iOS App Store review, AKA The Bridge of Death

I really wanted to like building an iOS app. I really did. I've been a Web guy my entire career, and always found the iOS and Android developers to be an interesting and mysterious group of people. Two unrelated things recently changed in my world, and thrust me into the world of iOS development: the first was a serious case of tinnitus. The second was the advent of the age of agentic coding.

Once I had habituated to my tinnitus, I still wanted some access to specific types of sound therapy that were not available on the iOS App Store. I figured, hey, we're all slop jockeys now, right? So why not hop into Le Claude and build the app I actually wanted myself?

I built an app called Tinnitus Multi-Therapy. It combines nature sounds with two specific generated sounds: acoustic coordinated reset (ACRN) and spectral ripple, for soothing tinnitus. The latter two may sound a little fancy, but what the app does is just generate audio. You adjust the pitch to match what you hear your tinnitus doing, adjust the sound levels, choose the sounds you want, and listen. It plays underneath music and other audio, so you can have other stuff going at the same time.

I got it working, used it myself, fixed bugs, used it some more. Eventually I thought other people might find it useful. A $5.99 unlock for simultaneous playback of all three sound modes. A small app, hopefully nice for people suffering from tinnitus like myself.

I have been developing software for a long time, but there was a ton of stuff to learn. Audio sessions, signing, purchase configuration, the various ways you can end up with a seemingly working build that isn't the one you meant to install. I did a clean-room implementation of one of the sound algorithms. I did CPU and battery optimizations. Some interesting technical work, along with the usual tedious bullshit.

Of course the app had bugs. Predictable UI jank like the frequency slider leaving a tone playing after you took your finger off it. Working with my agentic Kirk and Spock duo (Claude and Codex), I investigated, figured out the cause, and fixed it. I like that kind of problem, the kind that drove Stallman to create the modern open-source movement. Something's fucked up in your printer software, you have access to the source, you fix it.

I'm sure all of y'all who have built iOS apps are snickering at this point, knowing full well where this is going.

Yeah: then we got to App Review.

There's a scene in Monty Python and the Holy Grail where the knights have to answer three questions to cross The Bridge of Death. Get an answer wrong, and you're flung into the gorge.

Lancelot gets asked his name, his quest, and his favorite color. He answers, and the bridgekeeper lets him through. Pretty straightforward. Robin sees this and figures he can do it, too.

Robin gets asked the capital of Assyria.

Apple wanted a video demonstrating the app and its purchase flow. I recorded one. There was an issue with the promotional image for the in-app purchase. I removed it. They raised concerns under Guideline 1.4.1, "Safety — Physical Harm," about medical data, measurements, diagnoses, or treatment advice without regulatory clearance. Wow, that's kind of a lot for an app that plays some sounds.

I explained what the app does. I rewrote the description, removed explanatory language about the research and mechanisms, and made the medical disclaimer explicit.

They said more stuff. I did more stuff.

Then, in September, they gave me this wonderfully specific sentence:

Specifically, your app name implies therapy.

The app is called Tinnitus Multi-Therapy. So, yes. Great job, App Store reviewers, you can read. Excellent work. So apparently the name is a problem. Calling it "therapy" is a problem.

Now that, dear reader, opens a huge mystery. You see, Apple runs a public storefront. There's a search feature. If you use it, you can find apps called "Tinnitus Therapy - ACRN," "Tonal Tinnitus Therapy," "Tinnitus Relief: Tonal Therapy," and "Tinnitus Angel Sound Therapies" (emphasis mine).

These are actual names. Some of the apps also describe acoustic approaches closely related to what mine does. At least one of the apps, an app I bought very early in my personal tinnitus journey, plays the ACRN sound precisely the same way mine does. (Sure you might wonder why I bothered even making my own app, but nobody has done one with spectral ripple yet, and none of them let you play multiple types at a time, so yeah, not just over here reinventing the wheel, y'all.)

Then there was Hzera, whose subtitle advertised "Notch & CR Sound Therapy." Its own terms said it "has not been evaluated or approved by any regulatory health authority." Those same terms described it as non-medical, and disclaimed any sort of treatment. Sounds pretty familiar.

Lancelot seems to be having a lovely time on the other side of the bridge. His favorite color is blue (not yellow).

I raised these comparisons with Apple. I took a phone call with an actual reviewer. And predictably enough, they flatly refused to discuss other apps. They pointed me to a form that could be used to report apps that I thought "might be in violation of App Store policy." Might be? Seriously? So sure, I attempted to report these apparently problematic apps, and the form started spitting 503s after the first ten submissions. Manual submissions, no browser automation. Apple, your processes suck at even sucking.

In an October 10 check-in, I passed along a list I had assembled containing 64 apps that present themselves as tinnitus therapy or treatment. Seventeen had "therapy," a variant of the word, or "cure" in the main name. Thirty-six had the theoretically problematic wording in their names or subtitles. I don't have access to other developers' private submissions. Some may have supplied documentation I can't see. I checked the public evidence meticulously.

In writing, Apple explained that it couldn't share information about other developers or the outcomes of investigations. Right. The app names and descriptions are on your fucking storefront. 64 fucking apps. This is not a single slip-up, this is their generalized process: selective enforcement of nebulous requirements in a capricious and completely arbitrary way.

During the phone conversation, the reviewer suggested a lawyer's letter explaining why the regulatory requirement didn't apply would likely satisfy the concern. She also suggested FDA certification, without being able to explain what corresponding documentation would be needed internationally.

Apparently the missing item in the approval process is thousands of dollars spent for lawyers, and certification from the US Federal fucking Government. For a $5.99 app that probably like, eight people will buy.

To be honest, at that point, it felt like my main motivation had become a sort of morbid curiosity, to see how long it would drag out, how completely absurd this pretense of a fair and reasonable "review" process could be. And there were still other avenues to try: an actual videoconference appointment with Apple to discuss the review. I spoke with a very friendly and theoretically helpful representative in their Japan office. We chatted amiably in both English and in Japanese, and he gave me very specific guidance on changes to the app description and metadata, and said the application should be okay with those changes. (LOL, "should be okay.") He said if it got rejected again, he would have the Policy Review Board take a look. Sounds super official, super reasonable, right?

I made the changes, and waited.

On October 14, Apple rejected it again.

The overall marketing of the app advertises itself as being able to provide relief from tinnitus. As such, this may make it a medical device. Please provide official documentation or a legal opinion that would provide reasoning as to why the app would not fall into the category of a medical device. Once you have posted this documentation, we will continue the review.

"This may make it a medical device."

My goodness, they had identified yet another problem: that a tinnitus app advertises relief from tinnitus. And somehow the implication here is "medical device." Ah, yes, an app on your phone that plays some sounds, is out there performing unauthorized surgeries, prescribing narcotics, and calling your insurance company for compensation. ("That will be a $5.99 co-pay, please.") This is completely fucking absurd.

Yes. That is the point of the app, providing relief. It's also the point of all the 64 other tinnitus apps in the App Store that I had so carefully compiled and sent to them. The ones that have "Tinnitus Relief" right in the name, presumably to save everyone the trouble of guessing what they might be for.

I replied that evening, explaining that I had followed the Japan-office representative's guidance and asking what I could do to clear the bar. As of October 25, that reply is still unanswered.

We had gone from the verboten "therapy" to the equally forbidden promise of "relief." And during this entire process, I consulted Apple about what Apple wanted and followed Apple's advice.

"What is the capital of Assyria?"

I consulted with a buddy of mine, who makes his living with a library that is licensed for use in iOS apps, and has built multiple apps himself. He said he had no helpful guidance, and that he had been, and I quote, "fucked by them as well." His examples included accepting a version for months, and then on launch day, rejecting the new version. And, super fun, an accepted app out there in which the description is just bad-mouthing him personally. "Shocking, but not surprising," as they say.

Hilariously, pretty early on Claude was helpfully giving me advice about what to do to get this thing approved. Because you know, that's its thing, being a helpful assistant. "The fix: changing the name to something else."

Claude is pretty good about following a goal when it's made clear. Claude was under the mistaken impression that my goal was to get this thing approved as expeditiously as possible. Kinda hilarious explaining to it that no, the goal here is not simple expedience. The goal here is to get a fair shake. And if they are incapable of actually giving me a fair shake, to be as big of a pain in the ass as I possibly can.

This latest round has asked for "official documentation," whatever that means. I've provided what I believe qualifies as such, and resubmitted for yet another round of "questions three" on the Bridge of Death. Just clarify your requirements, Apple. Make it clear what I need to provide, that distinguishes mine from the long, long, fucking list of already approved apps that do exactly what mine does, with "therapy" in the name.

"What type of swallow are we talking here, African, or European?"