Quoth Beta launches May 25 — sign up free, no credit card required.

00Days00Hours00Minutes00SecondsSign Up Free →

Not a VTT · More than a world wiki · Built for game night

Run your game at the table, one session at a time.

Real dice. Real maps. Real friends — and whatever they brought to eat. I don't roll your dice and I won't write your story with a machine. I just keep your scenes, your notes, and your players in one place while you're crowded around the same table. The minis you move yourself. I would be too tempted to steal them.

Start free trialPlayers play free — always.
Built for game nightReal dice, real maps, real friends. I'm the one in the corner, remembering where you put everything.

◆ A word from Quoth, the raven

You're probably wondering what I am.

I wonder about things too — mostly why shiny objects are so wonderful, and how long I can balance on a bust of Pallas using only the one foot. But also, a few things about you:

  • Do you run games with a laptop or tablet open at the table?
  • Do you track initiative on napkins, and keep monster stats on cards that always wander off?
  • Do you throw a map on a screen so people stop asking "wait, where am I?"
  • Do you keep 3, 5, ten-and-counting tabs open, each guarding one precious secret behind the screen?
  • Do your players hand you notes scrawled on a Pizza Hut napkin?
The session Run view — a two-pane GM screen with scenes, tabs, and the push panel.
Everything you reach for, perched on one screen. No flapping required.

Sound familiar?

Game night shouldn't mean six browser tabs and a binder held together by hope.

01

Notes everywhere

Your campaign lives across five apps, two notebooks, and a group chat named "dnd FINAL (real)." The one thing you need is always in the tab you just closed.

02

Players who forgot

It's been three weeks. Nobody recalls whose turn it was, what the duke wanted, or why they're knee-deep in a swamp holding a chicken.

03

The lore nobody reads

You built a gorgeous world bible. Thorough. Beautiful. Untouched by living hands. I'll carry the good bits to the table so the rest can keep gathering dust, with dignity.

Or — everything in one place. Revolutionary, I'm told.

01 · At the table · Push to players

Hand them exactly what they should see. And nothing they shouldn't.

A map, a face, a secret, or "for the love of dice, somebody bring snacks." Send it to one player or the whole table without leaving your chair. It lands on their phone like a tap on the shoulder — and I don't even have shoulders.

  • One player or the whole flock — you decide who sees what.
  • Maps, portraits, lore, notes, and "you swore you'd bring dice" all travel the same way.
  • It arrives as a banner on their phone, right where their hands already are. Doomscrolling, briefly redeemed.

The view from a player's phone, mid-session. They were checking it anyway.

02 · Before the table · Plan scene by scene

Picture your world if the players just stayed home growing carrots. It rumbles along for a thousand years — kings rise, swamps fester, debts compound — right up until game night, when your lot shows up and the dice take the wheel.

A tavern. A back alley. A boarding action that goes sideways immediately. String scenes into an adventure, adventures into a campaign, a campaign into a world. Or just prep the tavern — I won't tell anyone.

Scenes lined up in the order you'll run them.
The campaign, with every session it holds.

3 minutes to your first session

1

Make a campaign and session

Name it, pick a date, and there's a home for tonight before anyone finds the snacks.

2

Drop in a scene or two

A little read-aloud, a clue, a map. Just enough to start — you'll improvise the rest, like always.

3

Send the link and roll

Players join free, drag up chairs, and the dice take over. I'll be perched in the corner, judging quietly.

03 · After the table · The shared chronicle

The story you wrote together, kept long after the snacks are gone.

The log is shared — anyone at the table can grab the quill. When the session ends it sets into the chronicle: every beat, every codex entry you revealed, every scene the players saw. A tidy monument to all those terrible decisions, preserved for posterity. You're welcome.

The chronicle — the campaign's story, as it actually happened.

A few of my party tricks

The signature stuff you won't find perched anywhere else.

Project maps to the table

Throw any map on the big screen, grid welded to the art. Players see a battlefield. You see a battlefield. Nobody sees me.

Custom GM tables

Build the tables your system actually needs — initiative, weather, chaos magic. You roll the die; I read the result without editorializing. Much.

Pass a note

A player slides you a quiet note mid-scene. No napkins, no grease stains, no one else the wiser. Secrets, the way the good ones travel.

More than a wiki

A whole world — that still bothers to show up to the table.

Build the entire thing if you like — characters, cities, factions, a few centuries of grudges. Share what the players have earned; keep the rest behind the screen, where secrets are happiest.

  • Share your codex, make it public, or lock it tight — entirely your call.
  • Every entry is GM-only until you say otherwise. Reveal it the moment the story earns it — not one beat sooner.

A world nobody reads is just a very long diary. This one actually comes to dinner.

Come roll with us

Quoth is a work in progress, fussed over by two brothers who'd frankly rather be at the table than building the thing that gets them there.

Players play free — always. GMs get a free trial. No shiny card required to start — though if you're not using that watch on your wrist, I'll happily take it off your hands. Dead or alive.

No credit card to start. Players never pay.

— Ravensmaw & Arcwynd