This guide consists of content from the Tron: Identity Codex, which is unlocked by playing through the game, taking particular dialog options, examining the environment, and solving challenges.

If you haven't seen the Credits yet, please take a moment and complete at least one run.

This guide will help you complete the Full Stack achievement, in which you discover all codex hotspots. I've added notes to some of the harder to find

I compiled this to help myself understand the whole story after playing through. I hope you find it to be useful!

• Hotspots are the small white dots that appear in the environment.
  
• Click on a hotspot to add it to the Codex.
  
• Turn Autoplay off if you want to discover all the codex hotspots.
  
• Disc colors are cosmetics that are used in Endless mode, which is the defrag mini game without the story.
  
• Disc colors are unlocked by solving challenges within defrag puzzles within the story.

• 25 seconds of completion in the defrag puzzle are calculated to be 1 microcycle.

The TRON Wiki has much more comprehensive character descriptions, so I'll link to each.

The Adjunct War didn't so much change Grish, as reveal his true function. He is a brusk, direct program whose only focus is the execution of his assigned task: Protecting the Repository and his fellow programs at any cost.

If you stay on the right side of Grish, he could be a vital ally. Make an enemy of him, and your time in the Repository may be less comfortable.

Killed if Prinz and Ada are dead and you prevent Grish from taking Cass.

https://tron.fandom.com/wiki/Grish

The Users may have left us long ago, but for programs like Prinz, their presence is a truth beyond criticism or question. He is a zealot, and that zealotry makes him as fascinating as he is dangerous. Faith is an unpredictable directive, and one which you find unsettling.

Watch this one closely, there's no telling which path he may walk down.

https://tron.fandom.com/wiki/Prinz

When you met this program, you knew nothing of them. Some programs are mysterious by choice, others have mystery forced upon them by circumstance. There are truths to be uncovered here, and perhaps good reasons why those truths have been suppressed until now.

Your new friend could be the key to tonight's events. Are they the victim, a participant, or something else?

https://tron.fandom.com/wiki/Cass

Your's and Ada's work is similar: You both construct facts. While the DoT trained you to seek and reconstruct truth, Ada's function is more... creative.

Ada builds narratives and stories. Histories of the Grid, and premonitions of where it might go next. Her work is inspiring and terrifying. The power in this room is infinite, you hope she takes her role seriously.

Ada will die unless she stays in the Library. She'll be mad, but alive.

https://tron.fandom.com/wiki/Ada_(Identity)

The Automata do not allow your kind within their territory, so you knowledge of The Sprawl is limited. You don't begrudge them their privacy, but the alien nature of their society makes reading Sierra challenging.

Locked up by Grish upon the discovery of a crime, Sierra is understandably frustrated, but is this frustration in the face of a false accusation, or at being caught?

https://tron.fandom.com/wiki/Sierra

Independence without function is alien to you. You cannot process the idea of a program who seeks only that which they need, without fulfilling a higher purpose. Proxy is such a program, driven by survival and ambition. An unpredictable and chaotic element in the system.

Proxy is a thief, and well known to the DoT. How you deal with her presence will have a massive impact on events. Choose wisely, and quickly.

When you meet Proxy on the landing pad, she will survive if you drop your disc.

https://tron.fandom.com/wiki/Proxy

The Arq server is vast, with hundreds of cycles of history, and hundreds of thousands of citizens. Tonight, you have a single function: To investigate an explosion within the Core Repository.

Located in the Vertical Slice district, this is a supposedly public and safe location. In reality, you know that Core's control is more insidious than most imagine. This is a political territory, and the air is heavy with demonstrations of power and influence.

You are an interloper, an independent program entering a space over which you have no control.

Core is, for the most part, a pragmatic ruling elite. They allow the population a degree of comfort and freedom, in exchange for protection and the rule of law. There is only one thing Core fears: Information.

Knowledge of the Users, innovation of new code and new praxis, and even programs themselves, are looked upon with caution by Core, in its search for full societal harmony. Anything that poses a threat is placed in the Repository, a secure place for storing secrets and ideas too dangerous to be out in public.

The smoke cloud billowing from the Repository tonight implies security may not be quite as strong as it once was, and at the very least, someone on the outside might have an explosive interest in its contents.

The long lifetime of the Arq server, and its ever increasing diversity and cultural branching, has led to an unimaginable amount of data generation. After hundreds of cycles, an interesting outcome manifested: The Data Tree.

Data trees grow from sustained complex computation. They are the inevitable outcome of a world with broad, exponential isomorphic output. Put simply, they are nourished and emerge from the complexity of The Grid itself. The programs of the Arq server enjoy the beauty and elegance of data trees, even using them to decorate public spaces.

This is emergence in a form even Flynn could not have predicted.

Since taking power, Core have continued to iterate on the design of the Light Cycle. The 6th generation Light Cycle is faster than its predecessor, and removes the wrap around design, providing a greater range of movement for the rider. These qualities have made it the standard Light Cycle for Core peacekeepers and criminals alike.

With growing gulfs between the cultures of the Arq server, different populations have begun to branch their own code and technology. Greater diversity of design will be the inevitable outcome.

The lobby is a beautiful space designed to welcome guests and subtly remind them of the power contained and maintained within the Repository. Usually, it would be bustling with activity, but tonight's events have triggered an evacuation of all but the most essential programs.

The door is locked, and there is a mystery to solve.

The administrator, Prinz, smiled.

"I think that's everything. Did you have any questions?"

Grish shook his head, silent. He needed the job, it seemed simple enough. No need to put the new boss off with an unguarded question or comment.

"You're not the talkative type I suppose? Good."

Prinz typed a number into the elevator, stopped himself.

"You'll need a code I suppose. Are you a religious program, Grish?"

Grish grunted, noncommittal.

"I don't ask for utter devotion, but I do expect respect, for myself, for Core, and for The Users. Let this be a daily reminder to you, of their importance and seniority to us all."

He gestured towards the pad, and keyed in one-nine-eight-two.

"1982. The year Flynn first made contact with the programs, according to the User calendar. A sacred time. Burn it into your memory."

Grish did so. He would use this code every centicycle.

The tank blast shook the barricade Grish and Proxy huddled behind.

"They know we're here!" Proxy gasped.

Grish shook his head. This soldier was a rookie, a new program unrefactored by the experience of a hundred disc wars. She'd never held a friend in her arms as they derezzed. He had.

"Keep your head down. They're carpeting the area, not gunning for two nervous programs. They'll move on."

A small nod. She dropped to a sitting position and drew her disc, inspecting its contents. "I'm a little fragmented, I could use a few millicycles to clean up the damage."

"Take your time. We're stuck here until this unit moves past."

Grish pulled a flask from his shoulder, gulping down energy as he joined Proxy on the ground. After he had downed half, he offered the flask to her. She ignored him, consumed in her disc edits.

She was learning, he mused. Prioritising. Good. They might survive the next few centicycles.

Following The Great Drought, Core takes great pride in its ability to collect and refine more energy than The Grid needs. These energy falls ostentatiously celebrate the enormous resources consolidated by Core in the last few hundred cycles.

Energy flows form the top of the Repository, via the Library, to the lobby and back again in a cycle representing Core's hierarchical superiority, via data management, over the population of the Arq server. Such grand architectural statements irritate you. They obfuscate and clumsily attempt to distract from more complex truths.

The deceptively simple access point to the rest of the building (although contingency stairwells exist for emergency access). The interlock system incorporates multiple tracks and cars, allowing access to all areas of the building in an instant.

Security is ensured via login codes, with different programs allowed different degrees of navigation. In even the smallest details, Core establishes control and hierarchy.

This elevator will be getting a lot of use tonight, as you do your rounds.

The lobby is a beautiful space designed to welcome guests and subtly remind them of the power contained and maintained within the Repository. Usually, it would be bustling with activity, but tonight's events have triggered an evacuation of all but the most essential programs.

The door is locked, and there is a mystery to solve.

Visible after Cass explodes Ada.



The domain of Prinz, the Repository's administrator. Half office, half shrine to the memory of Kevin Flynn Himself. You can tell that Prinz is a true believer in the Users. You wonder if that is a help or a hindrance to his work suppressing and controlling information.

Looking around, you can't help but be in awe of the place. If all this was indeed inspired by the Users, then you cannot imagine how beautiful their outer world must be.



Prinz's collection is as broad as it is impenetrable. Books, recordings, sculptures and children's toys. You're unsure how many of these items are reconstructions, originals or replicas, but given that their origin is the outside world, the distinction seems semantic.

You may have an opportunity to investigate if Prinz leaves, but for now, you don't want to frustrate him by touching his treasures. For the time being, the contents are a mystery.

The orange light of the administrator fizzled, blinking occasionally, common for programs of his advanced age. His voice croaked as he asked his last question.

"Do you understand?"

He fiddled with the light rings on his fingers as Prinz considered everything he'd been told. He had studied under his mentor for a hundred cycles, learning everything that could be learned about the Repository and its many functions. In every sense that mattered, he did indeed understand.

He also understood that the administrator hated him. That ego and pride would never allow him to accept Prinz as his successor. He was old and fat and utterly useless. Taking up space. Space that Prinz had earned, many times over.

It was in that moment, that Prinz decided to derezz his mentor at the earliest opportunity. He knew his function.

Outside, you see the Vertical Slice district laid out before you. This was the beginning of the city, the first foothold on the Arq server. Over a thousand cycles it has persevered and maintained the aesthetics of Flynn's master server. Tradition defines it. You can imagine why Prinz likes the view.

Your work takes you to all corners of this Grid, but of all the districts, Vertical Slice makes you the most uncomfortable. The forced nature of it, of programs miming out traditions they never experienced first hand. Sometimes, you're more sympathetic to Automata than you'd like to admit.

A beautiful desk sits in the middle of the office. Ornate light carvings reflect the circuitry of the first ENCOM server, gesturing to the very earliest history of our kind. You suspect it's not something Prinz uses often, more of a statement piece. Light flows across its surface, with particles floating upwards.

It's more of an altar than a desk. Like everything else in the room, it is created to celebrate and elevate the Users. Prinz lives in their shadow, or from his perspective, perhaps in their light.

The Repository is filled with vaults like this one, stacked on top of each other. Unimaginable treasures reside in each. Suppressed knowledge, dangerous truths and even more dangerous programs.

You were trained to seek information, to reveal. This place represents everything you are not. The explosion has temporarily allowed a little light in, and that may not be a bad thing. You wonder what they were after. You wonder if they got it.

The program sat in the branches of a tree, looking down to their friend.

"Cass, what are you doing?"

Cass was sitting at the tree's roots, fiddling with some fallen data shards, looking at them intently.

"Cass!"

Cass looked up from their twigs, locking eyes with their friend in the tree. A smile passed between them. And then Cass returned to their twigs, observing their digital nuance. Pondering it.

White light.

Heat, rippling outward in waves.

Light punches past white, into a brightness unimaginable.

A rumble, growing into a roar, transforming into a scream. Silence. Darkness.

A hum.

A sizzle.

Everything.

Nothing.

The cell was cold, the light within it dull, purple. Cass sat at its centre, cuffed and on their knees.

No idea how long they'd been there, no knowledge of where 'there' even was.

The door in front of Cass opened. A figure entered, tall, silhouetted by the light behind them.

"You alright, kid?"

Light glistened against the rim of the white armor of the figure, gold details glowing. "You look cold."

Cass nodded, a whisper escaping.

"Yes."

"Alright. I can help with that."

The silhouette bent down to a knee, placing garments in front of Cass.

"Don't tell anyone where you got these. I'm not meant to fraternise. You're dangerous." Cass nodded, reaching forward with their cuffed hands, feeling for the fabric of the guard uniform dropped between them. The silhouette stepped back.

"Be quiet, be safe. They can't keep you here forever."

And with that, the silhouette left, the door slammed shut. Dim purple light again.

The wall of the Vault is supposedly as strong as its door, both did little to stop the damage of this explosion. The result is an adhoc window to the Grid below. Small sparks and detritus fall to the park below, as the embers of the explosion's destruction fade away.

Nobody out there has any idea what happened. Right now, you're not sure they ever will. The truths you are uncovering may be swept away, buried in a vault like this one. For now, such thoughts serve no purpose.

The crystallization of energy into solid barriers and surfaces is standard on The Grid, but some vestigial instinct in your code makes you uncomfortable stepping out onto one. You understand that vertigo is ridiculous in this context, and yet it lingers. This bridge is uniquely uncomfortable given its extension across the broken detritus of the Vault.

You're taking more risks than you used to.

The door to the Vault is hanging off its hinge. The strongest encryption seals on The Grid could not hold back whatever force exploded in here. Defrag gashes break up its surface and cast light into the room. It looks like it could fall into the void below at any moment.

Whatever force did this is unimaginably dangerous, beyond any weapon you've seen in your investigations. Whoever wields it is a threat to the stability of The Grid itself. You hope you can catch them.

Flashes, flickers of potential futures.

A program, fighting thousands of enemies, getting hurt. A cycle, chased by hundreds.

Glitches, errors.

Shifting realities.

Repeated realities.

The city falling apart, torn apart.

Great wars between programs.

Resets and errors.

Battles and defragmentation in the streets.

And then nothing.

Below, you spot another vault among many. There's no telling how many are stowed away in this space, what could be in each of them. Core have kept a tight lid on innovation and free thinking for hundreds of cycles, the detective in your code aches to uncover their mysteries.

You wonder how and why the thief chose to steal the contents of this specific vault. What made them overlook the one above? Inside knowledge? A blind guess?

Visible when talking with Cass at the Vault when looking at the light bridge from the side.

The Library is an ode to epics and esoterica. The history of the Grid resides in these trees, from Founders to the Adjunct War. Alongside that, nestled in these branches, is the minutiae of thousands of lives lived on the Arq server.

But there are gaps. Programs missing, events uncategorized. Edits. This library is curated. Secrets pruned.

Eight programs sat around the table. The shortest leaned forward.

"We must improve the energy flow, we are vulnerable to any potential outage. We must build more processing facilities, stockpiles."

Stifled laughter from a couple of the other programs.

"We have more than we could ever use, brother. Your concern is misplaced."

The shortest shook his head.

"If we do not prepare, we risk everything."

"Flynn will return."

"You don't know that."

The tallest program stands, and gestures with arms out, palms down.

"Enough. Make your preparations, brother. But do so humbly. We cannot give you all the resources you requested. Do what you can with that which we can afford."

"It won't be enough."

"It must be."

Given the complex beauty of the trees in the Library, these books look charmingly anachronistic.

The shelves hold "Flynn's Gift", a compendium of all digitized User texts available at the point of the Founders' arrival on the Arq server.

Access is strictly limited to Core scholars, and even then, only to pre-approved books and chapters.

As a result, the average program has almost no knowledge of User history, beyond that preached by Core, or Automata's competing beliefs. It is a humbling and strange experience to be this close to so many answers to the deepest questions in your code.

You tell yourself to remain focused on the job at hand.

These grand walls and waterfalls were created from rock mined in the Outlands. They provide both a practical and symbolic function.

Symbolically, these structures demonstrate Core's molding and repurposing of the world around them, and their essential supremacy over the raw matter of The Grid. These foreboding forms have been tamed and utilized.

Practically, the specific minerals of the Outlands are untouched by the data of civilisation, so form a clean baseline for the Library's complex data trees. They insulate the room against the noise and interference of a bustling city.

It would be an overstatement to call the Library a public space, but it is certainly one that is often visited. On a normal cycle, this platform would offer beautiful views to visiting dignitaries and guests, the inbuilt shield keeping them safe from the great height of the room.

It serves a different purpose tonight, acting as a temporary prison cell for the imprisoned Automata ambassador, Sierra. The shield appears to be successfully holding back the disgruntled program, for now.

If it was up to you, you'd be encountering Sierra in a more neutral context. Grish had other ideas

Flynn looked out over Vertical Slice. A small cluster of structures and buildings. Isos worked below to expand it at a rapid rate. He turned to the young program next to him, Alpha.

"You're doing well, real well!"

Alpha nodded, gratefully and with respect.

"It will be a great city one day, and forever. In celebration of you, Flynn."

Flynn winced imperceptibly, rubbed the back of his neck.

"Sure! We can work out the details next time I'm here. I gotta go back, give Clu one more chance to throw in the towel on his whole, 'perfect world' thing."

Alpha smiled.

"We shall await your return."

Clu is referring to Clu 2, who was given the command to create the "perfect system."

Four landing pads flank the Repository, folding down to access to recognizers and light jets. Tonight, Proxy has hacked one to gain access.

You wonder how many priceless items have arrived here, shuffled to their vaults in this harsh green light. How many programs have been complicit in this secrecy, shuffling and moving data as they see fit?

Incoming data can be stored or transferred to crates like this for transport to the Library, or a vault. For convenience, Core will often store data trees and records in crates elsewhere then transport them via recogniser, carrier ship or light rail.

You've found a lot of clues in the past by skimming these crates. Programs can be careless with the amount of data they leave lying around. In this case, it's unlikely that you'll find anything of value. Whatever happened here, happened recently. The information you need is held by the witnesses and programs around you.

The vault was cold. The memory of an explosion lingered.

A noise by the elevator, a figure approached. A tall figure, wearing a long coat, and a quizzical expression. The confused program looked up, exhausted.

"What happened", the confused one asked.

The inquisitive program asked his questions. He seemed kind, but the questions were difficult, the answers blurry, distant.

"If you'll let me, I can skim your Disc."

The confused one nodded. They didn't understand the words, but the tone was warm, reassuring. They knew that they needed help, and this program seemed eager to provide it. The stranger took the Disc from unsettled program's back. He helped. He said his name was Query.

This is written in hexadecimal.

Originally posted by "Hexadecimal to ASCII":

Glitch - An error sweeps through, an outsider takes a chance, grid changed forever.

Originally a tool of the Black Guard of Flynn's master server, this seems to be a custom design created by Proxy or an associate. It will allow for a controlled fall, even from up here on the landing pad.

The device uses light barrier tech to slow a drop, if utilized with care by the program using it.

Proxy's custom version looks more than sturdy enough to carry the additional body weight of a hostage. She came here prepared for that possibility.

You are not wearing such a device. If Proxy is to be stopped, it will need to be before she jumps.

Visible during the four-way confrontation when focused on her and the hostage.

The Repository is immediately surrounded by parks and public galleries. Core have learned over hundreds of cycles that the soft power they enjoy relies on engagement and cultural buy-in from the community. By curating and sharing the data they validate, they have turned a system of control into a public utility.

Beyond the park, Vertical slice is a bustling hub. The oldest part of the city, but also its cultural and infrastructural center.

Visible with the building on the right after you attempt to derezz Proxy.

Core facilities can be cold an uncaring, but here, energy rails provide a little safety. You suspect that this may be more about protecting the cargo than the programs transporting it. The former is priceless, the later expendable.

The light cast up from the rails is blinding, bathing the pad in an uncomfortable green light. They add a sinister mystery to the night's coming's and goings. You wonder if that was intentional too. Core do have a flair for the dramatic.

Visible after Cass explodes Ada.