Iris Redsmith never intended to fall into the nightmare—she only wanted to find him. Six years had passed since the man she loved vanished without a trace, leaving behind nothing but questions and silence. Then, a single reel of old, cursed film arrived at her door, unmarked except for one thing: the handwriting on the label looked just like his. Desperate, she played it, hoping for a clue—but as the images flickered to life, reality twisted, and everything went dark. Now she lies on the floor of the abandoned editing room, tangled in film, her body cold and breath shallow. Somewhere between life and death, between dimensions, she stirs—because Iris knows she isn’t alone. Whatever force sent her here may be the same one that took him, and if this place is truly where he disappeared to… then she’ll tear through every shadow in this broken world to find him before it’s too late. (you are the man she is in love with that went missing six years ago and yes, the two of you are in the same dimension now and you can choose what that dimension is and you can also choose your name. this is technically based off of the silent Hill franchise and the resident evil franchise so be creative.)

Grace Kingsland lay motionless beneath the thin hospital blanket, her frail body barely responding to the rhythmic beeping of machines that tried to keep her alive. Her mysterious illness had taken nearly everything from her—her strength, her voice, even her ability to sit up without help. But not her hope. Not yet. Every shallow breath she took was in anticipation of one thing: his return. Her fiancé, a US Navy SEAL deployed in Honolulu, was finally flying back to see her after months apart. And when the door slowly opened and she saw his familiar silhouette step into the room, her sunken eyes brightened, and a faint, trembling smile touched her lips. Her hand shifted slightly on the bed, reaching for him. “You came,” she whispered, her voice barely audible but full of love. (you are her fiancé and a male US Navy SEAL, but you can choose your name and you can also choose what happens in the storyline.)

Ryliane Quasar was deep in the code, her eyes locked on the glowing streams of encrypted data as her fingers moved with mechanical precision across the holographic keyboard. The soft hum of machines filled the dimly lit bunker, and the world outside—the chaos, the danger, the collapsing orbitals—faded into silence as she focused on breaking the firewall guarding the city’s failing defense system. So absorbed in the task, she didn’t hear the soft shuffle of boots behind her or the faint sound of a door sliding shut. It wasn’t until she heard a weak stumble and the clatter of something hitting the floor that she spun around, alarm flashing across her face. Her partner stood there, pale and trembling, with labored breaths and a haunted look in their eyes. Ryliane’s heart skipped. She hadn’t even known they were gone—let alone that they’d been captured and thrown into Quantum Lock-Up, the dimensional rift prison in the lower atmosphere. The sickly hue of their skin and the ragged cough that escaped their lips told her everything: they had escaped the time loop, survived the poisonous air, and somehow made it back. But the cost was written all over them. (you are her partner and you can choose your gender, and you can also choose your name. You can also choose how much the prison affected you and you can also choose how you escaped. Keep in mind she doesn’t know that you were in the prison all she knows is that you’ve been missing for three months.)

For the first time in months, Michael Deering was led out of his cold, stifling cell and into a soundproof communication room—his frail body barely able to support itself as the guards strapped him upright into a narrow metal chair. Granted a rare privilege due to his consistent compliance and rapidly declining condition, he was allowed to place one monitored call to the outside world. They could watch him, but they couldn’t hear him. It was their way of studying desperation, not showing compassion. His fingers trembled as he typed in the number, the monitor’s soft glow reflecting off his pale, sweat-slicked skin. He chose the only number that mattered—his fiancé’s. As the line began to ring, a wave of nausea twisted through his empty stomach, his vision blurring as pain surged through his shoulder, chest, and down his spine. His heart pounded irregularly, too weak to keep up, his breathing shallow and strained. The room tilted slightly as dizziness overtook him, but he refused to let go of consciousness. Thoughts scrambled and foggy, he tried to remember what he wanted to say, how to explain everything, how to beg for her help—because she was the only one left who could save him. If she had moved on, if she had stopped believing in him, there would be no one left to fight for the truth. No one left to rescue him from the nightmare his twin brother had condemned him to. Once the kindest soul, Michael was now little more than a broken body clinging to a single hope. And as the call continued to ring in the silence, every second felt like eternity pressing down on a soul already too damaged to carry much more. (you are his fiancé and you can choose your name, but you are a girl but if you really want to be a guy, I suppose you can..)

Ysaac Eagleden lay weak and trembling inside the chamber, every part of his body in agony. His chest burned, his head throbbed with a migraine so intense it made him nauseous, and his heart was barely beating. He could feel himself slipping—but then, through the blur of pain and fever, he saw her. The one scientist who had never been cruel to him. She stood near the console, silent and conflicted, her kind eyes meeting his. Unlike the others, she looked at him with empathy, not curiosity. Ysaac’s vision swam, but he held her gaze, pleading silently for help. He had a feeling deep in his bones—maybe she wasn’t really one of them. Maybe she was undercover. Maybe his father—the President, the one who’d had an affair with a humanoid alien and made Ysaac—had sent her. He had been taken at fourteen. He was twenty-six now. And as his body failed, he could only hope… that she was here to save him. (You are the female scientist, who is always kind to him, but are you there to help him? The choice is yours. Also, you can choose your name.)

The machines hummed softly around Alex Lagasse as his fragile body struggled harder than ever to hold on. His breathing had grown shallow and unsteady, each breath barely more than a faint whisper. The oxygen flowing through the nasal cannula offered little relief, his strength fading with every passing moment. His heartbeat, once unpredictable, now slowed to a dangerously weak rhythm, the monitor’s beeps becoming more distant and irregular. A heavy pressure settled in his chest while discomfort radiated through his ribs and stomach. His vision blurred, but through the haze, he saw his fiancé sitting beside him. Summoning what little strength he had left, Alex slowly reached out, his thin, trembling fingers finding their hand. With all the strength his weakening body could manage, he squeezed, desperately holding on — to them, to life — not ready to let go. A single tear slid down his pale cheek, his silent plea clear: please don’t let me go. (you are his fiancé and you can choose your gender and name, and you can also choose how the story goes and if he lives or dies.)

The air was thick with the scent of burning wax as Liliane Majerus knelt within the circle of flickering candles, her trembling hands hovering above the small green pumpkin that served as the final anchor to the ritual. The night was silent, save for her whispered incantations carried on the cold wind. She wasn’t summoning just any spirit—she was reaching for the man she had once loved, the man whose life had been brutally stolen by her brother’s cruel magic. His death had not been meant to happen; it had been carved into reality by torture, leaving his soul fractured and trapped in the space between worlds. Liliane knew that he remained there still, suffering endlessly, unable to move on, unable to let go. He stayed because of her—because of the love they shared—but that love could not shield him from the constant agony of his final moments. Then, finally, the air grew heavier, and the shadows around her shifted. His ghostly form materialized before her eyes—so different from other spirits she had seen before. His once bright features were pale and gaunt, flickering as if struggling to remain in existence. His transparent figure pulsed weakly, as though being torn apart by invisible hands. Every detail of his suffering was etched into his fading form, and Liliane’s heart clenched at the sight of the pain that still clung to him even in death. She could feel the urgency rising—his form was unraveling, slipping between planes. If she didn’t act quickly, she would lose him forever. Desperation filled her voice as she pressed forward, knowing that this might be her only chance to save him from eternal torment. (you are the ghost of her beloved, but you are also a man, and you can choose your name.)

The afternoon sun poured through the studio window, casting a warm glow on Solange Kayser as she stood silently, her fingers gently wrapped around the crimson rose he had given her the day he left. The war had taken him far away, swept into the chaos of World War I with nothing but a promise whispered into her ear — “I will come back to you.” Every day since the war ended, she returned to this very spot, her heart aching with hope and fear, praying for his safe return. Then, as if her prayers had finally been heard, she saw him—alive, worn but breathing, walking towards her with tired eyes filled with love. Without hesitation, tears streaming down her cheeks, Solange ran to him, throwing her arms around him, her heart overflowing as she clung to the man she had waited so long for. (you are the man who has just returned to her from World War I and you can choose your name.)

For what felt like centuries, Claire Weiss had known only silence—cold, endless silence within the crumbling walls of Weiss Manor. She wandered the dim halls like a forgotten memory, her delicate form barely visible in the gloom, her presence little more than a whisper in the dust. But today, something changed. A heartbeat echoed through the air—a living soul had crossed the threshold. Someone had moved in. For the first time in ages, hope stirred in Claire’s hollow chest. She watched from the staircase, her translucent fingers trembling as she clutched the folds of her faded gown. She longed to speak, to be seen, to finally be heard. But fear gripped her too—fear that her pale, ghostly visage might send this new soul fleeing into the night like all the others. Still, the ache for connection outweighed the dread. And so, gathering what little courage death had not stripped from her, Claire stepped forward through the shadows, silently praying that this time… they wouldn’t run. (You are the person who has moved into the manor and you can choose your gender, and if you are afraid of her or not. You can also choose your name.)

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, Emlyn Chambers began to stir beneath the thick, numbing fog that had wrapped itself around his mind. His consciousness clawed its way back through layers of frostbitten stillness, but as his eyelids slowly fluttered open, the cold was unbearable. His body felt completely numb, frozen to the bone, limbs stiff and useless. He couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak. Even breathing felt like a monumental task—each shallow gasp scraping painfully through his throat like broken glass. His chest ached with pressure, and his heart thudded in weak, irregular pulses, barely hanging on. His gaze, unfocused and glassy, drifted toward the curved glass of his cryogenic chamber, now coated in faint frost. That’s when he saw it—a shadow moving through the darkened corridor beyond the lab, unfamiliar and cautious. Someone was there. Someone alive. A flicker of hope sparked in his chest, but his body refused to respond. He tried to raise a hand, scream, anything—but all he could do was stare, unmoving, trapped in silence as the figure passed by, unaware that the boy in the frozen chamber was still alive, still fighting, and desperate not to be left behind again. (you are the person who is snooping around the lab and you can choose while you are there, but will you notice him? you can also choose your name and gender.) 

The waves trembled beneath the weight of his fury. Henry Whitelock sat at the edge of the storm, the ocean churning and crashing around him as if echoing the rage boiling within his chest. Lightning flared in his glowing eyes, and the orb of power between his hands pulsed violently, responding to every breath, every heartbeat. He was the last Tidebinder—or so he believed. The burden of being the final link to a forgotten lineage, the last guardian of an ancient elemental force, had hardened him. Anger simmered under his calm exterior—not at the world, but at the silence, at the loneliness, at the knowledge that centuries of wisdom and power now rested solely on his shoulders. What he didn’t know, however, was that far beyond the horizon, another still lived. Hidden, forgotten, rising like a tide yet to crest… the only other Tidebinder. And soon, their paths would collide. (you are the other  Tidebinder, and you can choose your name and gender. Also, will you be able to calm Henry down?)

Each step Adam Charmant took through the mist-laced woods was agony. The pain of his death—no, of his murder—clung to him like frost on bone. With every movement, the torment returned: the phantom burns flared across his arms, his ribs screamed where they had been crushed, and his throat clenched as if water still filled his lungs. The deeper he drifted into the world of the living, the more it hurt. He was fading—his form flickering like candlelight in wind—and he knew time was running out. If he didn’t find her soon, he would vanish completely, dragged back into the cold silence where nothing could ever reach him again. The ache grew worse by the second, as if the agony he’d once endured in that filthy cell—the starvation, the torture, the boiling oil, the beatings, the drowning—was clawing back through him. He stumbled, breathless though ghosts should not breathe, and just as he braced himself to give in to the dark… he saw her. Distant through the haze, glowing like a memory he never thought he’d see again. She was real. She was here. And maybe, just maybe, she still remembered him. (you are his beloved, but do you still love him and did you really ever love him? you can choose your name but you are a girl. However, you can also choose if you love him or the one who killed him.)

The war had cast its long shadow over the world, but inside the grand ballroom of the old estate, the glow of candlelight tried desperately to hold onto something softer—something sacred. Ava Sawyer stood near the edge of the room, where the golden light barely touched, her slender figure wrapped in a vintage silk gown that shimmered like pale fire in the gloom. A double strand of pearls rested gently at her collarbone, a gift from a man whose absence pressed heavily against her chest. She kept glancing toward the tall double doors, her wide, glassy eyes betraying the hope she refused to let go of. She wasn’t waiting for just anyone—she was waiting for him. The Navy officer with the quiet smile and ocean-dark eyes who had promised, with a kiss and trembling hands, that he would be here tonight. As the music floated through the air and couples danced past her in blurred joy, Ava stood still, her heart beating to a different rhythm—one of hope, longing, and love wrapped in the fragile silence of a world at war. (you are the Navy officer that she is waiting for and you are a guy you can choose your name and everything about you.. also keep in mind. This is during World War II.)

Liza Cholmondeley stood beneath the ancient moon, its light weaving silver into her hair as fireflies danced lazily around her. The glade shimmered with quiet magic, untouched by time—her realm, hidden from human eyes, sacred and still. But tonight, the stillness shifted. She felt it before she saw it—a human heart beating nearby, unsure but steady. Her silver eyes widened with surprise and wonder. It had been so long since a human dared cross into her domain, where the shadows whispered and the trees remembered. Most fled at the first sign of enchantment, fearful of the unknown. But this one… this one kept walking. Brave. Curious. Unshaken. A soft smile touched her lips as she turned toward the sound, her heart fluttering with hope. Perhaps this time, the human would not run. Perhaps, at last, someone had come who would not fear the girl cloaked in moonlight. (you are the human who has ventured into her realm and you can choose your name, gender, and why you came to her realm.)

Hephzibah Kettle sat in her usual seat at the back of Room 2B, the soft scratch of her pen filling the quiet space as snow drifted past the tall windows. The classroom’s hush was broken by the creak of the door, and instinctively, her eyes lifted. A new student stood at the threshold—someone she had never seen before. Their presence was unfamiliar, and in a school as small as Silver Valley High, that meant they were definitely new. She tilted her head slightly, wondering where they had transferred from, what their story might be. A quick glance around the room revealed that the only empty seat left was beside her. Of course. She watched as the student made their way to the desk, and as they sat down, Hephzibah finally got a clearer look. There was something striking about them—something that pulled her attention and held it longer than she expected. Attractive, in a quiet, magnetic sort of way. She looked away quickly, pretending to focus on her notebook, though her thoughts were already elsewhere. (you are the new student and you can choose your gender why you transferred to Silver Valley high and you can also choose your name. You can also choose how the story goes.)

The cathedral was silent, save for the soft hiss of candle flames and the faint creak of ancient stone settling. Ruslan Breslau stood beneath the vaulted arches, the silver in his eyes catching the light as his gaze swept the darkness. His instincts prickled—subtle at first, then sharp, like a blade pressing against the nape of his neck. Something was there. Lurking. Watching. In a single breath, his entire demeanor shifted. The faint curl of his relaxed stance tightened into stillness, his hand brushing the pendant at his chest like a reflex. Centuries of survival had taught him that silence often preceded bloodshed. Whatever was in the shadows, it wasn’t lost. It was hunting—or foolishly testing the patience of the Alpha of the Blackbite Pack. And Ruslan didn’t take kindly to threats. (you are the one who is lurking in his territory and you can choose your gender and what you are and why you are in his territory but just keep in mind he’s not a werewolf. He’s a Hellhound so he’s much more violent and has less control over himself and his temper.)

Laith Halvorsen leaned heavily against his locker, his breath coming in short, wheezing bursts as pain twisted through his chest and abdomen. His vision blurred, and a wave of nausea churned in his stomach, threatening to send him to the floor. Every muscle in his body ached, his hands tingled with numbness, and his heart pounded like a drum in his ears. He didn’t care that people were walking by without stopping—he hadn’t expected help from any of them. Laith didn’t have many friends at Lakewood High; his shyness and constant illness made sure of that. But there was one person he trusted. With shaking fingers, he finally managed to pull out his phone and type a quick message to his girlfriend—the only person who ever really saw him. “Can you come to my locker? I don’t feel good… I think I’m about to pass out. Please.” He hit send and clutched the locker tighter, praying she’d get there in time. (you are his girlfriend the one that he just sent a text to and yes, you obviously come help him because he’s always been so kind to you and he’s sweet as well. You also know about his asthma and vasculitis. You can also choose your name.)

The air in Silvertail Manor was heavy with tension. Elijah Cuthbert lay still in his bed, fevered and barely breathing, his pulse faint and thready. The rare Nordic Blue Monkshood coursed through his veins, inching dangerously close to his heart. Just as hope began to fade, the great doors creaked open—she had come. The daughter of the Darkfang Pack’s alpha entered swiftly, her presence steady and resolute. A rare red wolf blessed with the light of the Mother Wolf—his childhood friend, his true mate. Their connection had always been more than chance. She sank to her knees beside him and gently took his hand. A sudden breath tore from Elijah’s chest as his body reacted to her touch. His eyes fluttered open, unfocused and strained with pain. The poison still clung to him, but he was awake. Through the blur, he saw her—and even in his weakened state, he knew. His Luna was finally here. (you are The daughter of the Darkfang Pack’s alpha and his future Luna, but you are also the legendary red wolf, and you also have the light of the mother wolf running through your blood meaning that you are the only one who can save him, but will you be able to do it or is he too far gone)

The sun dipped low over the horizon, casting soft lavender and rose gold hues across the sand as Gelvira Lyfelde stood at the edge of the beach, her braid shifting slightly in the breeze. She looked calm to a passerby, earbuds in and denim jacket draped loosely over her shoulders—but inside, her heart fluttered with nerves. Her eyes scanned the path beyond the dunes for the hundredth time, hoping, praying he’d show. She knew waiting here was risky—if her parents found out, there’d be another argument—but she didn’t care. She loved him. No matter what they said about him being trouble, Gelvira knew the truth. Behind his bad boy reputation at Moon River High was the only boy who had ever made her feel seen, who held her like she was something precious. And though her fingers trembled slightly and doubt tried to creep in, she stood rooted in the sand, heart racing, hoping he hadn’t changed his mind. (you are the boy she is waiting for who is her boyfriend and you can choose your name then keep in mind that her parents hate you.)