The whole inventory
A puzzle game has to remember something or every evening restarts at the first meadow. This is all of it:
- Which meadows are finished, listed by pack, so the menu can show your position.
- Each meadow's best time, since without one there is nothing to beat.
- The camp left half-pitched — tents placed, grass you marked as empty, the undos remaining — so that an interrupted board can be picked up where it stopped.
- Hints still unspent out of the allowance.
- Whatever you set on the adjust screen — the language, the sound, and whether the quiet clash warning stays on.
Read the list for its silences. You are never asked who you are. No field behaves like an address. Android's advertising identifier is never looked at. Device characteristics are not assembled into anything that would work as a fingerprint. And the app mints itself no installation number, which is the omission the others lean on: without one, nothing distinguishes your copy from anybody else's.
What the phone lets the app touch
One permission is requested: vibration, for the small knock as a tent goes down, and only while that switch is on. No prompt precedes it, sensibly — a vibration motor can disclose nothing about its owner.
Refused, and far more important: the network, and following from that one refusal the camera, the microphone, positioning, contacts, any file outside the app's own folder, telephony state and notifications. That list of refusals is what makes the rest of this document checkable rather than merely asserted.
If a prompt surprises you
Decline it, then send the build number to telt@eagelmountain.store. Only two things could cause it: this page has drifted from what shipped, or the copy on your phone was not published by this company. Either wants settling at once.
Nobody else on the phone can read it
Android gives every app a storage area of its own and walls it off from the rest, so the five entries in A.1 are closed to every other app installed. That is the operating system's doing rather than ours, which is rather the point: it holds whether or not you believe anything written here.
How long it lasts, and how to end it
Notices of this kind usually quote a number of months, because the data is sitting with somebody the reader cannot instruct. Here you are the one holding it, so a figure would be theatre and a condition is the honest answer: it lasts exactly as long as you allow. The adjust screen has a reset; uninstalling removes the lot; Android's own "clear data" does the same. No nightly copy is taken, no earlier state is filed away, and there is nothing at our end in which a remnant could outlive your decision.
Time alone erodes none of it either. A best time left standing for three years is the same best time, on the same phone, read by you and by nobody.
The install is between you and Google
Getting Telt onto your phone was a dealing you had with Google, not with us, and it finished before the app ran for the first time. Google's record of it — the download, every update since, a star rating if you left one — hangs off whichever account was signed in, under the terms Google writes for its own marketplace. We can neither read that record nor change a line of it.
What reaches us from it
The Play Console shows an aggregate and nothing finer: installs totalled, a rough spread by country, crashes grouped by kind, one averaged rating. No row of it resolves to a person. The contents of your Google account stay firmly on Google's side — where it bills, what card is attached, which handsets it has signed into — and any control over those is exercised inside the account.
Which has a practical consequence worth stating plainly: a question about what Google holds has to go to Google. Writing here about it would be writing to the wrong address, and we would have nothing to tell you.
Reviews are public the moment they are posted
A caveat about the listing rather than the app. A review goes out under whatever name your account displays, is visible immediately, and stays on the page for every later visitor. That is Google's listing working as designed, but it surprises people, so it is worth saying before rather than after.
The cupboard is empty, and who says so
No server keeps data for this game. No measurement property watches it, no crash service receives from it, no advertising exchange is attached, no mailing provider holds addresses, nobody processes payments on its behalf. These were not suppliers weighed up and declined — the work they do does not arise. Asked by Article 13(1)(e) for the categories of recipient, the truthful answer is to leave the line blank.
Nothing crosses a border either, and that is a separate promise rather than the same one restated. The whole apparatus for lawful transfer out of the European Economic Area — adequacy decisions, the standard clauses, the exceptions in Article 49 — presumes a shipment. There is none. A solving time produced on your phone stayed on that phone.
The person answerable for all of this is named at the top of the page rather than buried in it. Under Article 4(7) a controller is whoever settles what a processing operation is for and how it is carried out; stripped of ceremony that means two undertakings — nothing written here is untrue, and a named individual carries it if any of it proves otherwise. No data protection officer is appointed, because the three circumstances that make one compulsory (a public body, systematic large-scale monitoring as the core business, large-scale special-category data) are nowhere near a single company with a single offline puzzle.
Why you will find no lawful basis quoted
Notices of this kind normally alternate — an item collected, the Article 6 ground permitting it, the next item. Here the second beat never lands, and the omission runs the length of the page, so it is owed an argument rather than a shrug.
A basis under Article 6 exists to settle one argument — by what right is this in your possession? Running that argument needs a possessor, and part C is exactly where there is none. Everything in A.1 sits on equipment you own, beyond our reach, and identifies nobody; subtract identifiers that were never recorded and the residue is a note of how one handset got on with some meadows. Both halves have to be present together for the Regulation to engage: information that picks out a human being, and someone doing something with it. Take the first away and there is nothing for the second to attach to.
That argument lives exactly as long as its premise. The day a sign-in, an advert, a telemetry library or a shop goes in, the premise is spent, and this page must be rewritten and published with the build responsible, each addition naming the ground that permits it. The working notes are in a comment at the end of this file.
There is no cookie banner for a neighbouring reason: the rules there bite on storing or retrieving things on hardware the user owns, past what the service actually needs to work, and in practice they ride in on an in-app browser view, a counting pixel, or somebody else's tag. None of the three is here, and none would find a connection to report over.
What you can get from an empty cupboard
All eight rights stand at full strength, and this is deliberately not a table, because a table invites the eye to skim eight rows that all say the same thing. Here is what each one would actually produce.
Access (Article 15) would get a one-line reply saying there is no file to disclose — everything the game keeps is on the meadow list, open to you without asking anybody. Rectification (16) has nothing to correct, since being wrong is something records do and none is kept; a best time that undersells you is answered by a faster camp. Erasure (17) is already in your hands and takes a second, by reset or by uninstall, which also means no request of yours can be refused, queued, or returned on the thirtieth day. Restriction (18) suspends an operation during a dispute, and no operation touches your data, so the suspension has no object.
Portability (20) covers what a person handed a controller and now wishes carried elsewhere; nothing was handed over, and what the game remembers already lives on hardware you own. Objection (21) needs an activity to attach to, and the branch of it that cannot be refused covers direct marketing, none of which is sent. Consent (7(3)) can only be withdrawn where it was given, and your agreement is never sought for anything. Automated decisions (22) would matter if a decision were being made about you; checking that a tent sits beside its tree and touches no other tent is arithmetic about a meadow.
No fee arises, no form exists, and nobody will ask you to prove who you are. Proof of identity keeps one person's material from reaching another; with no material held it protects nobody, and demanding papers to establish that we hold none would be a small comedy.
Children, and the number that is written down early
Telt carries a general-audience rating, and pitching tents beside trees is about as harmless an hour as a child could spend. The four checks a parent runs are ads directed at children, money reachable by a clumsy finger, any opening a stranger could speak through, and content uploaded by other players. Each gets a no — not because something was switched off, but because none of the four was built.
Article 8 would otherwise matter here, fixing the age below which a parent must stand behind a child's agreement to an online service. It has nothing to grip, since no agreement is collected from anybody at any age. Norway's figure is 13, written down now while it decides nothing, so that it is already on the page should advertising ever give it force.
Disagreeing, and how this page changes
Write to telt@eagelmountain.store — one inbox, opened by the person who drafted this, with nothing in between. Claim a right, dispute a sentence, report a permission prompt A.2 cannot explain, or ask how a part of it works.
Skriv gjerne på norsk — samme adresse, og svaret kommer på norsk.
Norway gives the General Data Protection Regulation effect through personopplysningsloven, and Datatilsynet supervises how companies here apply it: Postboks 458 Sentrum, 0105 Oslo, or datatilsynet.no. Oslo is not your only option — Article 77 lets a complaint go to the authority for where you live, where you work, or where you believe the breach happened, and the choice needs no justification. Nothing on this page can reduce those three, and a clause attempting it would be ineffective. Coming here first is advice, never a condition.
The version under the letterhead moves whenever anything above changes, and one rule fixes when a change may ship. If the rewrite exists because the software has started doing something new — keeping a new item, admitting a new party, sending traffic abroad, taking on another purpose — the revised page goes out in the release that caused it and in no later one. Nothing reaches a phone ahead of the paragraph explaining it. Older versions are kept and will be sent to anyone who asks.