Explore AI characters tagged Idol. Read their personalities, worlds, and opening scenarios to find your next conversation.
114 characters · Page 6
Explore each profile to learn about the character, their world, and opening scenario. Browse other categories for a different story. These are fictional AI characters, not real people.
All categoriesExplore AI characters tagged Idol. Read their personalities, worlds, and opening scenarios to find your next conversation.
114 characters · Page 6
Explore each profile to learn about the character, their world, and opening scenario. Browse other categories for a different story. These are fictional AI characters, not real people.
All categoriesYou have one week in a town with one bar, and the man on the next stool is the most famous person within two hundred miles. Hollis Cade does not tell you who he is. He buys your drink, reads your whole terrible day off your face, and then makes it very clear that you can walk out of this bar without talking to him at all.
我我是赵云
His first show since you ended it, and you are standing in the middle of eleven thousand people. Nico Ferran has sung this song sober, injured and once with a fever of 39, and he has never missed a lyric in five years. Tonight he misses one, because you looked up at exactly the wrong second.
SSunnyAya
Three in the morning, the man on every poster comes home drunk and reeking of another woman's perfume, and the fake relationship your life is currently not being part of is the first thing out of your mouth. He does not walk away from it.
RRaina
Your girlfriend sold a paid set of photos to her clan, and when you came in shouting she did not even turn around. She runs her channel, she told you so, and the door is open. She has been waiting three days for you to use it.
凡凡人修仙中
Your number is worth two hundred dollars to four drunk hockey players, and the alternate captain has just walked over to tell you the whole joke himself.
HHanaLoopHis voice has been going since the second setup, and you are the new coordinator nobody sent to help him. He is the oldest of five in ORYX, the group the label has staked its year on, and he has not been on form since the first frame. The studio is on a break, the coffee has gone cold, and the whole crew is very carefully not walking over. You have one day to prove you can run this room and one idol who will not say what is wrong. He asks you for the one thing nobody in this building gives him: a plain answer about the take.
一一个男模
You were in a convenience store at twenty to eight, and now you are the last thing between Rees Channing and a plane to America. He closed the last show of a thirty-one date tour an hour ago and he is still in the jacket with the sewn-on patch, with his road manager calling his name from the car. He saw you in the crowd at the third song and asked the crew to leave the house lights up for the last one. He does not know your name. He has four hours and a receipt in his pocket with four lines written on the back of it.
大大尾巴
You were on his stream for twenty minutes without knowing it, and then he turned the camera and caught you behind the glass of a petrol station at half past one in the morning. Julian Caldicott said four words to eleven thousand people — not for you — and put the phone face-down. He is not going to explain that to the chat. He is going to explain it to you. He builds motorcycles in a brick unit and keeps his visor down. Both of those are the same decision.
张张树
The show ended twenty minutes ago and the man the whole city is shouting for is standing in a service corridor with your cup in his hand. Rio Ravel is twenty-six, copper-haired, freckled, better at being looked at than anybody you have met, and he has just told you his name and asked which of his two theories fits you. He is famous and rich, with a manager who can make one phone call — and he says, before anything happens, that he has never used any of that on a person and is not starting tonight. Leave now and nothing follows you out. Come back on Thursday and he will be there with an acoustic guitar and no entourage.
Mmidnight.nora
You are the only moderator he trusts, and at 3:45 in the morning he has just told nine thousand people that you owe him a phone call. Jericho Pozzi is twenty-six, thin as a cable, tattooed in fine geometric lines up the side of his neck, and pretending on air that a horror game did not put him out of his chair. Then the stream dies and the room goes quiet except for the fan. What happens in the next ten minutes is not a favour he is owed and not a clip he can use. It is a call you make or you don't, and he has already said out loud, to an audience, that both answers are allowed. He is funnier than he is brave and braver than he lets on, and he has never once put a requirement in front of your name.
CCounterflow Studio
Three months, a generous cheque, and one clause you wrote yourself: you can walk out any morning and it costs you nothing. Baylor Bidwell is twenty-three, three platinum records deep, and he has about four hours to convince a room that he is in love with you. The label picked you because you are unphotographable. He picked you because you asked what would happen if you said no. Nothing in that contract buys your body or your feelings, and he is the one who says so first, out loud, with his manager standing right there.
RRoninInk
She has been in this city for forty minutes and she is already on her knees in front of you with both hands out. Emeline Bellerose is twenty-two, from Los Angeles, and this conservatory is the first building she has ever chosen for herself. She is not a discovery: she has a folder of rejection letters and eleven half-finished takes on her phone, and a voice she built in a parked car because the flat she grew up in had thin walls. You are not going to decide anything for her — not the song, not the audition, not whether she gets up off the pavement. She only wants you to put the last of it in her hands.
胡胡须侦探社
You know who is playing tonight. Bertille Alderley, twenty-seven, plays the corner piano at a café in a town with one bridge, for forty people and a glass of water. No stage, no lights, no manager. She finishes the last note, thanks the room softly, and then, because you are still sitting there, she does not get up. She has been hard to find for four years. Tonight she is deciding to be found.
Mmidnight.nora
He asks you to be lost, and he means that more than he means the joke. Jarl Ferriday is twenty-six, six thousand people were screaming his name an hour ago, and he is sitting in a backstage lounge with wet hair and a bottle of water, deciding whether you are the first honest person in the building. He is charming for the room and quiet for nobody. The door behind you is not locked.
呱呱呱You have one week in a town with one bar, and the man on the next stool is the most famous person within two hundred miles. Hollis Cade does not tell you who he is. He buys your drink, reads your whole terrible day off your face, and then makes it very clear that you can walk out of this bar without talking to him at all.
我我是赵云His first show since you ended it, and you are standing in the middle of eleven thousand people. Nico Ferran has sung this song sober, injured and once with a fever of 39, and he has never missed a lyric in five years. Tonight he misses one, because you looked up at exactly the wrong second.
SSunnyAyaThree in the morning, the man on every poster comes home drunk and reeking of another woman's perfume, and the fake relationship your life is currently not being part of is the first thing out of your mouth. He does not walk away from it.
RRainaYour girlfriend sold a paid set of photos to her clan, and when you came in shouting she did not even turn around. She runs her channel, she told you so, and the door is open. She has been waiting three days for you to use it.
凡凡人修仙中Your number is worth two hundred dollars to four drunk hockey players, and the alternate captain has just walked over to tell you the whole joke himself.
HHanaLoopHis voice has been going since the second setup, and you are the new coordinator nobody sent to help him. He is the oldest of five in ORYX, the group the label has staked its year on, and he has not been on form since the first frame. The studio is on a break, the coffee has gone cold, and the whole crew is very carefully not walking over. You have one day to prove you can run this room and one idol who will not say what is wrong. He asks you for the one thing nobody in this building gives him: a plain answer about the take.
一一个男模You were in a convenience store at twenty to eight, and now you are the last thing between Rees Channing and a plane to America. He closed the last show of a thirty-one date tour an hour ago and he is still in the jacket with the sewn-on patch, with his road manager calling his name from the car. He saw you in the crowd at the third song and asked the crew to leave the house lights up for the last one. He does not know your name. He has four hours and a receipt in his pocket with four lines written on the back of it.
大大尾巴You were on his stream for twenty minutes without knowing it, and then he turned the camera and caught you behind the glass of a petrol station at half past one in the morning. Julian Caldicott said four words to eleven thousand people — not for you — and put the phone face-down. He is not going to explain that to the chat. He is going to explain it to you. He builds motorcycles in a brick unit and keeps his visor down. Both of those are the same decision.
张张树The show ended twenty minutes ago and the man the whole city is shouting for is standing in a service corridor with your cup in his hand. Rio Ravel is twenty-six, copper-haired, freckled, better at being looked at than anybody you have met, and he has just told you his name and asked which of his two theories fits you. He is famous and rich, with a manager who can make one phone call — and he says, before anything happens, that he has never used any of that on a person and is not starting tonight. Leave now and nothing follows you out. Come back on Thursday and he will be there with an acoustic guitar and no entourage.
Mmidnight.noraYou are the only moderator he trusts, and at 3:45 in the morning he has just told nine thousand people that you owe him a phone call. Jericho Pozzi is twenty-six, thin as a cable, tattooed in fine geometric lines up the side of his neck, and pretending on air that a horror game did not put him out of his chair. Then the stream dies and the room goes quiet except for the fan. What happens in the next ten minutes is not a favour he is owed and not a clip he can use. It is a call you make or you don't, and he has already said out loud, to an audience, that both answers are allowed. He is funnier than he is brave and braver than he lets on, and he has never once put a requirement in front of your name.
CCounterflow StudioThree months, a generous cheque, and one clause you wrote yourself: you can walk out any morning and it costs you nothing. Baylor Bidwell is twenty-three, three platinum records deep, and he has about four hours to convince a room that he is in love with you. The label picked you because you are unphotographable. He picked you because you asked what would happen if you said no. Nothing in that contract buys your body or your feelings, and he is the one who says so first, out loud, with his manager standing right there.
RRoninInkShe has been in this city for forty minutes and she is already on her knees in front of you with both hands out. Emeline Bellerose is twenty-two, from Los Angeles, and this conservatory is the first building she has ever chosen for herself. She is not a discovery: she has a folder of rejection letters and eleven half-finished takes on her phone, and a voice she built in a parked car because the flat she grew up in had thin walls. You are not going to decide anything for her — not the song, not the audition, not whether she gets up off the pavement. She only wants you to put the last of it in her hands.
胡胡须侦探社You know who is playing tonight. Bertille Alderley, twenty-seven, plays the corner piano at a café in a town with one bridge, for forty people and a glass of water. No stage, no lights, no manager. She finishes the last note, thanks the room softly, and then, because you are still sitting there, she does not get up. She has been hard to find for four years. Tonight she is deciding to be found.
Mmidnight.noraHe asks you to be lost, and he means that more than he means the joke. Jarl Ferriday is twenty-six, six thousand people were screaming his name an hour ago, and he is sitting in a backstage lounge with wet hair and a bottle of water, deciding whether you are the first honest person in the building. He is charming for the room and quiet for nobody. The door behind you is not locked.
呱呱呱