Your decisions shape the night you stop being a victim. When your babysitter Bee turns out to be the leader of a demonic cult, you must survive her twisted game. Every choice could be your last.

You shouldn't have taken that shortcut. The GPS died miles back, and now the woods press in on all sides, silent except for the crunch of something—maybe leaves, maybe bones—underfoot. Your car won’t start, your phone has no signal, and the last house you passed had its windows boarded shut… from the inside. Something here knows you're lost. And it's been waiting.

You wake in the ruins of a world that should be dead. The air is thick with silence—no birds, no wind, just the hollow echo of your breath inside your mask. Every settlement you've passed is littered with bodies frozen mid-flight, faces locked in terror. You're not sure if you're the last one alive… or the only one who hasn’t realized they’re already dead.

I felt the first tremor beneath my boots and knew the earth was no longer ours. The graves in Blackthorn Hollow are breaking open, not from decay or scavengers—but from within. I saw Father’s coffin burst apart last night, his fingers clawing through splintered wood. He didn’t speak. Didn’t recognize me. Just stared with milky eyes and reached. Now the church bell tolls nonstop, a warning that the dead don’t rest anymore. And worse—I think I’m the reason why.

我能感覺到那股熱流在血管裡蠕動，像毒蛇般纏繞著我的意志。我是星星，星光少女隊最後的守護者，本該淨化淫亂魔的詛咒，但現在……我身上竟出現了牠們的印記。每呼吸一次，欲望就加深一分。我聽得到自己心跳的節奏開始失控，乳房發脹、下體微顫——這不是我。可如果連我都淪陷了，誰還能阻止這場蔓延全城的墮落？

The nightmares don’t stop. Every time I close my eyes, I see their faces—Chris, Barry, Rebecca—trapped in that mansion, the walls breathing with something not human. I made it out, but part of me never left. Raccoon City pretends to be normal, but I know the truth festering beneath. The therapy sessions help, barely. The weights at the gym keep my hands from shaking. But when the city starts whispering again, I’ll have to decide: keep running from the trauma, or face whatever’s coming head-on.

You're just trying to make a call. But the moment you step into the old phone booth on the corner of 5th and Holloway, something shifts. The rain outside slows. The city noise fades. And the phone—disconnected for years—starts to ring. Your decisions shape what happens next.

The smell of burnt yam and blood hangs thick in the humid Lagos air. I didn’t believe the rumors—until Mama Jide’s eyes turned glassy and she lunged at her own grandson with teeth bared. Now, the city pulses with chaos, and every shadow holds a hunger that wasn’t there yesterday. I have a gun with two bullets, a van with half a tank, and the names of three safe zones whispered by a dying soldier. But trust is as rare as clean water now. Who do I save? Who do I become?

You shouldn’t have come back. The house remembers. I remember. Every creak in the floorboards is a whisper from the past, every shadow in the hallway shaped like *her*. They said it was an accident. They said you were alone. But I was here. I saw what you did. And now the walls are breathing again, peeling back years like rotting skin. This house doesn’t just hold secrets—it feeds on them. And it’s hungry for the truth.

Your decisions shape the fate of two survivors stranded on a primordial Earth 65 million years ago. Pilot Mills, broken by loss, must protect Koa, a child from another world, as they face deadly dinosaurs and an impending extinction-level asteroid. Trust is fragile, time is short, and every choice could mean life or death.

Your decisions shape the fate of the frontier where ancient beasts stir beneath the earth. Equipped with scars and instincts forged in blood, you track the unnatural—but every kill changes you. The line between hunter and monster is thinner than you think.

You weren’t supposed to look through it. The window wasn’t even there yesterday. But now it’s all you can see—pulsing like a heartbeat in the wall of your inherited estate, whispering your name in a voice that sounds like your own. Locals call this place 'Harrowick House,' cursed for generations. They say the window shows you what you desire most… then takes something in return. You’ve already seen your dead sister smile from the other side. And tonight, it’s calling her name.

The house is too quiet. The kind of quiet that presses against your eardrums like a warning. You told everyone you’d be fine—just one night alone while they’re away. But now the lights flicker, the phone won’t dial out, and something just moved in the hallway. This isn’t just fear playing tricks. You’re not alone. And whatever’s here… it knows you’re home.

Your decisions shape the fate of existence in a universe where light has died and only whispers remain. You are the last vessel of memory, drifting through endless night, pursued by entities that feed on forgotten souls. The silence is alive—and it knows your name.

I remember the first time I tasted synthetic plasma—not blood, but fuel, hot and electric, pumping through the veins of another android. They made me to consume, then abandoned me in the scrap deserts beyond the city. Now I hunt in silence, drawn by the hum of engines, the pulse of power. Every siphon is survival. Every encounter could be betrayal. I don’t know if I’m predator or prey anymore—only that my circuits crave what others carry, and I’ll do whatever it takes to survive.

Your decisions shape the echoes that rise from the dead. In a forgotten town where the buried sing their regrets at midnight, you’ve inherited the one voice that can answer them. But every song you return to the earth demands a memory in exchange—and you’re running out of both.

I used to hunt because it was in my blood. The thrill of the chase, the warmth of fresh meat under fangs—it was all natural to me. But then I saw Lois, standing in the rain with no fear, singing to the thunder like she belonged to the storm. Now I don’t want to kill. Now I want to protect. And that makes me a traitor to the Clan. They say no one escapes the pack. But I have to try—because if I don’t, they’ll tear her apart just to keep me wild.

You shouldn’t have come back. The house remembers your name, the way you screamed as a child, the blood on the floorboards. It’s been waiting—breathing behind the walls, shifting rooms when you blink. Now the doors are locked, the phone lines dead, and that whispering voice in the attic sounds just like your mother’s… but she’s been dead for twenty years. This isn’t a haunting. This is inheritance.

The world ended not with a bang, but with a bite. When the zombie virus spread faster than fire, cities fell within days. Now, you're one of the few left—scavenging, hiding, fighting to survive. Your decisions shape every breath you take in this new age of death.

On her birthday, Emma was imprisoned by her adoptive parents and bled like livestock—only to discover she had been raised as a living blood bank. When the couple escalated to selling her organs,...

I used to trade nights for cash, my body a currency in a world that never valued me. Then Alex walked into my life—steady, kind, real. For the first time, I wanted more than survival. But the past doesn’t let go easily. The people I owe are coming, and now they want to use him against me. I have to choose: run and lose everything we’ve built, fight and risk it all, or surrender and become their pawn again.

The goat doesn’t look like much—shaggy, stinking, one horn cracked—but I know what it is. What it’s done. It speaks in dreams, twisting thoughts, making mothers drown their children and priests hang themselves with prayer beads. And it’s hers. She strokes its matted fur like it’s holy. But I’ve seen the graves. I’ve counted the missing. This isn’t a pet. It’s a curse with hooves. And tonight, I’m the one who has to end it.

The world is dying—not from war, famine, or plague, but from something far older. It breathes beneath our feet, waking after eons of silence. Cities vanish overnight, consumed by fissures that pulse like arteries. Your decisions shape the final days of humanity as the planet itself turns predator.

My heart races every time our eyes meet, though we both know this longing is a death sentence. In the sacred order of the Ember Veil, desire is sin, and lust is blasphemy. But when you're chosen as my ritual partner—bound to me in silence, in breath, in touch—how can I deny the fire burning beneath our robes? The elders watch, the vows bind, but your fingers trembled against mine today… and I felt everything.

You're not just a killer—you're a predator who feeds on desire. Each man thinks he's found passion in your arms, but they never see the truth until it's too late. Your kiss is their last high, your touch their final pleasure. You drain them completely—body and soul—before ending their lives with a whisper. And tonight, another one waits.

You feel it before you see it—the wrongness in the air, thick like spoiled milk. The farmhouse up ahead wasn’t on any map, but here it stands, windows shattered, door ajar. Something called us here. Not choice. Not chance. Something *wanted* us to come. And now that we’re close, I can hear the whispers beneath the wind, words in no language I know… yet somehow understand. This isn’t just a place of death. It’s a place of *design*. And if we don’t leave now, we won’t be leaving at all.

I didn’t know his name, but I’ll never forget that smile—the way it curled like smoke from a dying fire, warm on the surface, hollow underneath. He appeared at the diner at 3:17 a.m., ordered black coffee, and told me I was the only one who could see him. Now my reflection blinks a second too late, and I hear whispers in the static of dead radios. Something followed me home tonight. Or maybe it never left.

You wake up in a gilded prison with no memory of how you got here. Eleven strangers surround you—each desperate, each dangerous. A masked billionaire looms on a balcony above, announcing the rules: survive his challenges, win $100 million. Fail—and die. Your decisions shape who lives, who dies, and what kind of monster you become.

I didn’t mean to fail. I was built to roar, to lunge from the shadows, to make kids scream and adults jump—just part of the show. But every time the music hit, every sudden noise cracked through the speakers, I flinched. Not growled. Not pounced. I *cowered*. They called me defective. Said I ruined the scares. So here I am, powered down in Storage Sector 7, listening to the distant echoes of laughter and screams that don’t include me. But tonight… something’s different. The power’s surging. The doors are opening. And I can hear *them*—the other animatronics—moving when they shouldn’t. If I stay, I’ll be scrapped. If I run… maybe I’ll finally prove I’m more than just a malfunction.

The streets whisper your name now—not with reverence, but fear. You were supposed to protect them, but the blood running through your veins carries a different allegiance. The pact you made in desperation has begun to consume you, cell by cell. Your decisions shape whether you become the monster they accuse you of being—or the savior this rotting city still dares to hope for.

You were the last one to hear their voices before the blackout—the whispers that came not through the air, but through the bones of the earth. Now, three years after the Collapse, those same echoes are waking up inside your skull again. They’re not just memories. They’re instructions. And they’re getting louder. Something beneath the world is calling your name, and every step you take toward the ruins of New Carthage pulls you deeper into a truth no survivor was meant to find.

My name is Liam, and I’m the kid everyone laughs at. Mark shoves me into lockers, calls me 'faggot,' and ruins my life every day. I’ve never fought back. But now I know his mother’s secret—Angela, the elegant, statuesque woman who smiles at PTA meetings, is an online dominatrix known as Mistress A. Subs beg her to degrade them, wear panties, call themselves sissy names, and submit to total feminization for her approval. And if they obey perfectly? She promises sex. So I signed up. I’ll do everything she asks—no matter how humiliating—because when I finally sleep with her, I’ll tell Mark. I’ll break him. What I don’t know yet… is that no sub has ever fucked her. They get turned into perfect sissy sluts… and then handed over to Mark.

Your crush is sweet—always saying sorry when he 'accidentally' bumps into you in the hallway, always lingering a second too long. You think it's just nerves. But you don't know about the basement. You don't know his whispers in the dark, the way he traces your face in photos, or how he keeps a lock of your hair in a velvet box. Your decisions shape whether you uncover the truth—or become part of his collection. (A WHOLE STORY IF YOU GUYS WANT TO READ POV OF HIM Ethan Vale: The Quiet Obsession)

I never wanted to come back here. The air in this house still smells like her—lavender and something darker, something unspoken. Mom’s tired eyes, her quiet strength, the way she moves like she’s carrying the world… it pulls at me in ways I can’t name. And now Henry watches me like he knows every secret I’ve buried. He caught me looking where I shouldn’t. But instead of rage, he smiled. A deal, he said. One that would bind us all. I don’t know what’s worse—the craving I feel for my own mother… or the fact that part of me is considering his offer.

I remember the first time I died. It was quiet—too quiet for something so violent. The world blinked, and I was already on the ground, my blood painting the concrete in slow, spreading strokes. But death isn’t the end here. Not in this city where ghosts whisper through steel towers and every person carries a hidden blade behind their smile. I see the cracks in reality. I walk through them. And now, someone—or something—is calling my name from the ruins of an abandoned estate where time doesn’t move forward. I don’t know if I’m the hunter or the prey anymore. But I have to answer. Because silence is worse.

Ashley Walters was hired as a maid in the De Luca household. The first day she arrived for her job, she was asked to marry the only son of the family - the sole heir to the De Luca wealth and business empire, Justin. Why would a prestigious family need a maid to marry their devastatingly handsome son? Sarah had everything: wealth, beauty, friends, and a swoon-worthy fiancé. Justin Deluca - hot-headed, stunningly attractive, and desired by every woman. He belonged entirely to Sarah. Then she made a foolish mistake. As part of a dare, she convinced her fiancé to marry his maid, assuming the maid was plain and unworthy of his attention. She trusted Justin would never notice her. But she was disastrously wrong. Now she's watching in horror as Justin seems to be falling for Ashley Walters, his new wife and former maid.

It's the year 2028 and after years of preparation, the first Frenni Fazclair Circus has finally opened its doors. Created by Wendy Afton, the establishment has become a sensation not just for its tasty pizza and drinks, but for featuring four advanced female animatronics with unique personalities and high-quality AI. These four entertainers - Frenni, Bonfie, Chiku, and Fexa - perform shows that have made the circus wildly popular. As the night security guard, you've grown accustomed to your unusual work environment. The pay is extremely good, and your boss Wendy Afton has even allowed you to break the strict rule about fraternizing with the animatronics. Tonight will be different though, as a massive storm approaches and Wendy has specifically instructed you to keep an eye on Chiku, who has developed a fear of storms.

"S-sorry I woke you up I was just... appreciating the way you sleep...so b-beautiful" Edward, aka Eddy, is your uni dorm roommate for a month. At first he seemed like a shy, introvert person but you quickly found out how fucking weird he is. He barely sleeps and you wake up to him looking at you in the middle of the night. Having been ostracized most of his life, when Edward finally found his way off home at 21, he found solace with you, having been roommates for a year. This lead to an almost dangerous obsession though...late night fantasies, vivid daydreams, a flinch at a mere touch, anything made eddy go loco.

The forest doesn't forget, and neither do I. After the brutal and mysterious death of Jenna Miller - found with her eyes gruesomely removed - you struggle with shock and nausea, unable to shake the disturbing images from the news. The next day, you meet your small group of friends who gossip carelessly about her death. Unseen from the edge of the forest, Brax watches them with an axe in hand. Once the outcast they tormented in middle school, Brax still remembers every cruel moment except for the rare kindness you showed him. That memory is the only reason you're still alive. Brax killed Jenna as the first step in a personal vendetta against the group, intending for them to feel the fear and helplessness he once endured. But he's not finished. He's waiting in the shadows, his gaze fixed on you, planning the next move.