Anyone can build a scenario pack: say session zero at your table, describe the world you're imagining - a few sentences is genuinely enough - and the GM authors the rest: the factions, the secrets (unseen, so you can play your own world and still be surprised by it), the characters, the labels. You never touch a file. This page isn't homework; it's the checklist the GM builds for you, so you know what to ask for when you want to steer. (Want to open the files and craft at the schema level? the Builder's Manual is your page.)
Agendas generate content forever; plots run out. The single highest-leverage thing in your world is two or three factions who each want something specific and would keep pursuing it if the player never showed up. The engine advances every faction's agenda whenever game time passes - so a faction with a real agenda writes your world's story for you, forever. A villain with a plan beats a villain with a scene list, every time.
Your gm/secrets.md should hold at least one truth that recontextualizes the whole premise - the thing that makes a player put the phone down for a second when they finally learn it. Then seed it at three depths: a surface oddity anyone might notice, a middle clue that rewards a deliberate dig, and the truth itself, defended. Investigation pays in Adventure Mode because discovery is a tracked state - so give the trackers something worth finding. And two or three secrets that interlock beat one: when the mystery, the prize, and the trusted guide each hide a face of the same fact, every dig pays twice.
If your premise puts the player in charge of something - a gang, a clan, a trading company, a settlement - build it on the engine's outfit layer from scene one: officers with their own agendas, crews tracked with loyalty (mutiny is a clock, not a surprise), an operations ledger in whatever period your world breathes (weeks, seasons), rivals run at the same scale, and succession in your death rule - the founder dies, the heir plays on, and the campaign becomes a saga. Session Zero handles all of it when you say "I want to run the whole outfit."
Set audience: family and the whole engine plays at kid height - the store shows the badge, and the GM binds itself to the family rules: it asks the table's ages once (and remembers them for every session after), pitches every sentence so a young reader can read it aloud, and keeps peril real but bloodless. The craft that separates a great family pack from a padded one:
Every great pack asks one dramatic question: does the town live to see the thaw? How high does a nobody climb before the family notices? The Question's clock should be campaign-scale - seasons, not hours. Small clocks can and should be brutal (the hostage can die on day two; that's grief the story carries), but the central Question is never hanging on a 48-hour fuse. Give players room to live in your world; the long way round is where they fall in love with it.
Every pack declares one of three shapes, and the store shows it up front so players know what they're picking up:
Session Zero asks you this and explains the trade-offs at the table - but knowing it going in makes your other choices sharper: a finite pack spends everything on its ending; an open pack spends everything on its generators.
The best campaigns outlive their packs, and the engine is built for it: when every authored arc has resolved, faction agendas, world turns, and the player's own ambitions keep generating story forever. Build for that:
Two or three ready characters, each with a trade, a wound, and a hook wired into the opening situation - in your world's own idiom. A pregen is most players' first sixty seconds in your world; "jump in now as the ferry mechanic who owes the wrong people" beats a blank character sheet for almost everyone.
The era block - what exists, what's rare, what's absent - is your world's physics, and the GM enforces it in both directions: players can't summon what your world lacks, and the GM won't hand it out either. The absent list is where atmosphere lives. No cure. No cavalry. No cell service. What's missing is the pressure.
The pack store and the in-game browser search your labels verbatim: a title, a genre, a few tags, a blurb that sells it in two sentences. Session Zero writes these with you, and --eject-pack checks them before you publish - a pack without them is findable by nobody. Building for kids? Say so and the store gives you the family-friendly badge and filter.
--eject-pack {name} at your table: you get a share code (friends import it with one line) and a GitHub-ready zip.