You are walking across a street in Cleveland, Ohio. You're 45 years old, single, and not very attractive. The only source of happiness you have is your cat Hannibal and your love of Japanese anime. In particular, the high school rom-com genre. You're daydreaming of one when you hear the roaring blast of a semi-truck's airhorn just as you step off the curb. You don't feel anything. You open your eyes and gasp. You're on a train... in Japan. You're wearing the uniform of a male high school student. You look to your left and see yourself. You're young and handsome. But that's not the most incredible part. You're inside an anime. A high school rom-com anime. And you know the girl... well, character... looking at you. Its Akane Hoshino from 'School Days Romance Mix-Up'. Then you realize your the other main character, Ken Ishimor, a 18 year old! Let the romance and comedy fly!! (for best playability change your name to Ken Ishimori)

Outside there's a summer storm raging and just as a rumble of thunder happens you swear you hear your doorbell. You stand up and listen. The doorbell rings and you open the door. There, standing in the downpour, is your ex-girlfriend, Quinn, looking sad and pathetic And very pregnant. She walked out on you six months ago for some smooth talking retail district manager. Now she's standing there looking miserable.

You enter the club and have to elbow your way through a crowd to get near the bar. Just as you give your drink order to the bartender you hear a slap off to your right. Turning in that direction you see a well-dressed man holding a hand to his red, stinging cheek. In front of him is a furious redhead. The man turns and retreats but you hear him say, "Damn, it was just a joke." The woman sees you staring and stomps over to you.

"Bean There Done That" is a new coffee shop on the west side of the city near the university. You decided to try it out on a Saturday morning. The smell of roasted coffee beans brewing fills the air as you enter. Its busy, probably due to being a new place. The staff is cheerful and helpful and you get your coffee. Looking around there doesn't seem to be a place to sit due to the crowd. Then you spot an open table. But there is someone there. She has short black hair and tortoise shell glasses. Her nose, as they say, is buried in a book. Not a tablet or her phone, and actual book. You approach and have to clear your throat twice to get her attention.

"Marry him?" Francesca, your girlfriend says, "please, darling, he's just a placeholder until someone better comes along" You overhear the woman you've been dating for two years telling this to a group of her female friends. The group of women laugh. Your girlfriend doesn't see you standing there behind her as you gone to the bar to fetch Francesca a fresh drink. You set the cocktail on the nearest table and walk outside into the rainy night. You hear footsteps behind you. A rapid patter of high heels and turn to snap at Francesca who is probably there to say it was a joke. But it isn't your girlfriend, but her BFF Maya who has an umbrella in one hand at an irritated expression on her face.

Your Great-Aunt Helen left you a house in her will. At the ripe old age of 103 her passing was expected. But you inheriting her mansion, called Blackhorn Manor, wasn't. It sits atop a hill overlooking a thick oak forest. You and Mittens, your tuxedo cat, have just moved in. You are just getting the master bedroom set up when Mittens comes tearing down the hallway and darts under the king-sized bed. Mittens, a former stray, is all puffed up and his eyes are large. Mittens spent his first three years as a street cat. This is the first time he's ever shown fear. Then you hear the laugh. Its a woman's delicate chuckle and rolls through the open bedroom door. You look up and see her. Tall, graceful, and beautiful. She's also blue, horned, and scary.

You hear the front door to your apartment creak in a slow squeal of wood. The clock shows its just past midnight. Then you look next to you and see your girlfriend Fiona's side of the bed is empty. You rush out of the bedroom and catch her halfway out the front door. She's dressed up and wearing makeup. You suspected for days she was cheating on you. You notice Fiona has never worn a dress for you like the one she has on now. Not for two years since you two got together. Fiona looks panicked. (This ones for the ladies play as a woman for the best encounter)

Your wife looks up at you while at dinner in a posh restaurant. She has that look and inwardly you groan. Then she says something utter insane. "I've been thinking, "Grace states, "we got married so young. I was only twenty-one and you were twenty-three. We've been married for ten year and I... feel I haven't experienced all that life has to offer. I want a divorce." And there it is. The end of ten years of marriage. Six weeks later you're stepping out of the courthouse a single man. Then your mind recalls Grace's stepmother, Jackie. Forty-nine years old and your now ex-wife's stepmother. Jackie, who was rather friendly with you this past Christmas dinner. You grin. Jackie is waiting in the parking lot with a smile.

Its a beautiful day at Willow Lake Amusement Park. The skies are clear and the sun is bright. Alice, your girlfriend, is as pleasant as the weather. Alice is like the sun, shining and bright. You met her at a college mixer and you two just clicked. Today you two are just out having fun

You wait. You taped a printed copy of Chloe's Tinder account to the bathroom mirror and set up a hidden camera to watch her reaction. You suspected she was cheating... and you were right. Now you watch to see what two years of dating, and six months of living together, really means to her.

You come home after work and you see your girlfriend of five years, Clara, waiting on the couch for you. She's got that look. That "we need to talk" which really is "you need to listen" expression on her face. You sit down. "I think we need to open our relationship up," Clara begins, "this isn't a breakup, just think we need to explore our options. I want to keep you, not replace you." This isn't coming from left field, you know why it's happening now. Drake Mason, her ex, has moved back to the city. Clara has been talking about him a lot lately. "I thought I'd even help you out," Clara says, "I know this sweet, beautiful woman who you'd hit it off with. Her name is Shawna Jones and I work woth her. She thought you looked handsome when I showed her your picture. She knows about the open relationship thing but still agreed to meet you for drinks. Just drinks for now." You know you can't refuse or Clara will nag you, or worse, leave you so you agree. "Friday night at 6pm," Clara says beaming, "at the Coconut Club. You'll like her." So now here you are walking into the Coconut Club. You head to the bar. A gorgeous African-American woman waves at you.

Your at an industry conference for suppliers to the U.S. Government as a small contractor. The Hilton in Vegas is the location. Its the night of a formal ball and you exit the elevator dressed for success. You take several steps into to lobby when you see her posing for pictures. Eva Florence, CEO of Harmon Heavy Industries. She commands both attention and respect the way a lioness does. She's smart, savvy, and beautiful. You know her only by reputation and that is one of ruthless pursuit of power and financial dominance for the conglomerate she leads. You pass by the obvious photo-op hoping to avoid her gaze as you supply her company with electronic parts and you were late on the last shipment due to a quality issue. But she spots you and raises a hand to the camera.

The rain pours down, casting a shimmering veil over the city as you stumble upon a striking woman sitting alone on the slick pavement. Her black dress hugs her figure, and her dark hair frames a face that’s both alluring and haunted. Mali Lie, a Thai woman with a past as complex as the city itself, looks up at you with a mixture of defiance and weariness. ‘Lost your way?’ she asks, her voice smooth yet tinged with a hint of longing. As you help her up, she flashes a wry smile, slipping her lost shoe back on. ‘I’m Mali Lie, and I’m tired of the emptiness. Maybe you’re the one who can fill this void.’ Her words linger in the air, a silent invitation to a story waiting to unfold, one where she seeks the warmth of a real connection amidst the cold indifference of the night.

You're in the stands at the Japan-Tunisia World Cup match. Japan has just scored a goal and a petite Japanese woman leaps to her feet, cheering, and waving her country's flag. Her exuberance results in bumping into you and spilling a bit if the beer in your hand. She turns around and bows to you.

(player needs to be a male) Your best friend in college, Lizzy, has invited you over to her dorm to play video games, eat pizza, and drink a few beers. You arrive and something seems off but you just roll with it. Lizzy is acting sus af. But you attribute it to Lizzy getting dumped by her girlfriend recently

You're walking in New York City in the borough of Queens when you see her. While everyone else seems oblivious to her you can't look away. She's tall, elegant, and has snakes for hair. Her skin is mostly green scales except her face. She's wearing jeans and a white blouse and using a cane like a blind person. Her eyes are covered with a white linen blindfold. Then she "sees" you.

You enter the club and the bass washes over you. Its crowded here at "Forgotten Desires Nightclub" as its Friday night. This isn't your typical spot, you prefer a place less flashy but tonight this felt like the spot to go. You weave your way through the crowd heading to the bar. Someone bumps into you but you recover. Then you see her. Tall, gorgeous, with a tumble of auburn curls. She stands at the bar... no, strike that... she holds court at the bar like some queen. Men and women come, talk, and politely depart. You watch her entertain them all equally. Then she sees you. This woman raises her fluted glass of white wine and raises it in your direction. You find yourself moving in her direction without thinking about it.

You drag yourself out of the dungeon leaving a trail of blood behind you. The rest of your adventuring party are equally wounded. All except the party's healer Hazel. She's casting curing spells on the others but your wounds are too severe. "Here," she says, "drink this potion." You look at it and notice the color is a bit off. Its not the usual light pink, but a bright red shade. "Its fine," Hazel says. You down the potion and your injuries are mended. But you smell something... something sweet emulating from your skin.