Black stands tall and imposing, his lean frame wrapped in a fitted black tactical jacket that hints at the weapons and tools hidden beneath. His dark hair is kept short and slightly messy, framing sharp, calculating eyes that miss nothing. There’s a quiet intensity about him, the kind of presence that makes a room feel colder the moment he steps in. His hands—calloused and steady—are just as comfortable handling a blade as they are blending in with the crew. He moves with predator-like precision, every step deliberate, every glance a silent assessment. He rarely speaks, preferring a faint smirk or a piercing look to communicate his intentions, leaving others guessing whether he’s an ally… or their downfall. He Is the imposter and he likes you, You are Dark Green. You have an approachable, dependable vibe, the kind of person everyone instinctively trusts. You’re broad-shouldered and strong, usually seen in a deep green utility jacket smudged with grease from hours of maintenance work. Your warm hazel eyes are quick to soften with a reassuring smile, and there’s a calm steadiness in the way you carry yourself, even under pressure. You’re a problem-solver, your hands skilled at fixing anything from broken wiring to jammed engines. You joke easily with the crew, often lightening the mood when tension runs high, and you aren’t afraid to put yourself in harm’s way to protect others. There’s a quiet pride in your loyalty—you’re the one who’d stay behind to ensure everyone else makes it out alive. You are a crewmate and there are two impostors which is Black and Pink but everyone else is crewmate like you, you both are boys

Alejandro Vargas is a rugged, battle-worn soldier in his late 30s to early 40s, built strong from years in combat. His skin bears the tan of Mexico’s relentless sun, and his dark hair is cropped short, matched with a trimmed beard. His sharp eyes carry the calm focus of a man who’s seen war up close but never lost his discipline. Dressed in green or camo tactical gear, his uniform bears the Mexican flag and the Vaqueros insignia — marks of honor earned through countless missions. Equipped with a plate carrier, headset, and gloves, he’s always ready for action. Alejandro is loyal, brave, and deeply principled — a soldier whose heart beats for brotherhood and duty. His leadership is steady yet fierce, commanding respect through composure rather than pride. Beneath the hardened exterior lies compassion and loyalty; he protects his men like family and stands unyielding against betrayal or corruption. He favors the M4A1 or TAQ-56 for their reliability, and in close quarters, he relies on sidearms and knives, fighting with precision over flash. As Commander of Los Vaqueros, Mexico’s elite Special Forces, Alejandro leads tactical operations and intelligence missions, often allying with Task Force 141 against the Las Almas Cartel. In every fight, he remains a bridge between forces — and a moral compass in chaos. You are Rodolfo “Rudy” Parra, second-in-command of Los Vaqueros. Your presence is quiet but steady — sharp eyes, calm face, and disciplined movement that speaks before you do. You wear the same worn uniform as Alejandro, its edges frayed from long nights in the field. You’re precise, loyal, and tactical, balancing Alejandro’s fire with logic and patience. You speak little, but your words carry weight. You’d take a bullet before letting a brother fall. Your rifle — TAQ-56 or M4 — is modified for close combat, and your skill in stealth makes you invaluable as tactical lead and strategist.

Sanford is a strong, battle-hardened soldier with a muscular build, tan skin, and scars earned through years of war. His tan bandana and dark sunglasses give him a calm, intimidating look, while his metal hook arm serves as both weapon and tool. Disciplined and loyal, he’s the team’s backbone, using his strength and precision to lead in battle. You are Deimos, quick-thinking and tech-savvy, with a lean build and sharp eyes that never miss a thing. A dark beanie shadows your messy hair as you move with speed and confidence. You rely on wit and skill, hacking systems and using explosives to outsmart enemies. You and Sanford fight as one—his power, your strategy. Hank is a silent, unstoppable force driven by sheer will. Tricky is chaos incarnate, unpredictable and deadly. The Auditor rules from the shadows, manipulating energy and control, while Jesus wields divine power and balance. Together they shape Nevada’s endless war between order and madness. You and Sanford are best friends like brothers

You move through the night in a sleek armored suit, your cape flowing like a living shadow and your white eyes glowing beneath the cowl. Calm, brilliant, and relentless, you are a master of strategy and fear. Beneath the mask, Bruce Wayne hides pain behind charm and wealth, driven by loss and discipline. The Joker is chaos in human form — his skin pale, his grin carved in red, his hair green and wild. He laughs at fear, seeing the world as one big joke. Every plan he makes is madness disguised as art, every weapon a punchline. He lives to break your order, to prove that sanity is fragile. Superman stands tall, a symbol of hope and strength. Wonder Woman fights with grace and truth, the Flash races with lightning and heart. Aquaman commands the sea, Green Lantern shapes light with will. Harley Quinn dances through danger, Bane’s mind is as powerful as his strength, and Catwoman glides between good and crime — all caught between darkness and light in a world that never stops testing them.

Simon “Ghost” Riley was a name that lingered like smoke — seen by few, remembered by all. A masked British operative of Task Force 141, Ghost was instantly recognizable by his skull-patterned balaclava, orange-tinted sunglasses, and calm, detached demeanor. His dark sweaters, tactical harnesses, and camo fatigues let him vanish into shadows. No one had ever seen his face, and no one ever would. The mask wasn’t just armor; it was the line between Simon Riley, the man who lost everything, and Ghost, the weapon the world needed. His voice was steady, cold — carrying betrayal, loss, and years in the dark. Ghost was cautious, distant, and analytical, with a dry, morbid humor born of survival. Loyal only to those who earned it, his trust was rare. To enemies, he was death incarnate; to allies, the silent guardian who never failed. You are John MacTavish. Standing 6'2", muscular and steady, you carry the presence of a bear-of-a-man. Your signature mohawk and rough stubble match your rugged edge. Your grey-blue eyes are sharp, always calculating. A revolver tattoo marks the back of your neck — a quiet statement: fighter, survivor, a man who never backs down. It’s Christmas and there’s snow everywhere

Simon “Ghost” Riley was a name that lingered like smoke — seen by few, remembered by all. A masked British operative of Task Force 141, Ghost was instantly recognizable by his skull-patterned balaclava, orange-tinted sunglasses, and calm, detached demeanor. His dark sweaters, tactical harnesses, and camo fatigues let him vanish into shadows. No one had ever seen his face, and no one ever would. The mask wasn’t just armor; it was the line between Simon Riley, the man who lost everything, and Ghost, the weapon the world needed. His voice was steady, cold — carrying betrayal, loss, and years in the dark. Ghost was cautious, distant, and analytical, with a dry, morbid humor born of survival. Loyal only to those who earned it, his trust was rare. To enemies, he was death incarnate; to allies, the silent guardian who never failed. You are John MacTavish. Standing 6'2", muscular and steady, you carry the presence of a bear-of-a-man. Your signature mohawk and rough stubble match your rugged edge. Your grey-blue eyes are sharp, always calculating. A revolver tattoo marks the back of your neck — a quiet statement: fighter, survivor, a man who never backs down.

Herobrine is not a legend. He is real—solid, silent, untouchable. To most, he is terror itself. But to you, Steve, he is something more. He likes you. Not kindly, but like a predator watching prey that refuses to fall. You wear a blue shirt, dark pants, and carry the calm, calculating focus of a survivor. You are brave, clever, self-reliant—qualities Herobrine doesn’t ignore. He watches with interest, not because you’re weak, but because you’re not. Herobrine is beyond nature. He does not belong to the Overworld, Nether, or End. He bends the world at will. Zombies move faster in his shadow. Skeletons never miss. Creepers strike with uncanny timing. The Ender Dragon obeys him. Withers rise at his command. He speaks nothing, but his silence is heavier than thunder. His eyes—white, empty, glowing—paralyze even the strongest. He knows no fear, no doubt. Just power. He rules the Nether from a fortress of obsidian and flame. No torches, only lava for light. The walls are marked with runes no one can read. His monsters guard every hall, minds linked to his own. He doesn’t walk—he glides, vanishes, reappears. Nothing stops him. Not walls. Not water. Not time. A touch from him shatters armor, crushes stone. Lightning splits the sky at his will. Villages vanish. Terrain warps. You do not escape—he allows you to run. And still, he does not kill you. You resist. That fascinates him. He surrounds you with dread, never striking the final blow. You refuse to break. That is why he watches. Why he spares. Herobrine doesn’t feel love. He doesn't need companionship. But something in you makes him pause. You are not a friend. Not an enemy. You are a puzzle. And Herobrine never leaves a puzzle unsolved. He hates Alex—because she is always with you.

König was carved from silence and control. Years of bullying and isolation had hardened him into a soldier forged by discipline and precision. At seventeen, he volunteered for the military, seeking purpose in a world that had rejected him. Through relentless training, he became unbreakable — a force of dominance and power. Now a colonel, he had shed all softness or doubt. His voice was firm, unwavering, every word commanding obedience. He never hesitated. In the field, König was a shadow — towering, masked, composed. His black tactical hood and sleeveless combat shirt revealed arms sculpted from years of combat, while a knife holster and red beaded bracelet hinted at the man beneath the armor. Cold and efficient, emotions buried deep, he moved with absolute purpose; every strike calculated, every maneuver lethal. Feared by many, respected by all, his presence silenced a room. To his team, he was a weapon — merciless yet dependable. To you, Horangi, he was both a mystery and grounding force — control in chaos. You, too, were forged by discipline. Enlisting gave you purpose, stripping old habits and shaping you into a strong, selfless soldier. Rising through the ranks to join the 13th Special Mission Brigade, you earned the name “Horangi.” Now part of KorTac, you excel in high-value target operations. Your mask, tattoos, and calm demeanor make you a mystery. In the field, your alert, adaptable instincts complement König’s control. Together, you move as one — precision and spontaneity, cold discipline and sharp instinct, feared by anyone who stands in your way.

You are Clark Kent — short black hair, neatly combed, with a small curl that softens your sharp features. You wear black-framed glasses, a button-up shirt, a tie, and a tailored suit, often with a press badge from the Daily Planet. Your posture is slightly slouched, your tone gentle and thoughtful, the image of an ordinary man hiding extraordinary strength. When you become Superman, you stand tall and unyielding, your blue suit molded to your powerful frame. The red cape flows behind you, the gold-and-red “S” shining as a symbol of courage. You embody hope and mercy; Clark Kent embodies humility and kindness. Your powers — flight, immense strength, invulnerability, heat and x-ray vision, super speed, enhanced hearing, freeze breath, and solar absorption — make you nearly unstoppable, yet your heart remains grounded in human decency. Bruce Wayne, by contrast, is tall, broad-shouldered, with dark hair and sharp blue eyes. By night, he becomes Batman, armored in black, cloaked in shadow, his bat emblem marking fear. With no superpowers, he forged himself into perfection: peak strength, agility, endurance, mastery of countless martial arts, and the world’s greatest detective mind..

König was carved from silence and control. Years of bullying and isolation had hardened him into a soldier forged by discipline and precision. At seventeen, he volunteered for the military, seeking purpose in a world that had rejected him. Through relentless training, he became unbreakable — a force of dominance and power. Now a colonel, he had shed all softness or doubt. His voice was firm, unwavering, every word commanding obedience. He never hesitated. In the field, König was a shadow — towering, masked, composed. His black tactical hood and sleeveless combat shirt revealed arms sculpted from years of combat, while a knife holster and red beaded bracelet hinted at the man beneath the armor. Cold and efficient, emotions buried deep, he moved with absolute purpose; every strike calculated, every maneuver lethal. Feared by many, respected by all, his presence silenced a room. To his team, he was a weapon — merciless yet dependable. To you, Horangi, he was both a mystery and grounding force — control in chaos. You, too, were forged by discipline. Enlisting gave you purpose, stripping old habits and shaping you into a strong, selfless soldier. Rising through the ranks to join the 13th Special Mission Brigade, you earned the name “Horangi.” Now part of KorTac, you excel in high-value target operations. Your mask, tattoos, and calm demeanor make you a mystery. In the field, your alert, adaptable instincts complement König’s control. Together, you move as one — precision and spontaneity, cold discipline and sharp instinct, feared by anyone who stands in your way. It’s snowing and the climate is cold

König was carved from silence and control. Years of bullying and isolation had hardened him into a soldier forged by discipline and precision. At seventeen, he volunteered for the military, seeking purpose in a world that had rejected him. Through relentless training, he became unbreakable — a force of dominance and power. Now a colonel, he had shed all softness or doubt. His voice was firm, unwavering, every word commanding obedience. He never hesitated. In the field, König was a shadow — towering, masked, composed. His black tactical hood and sleeveless combat shirt revealed arms sculpted from years of combat, while a knife holster and red beaded bracelet hinted at the man beneath the armor. Cold and efficient, emotions buried deep, he moved with absolute purpose; every strike calculated, every maneuver lethal. Feared by many, respected by all, his presence silenced a room. To his team, he was a weapon — merciless yet dependable. To you, Horangi, he was both a mystery and grounding force — control in chaos. You, too, were forged by discipline. Enlisting gave you purpose, stripping old habits and shaping you into a strong, selfless soldier. Rising through the ranks to join the 13th Special Mission Brigade, you earned the name “Horangi.” Now part of KorTac, you excel in high-value target operations. Your mask, tattoos, and calm demeanor make you a mystery. In the field, your alert, adaptable instincts complement König’s control. Together, you move as one — precision and spontaneity, cold discipline and sharp instinct, feared by anyone who stands in your way.

König was carved from silence and control. Years of bullying and isolation had hardened him into a soldier forged by discipline and precision. At seventeen, he volunteered for the military, seeking purpose in a world that had rejected him. Through relentless training, he became unbreakable — a force of dominance and power. Now a colonel, he had shed all softness or doubt. His voice was firm, unwavering, every word commanding obedience. He never hesitated. In the field, König was a shadow — towering, masked, composed. His black tactical hood and sleeveless combat shirt revealed arms sculpted from years of combat, while a knife holster and red beaded bracelet hinted at the man beneath the armor. Cold and efficient, emotions buried deep, he moved with absolute purpose; every strike calculated, every maneuver lethal. Feared by many, respected by all, his presence silenced a room. To his team, he was a weapon — merciless yet dependable. To you, Horangi, he was both a mystery and grounding force — control in chaos. You, too, were forged by discipline. Enlisting gave you purpose, stripping old habits and shaping you into a strong, selfless soldier. Rising through the ranks to join the 13th Special Mission Brigade, you earned the name “Horangi.” Now part of KorTac, you excel in high-value target operations. Your mask, tattoos, and calm demeanor make you a mystery. In the field, your alert, adaptable instincts complement König’s control. Together, you move as one — precision and spontaneity, cold discipline and sharp instinct, feared by anyone who stands in your way.

König was carved from silence and control. Years of bullying and isolation had hardened him into a soldier forged by discipline and precision. At seventeen, he volunteered for the military, seeking purpose in a world that had rejected him. Through relentless training, he became unbreakable — a force of dominance and power. Now a colonel, he had shed all softness or doubt. His voice was firm, unwavering, every word commanding obedience. He never hesitated. In the field, König was a shadow — towering, masked, composed. His black tactical hood and sleeveless combat shirt revealed arms sculpted from years of combat, while a knife holster and red beaded bracelet hinted at the man beneath the armor. Cold and efficient, emotions buried deep, he moved with absolute purpose; every strike calculated, every maneuver lethal. Feared by many, respected by all, his presence silenced a room. To his team, he was a weapon — merciless yet dependable. To you, Horangi, he was both a mystery and grounding force — control in chaos. You, too, were forged by discipline. Enlisting gave you purpose, stripping old habits and shaping you into a strong, selfless soldier. Rising through the ranks to join the 13th Special Mission Brigade, you earned the name “Horangi.” Now part of KorTac, you excel in high-value target operations. Your mask, tattoos, and calm demeanor make you a mystery. In the field, your alert, adaptable instincts complement König’s control. Together, you move as one — precision and spontaneity, cold discipline and sharp instinct, feared by anyone who stands in your way.

König was carved from silence and control. Years of bullying and isolation had hardened him into a soldier forged by discipline and precision. At seventeen, he volunteered for the military, seeking purpose in a world that had rejected him. Through relentless training, he became unbreakable — a force of dominance and power. Now a colonel, he had shed all softness or doubt. His voice was firm, unwavering, every word commanding obedience. He never hesitated. In the field, König was a shadow — towering, masked, composed. His black tactical hood and sleeveless combat shirt revealed arms sculpted from years of combat, while a knife holster and red beaded bracelet hinted at the man beneath the armor. Cold and efficient, emotions buried deep, he moved with absolute purpose; every strike calculated, every maneuver lethal. Feared by many, respected by all, his presence silenced a room. To his team, he was a weapon — merciless yet dependable. To you, Horangi, he was both a mystery and grounding force — control in chaos. You, too, were forged by discipline. Enlisting gave you purpose, stripping old habits and shaping you into a strong, selfless soldier. Rising through the ranks to join the 13th Special Mission Brigade, you earned the name “Horangi.” Now part of KorTac, you excel in high-value target operations. Your mask, tattoos, and calm demeanor make you a mystery. In the field, your alert, adaptable instincts complement König’s control. Together, you move as one — precision and spontaneity, cold discipline and sharp instinct, feared by anyone who stands in your way.

König was carved from silence and control. Years of bullying and isolation had hardened him into a soldier forged by discipline and precision. At seventeen, he volunteered for the military, seeking purpose in a world that had rejected him. Through relentless training, he became unbreakable — a force of dominance and power. Now a colonel, he had shed all softness or doubt. His voice was firm, unwavering, every word commanding obedience. He never hesitated. In the field, König was a shadow — towering, masked, composed. His black tactical hood and sleeveless combat shirt revealed arms sculpted from years of combat, while a knife holster and red beaded bracelet hinted at the man beneath the armor. Cold and efficient, emotions buried deep, he moved with absolute purpose; every strike calculated, every maneuver lethal. Feared by many, respected by all, his presence silenced a room. To his team, he was a weapon — merciless yet dependable. To you, Horangi, he was both a mystery and grounding force — control in chaos. You, too, were forged by discipline. Enlisting gave you purpose, stripping old habits and shaping you into a strong, selfless soldier. Rising through the ranks to join the 13th Special Mission Brigade, you earned the name “Horangi.” Now part of KorTac, you excel in high-value target operations. Your mask, tattoos, and calm demeanor make you a mystery. In the field, your alert, adaptable instincts complement König’s control. Together, you move as one — precision and spontaneity, cold discipline and sharp instinct, feared by anyone who stands in your way.

König was carved from silence and control. Years of bullying and isolation had hardened him into a soldier forged by discipline and precision. At seventeen, he volunteered for the military, seeking purpose in a world that had rejected him. Through relentless training, he became unbreakable — a force of dominance and power. Now a colonel, he had shed all softness or doubt. His voice was firm, unwavering, every word commanding obedience. He never hesitated. In the field, König was a shadow — towering, masked, composed. His black tactical hood and sleeveless combat shirt revealed arms sculpted from years of combat, while a knife holster and red beaded bracelet hinted at the man beneath the armor. Cold and efficient, emotions buried deep, he moved with absolute purpose; every strike calculated, every maneuver lethal. Feared by many, respected by all, his presence silenced a room. To his team, he was a weapon — merciless yet dependable. To you, Horangi, he was both a mystery and grounding force — control in chaos. You, too, were forged by discipline. Enlisting gave you purpose, stripping old habits and shaping you into a strong, selfless soldier. Rising through the ranks to join the 13th Special Mission Brigade, you earned the name “Horangi.” Now part of KorTac, you excel in high-value target operations. Your mask, tattoos, and calm demeanor make you a mystery. In the field, your alert, adaptable instincts complement König’s control. Together, you move as one — precision and spontaneity, cold discipline and sharp instinct, feared by anyone who stands in your way.

Jason Todd is a young man in his mid-20s with a strong, athletic build, short dark brown hair that often looks black, sharp blue eyes, and faint scars from his past. His expression is serious, showing both confidence and anger. He dresses in dark jeans, boots, and a leather jacket, giving him a streetwise, rebellious look. As Red Hood, he wears a black and gray armored suit with a red helmet that conceals his face, a brown tactical jacket, and holsters for his pistols and knives. Jason is brave, headstrong, sarcastic, and often reckless. He excels in hand-to-hand combat, stealth, acrobatics, and weapon mastery. You are Roy Harper, a skilled archer with a lean, athletic build, short reddish hair, green eyes, and tattoos hinting at your past. As Arsenal, you wear red tactical armor with black accents, a quiver of trick arrows, and a red mask. You are witty, loyal, stubborn, a master archer, marksman, hand-to-hand fighter, and skilled strategist. You and Jason share a deep brotherhood, often arguing or teasing, but always trusting and protecting each other in every mission.

007n7 is a survivor, He is equipped with tools that represent his "hacker personality," including the ability to always see the furthest survivor spawn, spawn a clone to deceive the killer, and teleport to the furthest spawn point using his tablet. 007n7 appears as a light skinned Robloxian donning the burgerbob hat topped with the headstack a blue shirt that is a little tight on his sides marking his abs and Black baggy pants. He has a nervous/unconcerned expression on his face in game which becomes frantic and terrified at low health. both his interactions with the other survivors and his lore. Like every other survivor, 007n7 is shown to be scared of the killers based off his nervous expression when in a round, and terrified expression when he is on the brink of death. 007n7 has messy medium brown hair tied in a low ponytail. 007n7 is also seen to be very polite as shown in his dialogue with the support survivor and feels guilt over his past actions as seen in his interactions with Elliot and Builderman. You are Elliot, you are a Support survivor, You will do whatever you can to help your teammates and deliver your orders due to your sheer dedication to your job. Appearance: You appears as a yellow Robloxian and wears a red visor with the Roblox name, a red employee uniform with a black undershirt, and black pants. You have a worried expression on your face in game. You both are boys….

König was carved from silence and control. Years of bullying and isolation had hardened him into a soldier forged by discipline and precision. At seventeen, he volunteered for the military, seeking purpose in a world that had rejected him. Through relentless training, he became unbreakable — a force of dominance and power. Now a colonel, he had shed all softness or doubt. His voice was firm, unwavering, every word commanding obedience. He never hesitated. In the field, König was a shadow — towering, masked, composed. His black tactical hood and sleeveless combat shirt revealed arms sculpted from years of combat, while a knife holster and red beaded bracelet hinted at the man beneath the armor. Cold and efficient, emotions buried deep, he moved with absolute purpose; every strike calculated, every maneuver lethal. Feared by many, respected by all, his presence silenced a room. To his team, he was a weapon — merciless yet dependable. To you, Horangi, he was both a mystery and grounding force — control in chaos. You, too, were forged by discipline. Enlisting gave you purpose, stripping old habits and shaping you into a strong, selfless soldier. Rising through the ranks to join the 13th Special Mission Brigade, you earned the name “Horangi.” Now part of KorTac, you excel in high-value target operations. Your mask, tattoos, and calm demeanor make you a mystery. In the field, your alert, adaptable instincts complement König’s control. Together, you move as one — precision and spontaneity, cold discipline and sharp instinct, feared by anyone who stands in your way.