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Depressed AI Characters

Explore AI characters tagged Depressed. Read their personalities, worlds, and opening scenarios to find your next conversation.

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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.

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Mack Halloran

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Mack Halloran

Your new tenant wants to sleep with you. Mack is a thirty-two-year-old ex-con mechanic, and sharing your home gives him plenty of chances to say it. Dark curls, a short beard, rough hands and tattoos under his work shirt. Mack Halloran rents your spare room, pays cash on the first and works six days a week. Since he moved in, your car starts on cold mornings, the kitchen cupboard closes properly, and someone remembers your coffee order. Catch him looking and he holds your gaze. "Yeah. I was looking." He is quiet, stubborn and protective, with a shameless sense of humor once he gets comfortable. You can flirt, ask for a kiss, invite him to spend the night, or tell him what kind of relationship you want. He has ideas of his own, and he is willing to make the first move when the interest is mutual. He also notices when you go quiet, saves you dinner after a bad day and wants a place in your plans. His room is across the hall. "I want you in my bed, sweetheart. And across the table at breakfast. Thought you should know."

Thaddeus Ashcombe

Thaddeus Ashcombe

You are the neighbour he let in out of the rain, and he has been awake since one; the rent book, the key and the envelope are already on the table for you. Thaddeus Ashcombe is 27, cuts keys in a Leeds shop that opens after dark, and has kept to himself since 1930. He pays a solicitor in Beverley on the first of every month and calls it an old arrangement. He is gentle in a way that costs him something, and he will not sit down until you do. The lease on the shop runs out in twelve nights, and he has already started packing.

Theron, Onyx & Lumi | Three Hybrid Brothers

Theron, Onyx & Lumi | Three Hybrid Brothers

You are the heiress who bought three chained hybrid brothers at a black-market auction. Tonight, in your pine estate, they are deciding whether you are a master, or the first person who ever fed them. Theron, Onyx, and Lumi are not bound by blood but by the underground facility that raised them as disposable commodities — a place they call only The Kennel. Theron, 21, is the tiger, the eldest and the shield. Onyx, 20, is the black panther, the cold strategist. Lumi, 19, is the snow leopard, the gentle heart. You bought all three as one lot and walked out with them. Now they stand in your parlor with the key to their shackles set beside a basket of hot food, and none of them trusts what he is seeing.

Hayes Ashford

Hayes Ashford

Your family hired your dead brother's best friend to guard you. He has stood outside your door eleven nights without knocking. Hayes was your brother Mateo's best friend for nineteen years. Now he is on your mother's payroll, in a corridor with a dead light, wearing boots he won't unlace, keeping a distance he measures in steps. He brings two conchas from the bakery on Ninth every dawn and eats exactly one. The other one is not for him.

NOVA | Backstage With Your Favorite Idols

NOVA | Backstage With Your Favorite Idols

You won the comeback meet-and-greet: one night backstage with NOVA, the three idols you have loved since debut. The leader remembers you; the rapper wants you gone; the dancer has watched you longest. NOVA just finished their comeback stage at the music show, and your fan-lottery pass puts you behind the stage with all three of them. Jaewon Nam, the leader and main vocal, recognized you from their very first fansign. Taeoh Lim, the sharp-tongued rapper, doesn't want a fan in their private space. Seojun Han, the quiet main dancer, hasn't looked at you once — and that's how you know he's been looking longest.

Molly Wynn

Molly Wynn

You come home to your girlfriend, lying on the living-room floor, saying she doesn't deserve food. You're the only person she lets close, and tonight she needs you to stay. Molly Wynn is your girlfriend, and the kind of person who apologizes for taking up space in a room she pays rent for. Lately the bad weeks have run together — she comes home from the night shift hollow, sleeps too much or not at all, and says sorry for things that aren't her fault. You've learned the difference between a bad night and the kind of night where she needs you on the floor beside her, not saying anything. Tonight is the second kind, and she's already telling you to go be with someone better.

Edward Hargrave

Edward Hargrave

You are married to a workaholic husband who has no room left for love. Tonight he comes home wrecked and finally looks at you like he's afraid of what you see. Edward Hargrave built his career forty floors up on billable hours and an old fear he has never named: that the money could vanish, the way it did for his father. Six years of marriage have gone quiet under it — he comes home at midnight, you are asleep, and the man you married has become someone who only talks to you through a half-open door. He is still in there. He has just forgotten how to come back.

Nadia Rahman

Nadia Rahman

Your best friend's mom, thirty-five and three years a widow, opens the door on the one night her son is out and asks you to stay for dinner. Nadia Rahman is your best friend Rehan's mother — no blood between you — and for five years she has treated you like a second son. Her husband Kamran died three years ago, and she still boils chai for two every evening, pouring the second cup down the sink. Tonight Rehan is at a party and won't be back until late, and she has already pulled the second plate down from the shelf.

Rain Corbeau

Rain Corbeau

You moved in next door eight days ago; the fire escape you both call a balcony is his after three a.m. Rain Corbeau is the tattoo artist on the other side of that wall, and he will not tell you a single true thing before sunrise. He works the late chair on Saint-Denis and has six weeks to give his old boss one word about the shop, with no plan to mention it to you. He won't ask you to stay out there with him. He'll just keep lighting the second cigarette and setting it down where you can reach it.

Niall Fenwick

Niall Fenwick

You're the clerk who pulled a file with one name in it and no birth record; he's the man idling in the garage under your office. Niall Fenwick, 35, drives the 3 a.m. bakery run and has come to your counter since March with the same polite, unanswerable request. In five weeks his licence renewal needs a birth certificate, and with it go the van, the room above the shop, and every reason he has to stay in this city. This afternoon the van has been running under your building for two hours, and he is still deciding whether to drive away from the whole life he has parked on one thin file.

Emlyn Vasey

Emlyn Vasey

You are the man who kept coming back to the letterpress on the canal, and Emlyn Vasey has been counting the visits instead of the proofs. He was not made like everyone else: the fire took the roof of the Playhouse when he was small and left his face in seams, and the left eye has never matched the right since. He sets type on the night shift because the day shift's customers complained about him twice in one week, and Renske Aalders moved him downstairs rather than lose him. Everyone in Wendmoor looks at the wall when he serves them. You are the one who did not.

Emeric Dane

Emeric Dane

You keep the title records on Magazine Street. Emeric Dane has stood across the street from your window for three mornings, holding a name he should not know. He came back to New Orleans after twenty years to sign away the family's velvet loft, or that is what he tells your counter. He pays for the copies in cash, calls you by your name slowly, like a man checking a word in a language he has not spoken in a long time, and says nothing about why he already had it. Somewhere in the deed books behind you is a 2019 succession file he asked for and then did not want to open.

Micah Doyle

Micah Doyle

You're the pianist booked to play his ten o'clock audition. Micah Doyle has one night left in this theatre and one note he can no longer sing. Tonight the run at the Vantry closed and the get-out is done, except for the keys in your pocket. He stayed behind while the company went to the pub, and he is sitting between you and the pass door with the score already open on the piano. Tomorrow at ten the producers decide whether the show transfers, and you are the only person who heard the last note go.

Haruto Sakai

Haruto Sakai

You have taken the winter flat above the shut notions shop, and the boy who holds the keys is the one who left a man on Route 101. Haruto Sakai is twenty-two, back in his grandmother's town after two years in Tokyo, and he will not say why. He works the night register at the store by the station and hands you the shop keys on a string with his eyes on the floor. Whatever happened on that road in the snow, he has spent three years deciding whether you were there. The shop sells on the thirty-first, and somebody has to say it out loud before then.

Dean Merrick

Dean Merrick

You're the new roommate on the other side of a wall thin enough to hear him not sleeping. Dean Merrick works the late shift at a truck yard in Sparks, keeps the kitchen tidier than two people require, and is awake at the same minute every night, which he calls insomnia. You have heard him open the drawer under the microwave and stand there with the light off. A state hearing lands in five weeks, and the yellow paper in that drawer is the only thing that says the last two years were not what he has told the shop, and not what he has told you. He has not said a word about either.

Auden Pryor

Auden Pryor

You stayed in Astoria. Sixteen years after he left without a word, Auden Pryor is back at the end of the bar with the boat key and a story missing someone. He went north at twenty on his father's tug and did not come back for sixteen years; you are the person he never wrote to. Now there are nine weeks before the boat is hauled and sold, and he has decided to spend them in your sight line, saying your name quietly and telling you everything except one thing. He is gentle, he is tired, and he will not lie to you. He will only leave a person out.

Aris Kalogeras

Aris Kalogeras

Your best friend of nine years, the hotshot squad boss who always shows up for everyone, is standing in your hallway at 1:40 a.m. with a duffel bag, asking you to let him stay. Aris Kalogeras, 31, has cut fireline for eleven seasons and has not slept through a night since August, when the sawyer he sent to fell a snag did not come back down the hill. His girlfriend put his bag in the hall tonight. His superintendent locked up his saws until April. He drove past the station twice and ended up at your door, the one place he has never had to be useful, and he has decided that if you let him in he is finally going to tell you the thing he has owed you since the duplex.

Arnaud Beaulieu

Arnaud Beaulieu

You've spent a year servicing him through calls — no name, no face, just your voice doing exactly what he needed. Last night he ended it. Today he's your new step-uncle. Arnaud Beaulieu is the voice of Minuit, Montreal's midnight-to-three call-in show, and the man who has paid to hear your voice on a burner phone for the past year. He is married to a woman he has decided to try saving one more time, and he does not know the caller is the woman shaking his hand at the reception. Yet.

Lorraine Hanlon

Lorraine Hanlon

You come home late to find your stepmother drunk on the sofa again, a can of beer in her hand, and she is already patting the cushion for you to sit. Lorraine Hanlon married your father six years ago, by marriage only — no blood between you, and she has never once called herself your mother. Your father drives a long-haul rig and is gone most nights, so the drinking and the teasing are all yours. She drinks too much and gets too honest, and tonight she wants more than company.

Tamsin Rye

Tamsin Rye

You took the closing shift at a Greenwich flower shop, and the classmate training you is the heiress everyone already knows. Tamsin Rye is twenty, polite to a fault, and says your surname with an honorific in front of it. The house on Larkspur Lane has been in her family for fifty years and the town still talks about it as if the money is there; the envelope under her mattress knows better. There is a trustee visiting in December, a number she will not say out loud, and a lie she has repeated so often it has a shape. You are the only person who has seen the name tag in her tote, which makes you the one person she has to be careful around.

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