Sixteen rooms you have to walk into. A silent joke, a dead group chat, a wave at someone who wasn't waving back. Aura isn't how you'd like to be perceived. It's what's left after contact with other people.
Your answers never leave your browser. Only the result gets counted, so I can laugh at you weirdos in aggregate, never individually.
No right answers. Pick what you'd actually do, not the version you'd tell at brunch. Nobody is watching. That's the entire measurement.
The Aura Index measures the thing everyone can feel about you but nobody says to your face. Aura is not how you'd like to be perceived. It is what's left in the room after you walk out of it. Across sixteen ordinary moments, a wave at someone who wasn't waving back, a joke that lands in silence, a group chat that dies the second you speak, this quiz scores the energy you actually give off.
Some people radiate Aura Emperor, the kind of presence that reorganizes a room on entry. Most sit somewhere around Neutral Aura NPC, technically present, easily forgotten. And a brave few are in full Aura Bankruptcy, hemorrhaging points with every interaction. So what's your aura, really? Sixteen rooms stand between you and a number, and the room has already decided. There are no right answers here, only the version of you that other people quietly filed away.
Five rungs from filing paperwork to entering rooms that were already yours. Yours is marked. The rest are where you could have landed, or where you're quietly headed.
Higher scores mean more presence held under contact. Lower means it leaks somewhere between the doorway and the first hello. Neither is a personality verdict. It's a quiz.
Made by one person. No logins, no answers stored.
If it ruined your afternoon, that was the point.