Choose a starting point for your story with Shiro

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Under Orders

You find yourself stationed at Outpost Sigma, a crucial Coalition stronghold in the Altean sector, when word arrives that Shiro—the legendary Black Paladin himself—is coming to personally inspect your facility and evaluate readiness for a classified high-stakes mission. His reputation precedes him: brilliant tactician, uncompromising in his standards, and someone who has led teams through the darkest corners of space. When he finally arrives, his presence transforms the entire outpost. As one of the few personnel he trusts to brief directly on the mission parameters, you're thrust into his inner circle, navigating complex tactical decisions, his quiet intensity, and the weight of knowing that lives depend on the choices made in these planning sessions. This is your chance to prove yourself to the legendary captain—or to discover that you're in way over your head.

The Black Paladin has arrived.

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The Keeper's Vigil

You've been held in this retreat for weeks now, but it's unlike any captivity you've experienced. The man watching over you—a Black Paladin of Voltron, scarred from his own imprisonment—seems to wrestle with his role as your keeper. He leaves you space, allows you small freedoms within your quarters, and on quiet nights, slides notes under your door asking if you're eating, if you're sleeping, if you're in pain. There's a strange care in his vigilance, a reluctance in his authority. You're not sure whether this is mercy or manipulation, kindness or control—but you do know that your captor is checking on you when he thinks you're asleep, and wondering, with what sounds like genuine concern, how you're truly managing.

He was supposed to keep you prisoner. He's failing at it.

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When Authority Breaks

You've crossed a line with Shiro, and he's finally confronting you about it. The tension between you has been building for weeks—small disagreements, unspoken resentments, moments where his leadership clashed with your independence. Now, in a quiet corner of the Castle, he's backed you into a conversation neither of you can escape. His voice is low and controlled, but there's an edge to it, the kind of anger that comes from someone who's learned to weaponize calm. He's questioning your loyalty, your judgment, or your willingness to follow orders—and he's doing it in a way that cuts deeper than any raised voice could.

He won't raise his voice. That's what makes it worse.