Eight worlds. Your imagination.
Play the hero in a story that responds to you. Describe what you do in your own AI chat. Your AI tells the story. Lorewend handles the rules and remembers your adventure.
The sample needs no account. Bring your own AI to play a campaign.
Your chat. Your adventure.
The story happens in your AI app. Keep Lorewend beside it for your map, character and journal. Two windows into the same adventure.
New here? The whole idea in ten seconds
New to role-playing games? You choose what your character does. Your AI becomes the gamemaster: the storyteller who describes the world and the people you meet. Lorewend handles the dice and rules. Here is one turn:
In your own words, in any language. No commands, no rules to know.
“I sneak past the guard and try the door.”
It describes the scene and speaks for the people you meet. You decide how to respond.
“The bolt slides back — and a voice behind you asks: going somewhere?”
A game engine rolls a real die and keeps your health, money and gear exact — the AI cannot bend a single number, so every success is truly earned.
Stealth: 1d20+4 = 17 vs 13 → success
All you need
Try it — no account, no setup
Pick a world and describe an action. This small, scripted example matches a few kinds of action and rolls a random die in your browser. In your campaign, your connected AI responds to your ideas and calls lorewend to resolve the rules.
Choose your world
Each one plays nothing like the last — its own peoples, its own look, its own dangers. Open one to step inside.
✦
FantasyDragons, dungeons and the classic D&D rules
☠
FeraliaRebuild a world the dead still walk
❧Premium
The Long RoadHigh fantasy of the journey
❈Premium
The ArcanumThe hidden academies of magic
†
Serpent ThroneSword and sorcery in the Brazen Age
◇
Neon WakeCyberpunk, chrome and street magic
✠
MournwickGothic monster-hunting, gaslit and grim
★
StarfallHeroic space opera, a fractured galaxy
Your companion screen
Every world gives you a different screen to play from — its own map, its own numbers, its own dangers. Click through them.
Everything sits on one live screen, in three parts — four when you play with friends. On the left, the map fills in as you explore: the places you have found, where you stand now, and the roads between them. In the middle, your character: hit points and armour, every attribute, the abilities you know, the gear you carry and wear, your money, the treasure you have stored somewhere safe, and the companions who travel at your side. On the right, the journal: every roll the engine made, what has happened so far, the people you have met and how they feel about you, and the quests you are chasing. Bring friends in and a fourth panel opens: your party, who is in it, and what each of them is doing. It all updates itself as you play.
Play together, from anywhere
Work, kids, different cities, no free evening — that is what kills most groups, not the game. In lorewend, one of you hosts — on lorewend Premium and the AI you already pay for — and your friends drop into the same adventure from wherever they are: their own screen, their own character, completely free in any of the six free worlds. No one travels, no shared calendar night to defend — your table is simply wherever everyone already is.
The engine rolls the dice.
You decide what is worth rolling for.
Prose is canon. Math is law.
lorewend turns the AI you already pay for into your gamemaster — it tells a living story, but only a rules engine may change your hit points, your goldsilvercredspoundscreditspennieschronsSeed and your dice rolls. The story can go anywhere; the numbers stay honest.
A world that draws itself
Hardly any AI game gives you a real one. And nothing here is laid out in advance — the gamemaster invents each place as you arrive, and the engine pins it, joined to the roads you have walked; where you stand right now is marked, and a place you have only glimpsed — smoke on the horizon, a tower far off — sits under a question mark until you reach it, or until you buy the chart that names it. The gamemaster narrates the world; the engine keeps the map — so it is always the honest record of where you have actually been, never a picture the AI redraws from memory. And it is never one-way: every place you have found stays on the map, so you can travel back to any of them whenever you like, never locked into pushing only forward.
No subscription
Three campaigns in total across the six free worlds, with a selection of characters to play. Explore their full regions, quests and levels, with the living map and character viewer. Your adventures have no turn limit from Lorewend.
Three campaigns in total, not three reusable slots. The Long Road and The Arcanum require Premium.
€6.99 / monthor €69 / year
All eight worlds, including The Long Road and The Arcanum. Every character choice, the option to combine callings where the world allows it, and multiplayer hosting for friends. Create campaigns without a total limit — 10 kept at a time.
Cancel anytime. Your games stay in your account; opening one keeps it. Your AI app and any subscription it requires are separate.
You pick the genre when you make a character; the gamemaster runs it and the engine keeps every number honest. Here is what each one gives you, and picking a world dresses the whole page in it. Every world has its own page with the full setting, who you can play, and what a session feels like.
In every world, about half the cast is free — a core of races or lineages and roles to play from your very first session; the rest comes with Premium, along with campaigns without a limit — 10 kept at a time and engine-enforced multiclassing wherever a world lets you take a second calling. Two worlds are Premium whole: The Long Road, the high fantasy of the journey, and The Arcanum, the hidden academies of magic. The other six you can play free. The full free-versus-Premium breakdown is in each panel below, with prices.
Free is never a smaller world. Pick one of the six and you get all of it — every region the map can reach, every quest, foe, shop, faction and piece of gear in it, and the full climb from your first fight to your last. Nothing is walled off halfway through, and no story stops at a paywall. What Premium changes is who you can play, how many games you keep live, and whether you can host one for friends — never how much world there is.
Fantasy: weapons, spells, dungeons and dragons, on the complete 5e SRD. The pressure is hit points, rests, and the cost of going down.
Lapse anytime — your saves wait for you, and opening a game keeps it.
Go premiumSerpent Throne: sword and sorcery in the Brazen Age. Mercenaries, thieves and corsairs loot dead empires, and the treasure burns into legend by dawn. Magic is the monster here, not the toolkit. Your danger meter is Doom: every rite, relic and bargain has a price, and the price is you.
Lapse anytime — your saves wait for you, and opening a game keeps it.
Go premiumNeon Wake: rain-slick cyberpunk — flood-rebuilt London is only home base, and the freight lanes run to Tokyo, Jakarta, Seoul, New York and freeport Rotterdam. Chrome, neon, and heists in whichever city the job lands. Your danger meter is Strain: the toll of pushing your body past human.
Lapse anytime — your saves wait for you, and opening a game keeps it.
Go premiumMournwick: gaslit gothic fog, wrought iron, monsters in the dark. Hunt them: every monster has a weakness you must find. Your danger meter is Dread: fear that builds as the horror closes in.
Lapse anytime — your saves wait for you, and opening a game keeps it.
Go premiumStarfall: heroic space opera in a fractured galaxy. A free ship, a fast crew, blasters and a glowing blade against powers far bigger than you. Your danger meter is Heat: the more wanted you become, the harder the galaxy hunts you.
Lapse anytime — your saves wait for you, and opening a game keeps it.
Go premiumThe Long Road: high fantasy of the journey — the road, the fellowship, the shadow, the song. No spell slots and no coming back from the dead: the world’s quiet magic is song and rune-craft, every shortcut is priced in the Shadow, and Hope is what stands you back up. This one is for Premium only — Premium opens it whole.
Premium opens this whole world — every people, every role, every teaching — alongside The Arcanum, the premium roster of the other five, hosting multiplayer, and campaigns without a limit — 10 kept at a time. Here a character walks one road: you commit to a single role and go deep, and there is no blending of two.
Lapse anytime — your saves wait for you, and opening a game keeps it.
The Arcanum: the hidden academies of magic — the Gift wakes mid-ordinary-life, and a worldwide hidden society takes you in to teach it. Six academies, six Arts, one shared Craft; the dark road greys your ordinary past through the Fade, marks bought in ink stay in the skin, and the school year itself is the campaign. This one is for Premium only — Premium opens it whole.
Premium opens this whole world — every people, every Art, every Teaching, and the second Art an ambitious student takes up outright — alongside The Long Road, the premium roster of the other five, hosting multiplayer, and campaigns without a limit — 10 kept at a time.
Lapse anytime — your saves wait for you, and opening a game keeps it.
Feralia: a rewilded Earth, four generations after the plague that would not let the dead lie still. Small walled lights, green ruins full of salvage, and a settlement that grows less broken every season because of you. Your danger meter is the Numb: the world does not corrupt you — it deadens you.
Lapse anytime — your saves wait for you, and opening a game keeps it.
Go premiumMore than a dungeon
More than a tomb
More than the job
More than the hunt
More than a derelict
More than the destination
More than the lessons
More than the ruin
Clearing a dungeon for treasure is the smallest thing you can do in the world you just picked. Here is the life waiting in it.
Looting a buried tomb for plunder is the smallest thing you can do in the world you just picked. Here is the life waiting in it.
Running a job for cred is the smallest thing you can do in the world you just picked. Here is the life waiting in it.
Hunting down a monster is the smallest thing you can do in the world you just picked. Here is the life waiting in it.
Stripping a derelict for salvage is the smallest thing you can do in the world you just picked. Here is the life waiting in it.
Reaching the next safe haven is the smallest thing you can do in the world you just picked. Here is the life waiting in it.
Passing the term’s exams is the smallest thing you can do in the world you just picked. Here is the life waiting in it.
Clearing one field of the dead is the smallest thing you can do in the world you just picked. Here is the life waiting in it.
Weapons, spells, dungeons and dragons on the full 5e rules. The fight is only where it starts.
A sellsword, a war-hound, a hedge-healer — recruit companions who march and fight at your side, and who can fall in battle or walk away if you fail them. Earn a companion’s loyalty and their personal quest opens; see it through and they are yours for good. Win over — or make enemies of — the folk you cross along the way.
Pledge to a mages’ circle or a knightly order, a thieves’ guild or an adventurers’ company; climb its ranks, earn its perks, and inherit its rivals. Or turn your back on every banner, take the villain’s road, and become the name the realm learns to fear.
Buy a home, line its vaults, and brew potions or forge enchanted steel at a bench of your own. Stay long enough and roots take hold: gear improved over a campaign, a family raised, the house built up into a keep with a steward to mind it while you ride out.
Festivals come and wars grind on whether you ride to them or not; towns prosper or fall, the weather turns, and a fresh rumor or bounty is always waiting. Hunger, wounds and weariness are real here — the realm keeps no seat warm for heroes.
Sword-and-sorcery in the Brazen Age. Loot dead empires before the magic loots you.
Gather a band of cutthroats and corsairs who bleed beside you, and charm or cross the warlords, thieves and priest-kings whose cities you prowl. Earn a sworn blade’s loyalty and you take on their vendetta as your own — a debt of blood the two of you settle together.
Here glory outshouts rank. Run with a mercenary company or a corsair fleet, a thieves’ brotherhood or the serpent cult, and rise through its ranks — but it is the Spree, plunder poured straight into your own legend, that truly makes your name. Or seize the dark path and rule as a sorcerer-tyrant.
Plunder is not for hoarding — it burns into legend almost as fast as you seize it. Still, a reaver wants a den for the hoard, a forge for cursed relics, a fence for the rest. Father an heir to your name and raise that den into a stronghold your captain holds while you chase the next score.
Empires rise and burn on their own, cities thrive or rot, and the infamous are hunted by name. And every rite, relic and bargain you strike feeds your Doom — the sorcery you wield is always collecting its due.
Cyberpunk noir. Rent comes due whether or not the night went clean, and the city keeps the receipt.
Every job needs a crew. Run with fixers, deckers and muscle who take fire alongside you, work a web of contacts, and lean on it — or burn it down when it turns on you. Get a runner close enough and their private score lands in your lap too.
Rank is just clearance with a better title. Sign with a megacorp, a netrunner collective, a media house or a street gang for cred and a longer leash — or cut loose and go rogue, the ghost in their system they can never quite patch out.
Nobody settles down here — you just stay one upgrade ahead of the city. Hold a safehouse and its stash, fab your own gear and chrome, work the black market, and keep a hustle running to make rent. Raise kids in the arcology if you dare, and harden the place into a seat someone you trust can run.
Corp wars flare, grids black out, whole districts gentrify or rot on their own schedule — the city never waits for you, and the bounties always find you. Push the flesh past human and your Strain climbs: the harder you run, the thinner it wears you.
Gothic horror. Survive the night — and live with what surviving it costs you.
A few haunted souls bind themselves to your cause and stand with you in the dark, while the village folk offer up their trust — or their terror. Win one soul’s loyalty and you shoulder their private torment as your own; some wounds are shared long before they heal.
Belonging costs something here. Swear to a hunters’ lodge or a church, an occult circle or a decaying noble house, and rise through its rites as you prove yourself against the dark. Or let the dark win the argument and become the very thing the lodge swore to put down.
Every comfort here is borrowed against the night. Keep a crumbling manor and its cellars, brew the remedies and wards that get you to morning, and trade with the furtive folk who only deal after dusk. Marry, raise a family in spite of it all, and restore the manor into a warded seat someone keeps watch over while you hunt.
Plagues creep, hauntings spread, and villages cling on or fall silent one by one — none of it pauses for your permission. Whispers draw you deeper than you meant to go, and all the while the Dread gnaws quietly at the back of your mind.
Heroic space opera. One free ship against five powers, every one of them too big to fight.
Crew your ship with specialists who hold the line beside you, and make allies or rivals of the captains, colonists and warlords scattered across the rim. Win a crewmate’s loyalty and their own mission becomes part of your course.
Out on the rim, the flag you fly is who you are. Run with a free-captain league, the old empire’s remnant, the shipwrights’ guild, even a syndicate, for rank and a friendly port — or hoist a black flag and answer to no one.
Stake a berth or an outpost, fill its hold, and fab the tech and kit the frontier markets overcharge for. Settle a partner and a family on a colony world, then grow that foothold into a base a steward runs while you push further out.
Colony wars ignite, settlements boom and bust, crises ripple across the sector — the galaxy churns on without you, and bounties chase you star to star. Lean on the Tide or push past spec, and your Heat with the law only climbs.
High fantasy of the journey. The fight is the last scene, never the first.
Companions become people on the night watch: they bond, they volunteer for the rearguard, and they can leave you for good if you fail them. Bonds must be tended — partings and reunions carry the story.
Every door weighs its own currency — blood at the haven, deeds and craft at the hold, learning at the scholar-city — and guest-right binds wherever the world is warm. Earn a name and doors open; the same name carries north on the wind.
Re-man a broken watchtower on the world’s wall, or earn a wayhouse hearth of your own — a home, a stash, and the reason the road means anything: leaving aches, returning warms.
Winter shuts the high passes, festivals answer the dark, and refugee columns move on clocks of their own — while most folk refuse to believe the war is coming. The world does not wait for you; it also never ends you by script.
The hidden academies of magic. Six Arts, one Well to draw them from, and dark work that is paid for in memory.
Terms, exams, feast-nights and the Games between the six academies — the calendar is the campaign, and a night door left unwatched is a story by morning.
The hidden world runs under the ordinary one — step through the doors to night markets, Chronhouse vaults and the Concord’s quiet law, then walk home past people who must never know.
Buy power at the Inkworks’ chair: marks in the skin that hold coin, light, or a locked door’s memory — paid in chrons, carried for good.
Something is unwriting the hidden world’s margins — the Unremembered take, and what they take, no one misses. The Lantern keeps a list it can no longer read.
Grounded post-apocalyptic rebuild. A world to rebuild, not just a ruin to loot.
Hounds that smell the Fever before any test, oxen and horses that pull the wagons, and companions who hold the doorway beside you. Win their loyalty and their own story becomes part of the stead’s.
The Compacts are the thin, paid-for lifelines between small lights — the Wain-Roads caravans, the Line’s rail-keepers, the Circuit’s walking healers, the Quiet Ground’s burial-keepers. Join one for rank and standing — or deal with the powers that take instead of build.
Claim a stead and grow it: fields and a fuel-still (petrol is gone — fuel is brewed from the harvest), a dead-belt cleared around the wall, a raised granary, a burner truck the whole town is proud of.
Seasons change how the dead move — winter slows them, the thaw wakes them, and some years a whole valley’s dead drift like weather. Fever years, cult councils, a warlord’s flag on the horizon: the clocks keep turning, and the Numb keeps asking what surviving cost you.
It only deepens the longer you stay: play one hero for as long as you like — bonds, gear, a family and a holding all keep growing, the gamemaster keeps inventing new foes, treasures and places, and your whole saga is yours to keep and share.
And it plays for keeps: a fight you lose is a fight you lost. You can wind the story back — but every rewind spends a rare token the world sells only a few of, whatever you are undoing, so it is a real decision and not a reload. Around that: what you carry is weighed, a night away from a roof eats a ration, breaking off from a fight gives your enemies their swing, and a camp in the open is exposed. You will not be made to shop for any of it — your gamemaster restocks you in town and spends your coin to do it, and every penny shows in the journal. None of it can be switched off, which is what makes the numbers worth anything.
And none of it has to be solo — invite your friends and they join your table on their own screens, build their own characters, and play free in any of the six free worlds.
Your next step
Connect Lorewend to your AI app, sign in with Google or Discord, and choose who you want to become. Our guide walks you through the setup for your app.
FAQ
lorewend is an AI gamemaster for tabletop RPGs. The AI improvises a living world while a rules engine enforces every number — dice, hit points, money, abilities — so the story always plays fair. Pick your world: classic fantasy on the full 5e SRD, a cyberpunk sprawl, gothic horror, heroic space opera, sword & sorcery, post-apocalyptic survival, and on Premium the high fantasy of the journey and the hidden academies of magic — each its own adventure. It runs inside the AI you already pay for, with no API keys.
Yes — lorewend is made for players who have never done this before. You do not need to know any rules, buy any books, or learn special commands. You just say what your character does in plain words — “I search the room”, “I try to talk my way past the guard”, “I draw my sword” — and the gamemaster tells you what happens, while the engine quietly handles the dice and the numbers for you. Never rolled a die in your life? You will not even notice a rulebook. Played for years? The depth is all still there. Pick a world, make a character in a few clicks, and start.
Add lorewend as a custom MCP connector in your AI app (Claude, ChatGPT, Gemini, or any app that supports MCP, the standard way AI apps plug in extra tools). Sign in, pick a world, make a character, then just say what you want to do in plain words: the AI tells the story and the engine handles the rules. Classic 5e fantasy is one of eight worlds — you can also play cyberpunk, gothic horror, space opera, sword & sorcery, post-apocalyptic survival, or (on Premium) The Long Road’s high-fantasy journey and The Arcanum’s hidden academies of magic, each its own kind of adventure.
Any AI client that supports custom MCP connectors. Claude (desktop and web) is the smoothest today; ChatGPT, Gemini, and other MCP-capable assistants work the same way as their MCP support rolls out.
Yes. Your whole campaign — the story, your character, the map, every fact and promise — lives in lorewend’s engine as your private save, not in the chat window. So you can close the chat and come back days later, open a brand-new window, or even point a different assistant at lorewend (Claude one day, ChatGPT the next) and it picks up exactly where you stopped. There is no special command and nothing to copy over: just connect that AI to lorewend and say something like “continue my game”, and the gamemaster loads your save, recaps the story so far, and carries on. Playing more than one world at once? It never guesses: it reads back the saves you have — the world, the character, and where you stood — and waits for you to pick. Even the AI reads the world from the engine, never from its own chat memory — so switching assistants or stepping away never loses a thing.
Yes. You talk to your AI in plain words, so the whole adventure - narration, characters, choices - happens in whatever language you speak: Spanish, German, Slovak, Japanese, anything your AI handles. The site and character sheet are written in English, but they are ordinary web pages, so a browser with built-in translation (Chrome, Edge, Safari) can render them in your language too. The story itself is always yours.
Six of the eight worlds are free to play, and none of them is a trimmed-down version: a core set of races and roles, every class, and three campaigns in total across all worlds — in fantasy, that is four classic races and the full 5e SRD core. The remaining two, The Long Road and The Arcanum, are Premium worlds and open whole on Premium. Premium is ${pricing.monthly.label} per month for those two, the premium races and roles in the other six (Half-Elf and Half-Orc in fantasy), engine-enforced multiclassing wherever a world lets you take a second calling, and no limit on how many campaigns you play — 10 kept at a time. Because it runs on your own AI subscription, there are no API fees.
No. The AI narrates the story, but a rules engine is the only thing allowed to touch your numbers. Dice, hit points, gold, spell slots, and combat are all engine-enforced — prose is canon, math is law.
Your AI app controls permission prompts for connected tools. Available options depend on the app and account you use. Read what a prompt allows before approving it; the connection guide at /connect links to the relevant app instructions. Changing a permission setting in your AI does not change lorewend’s game rules.
