Seven volumes: the Manual and six kinds of Century.

The book every other volume derives from, and the one document a licensee actually adopts. Part One founds a Century: how a place's identity is recognized, how categories are built from it, and how the Hundred is selected under the Founder's Judgment. Part Two is the Fellowship and the Ceremony — the honors, the ranks, and the rite by which a Centurion is admitted, harvested from what one family actually practiced at Chatham and Osterville on Cape Cod.

Part Three is the Constitutional Objects: the Wheel, the Passbook, the Coin, the Book, the Chronicle and the Desk, each given a fixed standard that never changes and a defined margin where a Founder makes it their own. This is what the training teaches, what review applies, and what the objects are manufactured against.

A Family Century brings generations together through one hundred adventures shaped around their shared places, stories, and traditions.

It can grow from a much-loved family home or follow relatives wherever they live. Old photographs, favorite recipes, local outings, and new experiences help make it their own.

A city you learn on foot and talk about afterward. The Hundred is bounded by what a person can reach and return from in a single day — the Liffey out to Howth Head and Killiney Hill — and that boundary is the Century's first decision, the thing that makes it coherent rather than a tour of a country.

Five categories are shared with every Century in the Collection; two belong to Dublin alone: The Written City, for a place read as much as it has been lived, and Heritage and Home, the city as an inheritance. Its soul sentence: half of Dublin's best adventures are finished by someone else talking.

The islands' own answer to the same morning question, written down: one hundred adventures across an island chain that sits farther from any continent than any other inhabited place on earth. A player can race the whole Hundred as a friendly competition or simply let the Passbook lead them somewhere they would have missed.

This is the volume that carries the System past a family to a destination — a place people arrive at rather than belong to. The mechanism behind it was tested for years in the handmade family game that came first: a wheel, a book to be checked off and agreed to, and a prize for whoever finished first. Hawaiʻi carries that mechanism to a regional destination, and its own instruments are specified and ready for production.

Built for wish families visiting the Hawaiian Islands, and built from the Hawaiʻi hundred rather than invented from nothing — every adventure in it is one other people are doing that same week, on the same beaches. A wish is granted once, and the week that follows is a great deal to ask of seven days.

Two departures from the standard Hundred, and they are the point. The coin is given on arrival rather than earned at the end: the child who arrives is already a Centurion, and their name goes in the Book that day. And completion is scored rather than counted — twenty-five adventures offered at ten points each, so a child who does ten has reached one hundred and nobody has to do all twenty-five. The number is always one hundred. What changes is how it is reached. The shortened list and the five categories are a deliberate bend to show how far the Standard gives; a nonprofit Century is normally written to the full Standard, a hundred adventures in seven categories. It is the nonprofit prototype, modeled on a wish-granting foundation, and the first nonprofit Century may as easily be a local museum, an animal rescue society, a botanical garden or a land trust.

Two products under one cover, sold separately because they answer to different buyers. The inward Century is built for employees by the executive responsible for people and culture: a Hundred drawn from the company's own places, history and traditions, issued to a new hire on the day they start and completed across their first year. The outward Century is built for customers by the executive responsible for brand: a Hundred drawn from the places the company already touches.

The Ancestral Century begins with DNA. A line is read, its markers dated and placed, and what comes back is a movement across ground — where a family was living, and when, long before any document names it. Traditional genealogy then works the other way, from the present backward through parish books, manifests, stones and town records, until the paper thins.

The hundred adventures live between the two: travel, research and shared experience across the country a family came from, standing in the places that shaped its inheritance. Where the records survive, the story is told through history, tradition and adventure; where they end, the DNA carries the line past them. Ancestry stops being a chart of names, and the one who completes the Hundred becomes a Centurion, with a physical coin available as an optional keepsake.