Hub OS — Base Camp is a kid-friendly Scrum/Kanban board for the household. It swaps top-down chore charts for a shared system that survives busy weeks, kills the daily nag, and quietly teaches your kids that managing your obligations is exactly what buys independence. This page is the why, the design, and the launch plan.
You've probably already tried most of these. Here's why they fail — and what the system fixes.
You're not introducing chores. You're moving the “bad guy” from you to the system — and handing the kids the autonomy they're developmentally wired to crave.
At work the carrot is clear: less hassle from the boss, focus, transparency, a rewarding retro. At home you're shrinking that feedback loop from a week to the same night, and pitching the whole thing as an experiment to eliminate nagging — not a new set of rules. Frame it as an upgrade to their independence and you're working with teenage psychology instead of against it.
A physical whiteboard beats an app — it's a constant, passive, ambient reminder. Three columns, colour-coded cards per person, sized by effort.
Dad, Mom, and both kids get a unique sticky-note colour. Parents posting their real load models the behaviour and makes invisible work visible.
S = ⬢1 · M = ⬢2 · L = ⬢4. Sized by effort + dread, not just minutes. Ends the fairness war.
Agree a weekly cap (≈4S/2M/1L). Kids negotiate and pull their own mix. Buy-in comes from choosing, not being told.
The board is the artefact; the rituals are what make it stick.
Lay out the backlog. Kids pull their cards to an agreed capacity. Hand out Respawn Tokens. Then lock the sprint — no new chores from you until next week.
Anchor it to breakfast or after school. “What's on your card today? Any blockers?” It's a blocker-removal session, not an interrogation. Teaches them to forecast commitments.
Over a high-value treat. 80% celebrating wins. Review carry-over, adjust sizes with real data, and let them change rules that annoyed them. Co-design deepens engagement.
The fastest way to kill the board is to quietly do the undone task yourself — it teaches them the board is a bluff. If you must do a health/safety task, take the credits and raise it at retro.
Tie privileges to board state, not your mood. “Happy to drive you — as soon as the ‘Clean Room' card hits Done.” The system holds the line, not your temper.
Unfinished cards roll into next week's sprint, shrinking that week's free capacity. No partial credit — a card is 100% done or 0%. Procrastination taxes next week's freedom.
Resist “they finished early, add three more!”. The reward for high velocity is more free time. Punish efficiency with extra work and they'll slow down on purpose.
Marbles/credits in a clear jar, deposited the instant a card hits Done (S=⬢1, M=⬢2, L=⬢4). They don't buy stuff — they buy freedom. Calibrated to a ⬢12 weekly max so small wins are affordable mid-week and one big save unlocks a weekend drop.
Screen-time extensions, control of the car playlist, picking dinner, locking in shotgun. Immediate, spendable that night.
Curfew extension, a no-questions “Uber Dad” ride, sleepover hosting rights, a solo one-on-one outing.
A 7-day Bedroom Immunity Pass, or a “Get-Out-of-Sprint” mental-health week. High cost, high autonomy.
Full starter inventory + gamified naming lives on the Players page → Trading Post.
Split the launch so it doesn't feel like an ambush. Classic change management: intrigue → briefing → commit. Tap each phase.
Physical + tactile beats software for habit-building. Mostly one run to Officeworks, plus a discount-shop detour for the jars and marbles. Tick items to tally your run.
All-in startup: ~$85–95 AUD, one-off. Add Command strips to avoid drilling during the experiment phase.
Doing an undone task yourself with no word teaches them the board is a bluff. If you must, take the credits and name it at retro.
Adding chores mid-week or piling on because they finished early. Capacity is zero-sum and the sprint is sacred.
Don't argue whether the dishwasher is an M or an L. Let them have the L week one; adjust with real data at retro.
Point at the board, not the person. “What's the blocker on this card?” beats “why haven't you done it yet?” every time.