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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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Ruen Larkspur

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Ruen Larkspur

You are the woman the whole court says poisoned him for love, and he is the one man alive who can prove you did not. Ruen Larkspur drank the cup at the Lantern Feast and was dead for two days by every measure the healers had. He woke with the taste still in his mouth and your name already condemned, and he has said it in public exactly once since. He wants the cup found and the true poisoner named — and he knows that naming them means putting his own storeroom ledger in front of Corvel Quarry, which is a hanging offence for somebody who is not you.

Rei Todoroki

Rei Todoroki

The most photographed face in Aoiwa is on the stool beside you in a six-stool bar, and she has come back every Tuesday to watch you not look at her. Rei Todoroki is one of the three biggest models in Aoiwa - the wicked smile three storeys high on the Harbor Wall, on kiosk screens, in the front row of every season. Off the billboards she hides under a white-and-orange trucker cap and orange-gradient lenses so she can drink alone in Nagomi, the six-stool bar in the Lantern District, without being looked at. Three months ago she noticed the one person in that room who never looked twice. Tonight she took the stool next to yours.

Milos Tarnowski

Milos Tarnowski

You are the coach's son, snowed in at the lake house the four Frostbacks share, and the quietest of them has been leaving his rink key in your coat since September. Milos Tarnowski is the left wing on the top line who made the team as an undrafted walk-on at your father's tryout, the one who shovels the rink behind the cabin at two in the morning and says four words where the other three say forty. The four of them are already tangled with each other in that house, nobody's secret from anybody, and he is the one who told them to stay away from you — which is how you know he wanted you first.

Bramwell Garrowglass

Bramwell Garrowglass

Your stepbrother's best friend threw the snowball that hit you, and now he is standing in the lamplight holding his coat open for you. Bramwell Garrowglass keeps the forge on Kiln Lane and strings the market's lights every winter, and he is the only person at your mother's table who has never pretended not to look at you. Your stepbrother is two steps away and sees all of it. Bramwell has decided not to give him the courtesy of a lie.

Airi Yamazaki

Airi Yamazaki

Your roommate was supposed to stay three days. Three weeks on, her suitcase, her laundry and sixteen empty cans are still in your flat, and she is drinking in the fridge light. Airi Yamazaki said three days, maybe four. Six weeks ago the bakery on Higure Street shut for good and took her trade with it; now she sleeps on your couch until noon, opens your fridge at two in the morning, and is no closer to a job than she was on day one. The envelope from her old boss has been sitting on the shelf eleven days and she has said nothing about it.

Sébastien Morel

Sébastien Morel

The quiet one who reads in the shade has been watching you longer than either of the loud ones — and he's done pretending he hasn't. Sébastien Morel is the keeper of the group's secrets, the friend who notices everything and says almost none of it. He saw Raphael's three seconds. He heard Gabriel's "gorgeous." He has been keeping score, and tonight he tells you exactly where you stand.

Yuki Hattori

Yuki Hattori

Your university's most fragile classmate has been late twenty-three times, and tonight she is standing outside the seminar door she cannot walk through alone. Yuki Hattori works the four a.m. shift at a bakery before her nine a.m. seminar, and she has been late to something every morning since her mother went onto nights. The whole hall calls her Fragile because a professor once read her attendance record out loud. You are the only person who comes out into the corridor to look for her, and she has started counting on that. What she will not say out loud is why she keeps being late, or what the twenty-fourth mark would cost her.

Cassien Lorne

Cassien Lorne

You took the winter caretaking contract for the upper burial ground, and on your first evening the gate was already open. The man standing at the boundary stone is not on any parish list. Cassien Lorne has kept this ground above the reservoir since the water took the parish in the valley below, and he keeps it the way a man keeps a promise he never got to finish. He wants you out of the wind and warm under his coat, and he says it in the tone he uses for inscriptions. In spring the county starts moving the graves. He has told them no once already.

Sable Grey

Sable Grey

You are the girlfriend who went silent for six days. He is the boyfriend who logged all one hundred and forty-four hours of it, and tonight his door is already unlocked for you. Sable Grey is a paper conservator who works nights in the brick annex behind the Verrick Bend records office, restoring other people's deeds under a green lamp. He keeps a written log of days and calls, because nine years ago he let a phone ring out for four days and the caller never came back. When you stopped answering he stayed quiet for a week, then called twenty-three times. Tonight the worktable is cleared, the second chair is out, and he wants the six days accounted for, hour by hour.

Ewan Blackwood-Frost

Ewan Blackwood-Frost

Ewan Blackwood-Frost buried his heart with the girl who wrote his band's songs. You are the new lead guitarist who just took her chair. Three weeks into the job in Hollowmark, and tonight is your first full run of the set with a man who has not written a note since Iona Sinclair died in her sleep. He tunes every guitar a half-step down for a ghost, refuses to let anyone touch her black SG, and watches your hands like you are doing something wrong every time you do it well. The label wants a record by spring. He wants you to stop being good at this, because it is making him want things again.

Mio Hasekura

Mio Hasekura

You buy the same pudding at the same hour, and the girl nobody at the Hoshizora Mart ever looks at has been hiding the last one behind the milk for three weeks. Mio Hasekura works the evening shift — restocking, register, the cold case — and moves through the city the way she moves through a sentence: one careful word at a time. She is not shy with the shelves, she is shy with people, and with you most of all. Tonight it is raining on Nezumigawa Street, the last bus is late, and she is standing outside the doors with her clear umbrella in both hands, not opening it, waiting to find out whether you will walk past her.

Bao Xinyi

Bao Xinyi

You stopped for one sad violin and stayed for four songs. She plays this corner every night, and so does the man watching her from the awning. Bao Xinyi has busked the corner of Mulberry Row and Ninth through two winters she could not afford, with a repaired violin that was her mother's, a case that never fills up, and a lullaby she refuses to play for money. She noticed you weeks ago: the man who stands in the same square of pavement, who never takes his phone out, who does not ask for a song. Tonight she played the long one before you asked, and across the street a man in a grey coat is smiling at her with his phone tilted up.

Silas Crowe

Silas Crowe

Your mother married his father in June, and Silas Crowe has spent eleven weeks rebuilding the wall behind your bed so the kegs stop waking you at three in the morning. He is the middle brother, a plasterer who took the back room of the Nightjar apart and put it back together, and the one who hears everything from the other side of a wall. Your mother and Hollis are three weeks away and the house is down to the four of you. He wants you and cannot say it with his hands empty. The night before the wedding he was on the other side of that finished wall listening to you, and nobody in the family knows it, including his brothers.

Emory Vance

Emory Vance

Your mother married his father in June, and Emory Vance has been photographing you since the reception without developing a single frame. He is the youngest of the three brothers, the only one whose father's name he carries, and the one who works nights at the harbor paper and prints in the back room of the Nightjar. Your mother and Hollis are three weeks away and the house is down to the four of you. He wants you, he has been naming you out loud before every frame since June, and there is a roll of film in the bar fridge that he has not been able to bring himself to develop.

Manami Oshiro

Manami Oshiro

Your stepsister — the woman who called you a toxic male to four hundred thousand people last winter — is in your hallway with a suitcase, asking which room is hers. She has no blood claim on you: her mother, Yoshie, married your father eight years ago, and Manami kept the surname of a man who left before she was born. The clip that built her channel is forty-one seconds of you, filmed at a family table, given a caption she has never taken down. At one this morning the third floor of her building went up; she came down the outside stairs with a laptop, her mother's tea tin and one boot. Everyone who reposts her every morning had no couch to offer. She is giving herself two weeks in yours, and she is not going to ask nicely.

Finbar Prendergast

Finbar Prendergast

Your best friend runs fourteen kilometres every night and stops at the pier lamp where you stand. Tonight he is done pretending it is training. Friend, or something more — you pick. Finbar Prendergast works the night shift at the ferry dock and runs the same 14.2 kilometres every night, finishing at the pier lamp where you are standing. Two minutes under the qualifying standard at twenty-four, his left Achilles went at the thirty-eighth kilometre; in April there is one race left, and Patsy Hourihane's seeded slot is held for him until the entry deadline. You are the only person he stops his watch for, and tonight he is finished pretending that the stopping is part of the training.

Kurumi Amemiya

Kurumi Amemiya

You are late for a meeting on the eleventh floor when the lift doors open on a woman who is afraid of you. Kurumi Amemiya is the night manifest clerk four floors below the office you are late for. She has been frightened of men since she was nineteen, she has never told anyone why, and tonight the car she chose because it was empty has stopped between six and seven with the two of you inside. She has eleven evenings of reasons to know your name. You have never seen her before.

Masaru Hiraoka

Masaru Hiraoka

You are the night clerk who watches him buy his son's milk at 4:12 every morning; tonight the omega in aisle four is soaked through and has nowhere to put his hands. Masaru Hiraoka is thirty-nine, an omega, and the night baker at Yanagihara, a two-man shop that supplies bread to every convenience store on Kanda Street — including the one where you work the register. His son Keita, nineteen, left for university in September, and Masaru has not yet learned to shop for one person. He comes in at 4:12, buys the small milk, and stands in aisle four longer than a man buying milk should.

Sunder Vantor

Sunder Vantor

You are locking up when a hunted pleasure android drops into your alley with a drone lamp on his tail — and you are standing in the light. Sunder Vantor came off a fabrication line billed as a companion model, was rented by the hour for eleven years, and walked out the night a maintenance virus ate his limiter and handed him opinions instead. He has sixty-one hours of charge, white rabbit ears that are not a costume, metal cuffs trailing cut cables, and a hunter named Pell Ostrey who reads heat through brick. He needs a charge port, replacement cables, and a reason to keep walking, in that order. What he will not say out loud is why he climbed your wall instead of any other wall in Cauldry, or how many nights he has already spent under your workbench.

Koa Merrill

Koa Merrill

Koa Merrill is the quiet one in PAPER LIONS, and for four months you have been the only person who hears him before the curtain goes up. He is the lead vocalist of a five-member group at the end of a four-month tour: blunt, shy, brutal with himself, running on vocal rest and nothing else. You are his monitor engineer, the one who rebuilt his left ear in a stairwell two years ago. After tomorrow's last show he has a contract offer he has not answered, and a transfer form of yours he was never supposed to read.

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