Everything a Scenario Architect can do on ImmA

An Architect is the author. You invent the crime, the cast, the places and the evidence. ImmA builds the playable machinery around it, and that machinery is three things you never have to make yourself:

• Characters who answer back. Every suspect becomes an AI actor who stays in role, knows only what you decided they know, lies where you told them to lie, and answers whatever a player actually types. There is no menu of three questions.
• Evidence that lives in the real world. A clue sits behind a QR code at a real place, inside someone's testimony, or behind a trigger that fires when a team does something specific.
• A game that runs itself. Action points, sympathy, hints, the end-game questions and the final score are all handled by the platform while the group plays.

You never have to run the events yourself. Organizers license your scenario and run it for their own groups, in their own city, on their own date, which is what turns one piece of writing into something that plays many times.

The fastest way to start is the one most Architects end up keeping: paste a seed. A seed is two sentences. A place, and something that happened there.

Thirty seconds to type it. Around thirty minutes for ImmA to build the mystery. Around thirty minutes for you to check it. At the end of that hour you have a scenario written for one client, one venue, one evening.

• The seed is what you already know about the event. "A wine estate near Tours, harvest night: the cellar master is found at the bottom of the stone stairs and the key to the cellar is missing." That is genuinely all the Source tab needs.
• A seed is the floor, not the ceiling. If you already have the culprit, the motive, six characters with names, the room each clue sits in and the tone you want, write all of it. The brief has no length limit and nothing you specify gets overwritten, so the more you decide, the more of the result is yours and the less there is to correct afterwards. Two sentences is the minimum that works, not the recommended amount.
• What comes back is not an outline. ImmA writes the cast with their own voices and their own lies, the timeline of what really happened, the clues and where each one is found, the triggers that fire during play, the map, the points economy and the end-game questions. Then it checks the whole thing against itself and repairs the contradictions it finds.
• It draws it, too. The portraits, the locations and the cover are generated with the rest, so the scenario looks like a production rather than a document. You can pin the visual register with a picture style, so the whole cast belongs to one world, and you can upload your own image anywhere instead: a photograph of the real venue, a portrait you commissioned, a prop you own.
• Re-read any generated picture that is meant to contain WRITING. Image models cannot spell. A letter, a ledger, a torn note or a signpost comes back looking convincing and saying nonsense, so if the words are the evidence, check them, and put the text a player has to read into the clue description rather than trusting the picture.
• Then you read it, and disagree with it. Half an hour in the Timeline, Cast and Solution tabs is usually enough: change the culprit's motive, rename a place to the name the venue actually uses, cut the clue that gives it away too early. Every field is editable and nothing is locked.
• That is what makes it worth selling. A scenario off a shelf is the same evening everywhere. This one names the client's own building, their own street, their own history, for about the same hour of work.

Write the seed for the place the game will be played in, and the game feels like it was written for that place. It was.

• Write once, play many times. The same scenario runs in any city, on any weekend, without you being there.
• You keep authorship. Your name is on it, and you decide whether it stays private, is sold to organizers, or is open to everyone.
• The hard parts already exist. You are not writing dialogue trees, wiring QR codes, balancing an economy or building an app.
• You are paid per run. An organizer pays for the right to run your scenario, so a good one keeps earning long after the writing is finished.

What is left is the part only you can do: deciding what happened, and who is lying about it.

1. Create an account and open the Factory. The subscription unlocks it, and everything described on this page is available from the first minute.
2. Describe your idea in a few sentences. The setting, roughly who is involved, and what happened. That is genuinely all you have to give it: "a wine estate in the Loire, the owner is found in the cellar the morning after the harvest festival, five people had a reason" is enough to begin.
3. Pick a size and press Generate. ImmA writes the cast, the timeline, the clues, the map, the triggers and the end-game questions from your paragraph, then checks the result against itself for contradictions and repairs what it can.
4. Read it, and disagree with it. This is the real work: change a motive, rewrite a testimony, move a clue somewhere harder to reach, cut a character who does nothing. Everything saves as you type.
5. Run the playability check, then publish. The check refuses to let through a scenario that cannot actually be solved.

Most of the work after that first paragraph is editing, not writing from scratch, and a first scenario usually takes 30 minutes to an hour from a few sentences describing it. It is easy!

The Hub is where you land after signing in, and it answers one question: what have I written, and how is it doing?

• Your library, foldered by status. Draft, live, archived. Open any scenario straight into the Factory, duplicate it to try a variant, or delete it.
• Portfolio numbers at a glance. How many scenarios you own, how many are live right now, and how many are still in draft.
• Import and export. A scenario is a file you own. Export a copy whenever you like, whatever your plan, and import one back into this account or another.
• See your work as someone else. Two buttons open your own scenario as the organizer who will run it and as the player who will play it. It is the fastest way to catch something that reads perfectly in the Factory and makes no sense standing in the street.

The Hub carries the whole business side of the role, so nothing about money or organizers ever has to live inside the scenario itself:

• Scenario Marketplace. Your listings: which scenarios are offered to organizers, how visible they are, and the proposals you have received.
• License requests. Organizers asking for the right to run one of your scenarios. You approve, set the terms and configure the billing here.
• Generation usage. What every generation cost you in GT, broken down per scenario and per action, beside what your balance has left. A surprise bill is impossible.
• Earnings and payouts. What you have earned, your bank details, and the button that requests the transfer.
• Organizer requests. Messages from organizers who want to talk before booking: a question, a custom date, a private run.

The Factory is where a scenario is built. Each tab owns one part of the story, and they appear below in the order you meet them.

Three things are true on every single tab:

• There is no save button. Every field saves itself as you type, and a small green check confirms it.
• Generating is optional, everywhere. You can write an entire scenario by hand and spend nothing. The generator is a starting point, not a toll gate.
• You regenerate one element, not the scenario. Rewriting a single character or a single clue never costs you the parts you already liked.

Build on the widest screen you have. The Factory is a work surface: three columns, an inspector and a map editor. Everything works on a phone and nothing is hidden there, but a laptop or a desktop is where it is comfortable, and the Map tab in particular is cramped on a handset.

Before a scenario goes out, ImmA runs a playability audit and refuses to publish one that cannot be solved. It checks that the culprit can be reached from evidence a team can actually find, that every end-game question has a path to its answer, and that nothing in the story contradicts the case file. It repairs what it can and tells you exactly what it changed.

Then you decide who sees it:

• Private while you test it with your own organizers.
• Public in the catalogue, where anyone can discover it.
• Offered to organizers only, listed for them to book but not shown to players.

And you choose how it is licensed. Either each player group buys its own access in the app, with the organizer committing to a minimum number of group tickets a month and keeping their margin on every one sold past it, or the organizer buys a session licence priced per day and covering up to a stated number of player groups on each of them. You decide what happens when an extra group turns up: the day bills a second time, or that group waits until tomorrow. Leaving the end date open turns the same licence into a permanent installation, billed a month at a time.

What ImmA does NOT sell alongside your scenario: promotion. There is no listing service, no social campaign, no press outreach and no ad budget, because we have no partnership that could deliver one. Those lines were in the catalogue and are now hidden: a deliverable in a signed contract that nobody can honour is worse than an offer that never mentions it. Finding the audience is the organizer's job, and it is one of the reasons they keep the margin they keep. If that changes, the lines come back.

Writing on ImmA runs on GT, the platform's generation unit. A subscription unlocks the Factory and grants an allowance every cycle, and if you need more you top up.

Three rules are worth knowing before you spend anything:

• Monthly GT resets each cycle, so an unused allowance does not pile up.
• Bought GT never expires, and it is only touched once the monthly allowance is gone.
• AI generation is the whole bill, and images are most of it. Running the models costs us real money per call, which is what GT pays for. Everything you write yourself is free: the text, the clues, the cast, and any picture you upload, including one you generated with another AI tool.

The figures below come from the live price list rather than from this page, so they are always the current ones.

Organizers license your scenario and you take the author's share of every sale. The platform fee is a fixed share of what the client pays, never added on top, and you see it before you agree to anything.

Your balance, your sales and your payouts all live in the Hub: register your bank details once, then request a transfer whenever you like. You can also export a scenario as a file and keep your own copy, whatever your plan. Care settings are their own audience: hospitals, care homes, day centres and special-education services want stimulation and conversation rather than a night out, and they run it themselves in short seated sessions.

Every scenario you publish can also be booked as a single private evening, by anyone, with nobody in the loop. A person planning a birthday picks your story and a date, pays, and runs it themselves with a kit they print. You are not asked, you do not quote, and you do not organise anything.

You keep your usual share of every one, exactly as you would on a licence or a ticket. The difference is the volume: these are bought by people who would never have written to you, for occasions that would never have become a project.

There are two things you control, both in Publish → The Little Mysteries:

1. Whether it is offered at all. On by default for every public scenario, so your catalogue is earning from the day you publish. Untick it and the sale is refused server-side, not merely hidden.
2. What one evening costs. Your number, per scenario. ImmA sets a MINIMUM below which an evening cannot be sold, derived from what those teams actually cost to serve, and the Factory tells you what it is. Price a flagship higher than a forty-minute short: the reader sees your figure on the catalogue card and on your scenario page.

What the buyer gets, so you know what your work is being used for: one evening, one date, up to five teams, on the original scenario rather than a copy. They become the organizer for that night and nothing else: they cannot edit your story, and their evening is private, so it never appears in anyone else's listing.

What it does for you beyond the money. It is the cheapest way for somebody to find out your writing is good. A person who books one for a birthday is exactly the person who later asks you to write one for their company, and the enquiry reaches you directly through the button on your scenario page.

Until you say otherwise, ImmA does not tell anyone who you are. Your scenarios sit in the catalogue with no byline, which is safe but strange: somebody who has just read your story has no way to find out who wrote it, or whether you have written anything else.

Your public page fixes that, and it is off until you turn it on. Publishing a scenario has never published you. When you switch the page on you choose what appears: a portrait, a few lines about the kind of mysteries you write, and one link of your own. Your scenarios are listed automatically, and so are the accounts Organizers have written about evenings they ran with them, which is the most persuasive thing on the page because you did not write it.

You also get somewhere to write. A post can be about how you built a case, the real place that gave you the idea, or what happened the first time strangers played it. Each post gets its own address that search engines can read, and it can point at the scenario it is about, so a reader who liked the writing is one click from the story. Posts are drafts until you press Publish, and un-publishing takes one back down again.

One thing to know before you start: your username becomes your page name and its web address, and the address cannot be changed afterwards. Set the username you want in your account settings first. Turning the page off later removes it and every post on it straight away.

• The help centre covers the questions that come up most, and is the fastest answer at two in the morning.
• The contact page reaches a human when the answer is not there.
• The bug report link in the footer comes straight to us with a screenshot attached, and is the right one when something is broken rather than confusing.

Every control in the Factory also carries its own help tip: the small question mark beside a label says what that field does and what it changes further down the line.

Five families, and they buy for different reasons. Knowing which one you are writing for changes the setting, the length, the tone and the price.

• Places that want people to come, and to stay longer. Tourist boards turning passers-by into players, museums, monuments and châteaux, zoos, aquariums and science centres, nature parks, reserves and botanical gardens, libraries, shopping centres and high-street traders, hotels, campsites and holiday villages, wineries and farms, stations and airports.
• Organisations that want their people together. Works councils and staff associations, HR seminars and team building, onboarding for new starters, event agencies reselling under their own name, trade shows drawing traffic to a stand, recruitment fairs and employer brand.
• Organisations that want to say something. Schools playing the curriculum instead of reciting it, universities building a cohort in freshers' week, associations and NGOs making awareness stick, local authorities running public-health and road-safety campaigns, festivals spreading the crowd across a whole site.
• People who just want an evening. Public meetups where strangers end up talking, birthdays and private parties, bars, restaurants and escape-room operators, sports clubs and associations.
• Places that care for people. Hospitals, paediatric wards and long-stay units, retirement and care homes keeping memory and conversation alive, day centres and rehabilitation services, disability and special-education services.

A scenario written for a museum and one written for a works council are not the same length, the same tone, or the same price.

Money is the obvious one, and it is rarely the reason a school or a town says yes. A scenario is usually bought for one of these, and the offers that land name which.

• Direct revenue, from tickets or a licence.
• Footfall at a time you choose: off-season, midweek, in the evening.
• Dwell time: two hours instead of twenty minutes, because the story is not finished.
• A brand message people played through rather than scrolled past.
• Local history learned because it was needed to solve something.
• Ecological awareness, when the evidence is the ecosystem.
• Civic values carried by the plot rather than announced.
• Team cohesion, out of two hours of relying on each other.
• Learning that was used rather than memorised.
• Loyalty: a reason to come back with different people.
• Press and social coverage worth photographing.
• A museum that felt intimidating becoming a place you can play in.
• Street life: squares and shops used by the people who live there.
• An employer remembered for how it thinks.
• Strangers who talked because the game required it.

An organizer licenses your scenario and then makes the money back in one of three shapes. Your price has to leave room for whichever one they are in.

• A ticketed public evening is volume: a few dozen players at a modest price each, run again and again.
• A corporate or institutional booking is one invoice at a much higher figure, bought for cohesion or for a message rather than per head.
• A season licence is a venue running it for months, and it is the shape that pays you repeatedly for work you did once.

Price against what the organizer can charge for it, not against the hours you spent writing it.

You keep most of every licence; the rest covers hosting, AI, upkeep and the platform licence. The live split is on the pricing page and in your own marketplace, where you set the figure.