Book & Table

Dana runs one campaign and plays in another. Look at whether the three things waiting for her are obvious before anything else, and whether each campaign reads like a paragraph you can skim rather than a dashboard.

The campaign's front page is the session that matters: when it is in both time zones, who has answered, what is still missing, and the GM's way into prep and into the table. The table of contents on the left (the Contents button on the phone) is the only navigation — try it.

Table mode is dark whatever the theme. The desktop is the GM's face: the recording, the shelf of cards with one in the spotlight, and a search box that reaches the wiki and the rules and bestiary without leaving the table (press Open on a wiki result and its page comes up as a card, stat block and all). The phone is a player's face: what has been revealed, that the recording is running, and their own notes. Press "Leave the table" on either to see the way back into the book, and "Back to the table" to return.

The recap is set as prose at reading width, and the full timestamped list of what happened sits folded underneath it — open "What happened" to see the 24 events the recap was written from. On the desktop the facts of the night (who came, loot, XP) sit beside the prose rather than interrupting it.

Prep is a document, not a form: what the GM wants, the beats, and everything the tools have produced, in the order it was written. The tools live in the margin and put their output straight into the sheet — try Names, Read-aloud, or Rules & bestiary. Desktop only; players never see this page.

The wiki is a set of chapters in the book’s Contents, and this is its front page. Look at whether one search box is enough (try “tide”, and see the rules come back tagged), and whether the map, what changed and who you have met tell a returning player where things stand. Only Dana’s copy has the three suggestions waiting for her and the wiki’s health, and the health is folded away.

A wiki article reads like a page of the book: prose at reading width, with the facts and the stat block in the margin on the desktop and under the summary on the phone. Hover a link (or long-press it) for a preview, click it to turn to that page, and notice the dashed link to a page nobody has written yet. On the desktop, switch “See it as” to Wren and watch the GM blocks, the GM-only facts and the stats disappear.

Editing happens on the page it changes. Look at whether it is plain that the hatched GM blocks belong to Dana alone: she writes them, and Wren, editing one section on her phone, never receives them at all. The chips above Dana’s editor show its other states: a link being typed, someone else saving first, one section at a time.

The map is a plate across the whole page. Zoom from the coast into Amberwake and then down into the Drowned Halls, follow the party’s trail of numbered sessions, and on the phone see who Wren’s note is shared with. Dana’s copy shows what Wren’s cannot: eleven landings nobody has found, and, somewhere in the Halls, a way through that the party doesn’t know it took.

The party has a page of its own, and on the phone it is the first chapter of Wren’s wiki. Look at the ring: Wren sees a tarnished silver ring, and Dana sees that and what it really is. Handouts say who each one was for (“Just you” on Wren’s letter), and Dana’s copy holds one she hasn’t shown anyone yet, ready to reveal.

Quests are a chapter: the story arcs are its sections and each quest is a page. Look at the rumour Wren posted, still waiting for Dana to call it canon, and at the Ledger itself: Dana sees two objectives and a reward the players don’t, and Wren sees only what her character knows.