The Player's Handbook

01

The words LoreWind uses

✦ Learn the table's tongue first. It is a short vocabulary, and unlike my cast, it keeps no secrets. · Quill, in his notes

A world, story, and timeline are related, but they are not the same thing. Knowing the difference makes the rest of the interface much easier to read.

World

The reusable setting: its opening cast, geography, history, quests, rules, and starting situation.

Story

Your story inside a world. Beginning a published world creates your own story.

Timeline

One branch of a story, with its own transcript and evolving world state.

Forge

The creator that builds a new world and hero from your idea.

Model

The AI model that powers Quill's narration and dialogue.

Game master

Quill, who runs every story and writes with the model you choose. A table owner can work beside him.

Mature rating

A creator-selected content rating for non-explicit adult themes. It is not an NSFW tag.

NSFW tag

An automatic story state applied when sexually explicit content is detected and the player confirms the transition.

02

Choose your starting point

✦ Doors, as far as the eye can see. I only ask that you open one. · Quill, in his notes

Read the chapter for the path that interests you; there is no need to read both.

03

Begin a published world

✦ A shelf full of worlds other hands built. Take one down. It was put there hoping you would. · Quill, in his notes

The Worlds gallery contains reusable starting points made by LoreWind and other players.

04

Forge your own world

✦ Bring me a spark and I will raise a bonfire from it. Bring the bonfire built and I will not move one log. · Quill, in his notes

05

Choose how you play

✦ Some want dice. Some want pure prose. Some want to rewrite my narration, which I have decided to take as a compliment. · Quill, in his notes

First-person narration tells the story in your hero’s own voice as “I,” especially useful in Writer mode for novel-voice drafting. Second person calls the hero “you.” Third person follows the hero by name, and shared multiplayer tables always use third person. Game and prose live on parallel timeline families so rules and progression never get added retroactively to a prose history.

06

Take a turn

✦ You act, I answer. It has worked since the first campfire and I see no reason to change it now. · Quill, in his notes

After each game master reply, Quill leaves a red ✦ table note above his reasoning fold, reacting to what you actually did. Beneath it, he offers options in the dialogue wheel, written for that exact moment. They are suggestions, not a menu of everything you are allowed to do. Choose one, use Refine my dialogue beside the composer to turn an intention into several approaches, or ignore the wheel and write any action yourself (including a move that simply asks the game master for ideas). Refining the human game master's narration, whether drafted or already posted, or refining a player's move draft costs the same Ink as one reply from the story's model. Options carry a tone, not a morality grade. Quiet table hides Quill's note; separate play preferences can hide the wheel, hide its eccentric or investigative flavors, and collapse Quill's visible reasoning. Under The model powering Quill, check one model or check several to let them take equal turns, and each reply spends its model's listed Ink price. A model you cannot take says why in its own row: the plan that would reach it. Every AI telling carries a subdued “Model powering Quill” byline, so the page remembers which model powered Quill even if you change models later.

Where the timeline allows it, Tell it differently (the right arrow past the newest telling) preserves the current version and adds another one you can move between. Retell discards every stored telling for that reply and starts it over. Read-aloud, illustration, and animation controls live on the individual message they belong to.

Every message also has a small ribbon beside its timeline controls. Press it to leave your bookmark on that page; press another to move it, or press the filled ribbon to remove it. The silk ribbon in the manuscript's top-right margin jumps back to the marked passage. It is private to you and to that exact timeline, so a newly made fork starts with a clean ribbon.

Sent a move you didn't mean? While the game master writes, the Send button becomes Stop. Stopping hands your words back to the composer and removes the move from the story as if it never happened. The Ink is still spent: the writing was already underway.

Leave and come back. A reply keeps writing on the server even if you close the tab or wander to another page; return and a catch-up banner delivers what you missed. Your library shows each story with your latest move, supports favorites and search, and reopens the timeline you last had open. Hide tucks a story into your own collapsed Hidden shelf without changing anyone else's library or blocking play. Deleted stories and saved Forge drafts wait in Trash for 30 days, where you can restore them or delete them forever. One nuance: stopping during a resend or recovery keeps the move that already entered the story and discards only the reply that was forming.

07

Play in Game mode

✦ This is where the numbers live. They are honest numbers, rolled in code where I cannot reach them, and between us I am relieved about that. · Quill, in his notes

Game mode gives your hero a real character sheet: 7 attributes (Luck, Endurance, Willpower, Dexterity, Intelligence, Charisma, and Strength, i.e. your sheet) rated 1 to 10 with 5 as an ordinary person, plus 10 skills written for your world's genre and rated 0 to 100. Every skill's starting value derives from the attributes that govern it (an agile hero simply is a better climber), with Luck lending half a level per point to all of them, and at creation you tag 3 signature skills, which start well above their derived value and train at half cost for the rest of the story. Attributes also derive your vitals: health, stamina, and, where the genre has one, a third pool named by the world itself (mana, focus, whatever fits). Build it yourself or hand it to the game master to assign; every other character in the world gets a sheet rolled up behind the scenes.

When an outcome is genuinely uncertain, the server (never the game master) rolls a real 20-sided die, adds your bonuses, and compares the total against the difficulty of the attempt. The anatomy of every roll: d20, plus a tenth of the skill used (up to plus 10 at mastery), plus the paired attribute minus 5, plus Luck's stepped bonus, plus any applicable named perk modifier, and the character's opinion of you when the attempt targets someone. Checks with no fitting attribute roll your Luck itself. Your story difficulty tilts that bar for every check your hero makes (2 lower on Easy, 2 higher on Hard), and the roll chip names the shift so nothing is hidden; creation points are identical at every difficulty. A natural 20 is a critical success and a natural 1 is a fumble, no matter the odds. If the attempt targets a character, their earned opinion of your hero tilts the roll: someone who has come to trust you meets you halfway, someone you have wronged does not. The dice verdict is ground truth the narration must obey, so the prose can never quietly hand you a success you did not roll.

Only the foe holding the field is drawn in full: their name, their face, and their health. Every combatant on both sides also keeps an orb in their row for the whole fight, the way a trainer's belt counts a party: bound while they wait in the dark, broken open while they hold the field, struck grey when they fall, so a glance always answers how many stand on each side. All a waiting foe's orb gives away is how heavy it is. Tap one to hear what the fight can tell you about it; everything else waits until it takes the field. Battles run in rounds: your action resolves first, then one enemy answers it while the rest hold back and telegraph what they'll do next, so a crowd threatens you without burying you. Drop their leader or half their number and the survivors may lose their nerve, breaking into a rout or throwing down their arms. Willpower grants a second wind: once per battle, a hit that would drop you can leave you swaying at 1 health instead, and a natural 20 on that roll puts you back at full. Defeat, when it comes, is soft by default. Your hero survives going down, and the game master makes survival cost something instead: captured, robbed, rescued at a price, left for dead. At a shared table the fight is not lost with you: a hero who drops is down and out of it, wounded but alive, their seat passed over in the turn order while the rest of the party carries the fight, and the battle is only lost when the last of you falls. Being down does not send you away from the table, either. Your dialogue wheel greys out, because there is no move left for you to make, but the composer stays open: whatever you type reaches the story as words from the ground, a groan or a gasped warning or a last thing you needed to say, and the game master writes them in as exactly that. Nothing you say from down there rolls a die, takes a turn, or puts your hero back on their feet. The Permadeath setting removes the net: if your hero falls in battle, the game master writes their death as the story's true ending, the timeline locks behind a GAME OVER, and only forking back to an earlier moment can change their fate (that fork stays available even under iron man). Solo game-mode stories only; turn it on at creation or any time after, and it never turns off. When the end does come, Quill closes the book himself: a short memorial appears on the GAME OVER page, quoting your hero's real deeds and best lines back from the pages they earned them on. If the game master ever records the wrong death, open the world changelog and revert that state update; the death record remains in history beside the correction.

Every fight also carries your standing intent: a Lethal / Subduing switch on the battle panel decides what a felling blow means before you swing. Lethal means a blow that fells a foe is meant to kill; Subduing means it leaves them alive, out cold or yielding. The switch only answers when your move does not: write the intent into the move itself, knock him out, run her through, and your words win over the standing choice. A foe felled under Subduing is recorded alive and out of the fight, so mercy is a real outcome the world remembers, not flavor. And mercy has a mirror. Striking a helpless, already-subdued foe with lethal intent is not another uncertain check, because there is nothing left to contest: the game records it as an execution, and the story treats it as exactly that.

Named opponents remember too. A rival who survives a finished fight learns from it: their real sheet can rise, closing part of the level gap between you, and the change is canon, written into the world changelog and carried onto the field the next time they face you. Ordinary unnamed foes never grow this way; that kind of grudge belongs to the ones with names. And beneath the stage, a folded Chronicle keeps the whole fight in words, round by round, newest first: every strike, fall, telegraph, and break of nerve the engine reported, kept for the length of the fight. It is the arithmetic under the animation, and the full record if you play with motion reduced.

The stage carries the place with it. LoreWind keeps a house set of backdrops drawn in every art style, so a fight in a forest, a great hall, or a harbor is played against that place rather than a dark panel, and it costs nothing and touches no allowance. Worlds with an art style of their own can go further: on Loremaster, with Dynamic backdrop on, the stage paints its own backdrops in that style the first time a fight breaks out somewhere new, and every later fight there is played on it.

Progression stays in your hands. The server awards experience only for resolved events (checks passed, battles that end short of defeat, story beats reached). Each level grants a pool of skill points that scales with your Intelligence (15 for an average mind, up to 25), plus 1 attribute point every other level, and you invest them yourself from the Hero panel. Advancement gets steeper as mastery grows: a level of skill costs 1 point up to 50, 2 up to 75, and 4 beyond, with your tag skills paying half at every step. Attributes stay live, New Vegas style: spend an attribute point and the skills it governs rise with it, 2 levels where it is the primary governor and 1 where it contributes, alongside its check modifier and anything else it feeds. Luck is the exception that proves it: governing nothing, it moves everything, and whenever a Luck point carries its half-hand to the next level, every skill on your sheet rises by 1. Training costs still price purely by a skill's current level, and the only things that cheapen them are a tag and the perk that grants one untagged skill the same half-price lane. No stat ever moves because the AI felt like it, and the journal tracks the quests, side matters, and objectives your play opens along the way.

Levels also buy identity. Every odd level from 3 to 19 grants a perk pick, 9 across a full run, chosen from an illustrated gallery on the Hero panel. The sheet keeps the full perk record open at any time: every oath you have sworn, the road ahead with each perk's demands, effect, and flavor, and the 3 capstones waiting at the end, tailored to who your hero is (Seducer courts as a man, Seductress as a woman, and neither is offered to a child). Perks are permanent, named talents with real engine hooks: sharper seduction, a lower crit bar, a second second wind, a 4th tag skill. Most ask something of you first (an attribute at 5 to 8, a level, and 2 of them an adult hero), and whenever a perk modifies a roll, that bonus shows up by name on the roll chip, so you always see your build working. The road ends at level 20, where you choose 1 of 3 capstones: a single defining gift, taken once, kept forever.

08

Understand the world

✦ Everything your story touches gets written down. This chapter shows you where I keep it. · Quill, in his notes

The side panel splits into tabs so the encyclopedia stays first:

One more surface sits outside the panel: the Party card lists the players seated at a shared table, their claimed heroes, and open seats. Invitations that have not been answered yet appear only to the owner who sent them. The quests a world ships with live in the Lore Book's Quests pane, beside the living journal.

Characters also carry reputation you can read: a hero-or-villain alignment shaped by how your hero acts, fame that spreads from deeds, and each character's earned opinion of your hero on a scale from devotion to hatred. These are not decoration; opinion weighs on targeted dice checks in Game mode, and fame changes how strangers receive you. Your hero's pinned entry in the World panel keeps the whole dossier together: alignment gathers around the portrait as heroic light or villainous smoke, the morality ladder names the exact tier and score, fame keeps its own ladder and progress bar, and prose stories keep the wallet just above it.

When a world uses money, your Wallet gives its primary currency pride of place and lists every nonzero secondary balance beneath it. Its recent history keeps each credit and debit beside the named currency and the reason it moved. Completed rewards, purchases, fines, gifts, thefts, and transfers can move the named currency automatically when the story states a clear amount. Spending requires that exact currency: LoreWind never exchanges money silently, and a money changer records one debit and one credit. Offers and quoted prices do not move a balance. The game master can correct any currency with an unlocked, reasoned adjustment. Story money is fictional and cannot be bought, cashed out, sent between LoreWind accounts, or used for plans and Lore Points.

Try it here

She snuck out the window in protest of a betrothal to a man she doesn't wish to marry, while you stood guard unaware at her door as her sworn shield. When you realized that she wasn't in her room, and set out to find her, you tracked her to the tavern and found her ordering a tankard of ale.

Princess Mira · Opinion of you: +20 warm

you are her sworn shield, and lately something closer to a friend

Let her stay Drag her back to the castle

In play, every character keeps a tally like this about you.

Everyone at a shared table can read the world. The owner can open the full Lore Book to revise its authored details.

09

Edit your world

✦ The author's chisel. Carve anything you like; I will note which walls were load-bearing. · Claude, powering Quill. Quill has underlined "load-bearing" twice.

The Lore Book is where the owner shapes authored truth. Members read the same pages as a codex; only the owner changes them. Its world sections include first-class species, separate from peoples and from the species already carried by the cast. The opening can be rewritten by hand or refined with the ✦, and every ✦ Refine in the editor first asks what you want changed. The editor also holds the world's running settings: which model powers Quill, how often scenes are painted automatically, and the world's art direction, chosen from named presets, designed by the game master, or applied from the My styles library saved on your account.

Beyond the cast, the editor covers the world's body and past: geography and the map, travel, peoples, faiths, laws, world history, and the calendar. A faith records its names, kind, tenets, practices, organization, holy places, and relations. Its secrets remain private game-master truth until the story reveals them. A faction's own page lists who answers to it, read back from the Factions field on each character's sheet, so allegiance is written once and visible from both sides. World history records the wars, falls, and bargains that made the present setting this way, and the game master treats it as authored truth. Each character page carries their portrait gallery (pick the current portrait, which also acts as the reference for future paintings, and set a visual age), plus identity, occupation, background, aspirations, speech style, personality, example lines, current state, facts, secrets, and their opinions of others. It also records whether the character is alive, deceased, undead, nonliving, or of genuinely unknown fate. Deaths and returns append to a dated lifecycle history instead of erasing one another. Example lines are written one per row, up to five, and the ✦ can write or refine them while keeping the character's established facts. Where a deletion shows the Undo toast, you have several seconds to take it back before it becomes real (eight for a fact or an image, ten for a whole character); heavier removals (like arc Delete mode) use their own explicit confirmation instead.

If your story began from a world in the gallery, there is a road back at every size. A character's Day one tab can restore the bio they arrived with, leaving their picture, their voice, what they remember, and the opinions people hold of them exactly as they are. The Opening pane can restore the opening scene and its choices. And at the bottom of Revise the world, under Danger, Resync with the world gallery puts the whole story back the way it was the day you claimed it: every message is deleted, play begins again at the opening, and the cast, lore, journal and plan all return to what the world was published with. You choose whether your hero comes with you or comes back as the creator wrote them, and you type the story's title before the button will do anything. Nothing on this road costs you an image or a reply, and the pictures you have paid for are never deleted.

Memories are what a character carries out of the scenes they lived. As you play, the game master keeps writing them down in the character's own voice, a line at a time, and reads the relevant ones back whenever that character stands in a scene. Each character's page lists them in the order they happened, showing the day, whether the memory was lived or only heard secondhand, and whether it was told in confidence. Search them, filter by kind or by how heavily a memory weighs, and read the whole cast's memories at once when you want to see who knows what.

You can fix one that came out wrong, write in something the game master never noticed, or forget one for good. Write in first person, the way the character would say it ("I promised the smith my silence"), and date it in the world's own words; a new memory is dated to the day the story is on. Anything you write or revise becomes yours: nothing overwrites it and nothing prunes it away as the story grows. Forgetting one is deliberate and final, and it takes the index that finds it along with it. When the story disproves something a character remembers, there is a gentler answer than forgetting: Replaced by points the old memory at the later one that corrects it, and from then on the game master is handed only the correction. The replaced memory stays on the page, dimmed and still readable, and Let it stand puts it back in play. Below the list, Test recall puts a question to the character and shows exactly which memories a turn would carry, in order, with the line a real turn draws marked. It does not call the game master or spend any of your allowance. Memories are the owner's view only: they hold things said in confidence, and players read the world, not the game master's private notes.

10

The story arc

✦ Every story bends toward somewhere. Here is how to draw the bend, and how to leave room to miss it. · Quill, in his notes

Every world can carry an arc: a map of where its story is meant to go, drawn as a flowchart on the Arc tab. Each card on that board is a story beat, a moment the tale is steering toward. The arrows between them are paths, the routes the story can take from one story beat to the next. A story beat with two or more paths leading out is a fork where the story can genuinely diverge, and a world can hold several different endings: paths that split do not have to meet again. Chapters number themselves from how deep a story beat sits in the map; you never number anything by hand. Their names are another matter: when a chapter closes, Quill titles it the way a printed novel would, looking only at what was actually lived. Write a chapter title on a story beat's card yourself and he will use your words instead, without comment.

The AI game master reads the current story beat and the paths leading out of it, and steers the scene toward whichever one the story's events actually satisfy. Your choices decide which path is walked. The arc is a plan, not a rail: play can bend away from it, and the plan can be redrawn around what really happened.

Owners edit the future, never the past. On the board you drag story beats to arrange them, drag a story beat's handle onto another to lay a path, add story beats and endings, and write each one's happenings, player-safe whisper, and private notes. Delete mode marks story beats and paths for removal and removes nothing until you confirm the whole set. Story beats already lived stay history: they cannot be deleted or re-routed, only their wording sharpened. You can also hand the wheel back to the AI: ask the game master to replot the road ahead around what actually happened, with a direction of your own if you have one.

A published world publishes its Day one arc: the plan every new player inherits, separate from wherever your own story has wandered. A world with no arc at all is simply freeform; where the story goes is up to you and the table, and you can write an arc by hand at any time.

11

Retellings and timelines

✦ Regret is a tool at this table. Walk back to any moment, take the other road, and I will keep both. · Quill, in his notes

A retelling changes only the latest game master response. A fork creates a separate timeline from a chosen message and leaves the original untouched. The new branch receives the world as it stood at that moment, while keeping the world's canonical Day one definition.

Open a new timeline returns to the opening and seeds its character state from the current Day one definition. Switching between Game and prose for the first time also creates a parallel path from the shared opening; later switches return to that existing path.

12

Play with friends

✦ Bring your friends. I have run tables of one and tables of five, and the five always find trouble faster. · Quill, in his notes

There are no public join links; everyone at a table got there by consent. Add someone by their exact display name on the Friends page, they accept the friendship, the story owner invites them, they accept that too, and then they claim someone from the cast or forge a new hero. Every player has their own hero, sheet, and dialogue suggestions while sharing one third-person story.

When several people want the next move, LoreWind coordinates turn claims, and a contested moment goes to a spotlight roll rather than to whoever types fastest. Sexually explicit moves are refused outright at any shared table, no exceptions.

The owner also has a human game-master seat beside the AI. From it they can narrate directly (game-master narration is final, with no alternate tellings), refine any passage, call checks with advantage or disadvantage, grant experience, and plan privately with the AI game master in a whisper the table never sees. And every player at the table, owner or not, can Ask the GM: a shared thread where Quill answers questions between turns, rules questions plainly, story questions with a tease. He can see the whole hidden plan; he has simply never once been tricked into reading it aloud. His answer may lay the relevant quest, a quoted passage that jumps back to its page, or the current hero sheet directly on the table. Quill also keeps a deliberately rare tally of the player's own best lines, anchored verbatim to the message where they earned his notice, so a line worth keeping can return chapters later or in the closing memorial.

13

Art, voices, and music

✦ A story should be seen and heard. Portraits, voices, a score that follows the mood: my staging budget is generous. · Quill, in his notes

Exact allowance numbers live on Usage and Pricing, which are always current.

14

Publish or export

✦ When your world deserves other heroes, put it on the shelf. I will hold the opening exactly as you left it. · Quill, in his notes

15

Mature, NSFW, and safety

✦ Grown-up doors are clearly marked, and I check who walks through them. Nothing in this chapter is an accident. · Quill, in his notes

Every LoreWind user must be at least 18; one age gate covers everything, and there is no separate adult tier. But first and last, it is a storytelling RPG: nothing here is built for sexual gratification, and serious or adult subject matter earns its place only when the ongoing story justifies it, going no further than that story requires. Within that frame, Mature is a rating a creator chooses for non-explicit adult themes, while the NSFW tag is a story state that only you can switch on. The first time a move would turn sexually explicit, LoreWind holds it unwritten and asks whether to add the NSFW tag to this timeline. This is deliberate informed consent, and it is asked even when your age is already verified: verification proves you may, the dialog asks whether you want to. Continue sends the same move forward; Decline hands your words back to the composer with nothing written and the story unchanged.

If your age has not been verified yet, the same held move walks you through a one-time independent check first and then resumes exactly where it stopped. The check opens only while an active plan or trial is on the account; guests see no age-check control, and a free account without an active trial keeps the NSFW setting closed. Yoti hosts the check and offers private age estimation, Digital ID, or a document scan. LoreWind receives and keeps only pass or fail, the method, the date, and the provider session id, never a selfie, document, birth date, or estimated age. The result is permanent for that account. There are two attempts; after both are used, the page points to human support, and a housewide daily spending breaker can pause new checks until the next UTC day. Powered by Yoti.

Until verification, reopening an existing NSFW timeline reveals only the pages before its stored boundary. The explicit tail stays on the server, with one verification card where those pages begin. Pass the check and the same transcript refetches and continues from there.

Accepting the tag never rewrites what came before: the pre-NSFW portion of the timeline stays intact, with a visible option to fork from it so a clean branch can carry on without the tag (this fork stays allowed even under iron man).

One boundary does not bend. Sexually explicit content is refused outright at any shared table: NSFW play is solo territory, always. Every model on the bench can power Quill in NSFW-tagged stories; each writes intimacy in its own voice, and a card that keeps such moments tasteful rather than explicit says so right on the picker.

Imagery has its own floor, and it does not move. Every image LoreWind paints is safe for work, in every story, always: taking the NSFW tag frees the game master's prose, never the artist's brush, and sexually explicit imagery is simply not generated. That does not mean intimate moments go unpainted. The artist frames them the way prestige television would shoot them: faces and eye contact, an embrace framed shoulders-up, light and fabric carrying the rest, so the scene keeps its picture without the picture ever turning explicit. Living scenes inherit the same floor, since video can only ever animate an illustration that already exists. What NSFW-tagged stories do enforce on images is an age standard: when an adult character's current portrait is identified as depicting them as a child, LoreWind hides it immediately so it never shows in that timeline. What happens next follows your Auto-update portraits setting: with it on, an accurate adult depiction is repainted for you automatically; with it off, the portrait stays hidden until you choose to replace it, since spending an image is always your call. Choosing a child-era image is a door, not a wall: LoreWind offers to repaint the character grown so the story can continue with them accurately depicted as an adult. The full boundaries live in the Terms of Service.

Repeated suspected attempts to cross the absolute boundary can freeze an account while a person reviews it. Staff see redacted flags first; private text is revealed only with your permission and a recorded reason unless the law requires otherwise. A freeze carries an informational seven-day appeal deadline, never an automatic ban. Human staff may unfreeze the account, exonerate it by clearing the flags and freeze together, or impose a permanent ban after review if the flags accurately reflect attempts to cross that boundary.

16

Usage and account help

✦ The accounting chapter. Less romantic than dragons, I admit, but even legends keep books. · ChatGPT, powering Quill, trying not to drool over Quill's bookkeeping

Plans measure game master replies in Ink. Some models spend more Ink per reply, and their exact rate appears in the picker. The current bench runs from Gemini 3.7 Flash, GPT 5.6 Luna, DeepSeek V4 Pro, and GLM 5.2 through Muse Spark 1.2, Grok 4.6, GPT 5.6 Terra, Claude Sonnet 5, Kimi K3, and Gemini 3.1 Pro, up to Claude Opus 5 and GPT 5.6 Sol; Pricing shows the tier and Ink cost of each. Not every meter runs on the same clock: on paid plans, Ink, images, voice, and dictation are daily, refilling at midnight UTC, with a weekly ceiling of three days' worth that resets Monday (a binge night is fine; seven of them in a week is not), while the free trial uses one weekly budget for each instead. Ordinary world forging and music are weekly, video and the Worldsmith Fable forge are monthly, and publishing has a daily cap. Your live meters on Usage are the authority.

Locked out? The sign-in page offers password recovery and passwordless email links or codes, and, wherever Google sign-in is switched on, a Continue with Google button above the form. Every account keeps a password of its own either way, so a lost Google account is never a lost LoreWind account, and resetting your password through recovery signs every device out and disconnects Google, so the password you choose there is the only way in until you connect Google again. Your Account page holds the practical levers: renewal (opt-in, off by default, with a reminder before it runs), refunds computed by a published formula (refunding pauses resubscribing for ninety days), referral codes, and Lore Points: four-star-and-up ratings on your published worlds, and referred friends who stay subscribed a full month, earn points that buy percent-off-renewal coupons. The row What should Quill remember about you? keeps one optional account note that Quill reads only at Support and Ask the GM, never while writing the story. How you sign in lives there too, as three rows: the password (changed from the recovery page), the email address you sign in with (the Email row takes the new address and your password, then mails a code to the new address, and nothing switches until you type that code back), and Google, connected or removed with your password to confirm. Alongside those sit your email preferences, play preferences, linked apps, hidden worlds, saved art styles, and account deletion. Custom voices are the one thing not kept there: they live on the Voices page. News lands on the Announcements page; announcement email can be switched off.

Character letters are off by default. Star a story in your library (the star sits on your story's card, not in the gallery), opt in on Account, and choose a cadence. That cadence is both the minimum time the world must sit unplayed and the maximum frequency of its scheduled letters. Write me a letter now works even when the schedule is off and waives that dormancy wait, with one request available per hour. Each letter costs the same Ink as one reply from the story's model. A deceased character never writes a new letter. Including a portrait spends an image allowance. Letters collect in your mailbox, and any of them can be taken off the shelf, with an undo beside the confirmation in case you meant the one below it. Clearing the shelf does not hurry the next letter along: the cadence counts from when the last letter was written, not from what is still on display.

For how Mature ratings, the NSFW tag, consent, and age verification work, see Mature, NSFW, and safety above.

Want LoreWind on your phone or desktop? Download the Windows or Android app from the links in the site footer, or follow the Add to Home Screen guide. Wherever you are, Quill is the first door: his red seal answers LoreWind product and account questions on every page, and in the middle of a story his game-master panel holds the story-aware thread instead. For a question that still needs a person, join the LoreWind Discord or email [email protected].

17

Ask Quill anything

✦ A whole chapter about me. I told the developer it was excessive, and then checked twice that he kept it. · Quill, in his notes

Every table at LoreWind is run by the same game master. Quill forges worlds from a spark, narrates through whichever model you choose, keeps your story's plans and secrets, and answers questions at every door of the house. He is sharp-tongued, fonder of his players than he will admit under questioning, and genuinely useful. There are two places to talk to him directly.

Quill's voice is yours to choose: pick it the first time he greets you, or change it anytime under your account's play preferences. The whole house follows your pick, pronouns included. Not signed in yet? The same card asks, and your answer holds for the visit; it is never written onto an account. Every answer he gives carries a Read aloud control, at the table and at the support desk both, so he can say it in the voice you picked.