Spelling you don't have to fix
Fuzzy matching scored by how much of your search a candidate actually covers, so a near-match wins and a coincidence doesn't.
Every console, one library. Quest Chronicle keeps your whole collection in order and keeps an honest record of what you actually play — not just what you meant to.
A library you have to keep up with is a chore.
One that keeps up with you is a record.
A library you cannot recognise at a glance is a list, not a library. Quest Chronicle pulls box art automatically, matching on what you typed rather than on what you should have typed, so "Froze Horizon 4" still finds Forza. When one source has nothing, it asks another.
Fuzzy matching scored by how much of your search a candidate actually covers, so a near-match wins and a coincidence doesn't.
Import a whole library from a CSV. Duplicates are caught on the way in, including the same game spelled two different ways.
Names and status while you're organising; a wall of box art when you're deciding what to play. Same games, same filters, different shape.
iCloud sync between Mac, iPhone and iPad, continuously, with no Sync button to remember to press.
Filter by console, genre, status, subscription or tag. Jump to a letter with the A–Z rail. It was built against a real library of nearly four thousand games.
Not a rating out of ten. Where the game actually stands with you. Pick one and see what it means.
Hollow Knight: Silksong
QUESTINGIt checks every few minutes, and when it sees you've been playing something already in your library it writes the session itself, with how long it lasted. One evening is one session, however many times it looked.
It uses your key, kept on your device. No account to make, no server of mine in the middle — which is also why there's nothing to cancel.
"Hey Siri, log a session in Quest Chronicle." Name the game in the same breath and the app never has to open.
It only logs titles already in your library, so a housemate borrowing the console can't quietly rewrite your history.
Every figure is built out of sessions that happened, not out of a score you gave something once. What you finish and what you abandon. Which consoles and genres really get played, as against the ones you keep buying for.
The status breakdown, a backlog for each console, a heatmap of what you played when, and which genres you really reach for — laid out together, so the pattern is visible rather than something you assemble in your head.
Given the width, the iPad doesn't show the phone's app made larger. It shows the desktop one: your filters down the side, the library in the middle, and the game you picked beside it rather than on top of it.
Attach a keyboard and every shortcut below works there too. Split View and Stage Manager both behave — the library narrows to the single-pane layout and keeps going.
A list of several thousand rows you can only drive with a mouse isn't a library, it's an endurance test. Every action has a key, and every key is published in a guide beside the list rather than buried in a menu. Press one.
No analytics, no crash reporting, no advertising, no profile built about you, nothing sold or shared. Your games travel between your devices through your own Apple account and nowhere else.
The privacy policy says the same thing at length, and it was written by reading every network call in the source rather than from memory.