VINORA MONKEY CLIMBClimb · Flip · Collect
Vinora is a game about how far you get before you fall, so the question that matters here is not really what is collected — almost nothing is — but how long each thing lives after you stop looking at it. That is how this notice is arranged: six heights on the tower, from a tap that is gone before your monkey lands, up to the one thing that would outlive the company itself. Climb it in order; it gets further from you as you go.
Like bark. Solid, predictable, and it holds nothing against you.
Every tap you make is read, used to kick off the wall, and discarded in the same breath. How long you hesitated, how fast you flipped, which surfaces you favour, how often you panic near a thorn — none of it is timed, counted or stored anywhere.
That matters more in a reflex game than it sounds. Input timing is a behavioural signature; a long enough recording of how a person taps can identify them among other players. Vinora does not keep one, so there is nothing to identify you with.
Like crumbling stone. It holds for exactly as long as the climb, then falls away.
While you are climbing, the game holds the state of the run in memory: your height, which surfaces you are on, what the coconuts and parrots are doing, whether your flip is available. It exists so the game can be played and vanishes when the run ends.
One number escapes upward. If you beat your best height, that figure is written to the save at the next height; everything else about the run is forgotten, including every run you did not win.
Like tree sap. It sticks fast — and it is all on your side of the glass.
One save file, written into the app's own storage area on your handset, which Android keeps fenced off from other apps. It holds:
Honey Boutique AS never sees any of it. There is no account to attach it to and no copy anywhere else, which is why nothing on this page offers to delete it for you: it was never ours to delete.
Like waterfall rock. Not ours, not slippery on purpose, and not something we can hold still for you.
Two things outlive the app on your phone, and both belong to Google rather than to us:
What Google shows us from all of this is a dashboard of totals — installs against uninstalls, countries, Android versions, device models, an average rating. Google builds those figures by pooling many people, and no view in the console narrows down to one of them.
Like moss. This is the height where people slip, because nobody expects it.
Here is the disclosure that matters most to anyone who has spent a year collecting bananas, and that almost no game's privacy notice bothers to make:
The flip side is the reason it is built this way: a progress record that is nowhere but your pocket is a record nobody can lose on your behalf, sell, be breached for, or be compelled to produce. That is a genuine trade, and this page would rather state both halves of it than only the flattering one.
What does follow you to the new phone is the Google side from the previous height — the install record and your review — because those are attached to your account rather than to the hardware.
Like the flag at the top. The question nobody asks a game developer, answered anyway.
Suppose Honey Boutique AS stops trading. Updates end, the listing eventually comes down, and this page goes with the domain whenever the registration lapses.
Your save is unaffected. It is on your phone, it needs no server to be read, and the game keeps working offline for exactly as long as the handset does. Nothing switches off, no feature degrades, and no monkey is repossessed. That is an argument for keeping data local that only ever shows up when you ask this particular question, which is why it is worth asking.
What would end is the correspondence: any e-mail you had sent us would be deleted along with the mailbox, as it would have been anyway once the matter it concerned was closed.
Two things, and you have to start both of them deliberately. Everything above either stays on your handset or belongs to Google.
No account or sign-in. No advertising identifier, Android ID, serial number or MAC address is read, and no substitute token is generated in their place. No analytics library and no crash reporter. No location of any kind — a tower that goes up forever has no use for where you are standing. Nothing is sold, shared, profiled, or used to decide anything about you by machine.
Nothing is stored in your browser by this document and nothing counts your visit. There is one outbound request in it, and it is for the lettering: Corben and K2D sit on Google's font servers, and asking for a file means telling the machine serving it where to send the file. Whatever Google logs in that moment, Google keeps — we are not told about it, cannot see it, and have no arrangement that would let us.
A pixel monkey, bananas and a pirate hat are going to attract children, and pretending otherwise would be the least honest sentence on this page. So:
Through the EEA Agreement the GDPR applies in Norway, and the Norwegian statute carrying it is personopplysningsloven, LOV-2018-06-15-38. Its section 5 settles on 13: below that birthday a child cannot give their own consent to an information society service, above it they can. That threshold decides nothing here, because Vinora asks nobody of any age to agree to anything — consent is a basis for processing, and the six heights above explain why there is no processing to base.
The protections that matter for a child are therefore structural rather than procedural: there is no advertising to target at them, no identifier by which they could be followed between apps, no chat, no user-generated content, no link out of the game, and nothing a child could disclose by accident because nothing is ever asked. The one route that could carry a child's words to us is a public review, which requires a Google account of their own.
Eight entitlements follow from the Regulation and they are yours whatever this page says. It is worth being straight about the result of pointing each at us, which — six heights later — is usually an empty envelope.
Aimed at Google the same eight have real force, because the 30 m height ends in Google's hands rather than ours — the controls sit in your Google account under privacy, or through Google's published route for data requests. Asking us costs nothing, takes no prescribed wording, and a month is the outside limit on a reply.
Nothing obliges you to raise it with us first, though contact@honeyboutique.ink is open if you would rather.
Norway's supervisory authority is Datatilsynet, Postboks 458 Sentrum, 0105 Oslo, or datatilsynet.no. An EEA resident outside Norway can put precisely the same complaint to their domestic regulator instead, and litigation, if it comes to that, belongs in the courts of their own country of residence.
And a genuine suggestion if you do go: almost nothing here asks for your trust. What Google prints under Permissions on the listing is machine-read out of the shipped binary, so the productive instruction is open the package and look — not ask the studio and hope.
Controller · Article 4(7)
Norway · GDPR through the EEA Agreement and personopplysningsloven
The AS is an aksjeselskap under Norwegian law, and Google Play shows this same company as the developer of Vinora Monkey Climb. No data protection officer is in post, and Article 37 does not call for one: that duty lands on public authorities, on operations built around systematic monitoring at scale, and on large-scale handling of the special categories in Article 9. A one-game studio whose game never opens a socket matches none of those descriptions. Privacy mail therefore goes straight to the company.
Six heights, and only one of them has anything of yours in our hands — the letter you chose to write. The rest is either on your phone, where you can wipe it, or in Google's hands, where your rights have real teeth. The day a release would make any line above untrue, the line changes first and the heading gets a newer date than the build. So far there has been nothing to change — this is the original text.