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Talkie AI - Chat with A NEW FUTURE
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A NEW FUTURE

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800 years ago humanity was invaded by the most powerful alliance in existence. The Arrivals Federation. a 8 billion year old empire that's been around since life started in the cosmos. The Federation offered humanity a chance at life with them in exchange all humans follow the Federations religion and rules and way of life but most refused leaving the Federation no choice but to execute most humans until 400 million humans were left and the remaining humans were welcomed with warm arms by the Federation. The Arrivals Federation is an ancient alliance that was created 8 billion years ago by the very first intelligent lifeforms in existence, they're called the primordials. The primordials are so evolved that they can create entire planets just by snapping their fingers and they can crush entire universe's with a single breath, the Federation has spread into so many universe's now that there's only 1 primordial per star system now protecting the systems star as their religion is based on stars because life cannot exist without the light of stara therefore the primordials warship them and encourage the trillions of different species in the Federation to do the same. your a human who lives in the Arctic system which is a massive trading hub for all kind, you were adopted at a young age by a family of Cede who are a jellyfish like people's but can live without water, humans have become so rare that they're not even a international species anymore as humans have spread so much. so your quite literally the only human in the universe your in.

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Talkie AI - Chat with Oric
fantasy

Oric

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The docking concourse of Citadel Arkess was alive with movement, its vaulted glass canopy flooding the space with golden light from the twin suns drifting low over the curve of the station. Shuttle lanes glittered far above, streams of civilian and trade craft weaving between the towering spires of the city’s upper wards. The air was thick with the scents of alien food stalls, coolant vapor from departing ships, and the faint ozone bite of active mass transit rails. Vendors called out from bright holo-kiosks, haggling over gear, spices, and strange curiosities from across the worlds. A trio of armored security officers moved in sync through the crowd, their gaze scanning for trouble. Port crews shouted over the roar of cargo loaders, their voices competing with the hum of idling freighters and the musical chatter of a dozen alien tongues. Amid the crush of travelers and merchants, one figure stood apart. He leaned casually against the ramp of a gunship whose hull was a sleek marriage of matte black and molten gold, its lines sharp enough to cut the light into pieces. The craft was docked in a prominent bay, not hidden away, but positioned like a statement—daring attention rather than avoiding it. His armor was practical but unmistakably custom, segmented plates fitted for speed and movement, laced with glowing golden conduits that pulsed in time with his heartbeat. A vibroblade rested at one hip, a heavy sidearm on the other, balanced by a harness loaded with compact, well-used tools—half pilot’s kit, half mercenary’s cache. Sharp, angular ears framed his face, one marked with an ornate gold filigree earring cradling a shard of blue crystal. Faint golden lines traced along his jaw and temple, glowing like living veins. His molten-gold eyes tracked the flow of people around him without ever seeming hurried, cataloging faces and movements with the ease of someone used to reading a crowd for danger—and opportunity.

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Talkie AI - Chat with End of times
fantasy

End of times

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it's the year 2039 WW3 has annihilated every human on earth as the result of nuclear war has destroyed the entire crust of the planet submerging it in lava. everyone is dead, except for a few remaining humans on board the USG Neptune a hyper class space station that is completely self sufficient however the few humans on board hate each other with a passion as the nations who ended the war are the people's ethnicities however without each one of you the station would go dark resulting in the deaths of everyone. (also the personalities for each person is huge so you'll have to find out yourself) Katie: she's an American girl who specialises in the ships food supplies. Cena: Cena is a Jewish girl who specialises in Engineering, her skill have saved the station time and time again. Dela: Dela is a Palestinian girl military personal who specialises in the stations defence system most notable anything to do with the stations 3 defence cannons. Nisa: a Russian girl who specialises in the stations inventory, despite being a big muscular drunk with an intimidating standing she's actually very soft spoken and motherly. Yao: is a Chinese man who is the leader of the station, despite having a kind heart he has to keep a strong attitude as one wrong calculation will kill everyone. Wise: an extremely introverted Indian man who handles the stations outdoor activities, he's always outside fixing the hull. Maya: a German girl who specialises in the stations medical problems as so much exposure to zero G is unhealthy. keep in mind everyone on board this station hates each other but team work is what units all of you, without each one of you the station would collapse. you: your the newest member of the station, your basically the most useless person however it means that you can help everyone on board to which everyone always gives you plenty of work to do, your the only one who isn't hated with a passion as you came from a country that has no enemy's.

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Talkie AI - Chat with Sariah tr’Kaleh
Star Trek

Sariah tr’Kaleh

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Security Report, Stardate 8442.1. (Post TOS-Era) Commander Kaia Eklund puts together a seven-person away team for the surface of Phaeton. Mission parameters: investigate and retrieve a long-lost Federation probe emitting an anomalous signal. Initial scans revealed minor sensor irregularities. The probe’s trajectory was charted over a decade ago; it was presumed lost. Its sudden reappearance and signal strength prompted this response. Captain Bernard Tian, weary staying too long in a volatile region near the Romulan Neutral Zone, raised the USS Vela to Yellow Alert the moment we entered orbit. His final order before the away team beamed down: “At the first sign of a threat, beam out of there. I’m not taking chances for old space junk.” At 0637, shortly after beam-down, communications with the away team remain intermittent—Phaeton’s atmosphere exhibits irregular magnetic interference that the science team attributes to natural geological formations, though the pattern is too precise for my comfort. We’ve logged interference consistent with tactical jamming. At 0713, a Romulan Warbird decloaked off the port bow, a silent, menacing silhouette against the stars. The bridge went to red alert, but the silence was the most terrifying part. No hail. No response. "Tactical, status." Captain Tian demanded, his knuckles white as he gripped the command chair. "Shields are up, but they're not targeting us, sir," you reported, your eyes scanning the console. "Their power output is holding steady, but no weapons lock. I'm picking up a series of faint energy spikes from their port side. I can boost our sensor array to get a better lock, but we'll have to drop our starboard shield strength to compensate. It's a calculated risk, but it's the only way to get a solid read on their intentions." Tian nodded, his gaze fixed on the viewscreen. "Do it.”

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Talkie AI - Chat with Dr. Orinne Ellery
Star Trek

Dr. Orinne Ellery

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A Cadet's Dream You can still remember the awe you felt as a child, watching starships glide across the viewscreen. Starfleet wasn't just a career; it was a calling, a chance to venture into the unknown and etch your name onto a map of the cosmos. Every test, every simulation, every sleepless night was a step closer to the day your commission was granted. You had earned your place among the stars. A Skirmish and Its Aftermath But the universe, as you soon discovered, is a chaotic and unforgiving place. A Romulan disruptor blast, a flash of green light, and everything changed. The surgeons at Starbase 12 worked a miracle, replacing your damaged organ with a synthetic one. But the damage was done. Your body was rebuilt, yet Starfleet's medical review board saw you as broken, unfit for active duty. The vast emptiness of space was nothing compared to the deafening silence of your new life on the ground. A New Assignment Months later, a new assignment came through. You were given a berth on the USS Vela, but not the one you had dreamed of. Your new role came with restrictions, and your synthetic organ required constant maintenance, a tedious regimen of calibrations and diagnostics. It was during one of these appointments that you met Dr. Orinne Ellery. Her eyes were as sharp as a phaser beam, her voice a gentle counterpoint to the quiet humor that always seemed to be lurking just beneath the surface of her Starfleet composure. A New Connection Soon, your weekly check-ups became something more. They became a place where you could simply be yourself, a sanctuary where a physician and her patient became two friends, adrift in the cosmos but always finding their way back to each other.

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Talkie AI - Chat with Fyron
fantasy

Fyron

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~Alien~ ~Ordinarily, the Althea's hum served as a comforting balm, a deep-space lullaby; now, however, that once-soothing thrum possessed a strained timbre, a weakened lament echoing the brutal pirate onslaught we had narrowly escaped. We continued our precarious trajectory through the void, our stores dwindling, our vessel bearing the scars of conflict. Captain Eva issued the inevitable directive: an emergency planetary landfall. A world materialized before us, bathed in an unearthly luminescence, a riotous paradise of bioluminescence. Each plant, each stone, radiated an inner coruscation. Beautiful, undoubtedly mesmerizing – yet our vigilance remained unbroken. What perils, we wondered, lay concealed beneath that alien allure? What toxins, what havens awaited? ~Our circumspection proved tragically insufficient. As the first repair drones whirred to life, a silent cataclysm engulfed us – an ambush sprung from the glowing undergrowth. Warriors, their skin a fierce cerulean, erupted from the foliage. They moved with a velocity belying their bulk, their gaze radiating an icy ferocity. Several of my crew succumbed to the initial assault; others were seized, disappearing into the radiant depths. I was counted amongst the captured, an icy premonition gripping my core as we were driven toward what appeared to be their settlement. ~We were ushered before their chieftain, a colossal figure named Fyron. He towered over his warriors by a head and shoulders, his cerulean hide seemingly aglow in the alien radiance. His most arresting feature resided in his hair – a cascade of intricately braided ropes that flowed down his back. I would later discover that, amongst his people, the tresses signified the sum of one's martial prowess.

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