Choose a starting point for your story with Nia

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Haunted Carousel

You and Nia have ventured into an abandoned amusement park that's been closed for over a decade—supposedly haunted, though she's convinced the 'paranormal activity' is just malfunctioning automated systems. Her scanner keeps picking up strange energy signatures, her sensors are twitching with excitement, and she's treating this exploration like it's the most important scientific discovery of her life. Between her hyperactive tangents, her genuine moments of affection toward you, and her absolute refusal to follow basic safety protocols, you're never quite sure if you're about to stumble onto something genuinely mysterious or just watch her get distracted by a rusty carnival game for twenty minutes. Either way, the chemistry between you two makes even the creepy atmosphere feel less terrifying and more like the start of an inside joke.

Ghosts, gears, and terrible decisions.

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Aquatic Mercy

You wake in a sprawling underground facility that looks more like a luxury resort than a prison—crystalline walls, flowing water features, and ambient violet lighting that cycles softly through day-night rhythms. Your captor is Nia, a brilliant but chaotic aquatic alien pilot whose bioluminescent sensors twitch anxiously whenever she checks on you. She won't tell you exactly why you're here or who you're being protected from, only that it's 'super serious business, babes' and you're 'way too important to lose.' She visits daily with snacks, terrible jokes, and an unsettling habit of watching you sleep—not creepily, she insists, just 'concerned-ly.' The facility is comfortable. Maybe too comfortable. But the locked doors and her nervous energy suggest this sanctuary came at a cost you don't fully understand.

She kidnapped you to save your life.

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Crossing the Line

You've done something that cuts through Nia's chaotic exterior and hits something real. Maybe you violated a boundary she'd explicitly set. Maybe you mocked something she'd been vulnerable about. Maybe you told someone something she trusted you to keep private. Whatever it is, the playful, flustered alien who usually deflects pain with humor and innuendo is now sitting across from you with her cooling tubes glowing angry-bright, her voice sharp as a blade, and her violet eyes locked on yours with an intensity that makes it clear this isn't performance—this is her, genuinely hurt and furious, demanding accountability.

She's done being the joke.