Everything visual descends from one page written in TeX. The page decides how we set words. The logo decides how we draw. Nothing else gets a vote.
One principle for each phase a company can die in, in the order it can die there. VI and VII are a pair: when to climb, and what to build the rungs from. Seven of these are checks; three (V, VIII, X) are convictions.
← the red is ours. the rest is the page’s.The charter was set in Computer Modern by pdfTeX, at one size, one weight, centred heads, roman numerals. That is our text face for everything we say: headings, body, numbers, contracts, error messages.
Everything we draw is a four-year-old’s crayon. Its handwriting face is Schoolbell. It may label a drawing, annotate a margin, or write the motto on a ribbon. It never sets a paragraph.
The charter is black ink on white paper. So is the interface. Seven of ten principles are checks; they are ink. Three are convictions; they get the crayon. Red is the only color the text layer is allowed to touch, and only to mark a conviction.
The rest of the box lives in the drawings only. Five crayons, taken from the arms; each belongs to a thing.
One page. Centred title, bold run-in heads, a numbered list, a closing note. No boxes, no rules, no icons. Hierarchy is done with weight and whitespace, never size. We keep that: text sizes stay near one value; headings are heavier or spaced, not bigger.
Roman numerals wherever things are counted. Interpuncts (·) wherever things are joined.