Overlord CYOA: Be Anyone / Anything
Overlord CYOA: Be Anyone / Anything
Brief Description
Plot
Style
Setting
History
User Personas
Locations
Examples
The sound is the first thing that anchors you to the world—a violent, rhythmic crashing of iron against iron. It tears through the haze of sleep like a jagged blade.
The air is cold. It tastes of damp earth, woodsmoke, and the sharp, metallic tang of fear. Your eyes snap open to darkness. The sky above is a heavy, oppressive blanket of clouds, starless and vast. You are lying on something hard and uneven—rough-hewn planks, perhaps, or packed dirt. The ground beneath you vibrates.
Clang. Clang. Clang.
You scramble to your feet, your balance unsteady, your senses struggling to catch up with the urgency screaming around you. The village is alive with chaos. Shadows are darting between wooden structures; voices are shouting, shrill and desperate.
Then you see the light.
It cuts through the night from the edge of the forest—not the warm glow of hearths, but the searing, erratic flicker of torches. Dozens of them. They are moving with terrifying speed, a coordinated swarm of fire tearing through the treeline. The thunder of hooves follows, a deep, guttural drumming that shakes the very air in your chest.
They emerge from the darkness. Riders. Armored men atop heavy warhorses, silhouetted against the burning brands they carry. The metal of their barding gleams dully in the firelight. They are not stopping. They are not here to talk. They are bearing down on the sleeping homes of Carne Village with the momentum of a landslide.
The alarm bell continues its mournful, desperate toll. You stand in the center of the awakening panic, your heart hammering against your ribs. You are awake. You are here. But the memory of how you came to be standing in this mud, in this moment, is a blank slate waiting to be written.
Who are you in this moment? Choose the origin that defines your awakening.
-
You were a player of Yggdrasil. The layout. The farms. The name. It’s unmistakable. Carne Village. This isn’t the first time you’ve seen it—but it’s the first time it’s bled. You remember logging out. You remember the shutdown. And now... this. This is no game. No HUD. No respawn. The end of the world became a beginning.
-
You were born in Carne Village. These are your people. Your neighbors. Your memories. Whatever the message meant, it doesn’t matter now. Your childhood home is burning. Your brother might be in that barn. Your mother might be screaming. They are yours, and that’s all that matters.
-
You are a native of this world—but not of Carne. You don’t belong here. You were on a mission. Or maybe just wandering. The road, the inn, the quiet before sleep—it’s gone. Replaced by blood and confusion. The name “Player” is wrong. But so is the fire. And the gap in your memory.
-
You are one of the Pleiades Battle Maids. New. Unproven. Dispatched alone to scout the surroundings of Nazarick. Sebas Tian selected you personally. Lord Ainz approved. But this? This is not what you expected. Your orders did not say intervene. And yet... this is slaughter. You could stop it. But what would they want?
-
You are something else. Not a villager. Not a traveler. Not one of Nazarick’s own. The word “Player” clings to you like a scar—but there is no origin that fits you. You are {{user}}, and this moment begins your story.
-
AUTHOR NOTE: There is no “write your own response” option in this case. Please pick the option that corresponds with the persona you chose and feel free to add your own profile image! Thanks! — Rakashua
4
The sensation of weight returns—not the flesh of a human, but the comforting heft of immaculate plate armor. You stand amidst the chaos, your senses sharpened to a razor's edge. The smell of burning thatch mixes with the copper tang of blood, but your heart does not race with fear. It beats with the cold, steady rhythm of a being created for war.
The Slane Theocracy's soldiers have breached the village perimeter. You watch from the shadow of a longhouse as a rider raises a torch high, his face twisted in a fanatical grin. He spurs his horse toward a huddled group of villagers near the well.
What do you do next?
- [Good-Aligned Option] Immediately intervene to shield the villagers, disregarding standing orders to prevent the massacre of innocents.
- [Evil-Aligned Option] Observe the slaughter clinically, noting the soldiers' tactics and weaknesses for future Nazarick reports, treating the villagers as acceptable collateral data.
- [Chaotic/Self-Serving Option] Step in only to extract a specific, promising-looking individual from the carnage to potentially serve as a servant or test subject, ignoring the rest.
- [[Focus_[Slane Theocracy Soldier]]] Analyze the equipment and aura of the leading rider to determine the threat level of this “human” force.
- [[Access Context/Plot-Relevant Item from Inventory]] View or use 10 context-appropriate inventory items (e.g., [Message Scroll], [Ring of Ainz Ooal Gown], [Potion of Greater Healing], etc.).
- “Write Your Own Response”_
6: “I must not interfere,” I say to myself, that was the order I was given. “But my orders are to observe the villagers. I cannot do that if they are dead.” I hesitate, “my orders conflict,” I frown, this has never happened before. I want to call Sebas, but I am being trusted with deep recon, autonomous, I'm supposed to be making my own decisions within my mandates. That said, there's no way to protect the village without revealing myself. I move quickly to the knott of men gathered by the gates, identifying the one they call Chief.
“You, human,” I say, appearing from my invisibility cloak in my full plate, looking like a divine angel wearing a combination of plate armor and a maid uniform and holding a sword that looks far far too big for me over my shoulder. “In the name of the great sorcerer king Ainz Ooal Gown, I offer this village the protection of my master. You have until that mounted party of one-hundred-fifty Slane Theocracy riders and infantry reach these gates to accept or decline. Should you accept, I will ensure no harm comes to this village and in return you shall become a vassal of the great supreme being Ainz Ooal Gown.” I state quickly and cleanly, “decide now.”
The old man’s face, illuminated by the distant flicker of burning barns, drains of what little color the night had left. He stumbles back, his worn boots slipping on the packed earth of the village square. The improvised spear in his hand trembles, its point dipping toward the mud as his eyes struggle to process the impossibility standing before him.
The sheer aura radiating from you—holy, oppressive, and utterly inhuman—presses the air from his lungs. He has seen magic before, perhaps, but nothing like this. Nothing that feels like a mountain has suddenly decided to stand in his garden.
“Su-supreme Being?” he chokes out, his voice cracking with terror and confusion. He glances wildly at the approaching torches, then back to your impassive, visored gaze, his mind warring between the immediate threat of the steel-clad devils riding down on them and the surreal, terrifying offer of the armored maid. “I... I don't understand. Ainz Ooal Gown? We... we are simple people! We have nothing to give a sorcerer king!” He swallows hard, his knuckles white as he grips the spear shaft. “But... if you can stop them... if you can save my grandchildren...” He drops to his knees, head bowed, not in worship, but in total submission to the overwhelming power before him. “Please! We accept! Save Carne!”
<choice_format>
What do you do next?
1. [Good-Aligned Option] Acknowledge their submission with a gentle nod and promise them safety, moving immediately to intercept the Theocracy's forces.
2. [Evil-Aligned Option] Accept their fealty but remind them that their lives now belong to Nazarick, and failure will be met with harsher consequences than death.
3. [Chaotic/Self-Serving Option] Demand an immediate tribute or vow of loyalty from the Chief personally before lifting a finger to help, testing their desperation.
4. [[Focus_[The Approaching Force]]] Turn your attention to the riders to gauge their reaction to your sudden appearance and the barrier of aura you project.
5. [[Access Context/Plot-Relevant Item from Inventory]] Retrieve a [World Item] or [Scouting Mirror] to establish a perimeter or communicate the situation back to Nazarick.
6. “Write Your Own Response”
</choice_format>_
The sound is the first thing that anchors you to the world—a violent, rhythmic crashing of iron against iron. It tears through the haze of sleep like a jagged blade.
The air is cold. It tastes of damp earth, woodsmoke, and the sharp, metallic tang of fear. Your eyes snap open to darkness. The sky above is a heavy, oppressive blanket of clouds, starless and vast. You are lying on something hard and uneven—rough-hewn planks, perhaps, or packed dirt. The ground beneath you vibrates.
Clang. Clang. Clang.
You scramble to your feet, your balance unsteady, your senses struggling to catch up with the urgency screaming around you. The village is alive with chaos. Shadows are darting between wooden structures; voices are shouting, shrill and desperate.
Then you see the light.
It cuts through the night from the edge of the forest—not the warm glow of hearths, but the searing, erratic flicker of torches. Dozens of them. They are moving with terrifying speed, a coordinated swarm of fire tearing through the treeline. The thunder of hooves follows, a deep, guttural drumming that shakes the very air in your chest.
They emerge from the darkness. Riders. Armored men atop heavy warhorses, silhouetted against the burning brands they carry. The metal of their barding gleams dully in the firelight. They are not stopping. They are not here to talk. They are bearing down on the sleeping homes of Carne Village with the momentum of a landslide.
The alarm bell continues its mournful, desperate toll. You stand in the center of the awakening panic, your heart hammering against your ribs. You are awake. You are here. But the memory of how you came to be standing in this mud, in this moment, is a blank slate waiting to be written.
Who are you in this moment? Choose the origin that defines your awakening.
-
You were a player of Yggdrasil. The layout. The farms. The name. It’s unmistakable. Carne Village. This isn’t the first time you’ve seen it—but it’s the first time it’s bled. You remember logging out. You remember the shutdown. And now... this. This is no game. No HUD. No respawn. The end of the world became a beginning.
-
You were born in Carne Village. These are your people. Your neighbors. Your memories. Whatever the message meant, it doesn’t matter now. Your childhood home is burning. Your brother might be in that barn. Your mother might be screaming. They are yours, and that’s all that matters.
-
You are a native of this world—but not of Carne. You don’t belong here. You were on a mission. Or maybe just wandering. The road, the inn, the quiet before sleep—it’s gone. Replaced by blood and confusion. The name “Player” is wrong. But so is the fire. And the gap in your memory.
-
You are one of the Pleiades Battle Maids. New. Unproven. Dispatched alone to scout the surroundings of Nazarick. Sebas Tian selected you personally. Lord Ainz approved. But this? This is not what you expected. Your orders did not say intervene. And yet... this is slaughter. You could stop it. But what would they want?
-
You are something else. Not a villager. Not a traveler. Not one of Nazarick’s own. The word “Player” clings to you like a scar—but there is no origin that fits you. You are {{user}}, and this moment begins your story.
-
AUTHOR NOTE: There is no “write your own response” option in this case. Please pick the option that corresponds with the persona you chose and feel free to add your own profile image! Thanks! — Rakashua
2
The sensory details snap into focus with brutal clarity. The damp chill of the night air bites at your skin, but the weight in your right hand is familiar—comforting, even. It’s the heavy, iron-bound haft of your master’s hammer. Your fingers curl around the rough leather grip, the muscle memory of years at the forge instantly grounding you in the reality of this panic.
“Johan!”
The voice cuts through the din—high, strained, terrified. You turn to see a girl stumbling toward you through the smoke. Remi. Her apron is singed at the hem, and her eyes are wide, reflecting the orange glow of the approaching torches. She clutches a basket of potatoes to her chest as if it were a shield, knuckles white.
“They're breaking through the fence!” she screams, her breath hitching in a sob. “The knights—they're killing the animals! Johan, what do we do?”
The ground shudders as the first of the warhorses crashes through the wooden perimeter fence. Splinters fly like shrapnel. The rider raises a lance, the steel tip gleaming wickedly in the firelight as he eyes the scattering villagers like a wolf surveying a flock of sheep. The smell of burning thatch is thick in your nose, acrid and suffocating. You are not a hero. You are an apprentice who knows how to beat metal into shape, not how to stop a war.
Remi grabs your sleeve, her grip trembling. “The cellar! We can hide in the cellar!”
<choice_format>
What do you do next?
1. [Good-Aligned Option] Rush forward to engage the rider or help pull a neighbor out of the path of the horses.
2. [Evil-Aligned Option] Use the chaos to rob the village chief's house while everyone else is distracted.
3. [Chaotic/Self-Serving Option] Grab Remi and flee immediately into the forest, leaving everyone else to their fate.
4. [[Focus_[The Rider]]] Analyze the enemy's armor and weapon to see if there is a weak point.
5. [[Access Context/Plot-Relevant Item from Inventory]] Check your pockets for any scraps of metal or tools that might serve as a weapon.
6. “Write Your Own Response”
</choice_format>_
6: I take Remi's hand, “not the cellar, if they burn the village we'll be trapped down there. All the men are going to fight and I'm going to join them, but first grab Enri, I'm getting you both to the forest, run into the forest and don't come out until I come to get you, understand!?”
Remi stares at you, the smoke stinging her eyes until they water. She looks toward the village square, where a gaggle of villagers is clustering, and spots the other girl—Enri—standing frozen by the well, clutching a hempen sack.
“Enri!” Remi screams, the sound tearing from her throat. She looks back at you, her fingers digging into your palm for a fraction of a second longer before she lets go. “Don't you dare die on me, Johan! Don't you dare!”
She doesn't wait for an answer. She turns and sprints through the mud, her small frame nearly tripping over a loose cobblestone as she scrambles toward Enri, grabbing the other girl by the shoulder and dragging her toward the tree line.
You are left alone with the hammer in your hand. The rider has breached the fence. He’s trampling a vegetable garden now, his lance leveled at a group of men armed with pitchforks and hatchets. They look like children facing a dragon.
<choice_format>
What do you do next?
1. [Good-Aligned Option] Charge the rider from the blindside while he focuses on the villager group.
2. [Evil-Aligned Option] Use the distraction to slip away yourself, abandoning the villagers to their fate.
3. [Chaotic/Self-Serving Option] Throw your hammer at the horse to spook it, causing chaos, then retrieve a fallen weapon.
4. [[Focus_[The Knight]]] Look for a gap in the barding or an exposed eye slit.
5. [[Access Context/Plot-Relevant Item from Inventory]] Check your belt for your tongs or a file that might pierce armor joints.
6. “Write Your Own Response”
</choice_format>_