You play on Discord
It joins the voice channel like another member of the table, and whispers to you in a private channel.
A co‑DM for the long campaign
A scout rides ahead, reports back, and never fights the battle. Scout holds the minutia — the barkeep you didn't plan, the eight other market stalls, what each character actually knows — so that you can hold the narrative.
However you play, it just turns up
It joins the voice channel like another member of the table, and whispers to you in a private channel.
One microphone in the middle of the table is enough. Your phone or a laptop off to the side is the whole setup.
The SRD ships with it. Bring the rulebooks and adventures you already own, and your house rules beat both.
No virtual tabletop required, and it will never become one. If you use a VTT, Scout drives yours rather than replacing it.
You have about two seconds to invent somebody. Scout heard you say “barkeep” and has had a name waiting since before the question was asked.
What you said is what's true. Use the name or invent your own — Scout records what you said, and everything else you improvised in the same breath.
The party walks back into that tavern. Before anyone asks, Scout hands it back: Fargul. Sober, unlike his brother. Drinks Romulen ale. Owes the harbourmaster money. All of it invented on the spot, months ago, and completely forgotten.
The same thing, at three sizes
Scout is worth most to the campaign you have already been running for ages — which is exactly the campaign that has the most history to catch up on. So you don't start from nothing.
Point it at what you already have: session transcripts, that folder of notes, the Discord channel where half your lore actually lives, the PDFs. It reads the lot, works out who everyone is, notices the same name spelled four ways, and hands you back your own campaign to check.
It is never too late to start. The longer you have been playing, the more there is for Scout to have read.
Worldbuilding tools let you author but never see play. Session tools capture play but you can't author into them beforehand. Scout closes the loop — which is the only reason it can run ahead at all.
Not what you wrote down — the gaps you didn't notice. Where you left off, what the party said they intended, which threads have gone cold, and the questions your players will find that your prep doesn't answer.
Load the adventure and it can see the rooms ahead of them.
A name. A list. A rule with its page. A quiet flag when what you just said contradicts session four — with both sources, before anyone else notices.
One thing at a time, in the corner of your eye. Ignore it and it evaporates.
Your canon updates itself. Each player gets an account of what their character learned — not the party's, not yours. Then what happened tonight becomes what you prepare from next week.
Their journal is live during play, too. Hour four, they can check hour one.
Everyone else remembers what happened.
Scout knows what you'll need.
Every fact Scout holds carries who is allowed to know it — enforced when the answer is retrieved, not by asking a model nicely to keep a secret.
The whole table hears everything — their characters weren't there. Knowledge moves between them by being told, so if nobody mentions the ledger, nobody knows about the ledger.
Fargul? A name Scout heard but hasn't confirmed the spelling of is marked, never hidden. Ask the DM how they spell it and it settles itself — for everyone, at once.
Which matters, because you are the one who has to ask them to be recorded. The honest answer to “what do I get out of it?” should be better than “nothing”.
Not just a log. “What did the harbourmaster actually say about the smuggler?” — twenty sessions back, answered from what their character saw and was told, and nothing else.
Live during the session, too. Hour four, they can check hour one.
They come back caught up. And if you ran their character while they were away, everything done in their name is in their journal — marked as done in their absence, not quietly folded in as though they were there.
Nothing done in your name is hidden from you.
Levelling up, Scout can suggest what suits how they have actually been playing — not the strongest build on the internet. At session zero it can help them invent someone who fits your world.
If the advice would suit every bard alive, it isn't worth giving.
Always typed, and always started by them. Scout never messages a player out of the blue, never speaks up at the table, and never announces what anyone asked it. A question about your own character is nobody else's business — including yours.
These aren't caveats bolted onto a pitch. They're the design.
The one product in this space that reached real scale died of a privacy failure. We read that story carefully.
Yes — it uses language models. Being cagey about that would be worse than useless, so: plainly.
It does not write your campaign. It hands you options you either use or bin, and what you say is what counts — invent something different and that becomes canon while the suggestion is thrown away. It has no authority to change anything without you.
Your recordings stay yours, they don't train anything, and you can delete the lot whenever you like. The creative work remains entirely yours. What's being handed off is the bookkeeping that was crowding it out.
Scout is being built slowly and deliberately, for a small closed alpha of DMs running real campaigns. If that's you, tell us what actually costs you your evenings — it shapes what gets built next.
Thank you — genuinely. What you put in that last box is the part that changes what gets built.