The clip and the words about it, in one place. A screencast of the bug sitting above your notes on what caused it. An interview beside what you made of it. A walkthrough somebody sent you, kept next to the project it belongs to rather than in a folder you will never find again. A voice memo dropped into today's note before the thought gets away.
A recording in MojoPad plays where it sits. You don't leave the page, and you don't go hunting for the file.
Two ways in, and they do the same thing:
Either way the clip lands on a line of its own with a fresh line underneath it, so you can carry straight on writing.
A copy goes inside the document, and that is the point: the recording travels with your wiki — into your backups, onto another Mac, into a document you hand to someone else — and it still plays. It also means the document grows by the size of the recording, and so does every backup of it, so MojoPad asks first when a file is large and tells you what it will cost. Short screencasts and voice memos are what this is for. For a two-hour film, a File link points at the file where it already lives and costs your document nothing.
Press play. Drag the scrubber to jump anywhere, including deep into a long recording — MojoPad hands the player only the stretch it asked for, so seeking stays quick on a big file instead of pulling the whole thing first.
Hover a clip and a small speed chip appears in its corner. Click it to cycle the speeds people actually use: a screencast is usually watched faster than it was recorded, and a passage you are transcribing slower. Speed is how you are watching right now rather than something about the page, so it is never saved into your document.
Hover a clip and a handle appears at its bottom-right corner — drag it to set the width. You do not have to click the clip first, which used to be the only way to find it and meant starting playback just to reach a resize handle. That corner is also where the player keeps its own buttons, so the handle sits right against them; take it from slightly outside the corner if it feels fiddly. The size is part of the page and survives saving, reopening, and export.
Drop a recording onto the page list rather than into a page and it becomes a page in its own right, named after the file. It plays in the editor, in the split view, on a canvas card, in a peek bubble, and in the graph — anywhere a page can be shown — and you link to it like any other page.
Voice memos, interviews, music: drop them in exactly as you would a video and you get a compact audio player instead of a picture.
MojoPad plays what your Mac can decode, which covers most of what you will meet — H.264 and AAC inside an .mp4, and .webm. Some files are in a format meant for editing rather than watching; ProRes is the usual one, and it often arrives wearing a .mov extension. Those cannot be decoded here, and rather than a black rectangle that could mean anything, you get a plain message naming the format and an offer to open the file in another app. Converting it to .mp4 first will let it play in the page.
If a clip shows a player that sits there and never loads, the file it points at is most likely no longer inside the document. Help ▸ Save Diagnostic Report… counts how many recordings your pages point at that are not on disk, which turns that into a one-line answer. (It reports kinds and sizes rather than filenames — people name recordings after the meeting and the person, and that report gets emailed.)
A recording is a fenced block naming the file inside the document:
```mojo-video
files/interview-2.mp4
```so it round-trips cleanly and your Markdown stays plain text.
Recordings play over The Web Server as well, so a page you share on your network arrives with its clips playable, scrubbing and all. A published site carries them too — the file is copied out beside the page.
Somewhere a clip cannot play — a PDF, a Word file, an ePub — the page names the recording where the player was, so a reader can still tell what was there. Those formats cannot carry the file itself, so it is a name rather than a link: a link would only lead somewhere that does not exist. Nothing is silently dropped.