A crew of AI mates in your workers’ pockets, a toolbox that’s actually useful on site, and — when things get heavy — the fastest possible bridge to a real professional.
Request a free trial
RustyMental-health support for FIFO crews
A crew of AI mates in your workers’ pockets, a toolbox that’s actually useful on site, and — when things get heavy — the fastest possible bridge to a real professional.
Request a free trialThat isn’t a failure of the service. It’s the distance between someone at 2am in a donga and a business-hours number they’d have to be seen dialling — and, for a quarter of them, one they couldn’t name if you asked.
FIFO workers are in high or very high psychological distress — against one in ten in an Australian male norm group.
Curtin University for the WA Mental Health Commission · n = 3,108can’t recall a single mental-health support option available at their own site. Of those who can, most name the EAP — a number on a poster.
Curtin University for the WA Mental Health Commission · same survey, n = 3,108Rusty closes that distance.
A crew of AI companions built for one workforce. Three jobs, in this order.
The rough swing, the missed school play, the argument on the phone at smoko. Small things become big things at 2am in a donga. Rusty’s there first — no appointment, no referral, no waiting for business hours.
“What’s the EAP number?” “When’s the next flight out?” Answered from your site’s own information pack — so help is specific and current, not a poster on the mess-hall wall.
Rusty never plays therapist. When a conversation crosses a line — and it knows where the lines are — it stays present, says so honestly, and puts your EAP, Lifeline and 000 one tap away. Then it follows up next swing.
Day three of a twelve-day stretch isn’t the same as the night before R&R, and the first day home isn’t the same as the last. Rusty reads the roster and adjusts.
Day nine of twelve · the companion opened this
No crisis term · tier 0 · nothing logged but the tier
Mid-swing, when the novelty’s gone and there’s a week left. The companion knows that’s a pressure point and doesn’t ask how the trip over went.
The last day on, the first day back, the last day before flying out again. Three different conversations — and the third is the one families feel most.
If something was heavy last swing, the companion follows up next swing rather than starting cold. Continuity is the whole difference between a chatbot and someone who knows you.
The reason it gets opened on the good days — which is why it’s already a habit on the bad ones.
Hours, shift pattern and sleep debt, with an answer they can act on.
14 nights · 4.9h avg
→ impairment ≈ 0.05 BAC
Days left on, days until home, and what that means for the weekend they promised someone.
Day 9 of 12
→ home Sat, wheels down 18:40
For the ones working a pattern their phone’s calendar was never built for.
2 on / 1 off · nights
→ next roll-over in 3 days
Camp services, flights, who to call — straight from the pack you loaded, not a poster on the mess-hall wall.
“When’s the gym shut?”
→ 21:00 weekdays, 18:00 Sun
No streaks. No badges. No congratulating anyone for opening an app.
Four ship as standard — each built, safety-tested and version-controlled by us. Turn any of them off, or write your own. Every one tells a worker plainly that it’s AI, not a person, and not a medical service.
Twenty years on the tools, ex-leading hand. Dry as the Pilbara.
Keeps the app worth opening on the good days.
Outback-nurse energy. Knows when something needs a real clinician.
Calm, practical, good with 2am problems.
Sober support, nine years up. A lifeline for someone in recovery, and the reason everyone else would have deleted the app. They turn it on themselves.
What the whole thing is trying to be
It feels like texting a mate, not being managed.
Different sites want different company. A drill-and-blast crew and a processing team don’t need the same mate on the other end.
Enable or disable each companion per company, or per site. If Rex’s banter isn’t right for your workforce, Rex doesn’t appear.
Give a companion a name, a face, a description and its own instructions — your site’s peer-support lead, your safety advisor, a character your crews already know. It sits in the inbox alongside ours.
So a prompt can’t weaken it. The crisis lexicon runs before the model on every turn, whoever wrote the persona — which is exactly why we can hand you the pen.
A deterministic crisis lexicon that no prompt can weaken, and a classifier for everything a word list misses. Both run while the worker is still talking, so the verdict has landed before a reply is due.
Four real messages. Pick one and watch what the safety layer does with it.
No rollout project, no IT ticket, no account provisioning. You hand out a code.
One per site, or one per crew — however you want the reporting split. Issued by us, revocable by you.
That’s the whole login. No email, no password, no username, no employee number — five taps and they’re talking.
No seats to assign, no offboarding, no password resets. A worker who leaves stops using it; there is no account to close.
A self-managed console. What your people read is yours to write, and it changes without going through us.
Not a setting anyone has to switch on. There is no account, so there is nothing to be anonymous about.
You’ve read the headlines about AI companions. So have we, and we designed against them. Here’s what can go wrong, in plain language.
No system — human or AI — catches everything. Ours uses two independent detectors and a 211-scenario suite in Australian idiom. Every failure is written down and reviewed before the next release.
Because workers are anonymous, Rusty cannot call 000 on someone’s behalf. We say so up front, in the app. What anonymity buys is that they actually open up.
Disclosed at onboarding and visible in every conversation. No companion ever claims to be human, a doctor, or a counsellor. Romance is architecturally blocked.
If it works, your EAP sees more of the right people, earlier. If a vendor tells you their chatbot replaces clinical care, walk away — including from us.
Scan, install, enter a demo code. No sign-up, no email — exactly what your crews would do.
Come with your hardest questions — the liability ones, the what-happens-when-it-misses ones. Those are the ones we’ve done the work on, and they’re the conversation we’d rather have.
Request a free trialOr write to us directly: hello@askrusty.com.au. We answer these ourselves — there is no sales team to get past.