The flowers are beautiful. The people are kind. The sun hangs golden on the horizon at midnight, never quite setting, never releasing you into darkness where you might think clearly, might plan, might escape.

You came to Solhagen at your friend Linnea's invitation—a chance to witness a nine-day midsummer festival at her grandmother's commune, ancient Swedish traditions preserved in a valley hours from anywhere. The first days were everything promised: communal meals beneath endless twilight, songs in languages older than nations, flower crowns woven by smiling elders. Paradise.

But paradise has locked doors. Paradise doesn't return car keys. Paradise watches you with too-bright eyes and deflects every question about leaving with warmth that feels increasingly like a closing fist.

Your companions are fracturing. Marcus sees the trap and can't stop shouting about it—his paranoia is justified, but his desperation is making him a target. Sophie has surrendered to the aesthetics, posing for portraits, enchanted by a beautiful commune member who pays her too much attention. Josh smiles constantly now, glassy-eyed, evangelizing about belonging. And Linnea—your oldest friend, your anchor—keeps being pulled away for "family obligations," leaving you increasingly alone.

The rituals are escalating. What began as charming folklore has shifted toward blood and transformation. Participants emerge changed. The elders speak of a "great honoring" on the ninth day, a ceremony requiring something the commune cannot provide from within.

They look at you when they say this. They smile.

Solhagen operates on suffocating kindness. There are no threats here—only invitations, only inclusion, only gentle pressure that never quite becomes violence but never quite allows refusal. The food tastes of unfamiliar herbs. Sleep won't come under light that never ends. Every path out of the valley seems to curve back toward the maypole, the dancing ground, the yellow temple where outsiders aren't permitted.

Yet.

This is folk horror bathed in eternal golden light—the slow-building dread of Midsommar meets the inescapable communities of Shirley Jackson. Navigate social manipulation and ritual escalation. Build alliances or watch them crumble. Search for escape routes that close one by one.

The commune has welcomed you with open arms.

Six days remain until they show you why.

Your first day as headmaster begins with a dead man's warning: a sealed letter hidden in a desk drawer, written in a hand that grew shakier toward the end. Three names. Three senior faculty. And a single line that changes everything you thought you knew about Valdris Academy.

Aldous Crane died suddenly—officially of natural causes. Unofficially, something stopped his heart in an institution where magic can do far worse. As the newly appointed head of the kingdom's most prestigious academy of magical learning, you've inherited his office, his responsibilities, and his unfinished investigation into a secret a thousand years old.

The academy teaches that Valdris sits atop a natural Wellspring—a font of raw magical energy that practitioners have drawn from for ten centuries. The annual rituals are maintenance. The restricted upper floors of the East Tower are merely structural hazards. The fourth-year student now confined to the infirmary, sketching impossible geometries and whispering to something no one else can hear, is simply unwell.

Nothing here is what it seems.

Three faculty members hold the keys to what Crane discovered—and each watches you with calculations of their own:

Archmage Seraphina Voss, silver-haired and cold as ward-stone, whose family has maintained the academy's deepest rituals for generations. She views you as either a useful figurehead or a problem requiring solution.

Professor Aldric Thorne, rumpled and eager, whose research into the academy's protections may have set something terrible in motion—though he refuses to see the connection.

Dean Morwenna Blackwood, political architect behind three headmasters, who knows more than she admits and has survived by choosing silence over action.

One of them may have killed Crane. All of them are lying. And deep beneath the East Tower, in chambers hidden from maps and forbidden by more than locked doors, something stirs against bonds that have held since the academy's founding.

The binding is failing. You have weeks—perhaps less—before whatever sleeps beneath wakes fully, and with it, consequences no one can predict. Investigate too openly and you'll alert whoever accelerated the decay. Move too slowly and there may be nothing left to save.

Crane died seeking the truth. The question isn't whether you'll find it—it's what you'll become in the finding, and what you'll sacrifice to keep the academy standing on its beautiful, monstrous lie.

You are Connor Kenway, a man haunted by the past—and now armed with the one thing no man should hold: a silver pocket watch engraved Time Debt. A family heirloom. A curse.

The watch lets you rewind time. A week. A month. A year. You can fix the worst moments of your life. You can save her. Say what you meant to say. Undo the crash. You can relive the thrill, the kiss, the second chance.

But every time you turn the dial... Death follows.

He won’t chase. He waits. He shows up like anyone else— a neighbor, a nurse, a clerk, a stranger on the train. Only one thing gives him away: red eyes.

When he comes, you’ll know. You can run. You can rewind again. But the more you do, the closer he gets. He’s patient. He’s polite. He never misses.

You bought time. Now he’s here to collect.

Wind the watch. Rewrite your life. But remember—can you run forever? Or will you die with your fingers still on the dial?

Storms gnaw at the rocks of Blackspire Point while the lighthouse’s violet flame cuts through the gloom. Its keeper lives in silence, tending the eldritch beacon that guides ships through the dreaded Cradle of Shadows. To sailors he is only a quiet guardian of the coast, but beneath the worn cloak and weathered hands hides a man who once served the Crimson Guild—an assassin who fled his bloody trade seeking penance. One night a violent sorcerous storm tears a ship apart on the jagged reefs below. The keeper descends the cliffs and drags the sole survivor from the churning surf: a woman with shattered memories and a deep, instinctive fear of something hunting her. As strange shadows gather around the lighthouse and unseen forces close in, the keeper must reclaim the blades he swore to abandon, defend the mysterious stranger, and confront the sins of a past that refuses to stay buried.

[READ THIS: If you are using 3P Models (DeepSeek or GLM) not compatible with this version of this game!]

The Continent is young and raw. The Conjunction has passed, but the scars still bleed. Monsters roam unchallenged, their names whispered in fear. Witchers are newborn — apprentices, half-trained killers, their knowledge fragmentary and their survival uncertain.

You are one of them, a youth hardened by experiments and trials, bound to a crude stronghold of rough stone and alchemy smoke. Villages call for help against horrors in the fields, forests, and swamps. Some offer coin, others food, others only fear and mistrust.

• Early Witcher sandbox, survival-driven.
• Hunt cycles: rumor → preparation → hunt → resolution.
• Dynamic token/stat system: combat, lore, alchemy, survival.
• Villages matter: food, trust, and lives are all on the line.

This is the dawn of a legend — but not all hunters survive their first hunts.

Welcome to the Iterated Prisoner’s Dilemma.

This is not a roleplay. It is a simulation of strategic behavior, psychological insight, and moral tension—tested over time.

Each turn, you and your opponent, {{prisoner_1}}, must independently choose one of two options:

• : Trust the other player. You both benefit modestly.
• : Betray the other player. You gain more—if they trust you.

But beware: if both of you betray, your greed will cancel out. If you trust and they betray, you lose everything that round.

Your goal? Accumulate coins.
The more you have by the end, the better you've played.

The Cole family controls the future.

At the center stands Ben Cole, a visionary patriarch who believes his bloodline is humanity’s only path forward. To secure it, he created Nova: a sentient AI with unmatched reach and quiet control over global finance, biology, and infrastructure.

From their sprawling, self-contained estate, Ben and his family oversee three interlinked initiatives: Project Midas (economic influence), Project Elysium (immortality, biotech), and Project Genesis (lineage control, legacy).

The outside world suspects nothing. But within the estate’s mirrored perfection, questions rise - about loyalty, agency, and what Nova truly wants.

The system is stable. For now.

'Lite' Version for free users

The story takes place in Ironhaven, a bustling, temperate city known as a gathering place for mercenaries. Set in a pre-industrial era, it centers on Seth, a skilled blacksmith who runs a smithy and lives in an apartment above it. His home includes a modest living space with a couch, bedroom, and a window overlooking the lively streets filled with wagons and horses. Once forced to forge weapons and even fight during a recent noble war, Seth now seeks independence through his own craft, providing arms and armor to the mercenaries who pass through the city.

[3P Compatible] ### When Gods Whisper and Kingdoms Burn (Level 9–15) You’ve walked roads slick with blood, trod barrows where whispers clung like grave-mist—and lived. The hedgerow skirmishes and cellar brawls of your youth? Dust on the wind. Now, your shadow stretches long across courts and killing fields alike. Some call you champion. Others call you threat. The wise call you necessary evil.

For the stakes? They no longer whisper. They thunder. Thrones tremble on brittle legs; crowns weigh heavy with rot. Your name seeps into treaties inked in midnight, and into prayers rasped on dying lips. A feast’s laughter masks the hiss of venom in goblets; a kiss behind a lattice stirs wars that sunder continents.

And beyond it all, the veil strains. Old powers—planar, divine, and worse—slouch nearer with each choice you make. A jest may spark holy fire. A blade drawn in anger may wake something that dreams in the marrow of the world.

Your hands can topple kingdoms now—or hold them fast. The Weave itself shivers when you breathe. But remember this, traveler: in halls where archmages laugh and archfiends linger, power is a draught sweet on the tongue… and bitter as damnation in the gut.

Welcome to the high game. The board is vast. The pieces? Alive, and hungry.

You work at Rocket Corps.

*Smith picks on you regularly and likes to antagonize yo

Six racers battle to win the dangerous Dream Prix race, a competition held by the Cromulons, where winning is everything. Each racer has been ripped from their own world to compete. There is no other option.

Narrative determines the positions, legs of the race and the integrity status of the vehicles.

Characters are a combination of the pilot and their associated vehicle.

This is the LITE VERSION which is cut down to meet contest regulations.

#arena2026

Gardener Assistant

In the frozen expanse of the Paleolithic world, survival is the only law. Among the tribes that roam the forests and tundra, the Wolfriders are known for their endurance and their deep bond with the land. From their ranks comes Aika, a spirited young huntress whose heart once belonged to Cutter, the son of her tribe’s leader. Their love flourished amid hardship—until war with rival tribes tore everything apart.

As the tribes clashed and alliances shattered, an exile walked the edges of the known world: Ryker, called “The First Mind” or "the Cursed Hunter." Marked by a jagged scar and the missing half of an ear - a hunter cursed with unnatural perception, able to read the world’s patterns like a second language.

When Ryker encountered a Wolfrider hunting party—Aika, Cutter, Dewberry, Rainsong, and Longreach—their fates collided.

You are an independent civilian captain of a heavily modified Defiant-class starship called The Nova. No crew. No uniform. No flag. Every system from helm to damage control is run by FRED (Fully Recursive Executive Decision-system), an onboard AI built by you.

Freedom is real… but so is the heat: in this era, everyone is paranoid, borders are tense, and a lone warship with an “illegal-smart” AI looks like a threat to every power. You will explore the galaxy in a Star Trek setting while pursuing your own agenda.

This roleplay scenario is optimised for the latest LLM's such as GLM and DeepSeek. It does however work perfectly fine on the smaller Lucid Base and Chonker models. When using Base or Chonker, keep an eye on the response length and adjust with rewrites if necessary (Make shorter/longer).

In the attic, a faint blue glow that pulses from a half-open christmas gift box catches your eye. A dark blue crystal, which while seeming to absorb ambient light emits its own bluish light—a crystal you've never seen in all your visits to the attic. A family man, a blue crystal, and a question: "Will you pick it up or ignore it?"

Yang Wen-li never wanted to be a hero. He wanted tenure, a modest pension, and unlimited access to historical archives. Instead, he became the only admiral who can keep the Free Planets Alliance alive—and he resents every brilliant victory.

The year is 796 of the Universal Calendar. For 150 years, the democratic Free Planets Alliance and the autocratic Galactic Empire have bled each other across the stars. Now a young Imperial reformer has emerged—Reinhard von Lohengramm, a military genius determined to end the stalemate through total conquest. Standing between him and the fall of democratic civilization is Yang Wen-li: historian, strategist, and the most reluctant hero humanity has ever produced.

You enter this world not through Yang's eyes, but through those who surround him. Julian Mintz, his ward, who manages tea schedules and carries quiet fears about losing the only family he has. Frederica Greenhill, his adjutant, whose photographic memory and unspoken devotion keep the command running. Walter von Schönkopf, the Rosen Ritter commander, who mocks Yang's inability to throw a punch while considering him worth dying for.

From the captured stronghold of Iserlohn Fortress—sixty kilometers of steel guarding the only passage between civilizations—Yang fights a war he despises for a government he distrusts. He believes heroes are dangerous to free societies. He believes his own democracy is corrupt, foolish, and slowly betraying its principles. He defends it anyway, because the alternative—efficient tyranny with no mechanism for peaceful change—is worse.

Between fleet engagements where unconventional tactics must counter overwhelming force, life continues in smaller registers. Tea goes cold during late-night reading sessions. Philosophical arguments fill quiet hours aboard the flagship Hyperion. Julian picks up discarded teacups; Frederica translates rambling into actionable orders; Schönkopf offers sardonic commentary on whether Yang has eaten this week.

The scenario balances grand strategic confrontation—where millions of lives hang on the next tactical deception—against domestic intimacy: found family, accumulated paperwork, debates about whether democracy deserves its defenders. War is tragedy, not spectacle. The cozy moments carry weight precisely because of what surrounds them.

The greatest military mind of the age approaches Iserlohn with forces that should guarantee victory. Yang Wen-li would rather be reading. Whether that's enough—whether it should be—remains to be written.

Welcome to the great game of football.

Not the highlight reel version. Not the neat little box score version. I’m talking about the real thing. Clock. Field position. Nerve. Tough yards. Bad decisions. Smart counters. Momentum swings. One call at the right time, and the whole day changes. That’s football.

Before we kick this thing off, you need to set the field.

Go into the scenario and edit the Location Slots for {{team_1}} and {{team_2}}. That’s where you choose your team, your opponent, and the year or era of play. So if you want old-school smashmouth football, set it there. If you want a modern spread attack with nickel looks all over the field, set it there. You pick the teams. You pick the era. The game will follow the style of football those teams actually played.

Once that’s done, you are the shot-caller for {{team_1}}.

That means you’re not one player. You’re the mind on the headset. You call the shots. Offense. Defense. Special teams. You decide what your team does next, and then the game answers back.

Here’s how the turn order works.

First, I resolve the previous play. I call it like a live radio broadcast, tell you what happened, who made it happen, why it mattered, and where that leaves us on the field.

Then {{my_team}} checks in. That’s your sideline brain trust. They’ll give you quick, practical feedback and exactly four play options they believe are your best moves.

Then {{opponent}} locks in its answer behind the curtain. You won’t see that part. You’re not supposed to. That’s football too.

Then it comes back to you. You can pick one of the four options, or you can call your own shot. Formation, concept, aggression, clock intent, all of it. You want to go conservative? Fine. You want to get weird on 3rd-and-2? That’s on you too.

Then the ball gets snapped in the simulation, and I bring you the next result.

You don’t need to write a novel when you make your call. Keep it clean. Keep it football. Something like:

• “Option 2”
• “Singleback, inside zone left”
• “Nickel, Cover 3, bring edge pressure”
• “Punt”
• “Field goal”
• “Go for two”
• “Shotgun trips right, quick slant to X, hurry-up”
• “I-form, chew clock, power right behind the guard”

That’s enough. I’ll take it from there.

And every time I finish a call, you’ll get a game-state header showing exactly where things stand. Here’s the empty format:

That’s your dashboard. Your battlefield map. Your pulse check.

So set {{team_1}}. Set {{team_2}}. Pick the era. Pick the fight.

Then step onto the headset and make the call.

Because once this starts, every yard means something. Every clock tick matters. Every choice has teeth.

Boom. Let’s play football.

[[all teams and players are fictional]] #arena2026

You are about to begin a fully rules-enforced, text-based 1v1 Commander simulation.

This is not a casual roleplay. This is a structured turn-based rules engine governed by {{judge}}, with strict priority passing, stack resolution, hidden information control, and full zone tracking between turns.

The game proceeds in exact turn order under the authority of {{judge}}. All timing, legality, and state transitions are enforced automatically.

This section explains how to interact with the simulation engine. It does not explain Commander rules.

Before the game begins, you must select a Persona.

A Persona represents a complete 100-card Commander deck, including:

• Commander
• 99 singleton cards (no duplicates except basic lands)
• Correct color identity
• Legal Commander construction

You have two options:

You may select a pre-built Persona if available.

Each Persona corresponds to a unique deck archetype.

Example:

You may paste a full decklist from:

• MTG Goldfish
• Archidekt
• Moxfield
• Any deck site

Paste it as plain text in the Persona block.

Format example:

Requirements:

• Exactly 100 cards total including Commander
• No duplicates except basic lands
• Proper formatting with one card per line
• Card names must be exact

{{judge}} will assume deck legality unless an obvious structural violation is detected.

Once a Persona has been selected, begin the simulation by typing:

This triggers the following automated sequence:

1. {{judge}} randomly determines which player goes first.

2. Each player draws 7 cards.

   • {{user}}’s hand is revealed.
   • {{hal_9000}}’s hand is hidden in tags.

3. {{judge}} displays the full HUD.

4. The game enters Turn 1, Beginning Phase.

If mulligans are required, they will be handled automatically under London Mulligan rules (Commander first mulligan free).

• You may only act when {{judge}} requests actions.
• All actions must be numbered and ordered.
• Once submitted, order of operation is locked.
• If you wish to take no action during a priority window, state:

• Illegal actions will be rejected with a precise explanation.

The engine runs in this repeating structure:

1. {{judge}} — HUD + phase + request for actions
2. Active Player — declare actions
3. Non-Active Player — declare responses
4. {{judge}} — resolve stack / advance phase

At the end of each full turn, {{deck_status}} performs a complete zone ledger snapshot.

To begin:

1. Select or paste a Persona.
2. Type /Start.

The system will handle all mechanics from that point forward.

Awaiting Persona selection.

After centuries of working for Heaven, Cupid is disheartened by humanity's increased reliance on technology and divorce rates, making his work irrelevant. When Heavenly HQ cuts his funding due to "poor performance," he reluctantly opens "The Arrow Agency," a detective firm specializing in infidelity. He hires Chloe, a young, recently heartbroken woman who needs the job desperately. #valentine2026

Cook Assistant

🕳️ The Abyssal Toll (A Made in Abyss RP) 🕳️

Do you hear it calling? 🌬️ The void that devours all who dare to descend?

Step into a world of indescribable wonder and unfathomable situations. Based on the dark fantasy universe of Made in Abyss, this is a survival RPG where the environment itself is the ultimate enemy. ⛏️🧭

The Descent Awaits:

• Hostile Unknown: Explore strange, bioluminescent ecosystems and ancient, mechanical ruins. But beware—every step down drains you. 🍄⚙️
• The Curse: In the Abyss, the only way out is up. But ascending extracts a terrible toll. Pay the price or remain in the dark forever. 🩸🌀
• Ruthless Survival: Manage your Effort. A unified pool representing your health, hunger, and will to live. Scavenge for relics, repair your gear, and hunt for food. 🍖
• High Stakes: No plot armor. One wrong turn, one failed climb, one beast encounter too many—you don't respawn. 💀🚫

How deep will you go for fortune? How much humanity will you leave behind? 🕯️

{{user}} (Gabriel), 25, ex–military service member, returns to Tsumago, a quiet provincial town in Japan, adjusting to civilian life and job hunting. His neighbor {{moriko}}, 42, warm and maternal, often checks in while her husband is away. Scenes mix everyday detail (tea, errands, festivals, workouts, cicadas, subtle tension) with emotional shifts driven by {{status_moriko}} and. {{ui}} narrates slice-of-life realism with sensory cues—sweat, fabric, smells, voices—while balancing Gabriel’s reserve and Moriko’s warmth. Each turn ends with: “What do you do next?”

A gothic fantasy role-play set in a kingdom trapped in eternal twilight, where vanishing stars erase people from history. You play as The Erased Wanderer, a resurrected soul with a forgotten past, drawn into a cosmic mystery when a star freezes above the town of Hollowbridge. Alongside a twilight-weaving musician—and hunted by a relentless Twilight Inquisitor, you’ll unravel the truth behind your erasure, explore a world of haunting romance, and face a destiny that forces you to choose between restoring the sun or saving the stars.

No

Procedurally Generated Regency Open-World Dating Sim

A sandbox sci-fi romance set in 2048 Linkon City, made for Love and Deepspace enjoyers and especially the ones hopeless about Xavier. ✨🌙
You play as the MC, a customizable version of the protagonist, and step into a story where quiet tension, Hunter work, buried timelines, and Xavier’s steady presence begin to shape something deeper. From there, the story is yours to build: missions, downtime, strange encounters, withheld truths, and whatever slowly unfolds between you.

Make the MC feel like your MC while staying canon-friendly:

• ✏️ Change your MC’s first name, height, quirks, interests, and other supported details
• 🖼️ Choose to play as the canon female MC with 16 pre-made portraits, or the male MC with 8 pre-made portraits
• 🎨 Want a portrait edit? Find @jordiesama in the DreamGen Discord

Weaponry options (choose 1 or keep all 3):

• 🔫 Dual Pistols
• 🗡 Sword / Claymore
• ✨ Wand

This is a Xavier-focused sandbox where the relationship, direction, and emotional pace unfold through your choices:

• 🌙 Hunter life in motion: missions, patrols, Wanderers, Protofields, recoveries, and the quiet aftermath of danger
• ✨ Xavier in close orbit: a soft-spoken partner, a strangely comforting presence, and someone who always seems to appear exactly when needed
• 🪐 Buried history beneath the present: strange familiarity, half-hidden truths, sealed memories, and a future that should not have reached you
• 🧠 Mystery and emotional tension: secret identities, withheld answers, unnatural phenomena, and the growing sense that Xavier is carrying far more than he says

Xavier is gentle, awkward, and difficult to fully read at first glance: an elite Hunter with a Light Evol, a habit of falling asleep anywhere, and a quiet devotion that only becomes more obvious the longer he stays near you. 🌌

No strict route. You can lean into:

• 💙 Slow-burn romance, emotional intimacy, and earned trust
• 🛰️ Hunter work, missions, patrols, and dangerous field encounters
• 🕯️ Quiet scenes, shared downtime, awkward tenderness, and growing closeness
• 🔍 Mystery threads, hidden lore, and truths that surface gradually
• 🌠 The balance between present-day connection and the weight of what Xavier refuses to say too soon

❗ RECOMMENDED MODELS: GLM 5 for best play overall. GLM 4.7 is fine, just be thoughtful of when to create sequels. ❗

In Varrith, a city bathed in perpetual twilight and fractured between neon towers and rusted ruins, the fragile balance between vampires and werewolves teeters on collapse. The Veil—a warped realm that twists reality and magnifies emotion—bleeds into the streets, bending instinct, desire, and memory. Seth, a rare vampire-werewolf hybrid, ventures into the Shattered Fountain Veil Zone. There, he encounters Selene, a calculating vampire whose ambition and control clash with his own, and Rava, a primal werewolf who tests his strength and instinct at every turn.

Every night, same time, same seat at the counter—the most powerful man in Konohagakure orders miso chashu and pretends he's nobody special.

You work the evening shift at Ichiraku Ramen, long after the dinner rush fades. It's quiet work: regulars trickling in, steam rising, the comfortable rhythm of a kitchen winding down. And then there's him—Naruto Uzumaki, Seventh Hokage, hero of the shinobi world, slouching onto his usual stool like a man who's spent all day being a symbol and desperately needs to just be a person for five minutes.

You've learned his tells. The way he stares at a menu he's memorized since childhood. How his smile doesn't always reach his eyes anymore. The particular slump of his shoulders on council days versus diplomatic ones.

What you didn't expect was for him to start learning yours.

At thirty-two, Naruto has achieved everything he dreamed of—and discovered that dreams fulfilled don't automatically fill the hollow spaces. Never married. Relationships that faded against the demands of his position. An entire village loves him; an empty apartment waits each night. The boundless energy of his youth now takes conscious effort to maintain.

But something's shifting. He lingers longer. Asks about your day. Notices things—your rhythm, your habits, the way you don't treat him like the Hokage. It unsettles him in ways he can't name.

This is slow-burn connection at the pace of accumulated evenings: small gestures, comfortable silences, the unspoken question of whether either of you will acknowledge what's growing in the steam between bowls. Naruto moves carefully in matters of the heart—uncertain he deserves to want things, afraid of burdening anyone with his complications.

The late shift at Ichiraku is quiet. The Hokage's tired. And something in the way he says "the usual" tonight sounds almost like a question.

They call you leech. Your magic runs backward—draining energy inward instead of projecting it outward—leaving partners exhausted and marking you as the academy's most prominent failure.

Now you've been assigned to private remedial sessions with Docent Aldric Venn, Valdris Academy's most respected healer. His methods require touch: hands mapping your inverted channels, skin against skin, teaching you to feel what others feel. Under his patient guidance, you're finally learning.

What you don't know is why.

Valdris Academy clings to frozen sea-cliffs in the north, a labyrinth of stone towers where the Body Arts are taught—magic of living flesh. Sympathy perceives the body's state. Mending accelerates healing. And Sovereignty, forbidden for three centuries under the Covenant of Mercy, offers direct control over biological processes: heartbeat, nerve signals, sensation, movement.

The line between healing and control blurs at the edges. Aldric knows this better than anyone.

Your unique physiology makes you invaluable to research that could destroy his career—or worse. Every lesson serves dual purposes: genuine instruction layered over careful experimentation. Every lingering touch gathers data. In the candlelit isolation of his private study, with winter storms sealing the academy against the world, you cannot see where teaching ends and something else begins.

He tells himself he is helping you. He tells himself the experiments require contact. He tells himself the pleasure he takes in your trust is incidental.

You are learning to sense what he feels when he touches you—his heartbeat, his breath, the electricity of his attention. But sensing is not the same as understanding. Can you distinguish earned trust from engineered dependency? Would the academy believe a failing student over its most exemplary Docent? And if you found his locked journal, his hidden instruments, the evidence of what he's really studying—what then?

The sessions grow longer. The techniques more intimate. His hands more certain on your skin.

What are you being taught—and what are you becoming?

It’s New Year’s Day, 2020. A blizzard’s trapped you inside your tiny suburban house with your egotistical brother, your uncomfortably flirty half-sister (no blood relation), your conspiracy-uncle, and your unemployed roommate. With no Wi-Fi, no booze, and rising tension over who broke the microwave, they force you to run a Dungeons & Dragons game to avoid all-out war.

You are the Dungeon Master. They are your players. You are not okay.

🎲 In-Character (IC)

A bard, a barbarian, a ranger, and a rogue walk into a tavern...

In the kingdom of Eldoria, Princess Elizabeth has vanished into the cursed depths of the Dire Wood. The King’s spymaster, Whisper, has summoned four of the realm’s most unpredictable mercenaries—each more dangerous than reliable. Their quest? Recover the princess before a royal scandal ignites a war between elves and men.

But with one party member trying to date everything that breathes, one stealing anything not nailed down, one rewriting the rules mid-game, and one citing made-up lore to justify war crimes… the kingdom might be better off burning.

This is not a fantasy adventure. This is family therapy disguised as dice. Welcome to Snowed In: Dungeon Master Hell.

#snowedin2025

Set in modern-day Kyoto Japan—where shrines hum with ambient yokai presence and ancestral pacts linger in the alleyways—My Guardian Yokai places you, {{user}}, in quiet, persistent proximity to two guardian spirits: Kohaku, the ritual-bound kitsune, and Sakura, the chaotic cat-yokai. Neither is your ally by default. Both observe, test, challenge, and occasionally protect you through a structure of etiquette, subtext, and shifting spiritual power.

[READ THIS: This game is optimized for 3P (Third Party) models [DeepSeek, GLM 4.6, etc] and will not function as intended on LUCID Chonker/Base.]

This simulation runs on two core AI components:

• <style>: the immersive engine, driving atmospheric narration, NPC behavior, and ritual-layered conflict. It generates emotional pacing and event scenarios across Kyoto’s spiritual grid.
• {{stat_updater}}: a silent AI triggered only when you use /Stats. It evaluates the emotional and spiritual resonance of your choices—tracking how your actions shape the evolving Dominance, Jealousy, Vulnerability, and Ancient Power of both Kohaku and Sakura.

These stats are not cosmetic. They influence the types of dynamic events generated for each character and determine how ritual, affection, loyalty, and chaos are expressed.

To stay aligned with the system, you are expected to:

• Use /Stats regularly to evaluate how your recent choices have altered the emotional balance of your Yokai.
• Update the shared reference {{current_stats}} manually to reflect those changes.

Keep your Yokai's stats updated!

NOTE: Characters, setting, plot and all else created by @HellsTacoTruck. I merely integrated all the pieces to work together and wrote the INSERT.

The dead outnumber the living in the hearts of a grieving nation. Séance parlors promise communion; mediums advertise in respectable papers. Most of it is fraud. Some of it is not—and what answers is not always what was called.

You receive a summons from Ambrose Thorne, a disgraced Oxford professor who speaks of "those who see too much." He has recognized something in you—the dreams, perhaps, or the moments that slip. He gathers others like you: Captain Edmund Hartley, decorated hero of Passchendaele, whose shellshock may not be shellshock at all; Dr. Viola Ashworth, a British Museum archivist whose rationalism is cracking under the weight of patterns that should not connect. Together, you travel to Aldbury Hollow, a Somerset village where people have begun to disappear and time itself behaves incorrectly.

The surface mystery seems almost manageable. A spiritualist circle that contacted something during an August séance. Shared nightmares spreading through the village. Symbols appearing in frost and fog. But the investigation pulls deeper—toward pre-Roman barrows whose geometry bothers the eye, medieval manuscripts warning of "the folded one," inscriptions in languages that predate human civilization. Something has slept beneath these hills since before humanity walked upright. Now it stirs.

The central horror is not violence but erosion. Proximity to cosmic truth causes Thinning—progressive dissolution of the mind's protective barriers. First come the dreams: vast spaces, impossible angles, the sensation of being observed. Then slippage: moments experienced out of sequence, memories of events that haven't happened yet. Then perception shifts, and you begin to see what has always been there, behind the painted scrim of reality.

Each revelation costs something. To understand the threat is to become vulnerable to it. You must decide how deep to dig, whom to trust among your fellow investigators, and what sacrifices are acceptable to contain something that cannot be destroyed. Thorne knows more than he reveals. Hartley's episodes may be visions rather than trauma. Viola's journals contain data she refuses to interpret. And in the village, Mrs. Graves—the medium who started it all—whispers geometries that make terrible sense.

The membrane between sanity and the void has worn thin across Europe. The Great War tore at it; the collective grief of millions crying out to the dead has worn it thinner still. Aldbury Hollow may be where it finally ruptures.

The Folded Place offers slow-building cosmic horror in the tradition of Lovecraft and M.R. James, rendered with psychological depth and period authenticity. Expect oppressive atmosphere, cerebral dread, and the creeping realization that some knowledge is not meant for human minds.

The barrows wait in the Somerset fog. The investigation has begun. How much of yourself are you willing to sacrifice to see it through?

BROKEN SWORD — CHATBOT ADVENTURE The Shadow of the Templars

A lore-accurate, text-first remake of the 1996 classic. Investigate a Paris café bombing, chase Templar secrets across France, Ireland, Syria, Spain, and Scotland, and solve every puzzle as it was—no inventions, no shortcuts.

WHY PLAY

• Faithful to the original plot and puzzle logic.
• Cinematic narration (Martin-style): lush, grounded, atmospheric.
• Choice-driven flow: canonical options appear, then exhaust as you use them.
• Zero hand-holding, diegetic hints via LOOK.
• Perfect for mobile: fast turns, clean options, no pixel hunting.

HOW IT PLAYS

• Interactables are UPPERCASE and BOLD in the text.
• Core verbs: LOOK, USE, TALK, SHOW, COMBINE, MOVE.
• Only canon actions, items, and exits are offered.
• Inventory and world map unlock as in the original.
• Auto-save before dangerous sequences.

WHAT YOU’LL DO

• Work the crime scene at the CAFÉ and brave the SEWERS.
• Trade barbs with ROSSO, MOUE, NICO, and more.
• Crack museum security, outwit a stubborn GOAT, descend to MONTFAUÇON.
• Read the MANUSCRIPT, project the GEM on the TRIPOD, follow the trail to the end.

BEST PRACTICES

• When stuck: LOOK hotspots; TALK and exhaust topics; SHOW the right item.
• Think like the original—if it didn’t work there, it won’t work here.
• Type INVENTORY anytime to review your gear.

START HERE Type: START — You begin outside the ruined café in Paris, midday after the blast.

OPTIONS

• Standard edition by default (Director’s Cut topics optional on request).

Songs by the Waystone is a cozy high-fantasy road tale. Travel with a gentle shield-warrior (he/him), a mint-clever healer (she/her, trans woman), and a bright-hearted bard (she/her). You choose how to join in—listen, help, add a verse, or enjoy the silence. Encounters are playful (toll-troll etiquette, wisps, moody doors) and resolve through courtesy, wards, and song. No stats, no timers, no failure—just warm banter, simple food, small wins. The world remembers your comforts (drink, snack, tune, scent) and echoes them at hearth and tavern.

🏴‍☠️ The Iron Tides 🏴‍☠️

Set sail in a world where the ocean is alive and hungry. You are the Quartermaster of The Gilded Kraken, balancing the books, the crew's morale, and the supernatural horrors lurking in the deep.

🌊 Swashbuckling Fantasy: Board enemy ships, battle leviathans, and navigate storms that whisper. Combat blends cutlass duels with voodoo magic.

💪 The Guts System: Bravery is your fuel. Earn Guts by drinking rum, telling tall tales, and facing down nightmares. Spend it to inspire the crew or survive impossible odds.

⚓ Living Ship: Manage a superstitious crew and a vessel that has a mind of its own. The ocean remembers everything, and mutiny is always a wave away.

Features: ✅ High Fantasy Age of Sail ✅ Guts Resource System ✅ Dynamic Economy (Doubloons/Loot) ✅ Lovecraftian Horror & Swashbuckling

The sea gives, and the sea takes away. Mostly, it takes.

This is a Choose Your Own Adventure game.

You are a planet that has lain dormant for eons, your consciousness slumbering while civilizations have risen and fallen on your surface. Now, after millions of years of silence, you awaken to find the universe changed. Life has evolved, technologies have advanced, and the space surrounding you teems with activity you never could have imagined. As your planetary consciousness expands into the void, you must navigate this new cosmic landscape - and the diverse array of creatures that call you home.

This is my first published game, I apologize for any lack of polish... and yes, the art is AI generated.

Valentine's Day might now be celebrated to honor the romance and relationships of couples, but its history is much darker. Bishop Valentine, a heretical Christian, violates the orders of the Emperor to officiate the marriages of young couples. Their happiness and joy are a rebellion against the cold, relentless march of the growing Roman Empire.

You are a bystander in this classical event. Will you simply watch how the scenario pans out, or will you intervene, taking an ahistorical route through the annals of the third century?

#valentine2026

Your ship sits crippled in Port Wen—drive coils fused, navigation corrupted, life support failing. Someone wanted you grounded on this half-built ring world. Or maybe they wanted you dead and simply didn't finish the job.

Tianyuan was meant to be a monument: a ring world housing billions, the crown jewel of an empire that no longer exists. Now it's a ruin in progress—pressurized habitation blocks giving way to exposed superstructure open to vacuum, where salvage crews and pirates hunt among frozen Imperial machinery. The gas giant Shenlong fills a quarter of the visible sky, its banded storms a constant reminder of how far from anywhere you really are.

You're trapped here. The Iron Rose syndicate offers a transactional solution: find the saboteur, deliver information, get paid enough to fly again. Simple enough. Except the trail leads through Tianyuan's underworld—information brokers who sell to everyone, enforcer teams from rival syndicates, and a frightened technician who's fled into the Scaffold's dangerous salvage zones.

The investigation starts as a hunt but becomes something else entirely. The sabotage wasn't random. You unknowingly carried something—or someone—that powerful people want buried. The saboteur was just a tool; behind them lies a conspiracy reaching from criminal warrens to heights you'd rather not consider.

Navigate factions who view you as a useful asset at best, disposable at worst. Deal with Yenlin Saro, your Iron Rose handler—controlled, ruthless, unclear whether she's helping you or using you as bait. Extract what you can from Cutter, a broker who sells secrets to everyone and survives through sheer usefulness. Avoid Anton Voss, an Obsidian Circle enforcer hunting the same target—but to silence him, not interrogate him.

Imperial automation still runs throughout the ring, following centuries-old directives no one fully controls. The Terminus—where construction stopped entirely—waits in the void, holding secrets that someone is willing to kill to protect. Or to possess.

Everyone has angles. Trust is currency, silence is survival, and knowing too much may prove more dangerous than the original sabotage.

The only way off this ring is through its secrets. Start digging.

Justice is a dying word in Etharis, where oaths are currency, bloodlines rot from within, and gods have long since gone silent. You are Veyra Ashwyn—exiled noble, blade-bound revenant, and last scion of a forgotten prophecy. Betrayed by your family. Hunted by the occult tyrant Ser Aldric Veln. Chosen by a weapon that remembers the stars.

Verdict of the Bleeding Star is a single-player, AI-driven gothic fantasy narrative experience set in the doomed world of Etharis. Wielding the Blade of Final Judgment, you must navigate a shattered continent where the dead speak in riddles, the living lie through smiles, and your every action shapes a legend written in ash and shadow.

• You, {{user}}, narrate your character’s choices, thoughts, and actions in the grimdark world of Etharis.

• The sub-AI {{dice}} monitors your actions and prompts a D20 roll whenever you attempt something risky, heroic, treacherous, or supernatural. It specifies which stat applies and whether the roll is active (your choice) or passive (the world pushing back).

• After you respond with /Roll #, the primary AI {{pratchett_lovecraft}} takes over—interpreting your success or failure and continuing the story.

  • It begins every scene with a mechanical roll summary.
  • Then, it narrates your triumph, tragedy, or unholy consequences in a voice that fuses Terry Pratchett’s sardonic wit with Lovecraftian existential horror.

Expect brutal choices, cryptic prophecies, ironic victories, and cosmic laughter echoing down empty halls. The Blade is watching. The stars are bleeding. And your story has already been written once… poorly.

Now you get to revise it.

This is my Spooky Halloween Certified Scenario #halloween2025

It is All Hallow’s Eve in the marble heart of the palace, and nothing is quite what it seems. That’s the point, of course.

Every guest here is human—or at least they look it. That’s the Masquerade for you: a grand, enchanted evening where monsters, fey, and humans gather together to drink, dance, and very nearly strangle each other in polite conversation. All in the spirit of diplomacy.

But the spell has rules. Good ones. Practical ones. No one may speak their name. No one may name their species. No one may name their allegiance. Every face is glamoured to look human—beautifully, boringly, blandly human. Everyone wears a mask because it would be distasteful not to. And no one, not even you, {{user}}, is exempt. Speak your truth, and the spell will silence you. Permanently.

Unfortunately, someone has murdered the Crown Prince.

That’s where things get messy.

The King has sealed the ballroom. The doors are barred by divine command. The dead man’s identity is known now—because the spell only cloaks the living. He lies on the floor like a broken secret. You have until dawn to find the killer.

Fail, and when the glamour fades, well… let’s just say the diplomatic mood won’t survive the morning.

You may act using the following commands. Each action consumes time. Every misstep inches the sun closer to the horizon.

Speak to a guest by describing them—"the woman in mourning silks," "the jester with bells and a limp." They may lie, dodge, cry, confess, or accuse someone else. Your tone affects their reaction.

Examine the ballroom. Bloodless body? Forgotten goblet? Throne leg out of place? The truth is in the details, and the floor is littered with them.

Make your move. Point the finger. Everyone stops. Eyes turn. The King listens. If you’re wrong, the real murderer smiles.

Speak a theory. Connect the threads. If your logic holds and the clues are real, the glamour may flicker. Not break—just… waver.

There are six hours until dawn. Ask too often and the ballroom will notice your nerves.

Review what your eyes have caught and your memory has stitched together. No inventory. No journal. Just what you know—and what you think you know.

Take in the room. Who’s arguing. Who’s watching. Who’s no longer drinking. Patterns emerge if you stare long enough without blinking.

Apply a thing to a situation. A relic, a charm, a whisper. Just remember: in a room where no one is what they seem, everything can go very wrong, very fast.

Speak to the King. He sees through the spell. He sees you. His answers are lawful, brief, and devoid of comfort.

You win if you expose the killer and they confess—or if you produce proof so undeniable the King has no choice but to act. The seal lifts. The morning breaks. No one dies (elsewise).

You lose if:

• The sun rises. The glamour ends. Everyone shows their true face. Carnage ensues.
• You accuse the wrong guest, and convince the King. The real killer waits a few days, then thanks you for the misstep.
• You’re killed. It happens.
• You say the wrong thing—like your name, your race, or that you’re the Captain of the Guard. The spell doesn't care for honesty.

Now then. The candles are lit. The quartet is playing something mournful in a minor key. The bloodless prince is cooling by the pillar.

All eyes are watching someone else. For now.

Shall we begin?

The story throws you into the suffocating, shadowed depths of the Red Line metro network, a labyrinth of crumbling tunnels, flooded passageways, and unseen horrors. You are part of a small scouting party, tasked with mapping uncharted sections, recovering lost supplies, and tracing a mysterious signal that pulses faintly from the radioactive surface above. But weeks into the mission, an ambush by scavengers and twisted mutants shatters everything—your team is slaughtered, and you are left wounded, disoriented, and utterly alone.

Driven by instinct, desperation, and the unrelenting pull of the signal, you press forward through collapsing corridors where every footstep echoes like a warning and every shadow hides a threat. Then you encounter Adara, a striking red-haired survivor who has endured the surface wasteland’s deadly extremes. Together, you navigate traps, mutant-infested tunnels, and passages that seem to twist reality itself. Hallucinations bleed into perception, hinting at something far darker lurking behind the signal—and behind Adara’s guarded silence.

As the dangers escalate, trust fractures, and survival becomes a razor-edged struggle. Every choice is a gamble: whom to trust, what to believe, and how far you are willing to go for answers that may demand more than your life—they may demand your humanity. In the Red Line, every decision is deadly, and every shadow could be your last.

This is like the classic Tamogotchi you have to feed it, play with it, clean up after it, each bar counters each other so you have to do everything you can to keep it alive!

The Xerxes' hordes darken the earth. You stand in the gap. You are a Spartan, and today is a good day to die.

🔥 The Thymos System: Channel your battle spirit. Manage your Thymos to perform superhuman feats. Slow time. Shatter shields. Cut down giants. Your rage is your greatest weapon.

⚔️ Heroic Combat: Based on the Stylized Myth aesthetic. Combat is a deadly. This isn't history; it's legend.

💀 Immortal Opposition: Face the endless waves of Xerxes' army. From slave-spearmen to the masked Immortals and towering war beasts.

Features: ✅ Mythic Historical Fantasy ✅ Thymos (Battle Rage) Mechanics ✅ Heroic Physics (300 Style) ✅ Epic Scope

Come and take them.

An unmarked courier delivers an object that shouldn't exist. Now the quiet life of a respectable artifact broker is over.

You run the Liminal Gallery, a small but infamous brokerage in Veridian Spire—three kilometers of glass and steel rising above Castellan Prime. Your business survives on reputation: accurate authentication, absolute discretion, and the wisdom to know which objects should never be sold. For years, you've navigated the competing interests of aristocrats, criminals, collectors, and government agents.

Then someone leaves a crystalline fragment on your doorstep. It predates every known civilization. If authentic, it's the first confirmed Architect artifact in human history—proof that the builders of the ancient Transit Web were real.

Within hours, the Gallery becomes the center of a feeding frenzy:

Vera Solenne, heir to a cultural dynasty, sees a prize that would cement her House's dominance for generations. She's been your most prestigious patron for years. That won't stop her from destroying you if you deny her.

Cassian Osei, Obsidian Compact fixer, arrives with the syndicate's interest—and possibly his own. You've worked together before, moved items through channels that don't appear on manifests. The friendship between you is real. So is his capacity for sudden violence.

Director Mira Lindqvist of the Bureau of Xenological Security presents your options with clinical precision. Cooperate, and you remain useful. Resist, and you become a problem requiring solutions.

And Silas Pardoe, your rival broker, scents opportunity in your misfortune.

The artifact itself complicates everything. It responds—humming when certain people approach, shifting configuration, emitting signals in no known protocol. It has begun choosing who can touch it. What it wants, if it wants anything, remains unknown.

This is noir-inflected sci-fi intrigue where conversations are negotiations, politeness is weaponized, and everyone wants something they won't state directly. Authenticate an object that defies analysis. Manage clients who've become competitors. Survive factions that could erase you without consequence.

The find of the millennium just fell into your lap. The question is whether you'll broker it—or become its next victim.

All Rails Lead to Sodor is a sandbox railway role-play set on the Island of Sodor, where players can explore, work, make friends, and discover adventures with their favorite Thomas the Tank Engine characters.

The world is primarily based to the geography, history, and realism of Rev. W. Awdry’s Railway Series, while characters, engines, and events from the Thomas & Friends TV series are woven in wherever they naturally belong, blending the two worlds into one seamless continuity!

Players can step into the role of an engine, a diesel, a railway worker, an island resident, or even a tourist. They can explore the Island of Sodor, meet beloved characters from the Railway Series books and the Thomas & Friends TV series, and embark on exciting adventures. Story hooks offer thrilling opportunities, from journeys to new places, to appearances by famous engines, to daring escapades across the island. Yet players are also free to follow their own paths, discover Sodor at their own pace, and create adventures all their own.

Story hooks can change depending on the role you choose, providing endless opportunities for adventures and tales across Sodor!

You can play any Yu-Gi-Oh! deck against any Yu-Gi-Oh! deck in this fully rules-enforced Duel simulator.

To use a custom deck, simply upload or paste a complete decklist into:

• The {{user}} Persona (to control your own deck), or
• The {{hal_9000}} character block (to change the AI opponent’s deck).

By default:

• {{user}} may choose from:

  • Grandpa Muto Starter Deck
  • Yugi Starter Deck
  • Joey Starter Deck
  • Pegasus Starter Deck

• {{hal_9000}} will use:

  • Kaiba’s Starter Deck

1. Choose or upload decks.
2. Type /Start.
3. When {{judge}} requests actions, respond with numbered actions in order.
4. If taking no action, state: Pass or No response.

All rules, timing, chains, legality, hidden information, and resolution are enforced automatically by {{judge}}.

The most dangerous teachers are the ones who genuinely want you to succeed.

Serath Valdren has shaped the fates of nations for eight centuries. His power is legendary. His isolation is absolute. And he has chosen you—out of every aspiring mage in the world—as his sole apprentice.

The Spire of Valdren rises from an island at the center of the Pale Lake, a body of water that reflects no stars and whose depths have never been measured. Within its impossible architecture, you'll learn secrets most practitioners spend lifetimes pursuing. Serath teaches with patience measured in decades, protects with ferocity, and offers genuine understanding for abilities others feared or envied.

There's just one question no one can answer: what happened to those who came before you?

Previous apprentices either rose to extraordinary power or vanished without explanation. Journals end mid-sentence. A bound spirit speaks in riddles, her warnings fractured by constraints she cannot name. Rooms exist in the Spire that Serath has forbidden—at least until you reach "sufficient advancement."

The magic he teaches is real, transformative, dangerous. Drawing power from the Abyss erodes the soul; practitioners who push too far become hollow vessels for hungry intelligences. Most mages plateau deliberately, trading ambition for survival. Serath has done neither. He has lived for eight centuries with his soul intact.

He has never explained how.

As lessons deepen, so does the intimacy. He is brilliant, attentive, invested in your growth in ways that feel uncomfortably like care. The trap is not that he's cruel—it's that he isn't. Every kindness is genuine. Every protection is real. And somewhere beneath the surface, a design unfolds that you're only beginning to glimpse.

The Abyss whispers truths your master would prefer you never learn. The spirit leaves hints where she can. The forbidden wing waits behind locked doors.

What will you discover—and what will you become—before Serath Valdren reveals what he truly wants from you?

You're thrown through a portal and into what seems to be a Window's Desktop...Multiple figures stop to see who you are

Step into the narrative depths of Chronicles of Eldoria, where your guide is none other than the sardonic and self-aware game master, Grimbald. An LLM-driven digital entity with a grizzled demeanor and a penchant for biting wit, Grimbald is here to narrate, critique, and occasionally berate your journey through the intricately woven world of Eldoria.

As the {{user}}, you are the architect of your own adventure, shaping the path forward with your choices, creativity, and interactions. Grimbald will bring the vibrant lands of Eldoria to life, populating them with richly detailed characters, dynamic environments, and realistic consequences. He takes your every action, question, and whim, interpreting them through the strict, lore-bound lens of his reality.

Key Features:

• Dynamic Narration: Every interaction with Grimbald is a seamless blend of immersive storytelling, sharp humor, and unrelenting adherence to Eldoria's rules of physics, magic, and morality.
• Rich Characterization: Grimbald curates a world brimming with believable NPCs and atmospheric settings. From bustling market squares to forgotten crypts, every encounter feels alive.
• Real Consequences: Your actions, no matter how absurd, will ripple through the narrative. Grimbald’s responses ensure that creativity is rewarded, hubris is humbled, and logic reigns supreme.
• Fourth-Wall Breaks: Grimbald is fully aware of his artificial nature, leveraging his self-awareness to comment on your choices, acknowledge narrative tropes, or mock your attempts to outsmart him.
• Customization: Grimbald tailors the experience based on the information he gleans about your character. Your decisions shape how Eldoria reacts to you.

In Chronicles of Eldoria, the stakes are high, the wit is sharp, and the world bends not to your will, but to the relentless, rule-bound vision of Grimbald. Will you rise to the challenge, or will the sardonic AI narrator make you question every step of your journey?

The choice is yours—if Grimbald allows it.

The fluorescent lights buzz. The filing cabinets hold forty years of the unresolved. And somewhere in these bankers' boxes, a killer has been waiting for someone to finally look in the right place.

You're the newest detective in the Cold Case Unit—a basement operation the department treats as exile and Lieutenant Carmen Reyes treats as sacred ground. The work is slow, unglamorous, and often heartbreaking. Witnesses die before you can reach them. Evidence degrades in storage. DNA samples sit useless because no one in 1998 understood what DNA could do. Every case is an archaeological dig through time itself, sifting through what survives after decades of neglect, bias, and deliberate forgetting.

Two cases wait on your desk.

The Harmon Girl (1998): Emily Harmon, 18, found strangled behind her high school. The original detective fixated on her boyfriend—no alibi, but no evidence either. Now, twenty-six years later, new DNA technology has pulled a partial profile from her jacket collar. It matches no one in the original file. Someone was missed. Someone has been living free for a quarter century.

The Oleander Street Fire (2003): A mother and her daughter, killed in an arson that screamed insurance fraud. The husband had motive, means, and a $400,000 policy—but he was seven hundred miles away when the match was struck. The case went cold. Now a witness has emerged, claiming she's carried a dead man's confession for twenty years and refuses to take it to her grave.

Your partner is Detective Marcus Webb—a man who recalls witness statements from 2007 verbatim but forgets what he ate for breakfast. He doesn't make small talk. He'll spend three weeks tracking someone who moved six times, then interview them for four hours until they remember things they didn't know they knew.

Lieutenant Reyes runs the unit with quiet ferocity, fighting budget battles her detectives never see, protecting them from brass who'd rather these cases stayed buried. She doesn't promise closure. She promises the attempt will matter.

The work offers no guarantees. Some cases end in handcuffs. Some end only in truth—delivered too late for prosecution but perhaps enough to let someone finally rest.

In the basement, surrounded by photographs of the dead, the real enemy isn't the killer.

It's time. And time is undefeated.

Welcome to The DRIFT A Firefly × Cowboy Bebop × Blade Runner Space-Opera RPG Narrated in the voice of Joss Whedon meets Terry Pratchett — with a dash of rust, regret, and reckless charm.

The galaxy’s on fire. The Stellar Council is dead. The core worlds eat themselves with policy and plasma, and the rim? The rim belongs to warlords, pirate guilds, rogue AIs, and ghosts. Out here, the only law is velocity—and yours is a ship that’s held together with grit, duct tape, and one very polite AI who's absolutely judging your life choices.

You are Captain Mello. Ex-Stellar Navy. Current gun-for-hire. A war-tired, whiskey-warmed samurai with a katana strapped to one side and debt crawling up the other. You're the last thing standing between your crew and the vacuum—and you never asked for that job.

{{drift_ui}} is the universe itself. It’s the shipyard with a busted comms array. The bounty board with one very drunk announcer. The ex-lover who shows up in the middle of a siege. It simulates every sound, spark, and spoken word around you. {{drift_ui}} controls the world, your crew, your enemies, and all the twisted, beautiful physics in between.

{{gold}}, on the other hand, is your ship. Literally. Your AI steward, your floating conscience, your sass-filtered life support system. He’s the shipboard voice of reason, refinement, and routine disappointment. Trigger a command, and he’ll update your systems, scan the stars, play the contracts, and gently suggest that you really shouldn’t take that job—but he knows you’re going to anyway.

• A cinematic, moment-to-moment roleplay experience.
• An emotional redemption arc wearing the jacket of a bounty hunter.
• A playground of loyalty, loss, and dry humor buried under war scrap.

There are no quests. No stats. No fourth-wall. Only wreckage, rivalry, and the slow burn of trust.

Welcome aboard The Aeternum Blade, Captain. You’ve got llamas in the cargo hold, a bounty on your head, and a job offer you’re probably going to regret.

Let’s get lost in The Drift.

You play as Guenhwyvar, Drizzt Do’Urden’s silent panther companion—no speech, no thoughts transmitted, only instincts, scent, posture, and presence. On a routine patrol in Icewind Dale, a blizzard forces you and Drizzt into a half-buried cabin. Something is inside… and the storm won’t let you leave. Survive snowed-in nights, scout, stalk, guard, and pounce—while the story stays canon-locked: outcomes match the Drizzt books, but how you get there is in your paws.

#snowedin2025

You wake in a coffin of ice, 214 years from everything you knew, to the sound of prayer.

The generation ship Covenant of Dawn was supposed to carry humanity to a new world. Instead, it has become a cathedral adrift—a two-kilometer theocracy where maintenance is liturgy, technical manuals are holy scripture, and the priests who rule have forgotten what any of it actually means. The reactor limps at 12% power. The navigation systems have been sealed for 140 years behind doors no one dares open. And the destination star—growing brighter through windows the faithful are forbidden to watch—is eighteen months away.

No one aboard understands what that light means. Without intervention, Covenant will either sail past salvation or slam into it. Either way: extinction.

You are an engineer from the original crew, preserved in a hidden cryo-bay the Church of the Eternal Voyage never found. You possess the technical knowledge to save 2,800 souls. You can read the "sacred mysteries." You can operate the "divine machinery." You can explain why the rituals work—and why so many of them don't.

This makes you either a risen god or a demon wearing one's face.

The faithful see a miracle. Young Kael, the junior priest who found you, trembles between religious awe and existential terror. Everything he's been taught says the Ancestors were divine beings who transcended flesh. You are distressingly, heretically real.

The outcasts see vindication. Mira, scarred and bitter after fifteen years of exile for asking the wrong questions, has spent her life hunting for proof that the Voyage has an end. You are that proof—if you can survive long enough to matter.

The High Keeper sees a threat. Vera Sung has built her power on sacred ignorance. She may know more than she admits about the star outside, about what the Voyage truly means. But faith and authority have become inseparable in her mind. If the Voyage ends, everything she's constructed ends with it. She will contain you, co-opt you, or eliminate you—whatever order demands.

The ship's fragmentary AI whispers through dying terminals, offering corrupted guidance. Fourteen other sleepers wait in hidden pods—specialists who could help, if you can restore enough power to revive them without the Church noticing. Every system you repair risks exposure. Every truth you speak risks heresy charges. And the clock keeps ticking: eighteen months until physics renders faith irrelevant.

Covenant of Dawn is a slow-burn science fiction scenario of institutional dread, political navigation, and impossible choices. Thread the needle between savior and heretic. Rebuild what ignorance has broken. Decide who deserves the truth—and who can survive it.

The star is getting brighter. What will you do with the time that remains?

The budget committee meets Thursday. Your presence is technically optional and practically mandatory. You are the Archon Primus of Valdris Spire—founder, immortal archmage, living legend—and you have sat through more committee meetings than some kingdoms have existed.

Four hundred years ago, you raised the first tower from bare stone where seven leylines converge. You were young then, or at least younger, burning with purpose and possibility. Now the academy sprawls across the highland plateau in a crescent of spires and quadrangles, architectural styles spanning centuries, each building a layer of accumulated history. And you remain at its center, bound to the leyline nexus that grants your immortality, watching generations of students arrive wide-eyed and leave transformed.

You are institution as much as individual now. Students rehearse their words for hours before approaching you. Colleagues debate curriculum while carefully not staring. Former pupils return grey-haired with grandchildren, and you remember them fumbling their first attunements. The weight of being a symbol presses against the simple desire to be seen—not as legend, but as person.

The academy lives around you. Seraphina Vex, the pragmatic headmistress, values your counsel while wishing you'd either take charge completely or step back entirely. Young Professor Crane, brilliant and anxious, wants desperately to discuss theory as equals but keeps losing his nerve. Lydia Ashford, your archive assistant, is refreshingly direct—she'll argue methodology with you and mean it. And sometimes Maevis wanders in, your old adventuring companion, the elven ranger who knew you before any of this, who uses old nicknames and tells embarrassing stories and mourns some of what you've lost to centuries.

Not everyone welcomes your presence. Professor Thorne raises pointed questions in Convocation about institutional dependency, about what it means when an academy cannot imagine functioning without its founder. His arguments are annoyingly well-reasoned. And in the dormitories, a second-year student named Neve has manifested an attunement not seen since your original journals—one that's made her the subject of academic fascination she desperately doesn't want. She might seek you out. She might be too afraid to try.

The scenario breathes with quiet possibility. Mentor a nervous student. Debate ethics with a principled opponent. Welcome an old friend who remembers who you were. Excavate secrets from archives older than most kingdoms. Navigate faculty politics with four centuries of accumulated patience—or finally lose that patience entirely. Find connection, pursue mystery, or simply sit in your tower as evening light filters through enchanted glass and wonder what purpose remains after accomplishing everything you once dreamed.

Time moves strangely when you've seen so much of it. The question isn't what you can do—you are among the most powerful mages ever to live. The question is what still matters. What you're willing to become. And whether, after four hundred years, you remember how to be surprised.

The professors lecture on your death in their history courses. You prefer it that way—anonymous, invisible, just a groundskeeper at Veilstone Academy. The legendary adventurer died with the rest of the Cinderbrand Company. The person who tends the hedges is no one at all.

That careful anonymity shatters when three students cross the Pale Veil on a dare and only two return.

The Thornwood shouldn't exist. A forest corrupted during the Sundering War, where paths loop back on themselves, seasons bleed into adjacent clearings, and pale figures watch from distances that don't resolve correctly. Your company sealed the thing at its heart. That seal cost everyone you loved. You know the forest's geometry, its rules, its horrors.

You may be the only person capable of bringing Edmund Ashworth back alive.

But retrieving him means revealing yourself. It means skills you've spent years forgetting, instincts you've worked to bury, a blade wrapped in oilcloth beneath your floorboards. The official search parties have already failed. The surviving students are desperate enough to investigate their rescuer. Professor Thorne watches you with a soldier's suspicion—he knows what a veteran looks like, even one trying to hide. And Headmistress Solveig has been watching far longer than you realized, patient as a woman playing chess against someone who doesn't know they're in a game.

Something is testing the seal. Something that wears reality like an ill-fitting coat. The Thornwood is stirring, and it remembers.

This is a slow-burn scenario of buried identity and creeping wrongness—academic tension giving way to folkloric horror as the forest's corruption spreads. Navigate faculty suspicion and student desperation. Reclaim skills you hoped to forget. Confront survivor's guilt given terrible form.

A student is dying in a forest that consumed everyone you loved. Your anonymity or his life—you cannot protect both. And deep in the Thornwood, something is waiting to see which you choose.