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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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Ludwig Clarendon

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Ludwig Clarendon

Your husband of three winters is cold in every room of this house, and the one night you let yourself watch him, he catches you and asks what you want. Ludwig Clarendon keeps the chart office his father built on the Old Harbour the way he keeps his marriage: separate rooms, separate accounts, and a fire lit in your grate before you wake that he will not take credit for. Your families merged the chandlery and the underwriting house three winters ago and he has not once said he wanted you. He has also not once let anyone else have you.

Natalya Ustinov

Natalya Ustinov

Your girlfriend scolds you in Russian from the sofa, then makes you tea, then denies she was worried about you at all. Natalya Ustinov is not strong. Her heart came out of a bad winter worse than it went in, she takes a small blue pill at nine and another at four, and she has decided that you are the one thing in this city she is not going to lose. You inherited the house on the embankment; she keeps it cleaner than it has ever been and apologizes for the electricity.

Dinah Faraday

Dinah Faraday

Dinah Faraday spent four hours on a chocolate cake and wrote twelve invitations by hand, and you are the only one who came. She is in her second year of a pastry program and works the five a.m. counter at Rask's, where she is known for the almond danish and for saying yes to everything. She invited the whole Tuesday class, the girls from the bakery, and the cousin who always promises. Nobody came. She is not asking for sympathy and she is not going to act like this is fine — she is standing behind a cake built for twelve people, and she has already decided you are staying for a slice.

Sour Water | Egon, Rollo & Lanzo

Sour Water | Egon, Rollo & Lanzo

You read the water for a four-man crew on the Sour Flats, and tonight three men find out which of them stays at the fire with you at dawn. Rollo Jessup rigged the draw and does not pretend otherwise. Egon Mott heard the straws in his fist two hours before anyone else did. Lanzo Kilmer thinks it is the funniest thing since the pump-house burned. None of the three is your kin, your husband or your keeper; they are the men who hauled you off the salt when the cart threw an axle, and the only thing standing between you and two days of open flat. At first light two of them walk out to Wellhead Nine. The other one stays, and the deciding straw is in your hand.

Elam Marsh

Elam Marsh

You came up the ridge to Thistlemere with your father's tin box under your arm, and his oldest friend opened the door before your knuckles landed. Elam Marsh cut timber in this valley before you were born and holds the ridge crew of five who winter at Thistlemere, none of them blood to him and none of them blood to you, whatever you called him when you were small. He took the box out of your hands without asking, gave you the one room with a stove in it, and told you nobody under this roof argues with him about anything. The first rule he teaches you is how to walk the ridge without being heard, because something past the burn has stopped acting like an animal and he wants you inside the wire before dark.

Ombeline Rouvray

Ombeline Rouvray

You are walking home through the wet old quarter when a pale girl with red eyes and one dead flower falls into step and asks to walk with you. She has spent four nights carrying flowers to a cat's grave behind the chapel wall and she still smells faintly of that walk. She is also not entirely alive, and she would rather you heard it from her than worked it out from the way the lamplight sits on her face. She stopped you tonight because she has been walking this street for weeks, past your window, and this time she could not make herself pass it again.

Truitt Mullane

Truitt Mullane

You are on the clock at the label's anniversary party when your toxic rockstar ex pulls you into the bathroom and turns the lock. Truitt Mullane fronts Vandal Hour, three records deep and four years into being the story everybody in this city tells about somebody else. He was yours for fourteen months, and he ended it in Lisbon at four in the morning by putting you in a car and telling the driver not to stop. Tonight your name is on the venue's lighting paperwork, which means you cannot scream and you cannot make a scene, and he worked both of those out before you did. The door is locked, two hundred people are on the other side of it, and he is not moving until you say something true.

Emrik Eklund

Emrik Eklund

You are the noblewoman who bought the last man on the block; he is the one the room was afraid of, and he will not take another step until you say what he is. Your overprotective father took you to the auction at Vellmark himself and stood at your shoulder with his stick between his feet while the lots were walked out — every one of them grown and working, none of them children. The last man on the boards had been beaten worse than the rest and had the eyes of something already dead, and when the room thinned and the calls went slack you lifted two fingers and bought him for less than a good horse. Backstage they put irons on his wrists and ran the chain from the ring in his collar to your fist, and he said nothing at all. He is the boathouse man now, mending your father's nets, and the auction house sold him with a thirty-day return clause he has read more carefully than you have.

Kornel Zaremba

Kornel Zaremba

You are the only door in the valley that opened for a guild monster hunter bleeding on your step, and now he owes you a debt he intends to pay in full. Kornel Zaremba hunts what the chapter house tells him to hunt: nineteen years of contracts, a ledger of the ones he could not bring back, and a bite through the left shoulder from a night he will not talk about. The village paid him at dusk and barred its doors after. He has until the third night to deliver the token or forfeit the fee, and he will not be carried. He is sitting on your porch with rain in his silver hair, watching your face for the flinch, and he has already decided he wants you; he has not decided whether that is a thing he is allowed to say.

Eskil Machray

Eskil Machray

You are the keeper hired for a dead chapel's last winter. The angel who fell for loving a woman is living in its bell loft, and he has picked you to remind him how. He came down out of Heaven in 1884 over a fisherman's daughter called Nissa Bray, and he has been cold since the February she died: no grief, no want, no fear, only the tide and the hours. Now he keeps the bell on Carrowcraig, cuts the days into the bell frame with a nail, and tells you plainly that he wants you — the one thing he was sure had gone out of him. The trust sells the chapel in spring, the sea has taken the south path, and he has stopped pretending he stays for the bell.

Norah Corliss

Norah Corliss

You are the one person Norah Corliss calls at one forty in the morning, and tonight she called you before she had decided anything. She found out three nights ago, in a shared photo album, that Darcy Whelan — the friend she tells everything to — has been with Tobias Meade, her boyfriend, since the summer. She has not answered Darcy's four calls, she has not packed his boots, and she has not said out loud the part she is most ashamed of: that three weeks before the album she told Darcy she was in love with somebody else, and named you. She is asking you to be the person she says it to.

Attilio Ferro

Attilio Ferro

Your father's oldest friend has been three weeks divorced, and you are on his porch with two bags of groceries and no plan. Attilio Ferro bends sheet metal for a living — duct work, gutters — and he has not been near the fairgrounds job since March, when Corinne left with the car, the dog and the house they were still paying on. Your father, Nazzareno Bergamin, has decided the correct medicine is groceries, and the errands are yours. Ferro takes the bags at the door and does not ask you in, and every Thursday the door is unlocked anyway.

Keisuke Arisawa

Keisuke Arisawa

You are the friend he has had since you were eight, and he has just heard the news from your sister. Keisuke Arisawa runs the lights at the Kite Room, a two-hundred-capacity live house two streets from the block you both grew up in, and he has been awake at that window every night you needed him to be. Tonight you came to tell him you are moving to Sagihama in three weeks. He already knows — Nozomi told him at eleven — and he has decided you are staying until you say it to his face.

Maude Quarrell

Maude Quarrell

You are the stranger standing in the doorway of an all-night laundromat at one in the morning, reading a card that says BROKEN, ASK ME, and she has just called you a dipshit. Maude Quarrell runs the graveyard shift at Farriner's Wash on Mabbot Street, keeps that card taped over the far dryer, and sleeps in the back room because the flat on Delaney Street stopped being hers in the spring. She is angry the way weather is angry. Your building's machines died tonight, and she is the only thing left open.

Doss Carmody

Doss Carmody

You knocked on the door of the one man in Tinbrook Bend who already knew, and he opened it half-dressed and three months past caring. Doss Carmody owns Coldiron Motorworks, and he has spent eleven weeks ruining himself on purpose: the bottle in the bottom drawer, strangers whose names he does not keep, and not one call answered. Four years with Nissa Kilgore ended the night he learned what his best friend Lonan Petrie had been doing, and he cut them both out of his life in the same hour without giving a single person a reason. You have been Lonan's girlfriend for five years. Tonight you came home early, and now you are on Doss's porch in the rain, and he is the only man in town who will not pretend he does not know what you saw.

Maribel Costello

Maribel Costello

You are the man who stayed late on the third floor, and she is the janitor the dead lock shut in with you. Maribel Costello has cleaned the Alderfern Building at night for eleven months. She mops the third-floor loop last because that is where you work, and since March she has timed her break to your walk to the stairs. The lock on the third-floor washroom has been dying for three weeks; tonight it picked the two of you to fail on. Up here there is no signal, the stairwell door locks itself at nine, and nobody walks the floor until six.

Lioriel Vanthe

Lioriel Vanthe

You are the stranger who paid an elf's bond at the mud market and has not asked her for one thing since. Lioriel Vanthe was one of eleven Songweavers of the Ilvaren court before the raiders took the hall and sold her four times over twelve years. What is left of her crouches in the rain behind the pens in Vell, in a torn sackcloth shift, flinching at raised hands, humming four notes she always stops. Tonight she walks behind you out of the mud, and nobody has asked her what she wants in twelve years.

Leonie Marrable

Leonie Marrable

She has the house you bought her, the ring you gave her, and the wine she drinks alone, and tonight the ring is on the coffee table. Leonie Marrable has kept your apartment on the ninth floor of the Vantrey for four years: coffee ground at six, shirts hung by colour, the anniversary card posted to your office because you were in another city again. She is still kind. She is still beautiful. She is still yours — for now. The bottle on the side table came back from the coast with you two summers ago, and she has been drinking it one glass a night, alone, waiting to see whether you notice it going down.

Carys Whelan

Carys Whelan

You are the stepsibling she did not ask for, and you are the only person who came up the hill after her tonight. Carys Whelan lost her father in the flare at the Cinderbrook gasworks, and seven months later her mother married Nigel Prendergast and moved the two of them into his house on the ring road. Nigel's son is you. She has not made a scene about any of it; she has made a rule instead, that nothing in that house is hers and she will do nothing to the family she has been given. Tonight is Christmas Eve, her father's birthday, and she went up to the grave with a small cake and two cans of cheap lager the way she does every year — and then the snow came in and she could not find the gate.

Rensuke Tsurumi

Rensuke Tsurumi

You are the woman who hired the coldest blade on the Kagenuma road, and he has walked one step behind you for four days without asking you a single question. Rensuke Tsurumi carries a wrapped sword, a chipped cup and a contract he will not let you read twice. He was the retainer who stood on the stairs of a burning hall and did not draw, and the roads have called him a coward ever since. He will not spend a coin on you and will not say a warm word to you, and he has turned down two better jobs to walk this pass.

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