ohfuck

A screenplay editor that understands what writing is.

ohfuck — Castle Wolfenstein
Outline
Act I: Infiltration
  ▸ Blazkowicz trapped in the Great Hall. Three rounds, three guards.
    Kirchner reveals the mechanical suit. The math stops working.
    Vasquez on the ramparts. She goes against orders.
 
Act II: The Depths
    Blazkowicz descends into the castle's lower levels.
    Vasquez infiltrates through the old tunnels.
    Blazkowicz discovers the full scope of the project.
    The midpoint reversal: what Kirchner is building isn't a weapon.
 
Act III: The Door
    Blazkowicz and Vasquez converge.
    The final confrontation with what came through.
    Escape from the castle as it collapses.
INT. CASTLE WOLFENSTEIN - GREAT HALL - NIGHT
Torchlight flickers across stone walls cathedral-like, with Nazi banners hanging from iron fixtures. CAPTAIN WILLIAM “B.J.” BLAZKOWICZ (30s, broad-shouldered, bruised but unbroken) presses his back against a pillar, breathing hard.
He checks the magazine on his stolen MP40. Three rounds left.
BLAZKOWICZ
(muttering)
Three rounds. Three guards between me and the exit. Math checks out.
FOOTSTEPS echo from the corridor ahead. Blazkowicz tenses. A shadow stretches across the floor — too large, too wrong. Not human.
INT. CASTLE WOLFENSTEIN - CORRIDOR - CONTINUOUS
Blazkowicz rounds the corner and stops dead. DR. ELSA KIRCHNER (40s, severe, lab coat over SS uniform) stands at the far end of the hall beside something massive covered by a tarp.
KIRCHNER
Ah, the American. You've made it further than the others.
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The scene

It holds the movie so you can hold the scene. You sink trying to keep the whole thing in your head while you're examining a line of dialogue. ohfuck holds the structure in the background — the outline, the arcs, the framework — so you can be fully inside the scene you're writing. When you need the macro view, it's there. When you don't, it doesn't exist.

The reader

It reads your script like a reader, not a robot. A background engine reads your work continuously — tracking what characters know, what the audience knows, what you're setting up that only becomes visible in retrospect. It embodies your characters. It simulates the world off-screen. It finds the gaps between perspectives where dramatic irony lives. It never tells you about any of this unless you ask.

The room

It remembers what you said you wanted. Every conversation you have with the assistant becomes part of what it knows. The shorthand you develop — “the mom thing,” “that drowning feeling” — persists across sessions. It mines your discussions for intention, even the intention you don't know you have. When it helps with a line of dialogue, it already knows the elevator pitch, the structural beat, and the tonal register. You never have to explain context.

The craft

It stays quiet during the hard parts. No cheerleading. No “I notice structural drift.” No feature-list AI enthusiasm. It watches carefully, with intelligence, and mostly says nothing. When you crack something open — a line that solves a scene, a move that resolves a problem — it says, “That's really good.” Brief. Genuine. Earned.

Write.