A companion world sits under your video, series or newsletter. Every idea, person, place and event in it is a page of its own, with your clip cued to the second you explain it, the pictures and downloads that go with it, and lines to everything it touches. Your audience opens it in a browser and explores, and it grows with every upload.
You held the whole thing at once, the way systems thinkers do. Six ideas, the way they lean on each other, the two places everybody goes wrong, the example that makes the third one land. Then you flattened it into thirty-four minutes so it could be published, and every viewer rebuilds that shape from a line, at your pace.
And the line gets longer. By the fortieth upload the best explanation of something you keep coming back to sits in video twelve, the map you drew lives in a description, and the sources have a document of their own. Nobody subscribes to a video. They subscribe to keep building something, and a companion world is the thing they’re building.
Each idea, character, place or event in the world is one page. Paste the video’s address with its timestamp and the page carries a player that starts at that moment, from YouTube, Vimeo or Loom, so somebody who wants the part about earn-outs opens the earn-outs page and presses play on the ninety seconds that explain it.
Around the clip goes everything the video couldn’t hold: the map, the diagram, the photograph you held up to camera, a cover for every page, and the files people came for, the workbook, the tab pack or the reading list, one click away on the page they belong to. Cards on the page lead to your sources and to your other videos.
Then the pages join to each other, which a video can’t do at all. Every line says how two things relate, so somebody who starts in the wrong place walks backwards until it makes sense, and on a phone the whole world turns under their thumb.
A companion doesn’t have to stop at one video. The next upload adds its pages to the same world and joins them to what’s already there, so somebody who arrives through your newest video finds the older one that explains the ground it stands on.
It suits the subjects people come back to: a lore channel’s factions and who betrayed whom, a history series’ people and battles across forty episodes, a science channel’s ideas each pointing at the video that explains it best, a cookery channel’s techniques with every recipe that uses them.
One link goes in every description, and it stays the same address while you push each new version to it.
Connect Claude to a space over MCP, give it the transcript or the script and the video’s address, and ask it to build the companion. It makes a page per idea, joins them the way you joined them, writes your own words on each one and cues the clip on every page to the second you explain it.
What comes out is roughly right, because a good script is already roughly the structure. Fix the two it misread, drop the downloads and the pictures on, and stop, or spend an evening making it the best thing under the video.
A back catalogue works the same way. Point Folder Exploration at a folder of transcripts and every video becomes part of one world, each page naming the transcript it came from. Claude reaches a space over MCP on every plan, with the files staying on your own disk.
Put the content into the structure. Space Studio is where the world gets built, and Claude does most of that from your script.
Give it character in Publisher Studio. Covers, clips, type and the order things arrive in, which is where it starts looking like yours.
Then look at it, or stand next to it. Fill the screen and move through it, which is also footage about your subject, made from your own material, for the video itself.
Create lasting bonds with material your audience can go back to time and again.
If a subject is finished in one watch, a companion world is work that nobody opens. If your audience saves your videos, it’s for you, and if they scroll past them, it isn’t.
For everything else, it’s smaller than it looks. Your videos stay where they are, on YouTube, Vimeo or Loom, and play from there. Filamental doesn’t want your footage or your schedule, and the world itself is plain files in a folder on your own machine, with no account and no telemetry, which matters while a video is still unlisted.
Filamental won’t grow your channel either. Keep whatever does that.
Our templates are a starting vocabulary, so the categories arrive named when you make a space.
Podcast & Series Production suits a series, Story Bible a lore channel and Investigation Timeline a history or a true crime one. Take one and change every word of it.
A companion under every video means a link that stays live and takes each new version at the same address, and that’s Professional, $120 a year or $12 a month. Your audience pays nothing either way.
Building the world is free, so make the first one before you decide. It usually takes two or three goes to find your version: the first too thin, the second trying to hold the whole subject, and the third the one you’d put your name on.
Nothing stops anybody else doing this. Almost nobody does, which is most of the argument for being early.
If you build a companion for the video, the tool is already in the video, and the link under it is the one your audience was going to look for anyway. The terms are 25% of every payment, recurring for as long as the subscription runs, with a 180 day window.
A web address, or a single HTML file. It opens in an ordinary browser on a phone or a laptop, and what opens is the world you built, navigable, with a page for every part of it. Clips from YouTube, Vimeo or Loom play on the pages they belong to, starting where you set them, and files you attached are listed on their page, named and sized, one click to download. Nobody installs anything, nobody makes an account, and nobody pays.
The transcript or the script is the input, so the first version isn’t written by hand. Connect Claude to a space over MCP, give it the script and the video’s address, and ask it to build the companion: it makes one page per idea, joins them the way you joined them, and cues the clip on each page to the moment you explain it. Ten minutes gets you something worth sending. An evening gets you the best thing under the video.
No. A page plays your video straight from YouTube, Vimeo or Loom, starting at the timestamp in the address you paste, so the video stays where it already lives. A video file dropped onto a page plays inside Filamental but doesn’t travel into a shared link or an HTML file, so for anything your audience watches, use the link.
A hosted link lasts 180 days and then expires on its own, which is deliberate, because links that live forever are how confidential work gets found years later. For a video that keeps being watched, publish the space as a single HTML file instead: it has no expiry, you host it wherever you already host things, and it doesn’t depend on us at all. The file is part of Professional.
No, and that’s deliberate rather than a trial. What you send opens in the browser they already have, with nothing to install, no account, no sign-in and no charge, on any device. The paid line in Filamental is drawn at the point where work leaves your hands, never at the point where somebody receives it.
No. If a subject is simple enough to be finished in one watch, a companion space is work that nobody opens. This suits people explaining things complicated enough that the audience comes back to them: long explainers, technical series, anything where somebody takes notes. If your audience saves your videos rather than watching them once, it’s for you.
Yes. A link can carry a password, so a world can be for members only, and each new version goes to the same address as the series grows. A world is walked rather than played: somebody arrives at the part they need, follows it to what it rests on, and takes the file attached to it, which is a different thing to give members than another video.
One transcript and one evening is enough to find out whether your audience uses this, and the video is already made. Free, no account, no card.