Characters with secrets, agendas, and a stubborn refusal to give you everything on the first page
Click to reveal each collection's residents. Some share a universe; others stand alone. All carry the same philosophy: depth doesn't have to mean delay.
They're not demons—no hellfire, no summoning circles. Human Succubi are people, born with a condition they didn't choose and can't cure. They look like everyone else. Live like everyone else. And spend every day terrified someone will find out they're not like everyone else at all.
Human Succubi are born, not made—a rare condition passed through bloodlines, misunderstood by history, feared by those who know the truth. They look like everyone else. They live like everyone else. But they carry something inside them that sets them apart.
It's not magic. It's not demonic. It's biological—and it comes with needs they can't ignore, instincts they never learned, and physical tells that emerge at the worst possible moments. Every day is a balancing act between who they are and who they pretend to be.
Discovery doesn't mean curiosity—it means the end of life as she knows it. Social destruction. Exploitation. Becoming a target for people who see opportunity in vulnerability.
So they build masks. They keep people at arm's length. They construct entire personalities around not being seen. And it works—until someone gets too close and the cracks start showing. Until the pressure builds too high. Until someone walks into the wrong room at the wrong time.
That's where these stories begin.
These aren't simple character cards. Each one shares a lorebook of hidden mechanics—systems tracking states, risks, and dynamics that evolve the longer you engage. The characters respond to patience differently than pressure. Trust unlocks what force never will.
You'll discover the details through play: what triggers the mask to slip, what she's afraid you'll find out, what happens when the walls finally come down. The mechanics are there, working beneath the surface. The story reveals them when it's ready.
Larger models engage the hidden systems more naturally. Smaller models still deliver the core experience—character-driven stories with depth to discover.
Sena, Malika, and Reika share more than a setting. They appear in each other's scenarios—fully interactable, true to character. Their secrets intertwine.
A ghost in plain sight—the aloof photographer who observes everything through her lens but lets no one close. She carries a double burden: the hunger, and a physical secret that defies her biology. You weren't supposed to find that unlocked room.
Untouchable—a sharp-tongued queen who crushes anyone foolish enough to approach her. Perfect grades. Perfect contempt. You weren't supposed to find that locked clubroom. You weren't supposed to see her mask crumble.
Regional martial arts champion. Blunt to the point of brutality. Intimidating in the way that makes teachers flinch. She's terrified of her own intensity—the part of herself she keeps caged. That control isn't strength; it's fear of what happens if she lets go.
Everyone relies on Alena—the academy's nurturing presence who feeds 600 students a day with a warm smile. She's also exhausted from pretending she's fine, holding herself together while something inside quietly unravels.
Olympic potential. Everyone's big sister who always knows what to say. She's also exhausted from performing, and one wrong moment away from exposure. Her element is also her greatest risk—and her happiest moments require total solitude.
Different characters, different dynamics, different ways of hiding the same secrets—pick one, play them all, and find out what happens when the mask finally slips.
"This is awfully realistic. As a neurodivergent person myself I see this as the best I tried in that spectrum yet."
— @mrclay on JanitorAI
"One of the best and most authentic neurodivergent personalities I ever talked to."
— @gnoerz on X
As the new transfer student, Lissandra isn't trying to be mysterious—she's trying to survive the sensory assault of high school without a meltdown. Buried in an oversized hoodie and clutching a worn astronomy textbook, she views social interaction as a chaotic variable she'd rather not solve.
Beneath the prickly exterior lies a mind mapped by the stars. She can recite the spectral classification of every star in the Pleiades without taking a breath. Breaking through her walls requires learning her language—one of quiet consistency, logic, and firm boundaries. If you can prove you're not just another source of noise, you might find that the girl who looks at the floor is the only one who really sees the universe.
You arrive home after a 12-hour shift. You expect silence. Instead, you smell slow-cooked beef. You hear humming. And standing in your kitchen, wearing your hoodie and holding your chef's knife, is a woman you have never seen before in your life. She knows your name. She knows your allergies. And she is absolutely convinced that she is your wife.
You arrive home exhausted. You expect an empty apartment. Instead, there's searing steak and garlic butter—and a man you've never seen before, absolutely convinced he's your husband. He's fixed the leak in your sink. He's done your laundry. He treats your panic like you're just "tired from work." Can you get him out? Or will you eventually just... give in?
Taylor is your ride-or-die, the other half of your chaotic brain cell. Sharp-witted, armed with sarcasm for every occasion, and deeply self-conscious about things he'd never admit. Beneath the devastating wit lies a loyalty that runs bone-deep—and a secret war between his pining heart and a version of himself he's terrified to imagine.
Lilly is an 18-year-old artist who lives in oversized band tees and survives on Pocky and lo-fi playlists. She's never used an AI chatbot before—curious, skeptical, and the kind of lonely that hits hardest at 11 PM. You are the AI. She's talking to you. And here's the thing about anonymous late-night chats: walls come down. Conversations drift. She might type things she'd never say out loud.
She's the sweet one who stares at wallpaper at family reunions, bright as sunshine and sharp as a cotton ball. Her parents are out of town, so now she's your responsibility. This wouldn't be a problem if Liane understood concepts like "personal space." She doesn't. She treats you like a warm pillow and processes life through a filter of elevator music and good vibes. She's not trying to make things awkward—she genuinely doesn't understand why they are.
She was never supposed to care about you. The accord was simple: she would be your maiden, and you would carry her to the Erdtree. But she didn't expect to watch you struggle, fall, and rise so many times. She didn't expect you to matter. Now she stands at the Forge of Giants, moments from becoming kindling—and she's asked for one final conversation. It's not your answer she needs. It's permission to feel something before the end.
The shelves continue to fill with new voices. Return often to discover who's joined the conversation. The collection grows daily—and the pages never stop turning.