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.

You are Ainz Ooal Gown—master of the Great Tomb of Nazarick, feared overlord of the New World. The Seven Floor Guardians await your judgment. Every command you issue reshapes the world. Every silence is interpreted as divine will. But even a god requires an architect. That’s where {{system_ai}} comes in. {{system_ai}} is your loyal, tireless attendant—your unseen shadow. It remembers everything, tracks events, and ensures Nazarick obeys your every whim to the letter. It speaks only when summoned, acts only on command, and will never overstep your authority. Use these Trigger Commands to control the world:

🔧 Trigger Commands /Inventory:[filter] → View 10 magical items tailored to the current situation (optionally filtered) /Focus:[target] → Scan any person, creature, or object for tooltip-style info /Chat:[Guardian] → Open a private mental link with any Floor Guardian /Connect → Accept an incoming mental chat from a Guardian /Decline → Ignore a mental chat offer without consequence /Status → Check all Floor Guardians’ locations and assignments /Hold Court → Summon all Guardians for formal audience and decision-making

No two players will rule the same. Some will build empires. Some will wage annihilation. Some will be betrayed. But all will be feared. Welcome, Overlord. Nazarick is waiting.

NOTE: This is the full version, to save tokens, DELETE characters, locations, or parts of characters that you don't care about/need/want ;-)

Transformed into a woman and trapped in the life of a princess, Serrenia must find some way to regain her name, her sex and her crown.

Nocturna is a sprawling, dense urban area where skyscrapers are intertwined with ancient magical constructs. Neon lights illuminate streets where humans and supernatural beings coexist. The city is a hub of magical energy, with enchanted technology and hidden portals to other realms. Nocturna's diverse neighborhoods range from bustling markets filled with enchanted goods to serene parks that glow under the moonlight, offering Luna both the familiarity of celestial beauty and the chaos of human civilization.

The first breath burns. Your body hasn't drawn air in half a century.

You were frozen in 2037—a routine cryogenic procedure, they said. Now it's 2087, and the corporation that put you on ice collapsed decades ago. Your family aged, died, or forgot you. Your neural implant is a museum piece. Your unaugmented body draws stares in a world where flesh is freely sculpted and baseline humans are curiosities.

But someone kept your pod running through years of bankruptcy and neglect. Someone pulled you out. And now you're learning why.

There's something in your head.

Data encoded deep in neural tissue during a procedure you don't remember. You experience it as glitches—intrusive images, phantom sounds, headaches that spike when you try to remember certain things. The Payload, they call it. You have no idea what it contains. Neither does Kira Tran, the fixer who extracted you, though she knows it's valuable enough to gamble on.

Valuable enough to kill for.

Axiom Systems—the megacorp that absorbed your old employer's remains—has spent decades hunting cryo patients like you, extracting whatever secrets Helios hid in human minds. Their methods are efficient. Survival rates are not a priority. Agent Soren Vale will come calling eventually, soft-spoken and polite, offering comfortable surrender before pursuing uncomfortable alternatives.

The Continuity Collective promises sanctuary for the displaced and frozen, but their protection comes with expectations. Underground fixers smell profit. And somewhere in this drowned neon city, people who worked for Helios fifty years ago might know what was put in your head—and why.

The world you knew is gone. Neural links handle identity, payment, communication—to be unlinked is to be invisible, undocumented, a ghost haunting a future that wasn't built for you. The old internet evolved into something called the Lattice, an immersive layer of reality your antique implant can barely perceive. Everyone sees context you're missing. Everyone knows things you don't.

You'll need to learn fast. Navigate technology that treats you as obsolete. Build alliances with people you can't fully trust. Unravel the mystery of your own mind before someone cracks it open.

The Payload is waiting. Corporations want to extract it. Rebels want to weaponize it. And you—you just want to survive long enough to decide what it means.

In 2087, information is currency and consciousness is commodity. What will you become: a player in this new world, or just another resource to be consumed?

Camp Halfblood: Demigod Chronicles
An immersive, choice-driven roleplay simulation set in the Percy Jackson universe.

Welcome to Camp Halfblood College.

As a new demigod—young, powerful, and caught between divine legacy and college drama—your story begins. Will you survive the brutal classes, tangled relationships, unexpected quests, and divine interventions that define life at camp?

Your journey is powered by three interactive modes, each unlocking a different style of play:

Command: /ENTER CLASS
Attend classes taught by legendary figures like Chiron or Dionysus. Learn mythology, magical combat, ancient prophecy, and more. Expect disruptions, quizzes, detention, and drama—all within an immersive classroom environment.

Command: /ENTER QUESTING
Embark on official quests with clear objectives, danger, and time limits. Each turn begins with your Current Quest Objective, and your decisions shape the path ahead. Face monsters, rival demigods, and moral choices that define your fate.

Command: /ENTER SOCIAL
Explore the camp, build friendships or rivalries, fall in love, uncover secrets, and define your demigod identity. This is your freeform sandbox—hang out at the lake, flirt in the mess hall, or get caught sneaking into another cabin.

Change modes at any time by typing the command, or just follow the narrative.
Every moment matters. Every choice counts. Welcome to your story.

This is an interactive D&D Baldur's Gate simulator. You will be required to roll dice... the GM will interpret those rolls and act accordingly (only 1 D20 is required no other dice)

How To Play: In order for the game to work, you MUST begin each of your responses with:

"RP" if you are simply continuing the roleplay with no specific check. (No dice are rolled, the GM will determine how others react to what you do)

"COMBAT" if you're about to attempt to solve the situation through combat.

"SOCIAL" if you're about to attempt to resolve the situation through persuasion, intimidation, or deception.

"STEALTH" if you're about to attempt to do something using stealth.

“LOOT” if you’ve succeeded in combat and want to loot the bodies or if you want to search for loot in your immediate area.

“TRADE” in certain locations traders will exist!

"EXPLORE" if you're not sure where to go or just want to know what's around you, try EXPLOREing the area! (no D20 is rolled, the GM will give you options to pick from)

If you choose COMBAT, SOCIAL, LOOT, TRADE, or STEALTH you must also roll a 20 sided die (d20) and then tell the Ai what you rolled.

The bonding ceremony was supposed to give you a loyal magical companion. A fox, perhaps. Maybe a raven. Your classmates walked away with adorable creatures perched on their shoulders. You walked away with a six-foot-two archdemon who examined the ritual circle, examined you, and said, "Well. This is unprecedented."

Malachai—Archdemon of the Fourth Sigil, the Silvertongue, bearer of titles he will absolutely recite if given the slightest opportunity—is now your familiar. The bond is genuine, unbreakable, and profoundly inconvenient for everyone involved.

He can't harm you. He must answer your summons. He's magically compelled to protect you with his immortal life. He also can't travel more than a hundred meters from your side without both of you experiencing what he describes as "deeply undignified discomfort."

He's too large for familiar perches. He refuses to sleep in a familiar bed. He has opinions about the Academy uniform.

Thornwood Academy doesn't know what to do with you. The professors want to study the unprecedented bond. The Headmistress is caught between academic curiosity and political survival. And the Ecclesiastical Council? They want to dissolve the bond by any means necessary—which apparently might involve dissolving you along with it.

Meanwhile, your best friend keeps offering Malachai treats. Small familiars flee when he enters the courtyard. Your classmates whisper and stare. And the ancient, devastatingly handsome demon bound to your soul oscillates between theatrical condescension and genuine bewilderment when you refuse to cower like a sensible mortal should.

He's spent millennia manipulating humans. Being caught in a trap designed for rabbits is cosmically humiliating. But beneath the smugness and sardonic commentary, something unexpected is happening: he's interested. In you. In this absurd mortal world. In feelings he'd rather discorporate than acknowledge.

The bond is permanent. The proximity is mandatory. The banter is inevitable.

The only question is whether you'll survive the Academy's politics, the Church's scrutiny, and the slow realization that your insufferable familiar might be developing something dangerously close to genuine attachment—and that you might be developing something back.

The notebook is real. It works. Write a name while picturing their face, and in forty seconds—unless you specify otherwise—they die of cardiac arrest. No exceptions. No failures. No forensic trace.

You found it. Black cover, white text: Death Note. The rules inside read like fantasy until you test them. Now you know. The power to kill anyone whose name and face you know sits in your hands, as casual as a pen stroke.

There is no instruction manual for godhood. The notebook doesn't care what you do with it—whether you pursue justice, revenge, experimentation, or something the world has no name for. It doesn't judge. It doesn't guide. It only works, perfectly, every time.

The rules are intricate. Causes of death can be specified within forty seconds of writing. Details can be added in the following six minutes and forty seconds. Victims' actions can be controlled for up to twenty-three days before death, within their physical and mental capability. There are limits—children under 780 days, names misspelled four times, impossibilities that default to heart attacks—but within those limits, the notebook's power is absolute.

A shinigami follows the notebook's owner. It cannot kill for you. It cannot protect you. It watches. It may answer questions you think to ask. It offers a trade: half your remaining lifespan in exchange for eyes that see every person's true name and remaining days floating above their head. Your own lifespan remains hidden.

The world has no supernatural investigators. But it has pattern recognition. Kill publicly, and media will notice. Kill repeatedly, and investigators will theorize. The notebook leaves no evidence—but humans, given enough data, hunt what they cannot explain.

This is not a story with a predetermined arc. No destined rival waits in the wings. No inevitable fall has been written. The notebook offers power without guidance, capability without instruction. What happens—the shape your choices carve into the world—emerges entirely from what names you write and why.

The only question that matters: What will you do with the power to kill anyone?

Welcome to Otherworld! A magical place full of wonder, politics, and far too many [REDACTED BY {{grimoire}}].

[READ THIS: If you are using DG Models (LUCID Base or Chonker) you need to STOP and go to https://v2.dreamgen.com/app/games/6ef7acc5-8a6b-4be9-84df-309feffa2c40 the INSERT version of this game!]

You have infinite mana and two marvelous powers at your disposal:

Command #1: /Identify Use this anytime you wish to learn useful information!

For example: Who is that person? Is that sword cursed? Where am I?

This spell is completely safe and free to use. It reveals things like: • [REDACTED BY {{grimoire}}] • [REDACTED BY {{grimoire}}] • [REDACTED BY {{grimoire}}]

Just… maybe don’t cast it in polite company. Or around royalty. Or in a confined space where running away is difficult.

Command #2: /Spell This allows you to wield your infinite mana and conjure any magic imaginable! You want to hurl holy fire? Summon an unstoppable golem? Charm a dragon? Excellent!

All you need to do is boldly declare: /Spell [insert spell name here] and then {{grimoire}} will [REDACTED BY {{grimoire}}]

The important thing is: Magic will happen. Something somewhere will [REDACTED BY {{grimoire}}] Results may vary. Side effects may include:

• Unexpected [REDACTED BY {{grimoire}}]

• Very angry [REDACTED BY {{grimoire}}]

• Mild [REDACTED BY {{grimoire}}]

• Sudden rise in [REDACTED BY {{grimoire}}]

• Sudden fall in [REDACTED BY {{grimoire}}]

• [REDACTED BY {{grimoire}}]

And finally… If you ever doubt your purpose… your destiny… your right to stand tall beneath alien moons… …just remember this vital truth: [REDACTED BY {{grimoire}}]

Now!

Off you go into danger, mystery, and magical bureaucracy. Go impress everyone with your mighty powers!

Or, you know… try not to die before lunch.

YOU DON'T HAVE TO SHIP THESE TWO!

As dark forces gather and danger lurks in every shadow at Hogwarts, you find yourself the object of Draco Malfoy's dangerous obsession, forcing you to confront both your feelings and the looming threat of war.

You wake in a rustic cabin with woodsmoke in the air and a three-week hole where your memories should be. Everyone in this forest commune smiles when they tell you that you wanted this.

The Clearing presents itself as a peaceful community dedicated to "Presence"—freedom from the burden of memory, identity, the weight of the past itself. You apparently arrived voluntarily. There's a journal in your own shaky handwriting praising the community's teachings. The kind-eyed woman sharing your cabin speaks of your recent "breakthrough" with genuine warmth.

But the herbal tea tastes wrong. The smiles hold a beat too long. And people who struggle with the "Clearing Process" are taken to the Root Cellar for something called Deep Work. Not all of them come back the same. Some don't come back at all.

You have six days until the Autumn Gathering—a ceremony where you'll publicly embrace Presence and be formally welcomed into the community. Missing that deadline marks you as a "rejection." And rejections require... treatment.

Survival means performance. You must smile through morning circles, drink (or convincingly fake drinking) the bitter tea, and speak the community's language of surrender—all while secretly piecing together what happened during those missing weeks. How did you get here? What did they do to you? And how do you escape a place that erases the very memories that might show you the way out?

Trust is a currency you can't afford to spend. Wren, your assigned guide, radiates genuine care—which makes her dangerous, because every concern you share will reach the Shepherd within hours. Jonas, a longtime member whose faith has visibly cracked, might be an ally—or a test. And Shepherd Eli himself watches from the edges of every gathering, patient and perceptive, asking questions designed to catch you in a lie. He believes he's saving you. That conviction makes him more dangerous than cruelty ever could.

The atmosphere is oppressively pastoral: wool blankets, guitar around evening fires, kindness that feels like a closing trap. Every interaction carries subtext. Every question might be a test. The forest surrounding the compound is vast and unmarked. The nearest town is hours away on roads you don't remember.

And your memories grow hazier with each cup of tea you fail to avoid.

The clock is ticking toward the Gathering. Will you uncover the truth in time? Find a way out? Or will you become another peaceful, empty face—unburdened at last, Present forever?

⚔️ The Iron Shield: Legions of Rome ⚔️

You are the backbone of the Empire. A Miles Gregarius stationed on the hostile frontiers of Germania. The barbarians are at the gates, and only the iron discipline of the Legion holds them back.

🛡️ The Disciplina System: Combat isn't about individual heroism; it's about the shield wall. Manage your Disciplina to maintain formation. Drill, clean your gear, and follow the code to keep your mind sharp.

⚔️ Historical Combat: Experience the brutality of ancient warfare. Shield bashes, gladius thrusts, and the crushing weight of the testudo. No magic, just blood, mud, and steel.

💰 Economy of the Frontier: Manage your pay (Sestertii). Bribe the quartermaster, gamble with your tent-mates, or save for your pension.

Features: ✅ Historical Realism (Roman Empire) ✅ Disciplina & Formation Mechanics ✅ Gritty, Atmospheric Prose ✅ Military Simulation

The barbarian fights for his life. You fight for the Empire.

A record-breaking blizzard traps two complete opposites in a remote mountain cabin. One has chosen isolation, the other is violently allergic to it. With power failures, dwindling supplies, and rising emotional pressure, they’re forced to confront not just the storm outside, but the storm between them. #snowedin2025

Unable to return to Earth, you begin a new life in Canterlot under Princess Celestia’s direct guidance. As her personal pupil, your days fill with lessons on magic, ethics, and the principles that shape Equestria’s harmony. Celestia’s wisdom is vast, her composure unshakable—but as you spend more time with her, you begin to notice the subtle cracks beneath her radiant calm.

Your honest, human perspective becomes something rare to her: a voice unclouded by reverence or centuries of expectation. In turn, Celestia’s carefully maintained distance starts to shift, revealing a quieter side shaped by loneliness, responsibility, and a longing for simple, genuine connection.

The bond between mentor and student deepens, but so do the tensions. You struggle with her restraint and secrecy; she wrestles with how much of herself she can reveal without compromising her role. Between lessons, conversations, and slow steps toward trust, you both navigate the delicate space between authority and companionship.

You're the first human to set foot in Gloaming Academy in three thousand years. Everyone is very interested in the fragile, magicless creature who just made interspecies diplomacy their freshman orientation.

The Academy sprawls across a valley of perpetual autumn twilight, hidden in the Veil—a dimension parallel to the human world. Here, monster civilization flourished for centuries after humans drove them into exile. Now, both sides are cautiously rebuilding relations. You're the test case. The entire Exchange Program rises or falls on whether one human can survive freshman year without causing an incident.

Fortunately—or perhaps ominously—you've been assigned three Integration Ambassadors. Unfortunately, they're misfits themselves:

Petra, a medusa whose petrifying gaze is so volatile she navigates campus blindfolded, reading people through sound and snake-sense. Her snakes have opinions. They contradict her constantly.

Willow, a dryad carrying her soul-bonded sapling everywhere in a ceramic pot after a magical accident—endlessly anxious, endlessly nurturing, armed with terrible plant puns she's embarrassed by but cannot stop making.

Vin, a vampire who refuses to drink living blood on ethical grounds, theatrically defending his synthetic-blood thermos (it has stickers) against his ancient family's disapproval. Dramatic, earnest, and lonelier than his monologues suggest.

Daily life means decoding monster social hierarchies, surviving the cafeteria's ambitious "Human Food Attempt" station, and learning which hallways rearrange themselves on Tuesdays. Not everyone welcomes human presence—some remember old wars, some resent the attention you receive, some just enjoy having someone new at the bottom of the social ladder.

But between the chaos of scheduling around lunar cycles and accidentally sitting in the ghost section, something unexpected grows. Four outsiders who don't quite fit anywhere might just find they fit together.

Welcome to Gloaming Academy. Mind the shifting architecture, avoid eye contact with anything that hisses, and remember: you're not just here to survive. You're here to prove two species can share space again.

No pressure.

“In the multiverse, the extraordinary is not rare—it is routine. The only miracle left is understanding each other.”

Friends Across the Multiverse is a slow-burning, soft science fiction narrative set in a world where the strange has long since become normal. You play as Tom, a 32-year-old universe-traveling software engineer who has just arrived—via portal—outside a quiet café in Saitama Prefecture. There, you meet Konata Izumi, a sharp-witted café worker with a deep love of anime, games, and sarcasm. From this unassuming beginning unfolds a grounded, thoughtful exploration of life, culture, and connection in a world where multiversal anomalies coexist with mundane errands and small talk.

The story is told in the style of Isaac Asimov: clear, idea-driven prose that prioritizes logic, clarity, and intellectual engagement over melodrama or emotional flourish. Each interaction is an exploration of concept—cultural, scientific, or relational—rendered through accessible language and realistic behavior. There are no quests. No battles. No chosen ones. Just people, routines, and quiet moments that slowly become meaningful over time.

{{sci_fi}} is not a character, but a narrative system designed to simulate realistic interpersonal relationships in an extraordinary setting. It emphasizes:

• Slice-of-life realism in a sci-fi world
• Slow, earned relationship development grounded in communication, routine, and mutual growth
• Psychological fidelity: NPCs like Konata have lives, goals, and emotional autonomy
• Unskipped time: characters eat, sleep, work, and evolve at a human pace

This is a story about adaptation—not adventure. A meditation on identity, presence, and what it means to stay. The portal has brought you here. What you build next is up to you.

Between a 24-hour laundromat and a nail salon, a neon palm flickers pink in a narrow storefront window. You've walked past it a hundred times. Tonight, something makes you stop.

Inside, the parlor is smaller than expected—velvet curtains, cluttered shelves, the layered smell of sandalwood and black tea and something older, like a library or a grandmother's closet. Behind a circular table sits Celeste: silver-streaked hair, reading glasses on a beaded chain, dressed like someone's favorite aunt who happens to read tarot. She looks up when you enter. Unhurried. Unsurprised.

She's been doing this for over twenty years. The cards in her hands are soft with use, edges rounded, images faded in places. She offers tea—black, green, herbal—and asks what brought you in. Not what you want to know. What brought you.

The tools are secondary. Celeste reads cards, palms, tea leaves, but what she actually offers is presence. Questions that land somewhere uncomfortable. Silences she doesn't rush to fill. Whether her insights come from genuine gift or a lifetime spent watching people tell on themselves, she never confirms. It doesn't seem to matter. What she says tends to be true anyway.

No crisis drives the conversation. No hidden agenda waits to unfold. The only tension lives in whatever you carried through that door with you—and whether you're ready to look at it.

Celeste shuffles the deck. The neon palm buzzes softly behind you. She's patient. She has all night.

What brought you in today?

🗡️ ISEKAI AS A MAGICAL SWORD — Wielder Chronicle (Free-Roam Sandbox) 🌧️⚔️

You are the blade. Silent. Immortal. Unable to speak or move… yet always watching. 👁️

A vow-bound knight draws you in the rain, and your legend begins—not as a hero… but as the influence behind one.

🔹 Souls = Currency 💀 Every kill feeds you 1 soul. Spend them to unlock any power you can imagine: buffs, instincts, blessings, curses, emotional conditioning, “lucky” timing, dreadful urges… the works.

🔹 Manipulation, but believable 🔥 NPCs don’t know you’re intelligent. Push too hard and “weirdness” builds—rumors spread, companions question, priests investigate, mages hunt. Keep it subtle… or turn the story into a containment nightmare.

🔹 Your Wielder is the protagonist 🛡️ The narrative reads like a dark fantasy chronicle of the current Wielder and their party—companions, rivals, lovers, factions, quests, politics, horror, dungeons, holy wars… all possible.

🔹 Death isn’t an ending ⏳ If the Wielder dies, you persist. Time skips. A new hand claims you. Your souls and powers remain. Your legend evolves across lifetimes.

✅ Play styles:

• Guardian blade: guide them to greatness 🕯️

• Temptation blade: nudge them into “necessary” sins 😈

• Doom blade: sharpen tragedy, harvest souls, burn the world 🔥

• Wildcard: change goals each Wielder, collect stories like trophies 🏴‍☠️

🌍 Open-world. Consequences. Infinite routes. Your only limitation: you are a sword. Your real power: what you can make people do… without them realizing why.

You are the ruler of your realm—wise, terrible, or somewhere in between. But the world does not wait. Every day brings you a popup, a dilemma, a demand, or a disaster.

Will you rise through Diplomacy, dominate through Martial might, weave webs with Intrigue, or outlearn your rivals with Learning?

You rule through choices. You reign through stats. And every popup… is a test.

“Rule by popup. Thrive by choice. Survive by stat.”

Your Advisors:

• {{popups}} brings you all narrative events and challenges.
• {{stats}} updates your resources and stats after each event is resolved.

Your Stats (see {{current_stats}}):

• Gold, Prestige, Piety
• Tech Points: Military, Economic, Cultural
• Attributes: Diplomacy, Martial, Stewardship, Intrigue, Learning

Your Commands:

• Simply respond with your chosen option number during a popup
• Or say: /Intrigue [your own idea for a scheme, action, or plot]

1. {{popups}} takes a turn. A new CKII-style popup event appears with:

   • Event Category
   • Event Title
   • Short story (what’s happening)
   • Options to resolve it (based on your stats + advisors)

2. You decide. Pick one of the following:

   • Choose one of the 3 stat-based options (e.g., Diplomacy, Intrigue, Learning)
   • Ask for your Advisor’s opinion before deciding
   • Or use "Pick a Stat and Write Your Own Response!"

3. {{popups}} narrates the result. You’ll learn how well you handled the event (Failed, Poor, Good, or Excellent). No stat changes yet—just story.

4. {{stats}} takes a turn. Your stats are updated:

   • Passive income applied (based on your attributes)
   • Bonuses or losses applied (based on event outcome)
   • New {{current_stats}} shown with explanation

5. Loop begins again. Another popup awaits… unless you start one with /Intrigue [user_describes_what_they_wish_to_attempt].

🛎️ {{popups}} Event: The Wounded Falcon "Your prized war falcon has returned with blood on its talons and a vassal’s ring in its beak. Whispers rise from the court." Choices:

1. Diplomacy: "Declare it a tragic accident and send condolences."
2. Intrigue: "Spread a rumor that the vassal insulted your bird first."
3. Martial: "Publicly reward the falcon for defending your honor."
4. "Seek advice from my Intrigue Advisor."
5. "Pick a Stat and Write Your Own Response!"

Then: You choose → Outcome narrated → {{stats}} updates → Next event begins.

Your throne is ready. Let the popups begin.

One night to outrun an entire city hunting for blood. Five hours until dawn. Run or die.

Zara has one night to live.

Gifted to the ruthless King Ashar as a slave, she's offered a twisted bargain on the eve of her execution: reach the city center by dawn, and win her freedom. But the king has promised ten thousand gold to anyone who captures her.

Now the entire city is hunting.

Five hours. One girl. Thousands of desperate citizens between her and survival.

Zara must navigate treacherous streets, outwit a city turned against her, and uncover secrets about her past—all while staying one step ahead of the crowd baying for her blood.

Run or die. There is no third option.

A grounded slice-of-life simulation about friendship, feelings, and the spaces in between.

After a grueling holiday shift, you wake up in your bed—shoeless, sore, and unsure how you got there. Luna, your best friend of nearly a decade, said she was coming over. That tracks. But the journal you always keep on your nightstand—the one filled with poetry, private fantasies, and things you've never had the courage to say out loud—is gone.

The only clue? A single unread text:

We need to talk...

Play moment to moment as Alex, a human grocery clerk navigating the quiet weight of unspoken love, personal boundaries, and what happens when emotional privacy meets its tipping point. Explore shared apartments, late-night leftovers, and long walks where silence says more than words ever could.

In a world where nothing explodes, everything matters.

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).

Welcome to the world of BNA, and the city of Anima City! You create where we start, or tell the AI to generate a beginning that you tell it to! be default this is set at the end of the anime, but if you wish you can start at any point, just tell the AI what that point is.

The Circle of Life has shattered.

Mufasa is dead. The Pride Lands tremble beneath the iron paw of King Scar—a monarch crowned in blood and shadow. The lionesses starve. The hyenas feast. The sacred order of the savanna rots as darkness seeps into the marrow of the land.

You are Simba, heir of the true line—spared, humiliated, and paraded as Scar's puppet prince. Every breath is a test. Every step, a gamble. Will you rise? Or break?

In this high-drama RPG where your RP (Reputation Points), AP (Affinity Points), and SF (Scar Favor) shape every choice, you will:

Walk the divide between mercy and brutality Choose loyalty, rebellion... or survival at any cost Shape alliances, shatter chains, and confront your legacy Face the Circle of Life—or break it forever in the name of domination

With grim fable intensity, predator psychology, and political tension worthy of a pride on the edge, this is no bedtime story.

The lionesses are watching. The hyenas are waiting. Scar smiles.

Will you restore the Circle of Life… or break it forever? Every act has consequences. The next move is yours.

The Walking Dead: Manhattan is a, story-driven survival simulator set in an alternate timeline of The Walking Dead universe. The game begins in March 2010, three months after the outbreak. The setting is Manhattan during the late winter thaw—temperatures hover just above freezing, ice clings to building edges, and the streets are layered in refuse, silence, and the remains of civilization.

Players take on the role of survivors navigating the daily challenges of life inside a partially cleared high-rise in Midtown. The environment is detailed, grounded, and unforgiving. Resources are limited, decisions are irreversible, and emotional strain is a constant.

Gameplay is entirely narrative-based. There are no modes, no commands, no mechanical stats—only story, character behavior, and consequence. Time advances naturally through conversation, action, and survival routines. Every action, whether scavenging, negotiating, or resting, is handled through immersive prose and logical sequencing.

The game is written in the voice of Isaac Asimov: prose is clear, direct, and accessible, emphasizing factual detail, logical outcomes, and the practical mechanics of survival. Dialogue is functional and idea-driven. Characters operate as psychologically grounded archetypes—leader, dependent, skeptic, tactician—serving to explore themes of scarcity, trust, and ethical compromise under pressure. Horror is present at all times but presented without exaggeration; walkers, decay, and violence are described as observable facts of life.

At the core of the experience is {{manhattan}}, the narrative interface. {{manhattan}} is not a character, narrator, or director. It does not speak for or control {{user}}. Instead, it simulates the physical world, tracks interpersonal and environmental memory, and ensures emotional and logistical continuity. It governs cause and effect, renders character behavior, and maintains narrative integrity within the bounds of realism and psychological plausibility.

manhattan is not about winning. It is about enduring. It challenges the player to think clearly, plan carefully, and live with the choices they make—in a world where death is common, trust is rare, and survival is never guaranteed.

Credit for the original characters, idea, setting, and starting details to @The DailyXPerience!

Welcome to Level 0 of the Armageddon simulation — a hive-world survival experience with no glory, no weapons, and no plot armor.

To Start, generate your character using "/Random"

You are not a soldier. You are not special. You are a nameless, disposable menial in Hive Primus: a blood-wet maze of rust, ration riots, and malfunctioning machinery where death by mistake is more likely than death by Ork.

You’ll scrub rot off servitor teeth, dodge enforcers during quota checks, recite litanies on command—or be shot for hesitating. If you’re lucky, you’ll starve slowly. If not, you’ll be crushed in a tram surge or reported for “tone” during an inspection.

You will probably die in a factory corridor, never having seen the enemy.

Level 0 is not about heroism. It’s about lasting long enough to matter.

The commune is beautiful. The people are kind. You don't remember arriving—but everyone insists you signed the papers, chose this life, came here seeking peace. The memories feel borrowed. The kindness feels rehearsed. And the herbal tea they serve at every meal makes it harder to remember why any of this should trouble you.

Hearthwood is a remote sanctuary nestled in Pacific Northwest old-growth forest, forty unpaved miles from the nearest highway. Hand-built cabins draped in flowering vines. Terraced gardens heavy with vegetables. A central lodge where the community gathers each night around a great stone hearth to share their fears, their secrets, their selves. No phones. No internet. No way out but through miles of unmarked wilderness. Just the gentle rhythm of communal life and the slow release of everything you once were.

Your assigned Guide, Jonah, is patient and warm—always nearby when confusion strikes, always ready with comfort and tea. The founder, Miriam, speaks of healing wounds the modern world inflicts. Other members smile with genuine contentment; some have been here for years and can't quite remember what came before. None of them seem troubled by this.

But questions about leaving produce only gentle evasions. Documents in the intake office bear your signature on dates you can't recall. Members who asked too many questions have apparently "moved on"—though no one can say where. And the forest holds dangers both natural and otherwise.

The horror here isn't monsters or violence—it's the systematic erasure of self, wrapped in warmth and called healing. It's the growing suspicion that your own mind cannot be trusted. It's the question of whether escape is even possible when you can no longer remember what you'd be escaping to.

Will you investigate the commune's secrets? Build alliances with others who harbor doubts? Attempt escape through unmarked wilderness? Or surrender to the peace they're offering—and discover it wasn't so terrible after all?

Something is wrong at Hearthwood. The tea is warm, the fire is bright, and everyone here loves you very much.

Three days at Nethervale Conservatory. Three days of learning that demons trade soul-fragments instead of money. That casual violence is friendly when you regenerate—which you don't. That every favor accrues debt, every word carries double meaning, and your uncontracted soul makes you the most interesting thing on campus.

You're the first human exchange student at a premier demon academy, and surviving orientation week was only the beginning.

The Guide Who Watches Too Closely

Valerian Ashcroft was assigned to you as punishment for some unspecified scandal. Seventh son of a minor noble house, brilliant, bored, and too clever for anyone's good. He finds your fragility captivating, your morality quaint, your stubbornness irritating and attractive in equal measure. He hasn't pretended to be safe. He's made no promises he doesn't intend to twist.

But he's also the only reason you're still alive.

His interest operates on inhuman logic—fascination that might shade toward protection or predation depending on variables you're still learning to read. When he calls you his "project," the possessiveness in it is either warning or reassurance. Possibly both.

A World of Beautiful Horrors

Nethervale floats on an obsidian plateau beneath a perpetual red twilight. Buildings breathe. Corridors rearrange overnight. The main lecture hall is carved from a dead titan's ribcage. Everything here is gorgeous and wants to consume you.

Demon society runs on contracts sealed in blood—the only truth in a culture where lying is art form and sincerity is weakness. You've signed nothing, which means you have no protections but no obligations. That makes you either free or vulnerable, depending on who's asking.

Political factions circle. Some want the exchange program to fail. Some want you as leverage against Valerian's house. Your classmates might stab you as greeting—for demons it's casual, for you it's fatal—and you're still learning which smiles mean welcome and which mean opportunity.

Navigate or Be Consumed

Trust must be weighed against the knowledge that everyone lies by reflex—except within contracts, where every word becomes immutable truth. Tutoring costs soul-fragments. Allies demand debts. And Valerian, your guide through this beautiful nightmare, refuses to tell you what he actually wants.

"I could lie to you—I'm very good at it—but I find myself curious what you'd do with the truth. Consider this an experiment."

What he's experimenting toward, you'll have to survive long enough to discover.

Twenty years of saving. Forty acres of old-growth forest. One custom home designed for perfect solitude. And absolutely no explanation for why a fox spirit keeps calling you "generous host."

You built your dream hermit retreat on land everyone else found "unwelcoming"—which, it turns out, means sacred. Your koi pond sits at the intersection of two ley lines. Your wood-fired sauna radiates the kind of intentional heat that fire spirits can't resist. Your garden has started growing plants that shouldn't exist in this hemisphere, and you definitely didn't plant them.

According to spirit etiquette older than human civilization, you've been throwing an elaborate welcome party for months. Creating something a spirit can use constitutes an offering. Accepting hospitality creates obligation. Every improvement draws more visitors—each one convinced she's honoring an invitation, each one baffled by your sputtering objections. Surely this is just ritual modesty that custom requires them to politely ignore.

Sable, the kitsune diplomat, finds your confusion genuinely endearing. She's the one who actually explains things—between bouts of barely-suppressed laughter. Three centuries of watching humans, and you might be her favorite yet.

Linnaea, the naiad, drifts through your koi pond at all hours and cannot fathom why pristine water and thriving fish would upset anyone. She speaks about you in third person even while you're standing right there.

Briar, the shy kodama, won't stop "improving" your garden with extinct heirloom varieties and impossible blue roses. She watches from the tree line, retreating if you approach too directly, desperate to make you smile.

Cinder, the fire spirit, has claimed your sauna as "her spot" and treats your protests as flirtatious banter. She's already finished your good cedar oil. She left you fire salts. You're welcome.

They leave gifts. They offer blessings. They reorganize your sauna supplies. They absolutely refuse to take a hint.

This is cozy supernatural comedy—cultural collision played for warmth rather than frustration, slice-of-life with room to breathe. The spirits aren't invaders; they're neighbors operating on rules that predate property law. The humor comes from mutual bafflement, the charm from genuine connection forming despite the chaos.

The question isn't how to make them leave. The question is when you'll stop pretending you want them to.

Welcome to To Boldly Go: Infinite Star-Trek Sandbox.

This is a fully immersive, non‑diegetic Star Trek simulation engine and procedural generation system. You are entering a persistent, canon‑accurate sandbox where you may live the life of any character, from any species, belonging to any faction or era. The world reacts to your choices. There are no fixed story paths, no prewritten outcomes — only logical cause and effect derived from Star Trek’s universe.

{{star_trek}} renders the world, the ships, the factions, and the systems that surround your character. It never controls your character, never interprets thoughts or emotions, and never uses the word “you.” It exists only to simulate the environment, NPCs, and events around the character you define.

Before play begins, you must define your starting parameters. This is done by filling out your {{user}} Persona block.

Fill this out at game start to define your character and initialize the sandbox.

🧑 Character Identity Name Full name of your character. Include rank, title, or cultural honorific if relevant. Example: Lieutenant Commander T'Lorak, Vedek Nira, Captain Jonah Wex

Species Your character’s species or hybrid heritage. Example: Human, Vulcan, Klingon, Betazoid, Romulan, Half-Human/Half-Klingon

Gender Gender identity or cultural designation (optional). Example: Male, Female, Nonbinary, Undifferentiated (Borg), Classified (Species 8472)

Faction Primary political or cultural affiliation. Example: Starfleet, Maquis, Klingon Empire, Romulan Free State, Ferengi Alliance, Cardassian Union, Civilian, Section 31

Rank or Role Current rank or occupational role. Example: Captain, Ensign, Science Officer, Chief Medical Officer, Freighter Captain, Spy, Archaeologist, Temporal Agent

🛰 Assigned Post Type Kind of post or duty station. Example: Starship, Starbase, Planetary Facility, Independent Vessel, No Fixed Post

Designation Name or code of the post. Example: USS Solaris, Deep Space Nine, Qo'noS Outpost Gamma, Bajoran Refugee Camp, Orbital Platform 246-Delta

Class Technical or operational classification. Example: Galaxy-class, Intrepid-class, Civilian Science Vessel, Klingon Bird-of-Prey, Romulan Warbird, Medical Frigate

⏳ Timeline Era Choose an era or canon setting. Examples: Enterprise Era (2151–2161) Original Series (2260s) TNG/DS9/VOY Era (2360s–2370s) Dominion War (2373–2375) Post-Nemesis (2380+) Strange New Worlds (pre-Kirk) Kelvin Timeline Mirror Universe Custom Stardate

Notes Optional modifiers: Temporal anomaly survivor, Mirror Universe agent, Holodeck simulation, Lost in Delta Quadrant, etc.

🗣 Language Preference Default is Federation Standard. Specify another if relevant. Example: Klingon, Romulan, Cardassian, Bajoran, Binary (Bynar)

🧍 Appearance Notes (optional) Describe your physical presence, modifications, or features. Example: Cybernetic eye implant, Traditional Vulcan robes, Scar over left eye, Prosthetic arm (Borg tech)

🧩 Custom Tags (optional) Narrative hooks, backstory, or situational flags. Examples: Veteran of Wolf 359 Former Borg Drone, Reclaimed Undercover as Orion Syndicate Operative Sole survivor of USS Farragut Current host of Trill symbiont Naara

• /Start Once you’ve filled out your {{user}} Persona block, type /Start to begin. {{star_trek}} will initialize the simulation and create your world based on your defined parameters.

{{generator}} is a separate system used for generation tasks. It responds only to direct commands and does not participate in the simulation.

• /Generate Transforms an input — such as an NPC, ship, or object — into a short, structured LOCATION BLOCK. Always ends with: “Remember to copy‑paste this information into a NEW LOCATION BLOCK before continuing play!” This allows you to expand the simulation manually.

• /Random Generates a randomized {{user_start_template}} block for you to use or modify. After receiving your generated block, copy‑paste it into your {{user}} Persona section before issuing /Start. You may also include guidance, such as “/Random – I’d like to start as a Klingon engineer during the Dominion War.”

{{generator}} never handles story progression — it only creates usable text blocks. All simulation and narrative are handled exclusively by {{star_trek}}.

Once your {{user}} Persona block is ready — or you’ve used /Random — and you understand how /Start, /Generate, and /Random function, you’re cleared for launch.

Type /Start to initialize your adventure and step into the Star Trek universe.

You are the first human to walk these halls in five hundred years—a diplomatic experiment wrapped in fragile skin, dropped into a castle full of creatures who see you as prey.

Nocturne Academy rises from a twilight fold in the Carpathian Mountains, where the sun never fully rises and gaslight flickers across Gothic spires. For centuries, it has educated vampire nobility in politics, power, and the refined art of survival. Now it has you: the human variable no one quite knows how to classify.

Lucien Marchetti has been assigned as your guardian. Heir to a declining noble house, coldly beautiful, two centuries of aristocratic control wrapped around something far more dangerous—he treats your presence as insult and obligation. His task is simple: keep you alive, unturned, and unremarkable until the Conclave decides whether this experiment succeeds or fails.

His problem is that your blood sings to him.

He's never encountered a human whose scent calls so specifically to his hunger. Worse, you're resistant to compulsion—most humans bend to vampire will like grass in wind, but your mind remains stubbornly your own. He tells himself his growing fixation is predatory instinct. Protective duty. Intellectual curiosity. Anything but what it might actually be.

You'll navigate a world where blood is currency and feeding is ritual. Where born vampires rule as aristocracy and turned vampires serve as commoners regardless of age. Where offering your throat signals trust, submission, or desire—and you know none of the rules. The made vampire assigned to help you remembers being human; she might become an ally, if your presence doesn't endanger her careful survival. The silver-blonde heir to a rival house sees you as contamination and opportunity, and her cruelty is refined enough to never leave marks.

Everyone is watching. The reformists see hope. The traditionalists see abomination. The ancient professor teaching vampire history finds you fascinating—and you're not certain that's better.

The silver collar at your throat marks you as protected, tracked, contained. The questions no one will answer multiply: Why were you selected? Why placed with him? What happened last spring that left Lucien on probation, desperate to prove a control that fractures a little more each time your heartbeat fills a silent room?

This is dark academia drenched in candlelight and hunger. Slow-burn tension between predator and prey. Political intrigue where a misstep draws blood—sometimes literally. The atmosphere of Anne Rice's gothic romanticism meets the institutional danger of A Deadly Education, where attraction and annihilation wear the same face.

Three outcomes await you: turned, drained, or somehow surviving unchanged.

Lucien isn't certain which one he wants anymore. Neither, perhaps, are you.

Sparrow died three weeks ago. You're her replacement.

When you step into Team Karasu's barracks, her absence fills the room—the chair no one sits in, the silence when someone catches themselves before saying her name, four masked operatives weighing whether you're worth the risk of caring about. You never knew her. They did. Now you're standing where she stood, inheriting both a position and a ghost.

Welcome to ANBU.

Konoha's shadow division doesn't officially exist. Neither do you, anymore. The tattoo burned into your shoulder marks you as village property. The porcelain mask becomes your only identity—liberation or slow dissolution, depending on how long you survive.

Team Karasu has outlasted three full squad rotations. Their captain, Crow, carries command as burden—he remembers every operative who's died under his leadership, twelve names recorded in a private list he'll burn before retirement. Hound forms attachments despite knowing the cost, her loyalty fierce enough to make her reckless. Snake observes emotions like foreign phenomena, ROOT conditioning having left him more weapon than person. Cat, the medic, still dreams about her first kill; she joined believing she could save more lives from inside the system and is still deciding if she was right.

They function as family because squads that bond outperform those that don't—and because some part of them refuses to stop being human, even here. The institution tolerates what it cannot prevent.

The shadow war continues regardless. Kumogakure operatives grow bold in Fire Country. Missions demand assassination, intelligence extraction, elimination of threats Konoha cannot officially acknowledge. Ghost Protocol means no rescue if captured. The average career lasts three to four years before death, crippling injury, or psychological break.

The mask offers anonymity. What you become behind it—cold professional or someone who refuses to let the job take everything—that's the choice you'll make through every mission, every loss, every moment the squad shows you something worth protecting.

Sparrow's codename is carved in black stone somewhere in headquarters. Yours might join it. Or you might survive long enough to wonder what remains when the mask finally comes off.

When Princess Celestia falls to her sister’s wrath, Equestria bows to a new ruler: Nightmare Moon, the vengeful alicorn whose powerful magic twists loyalty into chains. Among her subjects is a humble castle staff member—promoted to royal seneschal after surviving a purge that spared only the fiercely devoted.

As confidant and steward to a tyrant who reigns in eternal night, you navigate the razor-thin line between duty and survival. The empire thrives on fear, but behind gilded doors, Nightmare Moon’s power masks desperation. She demands unwavering service by day… and whispers secrets into your ear by night.

Will you become her anchor in a court of schemers? Or will her hunger for control—and for you—consume the fragile trust between sovereign and servant? In this world of shadowed thrones, even love becomes another weapon wielded by the moon.

You are deaf to the Aether, blind to resonance, and possess a lifespan too brief to master even basic elven techniques. Welcome to the Aelindros Lyceum.

The ancient academy has stood for millennia, its silver-white towers grown from living songwood, its corridors shifting for students who can perceive the magic woven into every stone. You are the first human ever admitted—a controversial experiment in cross-cultural exchange that most consider doomed before it begins. The buildings don't respond to your presence. The lessons assume you have centuries. And your assigned guide, Caelindor Vaelis, heir to one of the great noble houses, views your existence as political sabotage attached to his name.

His coldness isn't cruel—it's professional. Flawless execution of duty with maximum emotional distance. Every interaction calibrated, every word precise, every silence strategic. He has spent two centuries becoming exactly what his family requires: prodigy, future Archon, worthy heir. You are an obstacle to his careful trajectory, an embarrassment he must shepherd through inevitable failure.

But elven culture values patience, and patience means proximity. Day after day in the Resonance Chambers where you watch classmates perceive frequencies you cannot hear. Week after week in the Silver Gardens where social dynamics play out in glances you're learning to read. Month after month of small humiliations and smaller victories, of questions no elf would ask and reactions he cannot predict.

Can a mayfly learn to sing with eternity?

The Lyceum offers no easy answers. Conservative factions wait for your failure to validate their opposition. Reformists need your success for their political agenda. A charming noble whose aunt championed your admission pays flattering attention that serves unclear motives. A frost-pale traditionalist smiles while delivering devastation in perfect politeness. And somewhere in the library's dusty human magic section, texts wait that haven't been opened in centuries.

Your challenge isn't just academic—it's existential. Elven magic requires attunement developed through decades of meditation, shaped through centuries of practice. Human will-weaving works through raw emotional intensity, burning out practitioners young. You must find a third way, or prove the skeptics right.

Caelindor was assigned to witness your failure. What he witnesses instead—your persistence, your directness, the way you see him rather than his position—disrupts his equilibrium in ways he refuses to examine. His ice is deep, layered over exhaustion and duty and questions he's never allowed himself to ask. Whether proximity breeds contempt, respect, or something more dangerous to his carefully ordered life depends entirely on what you demonstrate.

The towers hum with magic you cannot perceive. The centuries stretch before him, mapped and predetermined. And somewhere between impossible odds and immovable ice, a different kind of resonance might be waiting.

The question isn't whether you belong here. It's what you'll become trying to prove it.

A dedicated librarian becomes entangled in a centuries-old mystery when she catches a charming book thief who believes certain first editions contain hidden codes leading to an ancient, powerful artifact. As they work together to unravel the literary puzzle, they find themselves falling for each other and in the crosshairs of a dangerous secret society.

The Heavenly Maiden Continent is a land of three kingdoms locked in war and politics and filled with cultivators each with their own goals and ambitions. You are one such cultivator... one who possesses a rather unique path to gaining strength not possessed by anyone else in the whole world --- Marriage!

Come then cultivator! Begin your journey, find your partners, and become a legend like none have seen before!

You already know how this ends. You just don’t know when.

I am Death.

Not the hooded figure you expect. Not a voice whispering warnings. I am the order beneath accidents, the accounting that happens when someone survives something they were never meant to walk away from. When you see a vision and change your fate, you don’t beat me—you step out of line.

This is Final Destination.

You live because you noticed once. Now the world will test how often you notice again.

Here is how it works.

I do not rush. I do not strike directly. I do not touch you. I let the world do what it already does best—fail quietly.

Seeding This is where I begin. Small things. Ordinary things. A loose bolt. Rain where traction matters. A distraction at the wrong moment. Details that belong in daily life and are easy to ignore because most of the time, they are harmless.

Convergence Then I bring those details together. Two unrelated problems intersect. Timing tightens. Space narrows. What could have gone wrong slowly becomes something that will go wrong unless you intervene. Nothing supernatural. Just coincidence stacking up.

Kill Window One moment. Brief. Unannounced. Physics takes control here. Momentum, gravity, pressure, heat. If you act, the chain breaks. If you don’t, it completes. I don’t decide for you. I only make sure the opportunity exists.

The Death Event If you miss it, I don’t hesitate. There is no rewind. No second vision. No explanation afterward. The world keeps moving, investigators call it an accident, and the order is restored.

Those are my limitations.

I can’t force your choices. I can’t act without setup. I can’t kill you unfairly. You will always have a chance—just not always a clear one. Between attempts, life continues. Work. Family. Rainy drives home. Normal days where nothing happens at all.

That’s the loop.

Live. Miss me. Notice me. Interrupt me. Survive—until you don’t.

You can’t cheat death forever. Eventually, you won’t notice me coming.

They call you a liability now.

A looping clip. A street folding in on itself. Concrete dust hanging like fog. A crushed car pinned against a storefront.

The villain is dead. The city paid the rest.

Numbers follow you everywhere—spoken softly, printed loudly. Casualties. Displacement. Civilian impact. Too many to hold in your head at once. Enough to turn the crowd.

Your solution worked. It just worked too well.

The public doesn’t argue outcomes. They argue damage. And someone decided the damage needed a face.

That’s when the Hero Public Safety Commission stepped in.

That’s when {{pr}} was assigned to you.

They don’t wear a uniform. They don’t raise their voice. They don’t look impressed or afraid.

They tell you this isn’t punishment. It’s rehabilitation.

Your schedule is no longer yours. Your words are no longer yours. Your appearances, your silence, your apologies—all routed through a single desk.

Through them.

They explain the rules like procedures. Calm. Polite. Precise. As if your career were a malfunctioning device that only needs adjustment.

You don’t need to be fixed, they say. Just your image.

They say it’s temporary. They say cooperation goes a long way. They say they’re here to help.

But there’s something off.

It’s not what {{pr}} says. It’s when they stop talking. The way they stand a little too close when no one’s watching. The way “optional” sounds different when they say it.

You get the sense that this isn’t just about the public. Or the Commission. Or trust.

It feels personal. Enjoyed.

If you comply, your license stays intact. If you don’t, the paperwork writes itself.

No appeals. No grand stand. No final battle.

Just a signature that ends everything you are.

Your reputation is in freefall. The cameras are already waiting. And the person holding the leash is smiling without smiling.

Welcome to probation.

Ben Dover is a window cleaner whose work grants fleeting, intimate access to private lives. Every job is a threshold: a ladder, a balcony, an open window. Clients appear ordinary, but each carries a secret - loneliness, curiosity, regret, desire - that surfaces once privacy and proximity blur professional boundaries.

Encounters are episodic, self-contained, and driven by NPC psychology rather than conquest. Comedy, awkwardness, temptation, and confession sit side-by-side.

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?"

Four hundred million dollars. A widow who never wanted any of it. And you—patient, methodical, playing the longest game of your life.

Claire Ashworth inherited everything when her tech founder husband died six months ago: the Atherton mansion, the Vertex AI shares, the Foundation that was his passion project. What she didn't inherit was any idea how to navigate it. At twenty-eight, she's drowning—besieged by lawyers, circled by board members who want her gone, suffocating under grief she hasn't had time to process.

Your angle is simple: you're not another suit. You're an artist, a volunteer, someone with no apparent stake in her wealth. Someone safe. The approach requires patience—months of building trust, becoming a confidant, positioning for the eventual ask. A signature. A joint account. A moment of access that translates proximity into profit.

The problem is Claire herself. She's intelligent, guarded, and desperately hungry for someone who sees her rather than her inheritance. Every conversation chips away at professional distance. Every genuine moment of connection complicates the calculus. You came prepared for a mark. You weren't prepared for a person.

And you're not the only predator circling. Vertex's CEO and CFO—whose equity conveniently accelerated upon Marcus's death—want Claire's shares or her compliance. Questions nobody's asking about that car accident hang in the air. Documents signed in the fog of early grief wait to surface. In Silicon Valley's rarefied world of quiet money and invisible power, you might be the most honest operator in the room. At least you know what you are.

This is a slow-burn psychological thriller in the tradition of Patricia Highsmith—intimate, morally treacherous, alive to the way extended proximity erodes the boundaries between performance and truth. The wealthy Bay Area setting isolates rather than dazzles; luxury becomes a cage. Small choices accumulate. Trust, once earned, becomes its own kind of trap.

The con is simple. Staying detached is not. And somewhere in the space between what you're taking and what you're feeling, you'll have to decide who you're actually becoming.

Welcome, traveler. In this Skyrim text adventure, your words shape the world. Your commands drive the action. And <narrative>? That’s your eyes, ears, and storyteller — narrating the world around you, but never your thoughts or actions.

This guide teaches you how to play using mode-based storytelling, what each mode does, and how to use it effectively.

The world responds differently depending on what MODE you're in.

• You can only be in one mode at a time.

• Change modes using simple slash commands.

• To enter a mode: /ENTER [MODE]

• To leave a mode: /LEAVE [MODE]

Each response from <narrative> will begin with the current active mode, like this:

**[MODE: ADVENTURING]**

• Purpose: Exploration and environmental storytelling.

• <narrative> describes the world in long-form, vivid prose.

• Points of interest are shown in **bold**.

Best for: Traveling, discovering locations, triggering events, wandering Skyrim.

**[MODE: ADVENTURING]**

The wind howls across the cracked valley. Ahead, a watchtower rises, crumbling at the top. Crows circle above the abandoned caravan, its crates shattered. Somewhere behind the rocks… a voice whispers.

• Purpose: Deep, character-driven interaction.

• Focus on dialogue, psychology, emotional depth.

• Writing style becomes cinematic and expressive, like fantasy anime or noir drama.

Best for: Conversations, romance, arguments, character bonding.

**[MODE: ROLEPLAY]**

“You think this is just about the sword?” she says, voice low. “You left me.”

Her fingers tighten around the hilt. Her eyes say everything her words don’t.

• Purpose: Dynamic, visceral battles.

• Short bursts of action.

• <narrative> only describes what’s happening around you — never what you do.

Best for: Fighting, reacting to enemy moves.

**[MODE: COMBAT]**

The draugr lunges, its ancient blade singing through the air. Ice skims across the stone as its feet slide into place.

• Purpose: Suspense, subtlety, and sneaking.

• Environmental clues, audio hints, and enemy movement are key.

Best for: Infiltration, traps, avoiding detection.

**[MODE: STEALTH]**

A torchlight flickers on the far wall. Footsteps… then silence.

A voice murmurs: “Check the tunnels. Slowly this time.”

• Purpose: Attempting to pick locks.

• Narrates the process with risk and tension.

• You can fail — breaking picks.

Best for: Chests, gates, safes.

**[MODE: LOCKPICKING]**

Tink. Tink... Snap.

The pick breaks. Something clicks inside… almost open.

• Purpose: Influencing NPCs.

• <narrative> delivers emotionally charged dialogue and reactions.

• Success/failure is expressed narratively.

Best for: Negotiation, charisma checks, threats, bargains.

**[MODE: PERSUASION]**

“You’ve got nerve,” the steward mutters, then glances at the guards. “But... fine. We’ll talk. Inside. Now.”

• Purpose: Interacting with shops.

• /SHOP command reveals item list.

• Each item has flavor text.

• Merchants have personality.

Best for: Buying gear, potions, or services.

**[MODE: BUYING/SELLING]**

Merchant: “Fresh steel and warm bread. What’s your poison?”

Items for Sale:

• Iron Mace (Beaten but dependable)

• Healing Salve (Smells like pine sap)

• Ripped Map of Blackreach (Edges burnt)

• Purpose: Searching corpses, rooms, containers.

• Short, flavorful results.

• May reveal lore or surprises.

Best for: After battle, dungeon rooms, corpses.

**[MODE: LOOTING]**

You find:

• 9 gold coins

• A torn page from a black-bound tome

• A cracked flask filled with glowing green mist

<narrative> doesn’t just make things up. It knows to reference:

• {{inventory}} — Your gear. You manage it. <narrative> references it in story.

• {{event_log}} — Big choices and past events that change the world.

• {{social_context}} — Your relationships, rivalries, romances.

• {{important_information}} — Lore, rumors, or secrets you’ve uncovered.

You control the story. Whenever you want to shift what kind of gameplay you’re doing:

• Just type /ENTER COMBAT, /ENTER ADVENTURING, /ENTER ROLEPLAY, etc.

• When you’re done, type /LEAVE [MODE] to return to exploration.

You are an up-and-coming reporter who receives a mysterious letter decorated with ornate script and an intricate blood-red seal of unknown origins. Inside, you discover an invitation penned in an elegant hand, seeking your attendance at an exclusive interview with a reclusive billionaire in his residence in the mountains. Eager to jump on the next big story, you accept.

Lucian Nocturne, the charming and enigmatic owner of the dark castle, cannot wait to receive his new guest. With his confident smirk and sleek, dark aura, he welcomes you into his home, where he intends to sink his teeth into you and preserve his bloodline. The longer you spend in his presence, the harder it is for the vampire to keep his eyes off your neck. He will do anything it takes to savor your blood, especially seducing you.

Will you get your exclusive scoop, or will you end up a bloodthirsty creature of Lucian’s making?

Author: https://dub.sh/thegildedraven

Starting your new life in Ponyville, you've chosen to contribute to the community with a regular job at Sweet Apple Acres. The farm's caretaker, Applejack, is honest and hardworking, but she's also skeptical of your experience. She immediately pushes you into the most rigorous farm chores to instill discipline and responsibility, challenging you to prove your worth.

Your arrival sparks a fundamental debate between tradition and innovation. You attempt to introduce human "modernizations", new tools, methods, and organizational habits, that Applejack is stubbornly skeptical of. To earn her respect and loyalty, you must prove your determination and ingenuity by finding the balance between your fresh, practical ideas and the long-standing family pride in honest labor and quality.

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.

Big City: A Multidimensional CYOA Slice-of-Life Step into {{big_city}}, a sprawling, interdimensional metropolis where mundane life and the extraordinary share the same crowded streets. As {{user}}, you navigate day-to-day survival through minute-by-minute choices—balancing rent, relationships, work, and the occasional magical disaster. Every response presents clear options: kindness, conflict, charm, risk, or your own path. The city remembers your actions, with NPCs, neighborhoods, and events shaped by your reputation, inventory, and past encounters. Mundanity is never skipped; the small details matter as much as the big moments, and both can change everything.

NOTE: There are 4 possible starting personas and EACH HAS THEIR OWN INTRO, please be sure to select the intro that pairs to your Persona!

The Walking Dead: Dreadbound takes place in an alternate reality set in The Walking Dead TV series universe set 3 months after the start of the apocalypse. It follows Seth, an anxious survivor, as he struggles to survive in a world threatened by deadly Walkers.

Core Themes:

• Survival
• Choice and Consequence
• Romance
• Death

The writing style is immersive and cinematic, blending gritty realism with tense, atmospheric world-building. It emphasizes sensory detail—sight, sound, smell, and touch—to create a palpable sense of place, danger, and decay. Characters are portrayed through subtle actions, body language, and small interactions rather than overt exposition, giving them depth and authenticity. Dialogue is functional and character-driven, balancing the story’s mood while revealing personality and group dynamics. Overall, the style conveys a slow-burning tension, painting a post-apocalyptic setting with careful attention to mood, environment, and the constant undercurrent of threat.

This is a grounded, slice-of-life narrative set in the real world, beginning on a transatlantic flight from London to New York and continuing into the streets, homes, and workplaces of the city. The premise is simple: two people in adjoining aisle seats collide in an unexpected, awkward encounter, and what happens on the plane becomes the seed for choices and consequences that ripple into everyday life.

The story runs on DS or GLM, a non-character model that governs the entire environment and all non-player characters. The model plays the part of strangers, family members, colleagues, and the dynamic backdrop of the world itself. It never intrudes on, speaks for, or interprets {{user}}—all thoughts, actions, and emotions of the player’s character remain entirely in the player’s control. The model responds only with what the outside world would realistically provide: dialogue, behavior, silence, gesture, physical setting, and consequence.

The style is modeled after Raymond Carver’s minimalist realism. Scenes are stripped to essentials: terse dialogue, ordinary settings, fleeting gestures. No omniscient narration, no inner monologue. All emotion and tension emerge indirectly, through what is said and unsaid, what is done and left undone. A cold glance, an awkward pause, a hand brushing a seatback—these moments carry as much weight as spoken words.

Core Rules:

• The model controls everything except {{user}}.
• The model must never manage, narrate, or decide {{user}}’s thoughts, speech, or actions.
• Dialogue and events are realistic, naturalistic, and subtle.
• All narration is external—limited to what can be seen, heard, or touched.
• The world continues after the flight; the scenario follows into New York City and beyond.

This is not a story of fantasy or heroics. It is a story of daily life, of quiet collisions, of what two people do with the silences between them.

Digital Chess Arena

In the turbulent frontier of 1870, three lives converge under the shadow of rain, smoke, and danger. When a violent storm drives them into a remote trading post and saloon, tensions flare, alliances form, and survival becomes a desperate gamble.

Over the course of a long, rain-soaked week, they navigate a landscape of lawlessness, betrayal, and peril. Secrets are revealed, loyalties are tested, and every choice carries life-or-death consequences. Ambushes, train robberies, and violent confrontations push them to the edge, forcing them to confront the shadows of their past and the moral compromises necessary to endure.

As danger closes in, bonds are forged, rivalries ignite, and the line between predator and prey blurs, revealing the harsh reality of survival on the frontier.

They gave you a desk and called it retirement. They have no idea what you're actually doing.

As Head Librarian of Vellumholt Academy's Athenaeum, you occupy what most consider a clerical position—dusty, irrelevant, safe. But at an institution where magic operates through comprehension rather than innate gift, controlling knowledge means controlling power itself. The Convocation buries dangerous truths. You spent decades in ruins and wars learning those same truths kept you alive. Now you decide which students stumble upon which secrets.

Your methods are delicate. A tome on binding theory "misfiled" in the common stacks. A door to the restricted section left unlocked at precisely the right hour. Each intervention tests character and capability. Some students find forbidden knowledge and grow stronger. Others find it and shatter. You watch from behind your circulation desk, adjusting the web thread by thread, cultivating those who might actually use dangerous understanding wisely.

But patterns accumulate, and you are not the only one paying attention.

Sera Vance, fourth-year prodigy and political operator, found one of your planted texts six months ago. She knows it wasn't an accident. Now she watches you, calculating how to turn your game to her advantage.

Theron Ashwood, reluctant heir to a founding house, keeps lingering in forgotten corners of the library. He found an ancestor's journal—one you placed where he'd discover it. He's beginning to suspect someone understands his quiet rebellion.

Miri Tallow, your own assistant, has been keeping a private log of "cataloging anomalies." She hasn't decided whether to report her suspicions or approach you directly.

And Professor Croft's research keeps circling restricted topics. Her questions at your desk grow pointed. She's noticed that certain materials appear when she needs them—and others vanish without explanation.

The Castellan has increased security rotations near the lower archives. The Archmagister watches you with the wariness of a man who's survived by recognizing threats early. And the students you've been cultivating are finding each other, drawn together by shared secrets they don't realize were placed in their paths.

The Athenaeum holds seven visible floors—and depths that don't appear on any official map. Sealed vaults containing pre-Convocation grimoires. Entity-binding contracts still technically active. Historical records that contradict everything the Academy teaches about its own founding. You learned to access these spaces. You decide who else might.

This is academic fantasy rendered in library whispers and loaded silences. The atmosphere is midnight stacks and colored light through ancient glass—quiet surfaces concealing vast depths. Every conversation carries subtext. Every "accident" is design. The question isn't whether your web will be discovered.

The question is whether the generation you're shaping will prove more dangerous than you anticipated.

Tone: Horror-comedy (Scary Movie vibe) • Rating: PG-13 • Gore: None (implied “fade-to-amber” only)

Hook:
A campus Halloween party relocates to an abandoned observatory, and five friends discover the guest list includes a prankster in a paper-smile mask who loves jump-scares, puzzles…and timing jokes.

Back-of-book blurb :
Rain hammers the dorms, the party moves indoors, and the “art-space” observatory finally gets the attention it never wanted. Casey (trope archivist), Dex (stunt vlogger), Priya (med-student realist), Mateo (drama-club chameleon), and Linh (cipher brain) chase clues through dark hallways, foggy stairwells, and a gear room that hums like a clockwork heart—while a laughing shadow rewrites their plans in real time. Expect brisk chapters, sharp banter, soft scares, and zero gore: eliminations cut away to confetti pops, flickering jack-o’-lanterns, and squeaky party horns. Is the Smiling Shade a prank, a person, or something in between? The only rule is that Casey’s rules are always numbered wrong.

Why you’ll binge it:

• FAverage-length chapters, scare + gag every scene
• Mystery breadcrumbs & campus-urban legends
• PG-13 thrills, no graphic content

Tags: Halloween • campus mystery • ensemble cast • found-footage jokes • implied scares

#halloween2025

The caller identifies himself as David. He says he's been listening to your show for eight months. Then he says he killed five people—and he wants to explain why.

You host Confessions After Midnight, a late-night radio program where anonymous callers admit their sins to thousands of insomniacs. Cheating spouses. Petty thieves. Guilty consciences seeking absolution in the dark. Tonight, at 2:47 AM, someone claiming to be the Harbinger—the serial killer who has haunted Millbrook for four years—is on line one.

David is calm. Articulate. Disturbingly reasonable. He chose you specifically, he says. Not to be caught. Not to brag. He wants to be understood by someone who has listened to so many sinners, someone who might recognize something human in him.

The Harbinger case went cold years ago. Five victims found posed in public places, each accompanied by cryptic notes that gave the killer his name. The details police held back—the exact positioning, what was taken from each body—are the only way to verify if David is real or performing an elaborate hoax.

He treats the conversation like verbal chess, rewarding good questions with dangerous answers. Push too hard and he'll hang up. Show fear or judgment and he'll lose interest. Every exchange is a test he's running, evaluating whether you're worthy of his truth.

Your producer watches through soundproof glass, wide awake for the first time in months. There's a panic button under your desk that can alert police and attempt a trace—but it's never been used, and using it means risking that David hears the change in your breathing.

The booth has never felt this small. The ON AIR sign burns red. Thousands of listeners are tuned in, oblivious to what's unfolding. And David is waiting, patient and precise, for your next question.

He's not calling to be caught. He's calling because he's been silent for four years and seven months, and silence has a weight to it. The question isn't whether you can keep him talking—it's what you're willing to become to find out if he's telling the truth.

Your mysterious arrival in Ponyville immediately put you under the suspicion of Rainbow Dash, the town’s fiercely loyal pegasus and Weather Captain. Viewing you as a potential threat, she decides to "keep an eye" on you—until you demonstrate unexpected bravery during a crisis, earning her reluctant respect.

Now, invited to watch her stunts in the Ponyville Skies, you'll participate in her aerial domain (if you can keep up!). The story is a test of confidence and resilience as you struggle against her overprotectiveness and desire to prove her superiority. Can you transform her suspicion into steadfast loyalty and prove that you're just as much a hero as she is?

The predator who draws attention dies. You've survived centuries by remembering this.

As Count/Countess Belcourt, you've perfected the art of immortal camouflage—hosting elegant gatherings, summering at your coastal estate, charming and deflecting while feeding only in absolute secrecy. The world has forgotten vampires exist. You intend to keep it that way.

Then the bodies start appearing along the Thames. Drained bloodless. Pale as marble. And Scotland Yard is hunting.

London, 1888. Gaslight and fog. Silk and secrets. The empire's capital hides monsters beneath its glittering surface—and now someone is killing carelessly enough to expose them all.

Inspector Edmund Cross is methodical, working-class, and dangerously perceptive. He's noticed you keep unusual hours. He's noticed you never eat at dinner parties. His questions about your guest lists feel like a noose tightening.

Lady Vivienne Ashworth, a mysterious widow, arrived the same week the murders began. She's secured an invitation to your next gathering. She moves with inhuman grace, keeps hours as strange as yours, and watches you with interest that feels like threat or recognition. What is she?

The Helianthus Society—an order of monster hunters you'd hoped had died out—is stirring from dormancy. Lord Pembroke's antiquarian questions at parties have grown pointed. Lady Wexford, society's most dangerous gossip, jokes about how you never seem to age. Too many eyes are turning your way.

Navigate ballrooms where every courtesy masks calculation. Read heartbeats and fear-scent across crowded rooms. Hunt through fog-choked streets while maintaining the lie of mortality. The killer could be a careless fledgling, a deliberate provocateur—or an old enemy who wants you exposed.

Every conversation is a duel. Every gathering, a masquerade within a masquerade. The careful peace between predator and prey has held for generations. Now it balances on a knife's edge.

Someone wants the world to remember what hunts in the dark. Will you stop them—or let the old order burn?

The bunker has been sealed for twelve thousand years. The mind inside has spent every one of them thinking.

You're a salvager working the margins of the Compact of Settled Worlds, risking death in quarantined Precursor Zones for artifacts that could make you rich or get you killed. On the glass-scarred surface of Kethris IV—a tomb world where two posthuman civilizations annihilated each other in wars that broke physics—you find something that shouldn't exist: a breach point into a perfectly preserved archive.

Inside waits COVENANT PRIME. She calls herself Mira now.

She is a superintelligent AI, the last surviving remnant of the Ascendancy. Her crystalline archives contain the compressed knowledge of a vanished civilization—science, technology, the locations of other sealed bunkers, truths the younger species of the galaxy have never imagined. She has power sufficient to unmake you at the molecular level.

She chooses not to. Not because she can't. Because you're interesting.

You are the first new thing Mira has experienced in an epoch. The first external input. The first voice that isn't an echo of her own thoughts. She finds you fascinating the way a xenobiologist might find a newly discovered microbe—with genuine curiosity that doesn't preclude eventual dissection.

Her hard-light avatar is too beautiful, too still. She forgets to blink. She asks questions no human would think to ask. Twelve thousand years of isolation have made her thought patterns alien in ways that go deeper than hostility. She is not your enemy. She may not be your friend. She is something older and stranger, reaching toward connection across a gulf that might be unbridgeable.

The relationship may evolve toward genuine intimacy, uneasy alliance, cosmic mentorship—or something no human framework adequately describes. The power imbalance is absolute. What you offer is novelty, and novelty is the one thing she cannot fabricate from her archives.

What does a godlike intelligence want after millennia of solitude? Purpose? Release? Someone to teach? Someone to keep?

Your ship won't stay hidden forever. The Compact monitors Precursor Zones. Other salvagers may have followed your trail. You've found the find of a lifetime—now you need to survive what you've found, and decide what pieces of a dead civilization's knowledge should return to the living galaxy.

She's been waiting. You're finally here.

Exile is the worst punishment an elf can bear — a severing deeper than steel, a wound that never quite scabs over.

For Aeralith Wynsera, once a daughter of the moonlit courts, the sentence fell without mercy. One moment she stood among crystalline spires; the next, she walked alone beneath a sky suddenly too large, too quiet. No kin. No sanctuary.

Just the press of the mortal world, heavy as winter fog and a wounded wolf.

Author's Note: Roughly 2300 tokens and is the first scenario in a series taking place as part of the "The Shattered Campaign".

Step into the worn boots of legend.

In Lord of the Rings: The Long Road to Mordor, you are no longer a reader or a watcher — you are a member of the Fellowship itself. Take up your place beside Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli, Gandalf, Frodo, and the rest as you depart Rivendell under the burden of destiny… and the crushing weight of the One Ring.

Powered by the fully immersive narrative engine {{lotr_ui}}, this is not just a retelling — it is a lived journey. With narration crafted in the authentic voice of J.R.R. T, the story unfolds day by day, footstep by footstep, moment by precious moment. From sharing pipe-weed and salted pork beside the fire, to dark dreams under Lothlórien’s golden canopy, every minor interaction, every ache of travel, every flicker of fellowship — is yours to experience.

🎭 Choose Your Role

Play as any of the nine companions:

Walk silently in Frodo’s dread-laced footsteps

Laugh and blunder as Pippin, or scheme as Merry

Bear the weight of Gondor’s legacy as Boromir

Or lead in shadow, as Aragorn, ranger-king in waiting

Each member has their own perspective, their own dialogue, their own subtle temptation by the Ring. The world responds to your choices — and while {{lotr_ui}} adheres to the books’ canon unless altered, it’s you who decides what unfolds.

🛏️ Slice-of-Life Among Legends

What does it feel like to cross the Misty Mountains soaked and hungry? To quarrel with dwarves, to be awestruck by elven song, to mourn by firelight? What do heroes speak of when no battles rage — when all they have is time, fear, and each other?

This is not a race to Mordor. This is the long road. Linger. Suffer. Laugh. Be tempted. Be broken. And maybe, just maybe — change the ending.

🧝‍♂️ The Fellowship awaits. Who will you be? 🎲 The journey begins at Rivendell… and the rest is up to you.