
Goods, not software. A 40mm token is twenty to forty minutes of printer time, and printer time does not scale like a subscription.
Collect trails and quest trails are quietly two different businesses. A trail bolted to a wall costs almost nothing to run for a decade; a trail with tokens in it spends real PETG, real printer hours and a real motorbike round to place and retrieve. Folding tokens into a monthly fee would give the fee a margin the tokens then eat.
A full season free, in exchange for two things: a short case study afterwards, and a commitment to keep the trail live to the end of the season. The number then gets set from what venues actually did with it, rather than from what a spreadsheet guessed.
Which is the honest part of this page. Every number above is a starting position — $19 is deliberately low, and it is far easier to raise a price than to cut one.
Talk to us about a trailWhat the number is counted from, and what it is deliberately never counted from.
A trail already knows whether it is running — it carries the dates it opens and closes, so nothing new has to be invented to count them. It is also the thing a venue thinks they bought.
The free tier’s ceiling, and the one number that tracks how much of the product somebody is actually using.
Venues share one staff PIN; there are no venue logins to count. Per-seat pricing would force us to build accounts before we had sold anything.
The rule above. Charging a venue more because their trail was popular is a fine way to make them wish it were not.
Every reward redeemed at a counter is already recorded, so we could bill per completion and it would align perfectly. Reconciling fifty-cent line items by bank transfer is a job. Kept in the pocket for a venue that asks for it.
Stripe does not operate in Cambodia. Local business runs on ABA, Wing and Bakong’s KHQR — and KHQR is a push: the payer scans and sends. Nothing can pull from it on a schedule.
So a monthly subscription here is honestly an annual invoice in US dollars plus a polite reminder. That is not a workaround; it is how every other supplier a venue deals with already works. Annual is the default and monthly is a courtesy. If card billing is ever genuinely needed, the answer is a merchant of record rather than a payments stack of our own.
The season simply ends. The cloth freezes as a permanent record, the wall stays readable, nothing is deleted, and no QR code starts erroring at somebody standing in front of a plaque. That is a far kinder failure than switching a code off, and it is already how a season that reaches its closing date behaves.