A tabletop role-playing game you play with friends. You pick the world. You pick who you are. An AI Narrator runs everything else.
Dice. Imagination. Five seats around a table, even if the table's just a group chat. The kind of evening you'd lose to a basement and a stack of pizza boxes — except the storyteller never gets tired.
Be anyone.Do anything.Your story.Your friends.Your Adventure.
Closed invite-only beta — opening seats by hand, to friends and small groups first.
~ what is this, really? ~
It's the role-playing game you remember.
If you've ever rolled dice in a friend's living room, you already know how to play.
🎲
Roll the dice.
Five tappable dice — d4, d6, d8, d10, d20. Real physics, real numbers. The Narrator honours every roll.
📜
Tell the story together.
Type what you do. Speak it out loud. Your friends jump in. The world responds, two paragraphs at a time.
✦
The AI runs the world.
Voices every NPC. Calls for rolls. Sets the stakes. Never breaks character. Never forgets what you did last week.
It's the kind of game your cousins used to play in basements — except the storyteller never gets tired and the world remembers everything when you come back next week.
~ how the Narrator opens a scene ~
A voice for every NPC.
Narrator
Bryn Hollow · Classic Fantasy · turn 1 of 35 · opening
~ same scene · different adventure ~
Different choices. Different stories. Every time.
The scene aboveThe stranger waits in the doorway. The publican stops sweeping. The fiddler holds her bow still. Brona — what do you do?
"I leap onto the table and roar — 'WHOSE GHOST ARE YOU?' — loud enough that the fiddler stops breathing."
↓
The whole meadhall stopsThe stranger doesn't flinch. He laughs. The publican drops a tankard. Every drinker in Bryn Hollow turns to look — and one of them, an old soldier you've never met, half-rises and whispers a name nobody has said aloud in eighteen years. Whatever this was about to be in private is now a town affair.
"I draw steel. I put my blade between him and the door. Nobody leaves until he names his business."
↓
Steel in the meadhallThe stranger doesn't move. Slowly, he sets a second coin on the table — heavier than the first, dark as wet iron. "Sit down, Iron-vow," he says quietly, using a name only one person in the world should know. The publican is already reaching for something under the counter.
"I rise, take the chair across from him, and slide his coin back. 'Strangers buy a girl a drink before they buy her silence.' I smile."
↓
A flirtation that isn'tHe returns the smile — too easily for a man just out of three days' rain. He doesn't pick up the coin. He picks up your hand instead, turns it over, looks at the callouses on your sword-hand. "You're not the one I came for," he says, very softly. "But you'll do."
Three players. Three nights. Three campaigns nobody else has played.
~ here's what it looks like ~
When the swords come out. And when they don't.
Combat with initiative, vit, ward. Character sheets with stats and pocket items. Mobile, desktop — same table.
◆ Combat — desktop
Round 02 · Reaction orderBrona's turn
Your party
Brona Iron-vowKnight · Brawn 16
Wenna ThreadspeakerWitch · Lore 15
Hod the PathlessRanger · Finesse 14
Tarn HalfsongRogue · down · stable
Hostiles
Hunger-Hound (alpha)wounded · snarling
Hunger-Houndcircling
Hunger-Houndfelled
The Houndmasterwatching from the ridge
StrikeManoeuvreWardSpeakPass
◆ Character sheet
Brona Iron-vowKnight · Human · Sworn-blade
Brawn
0
Finesse
0
Grit
0
Lore
0
Insight
0
Presence
0
Vit
22 / 25
Ward
13 / 20
Weapons
Saint-blade (longsword)+5 · keen
Iron-belted dagger+3 · throw
Pocket
The stranger's coinhidden
Grandmother's locket—
Three wend-pennies—
◆ Mobile
● Bryn Hollowturn 14
Scene
Sheet
Pocket
Narrator
The Houndmaster lowers his hood. His eyes are the wrong colour. "You took the coin," he says.
Brona — what do you say back?
d4d6d8d10d20
"I tell him whose coin it really was"
~ one ticket. the whole table watches ~
Like buying cinema tickets.
One person pays. The whole row gets in. Your friends jump in with a four-letter code — no install, no account, no card.
Party
Alex · you
Brona Iron-vow
Knight · Human
Jordan
Wenna Threadspeaker
Witch · Small-folk
Riya
Hod the Pathless
Ranger · Human
Marcus
Tarn Halfsong
Rogue · Hill-folk
Esi
Eira Coldforge
Smith · Human
🎟 1 ticket · 5 seats
~ pick a world ~
Four to launch. Or type your own.
World 01
Classic Fantasy
Hollowmere · the cold years · markets and meadhalls
A bordered land where Callings carry old names — Warden, Smith, Theurge. The meadhalls keep their fires low. The standing stones hold bargains older than the kingdom. Out past the last farmstead the road thins to a goat-track — and what comes back down it isn't always what walked up.
The forge falls silent at the third bell. The Foreman-Overseer's voice speaks directly into your skull. You used to know your name. There is an oracle-engine three levels down that has been weeping rust for a year, and the priests of the Cog cannot say why.
World 03
Wizarding School
Brassholt Hall · the Apparatus · enchanted bell-towers
Five Workings — Light, Voice, Lock, Mark, Knot — and four houses, each with its own scandal. The bell-towers chime out of order on certain nights. A professor went missing four winters ago, and the north door of the library has been keyed shut since.
World 04
Romantasy
Auralay · masked courts · two suns in the wedding sky
Masked courts, two suns in the wedding sky, and a calendar of feast-days that hide more than they reveal. You are the third heir of a falling house — a body to fill a chair. The Sworn Sword across the hall hasn't spoken to you in five years, and tonight that ends.
~ dial the tone ~
Set the table. Move it mid-session.
Strictness
Rule of coolRules lawyer
40
Lethality
Plot armourDeadly
35
Creativity
GroundedWild
85
Humour
SeriousSlapstick
45
~ next week. same world ~
Pick up where you left off.
Bryn Hollow · turn 12 of 35
Alex: I leave the coin and follow him out into the rain.
The stranger does not look back. The meadhall door swings shut behind him and the rain swallows the sound of his footsteps.
Riya: Wait — I want to keep his hood in sight.
→5 days later→
Bryn Hollow · turn 13 of 35
A week's rain has not washed the print from the meadhall floor — a wet boot, the size of the stranger's. You are back, all of you. The fire is still low.
Jordan: Was the stranger ever real?
Create the adventures — and the funny moments — your friends will be quoting for the next month.
