You can find the stand-alone client on:

Inside the box lay a map, folded so many times its creases bloomed like rivers. The ink was faded but legible: a sketch of the city above, then a line that wound beneath it, marked with an X under the eastern well. Doxy’s heart gave a small, delighted leap. Adventure was a ridiculous thing to hope for—too big, too noisy—but maps had a way of making even quiet people tiptoe toward risk.

And for Doxy’s growing cult following? That’s exactly what they came for.