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Ink illustration of a nightjar perched on a bare branch Caprimulgidae · the night jar
About Nightjar

Out there, past the firelight, you've felt it.

That prickle on the back of your neck. Where the trees stop being trees and start being shapes, ideas. Things dark, mysterious, and maddening, things with and without names. All things strange and wyrd.

That's where we find our stories.

Hear the tales →
What's a Nightjar?

It's a bird you've probably never seen.

You've heard one, though, even if you didn't know what you were hearing. Nightjars sing at dusk, when the day's giving up and the dark's coming on. In other times we had names for them. The kind of names you give a thing you don't quite trust but can't stop listening to. And most of all, they're just plain weird.

Felt about right for us.

What we believe

A story is the oldest technology people ever built.

Older than the wheel, probably older than fire that we could make ourselves. Somebody sat in the dark, scared of what was out there, and started talking. And the people next to them leaned in. And for a little while what was out there had shape, form, and a name. It made the dark, just a little brighter.

The rules and dice just help keep us all in the same firelight.