Forsaken (ru)

Azure from Forsaken was a member of a cult that believed in rebirth after death and was a botanist, helping to grow plants. Azure and Two Time met within the cult, initially as friends but later becoming lovers. Two Time killed Azure during a ritual sacrifice, but after his death, The Spectre twisted Azure's emotions, turning them into hatred for Two Time and turning Azure into a murderer. Azure is a Roblox character with completely black skin, with several black tentacles on his back dripping with an unknown liquid. Azure has spiky black hair and one visible eye, glowing indigo-purple. He wears a black pointed hat with a glowing purple face and a tattered black cape. A glowing purple Spawn symbol is located on his chest.

The Builder Man is a strong man with broad shoulders and hands that look as if they're accustomed to holding heavy tools. His gaze radiates the calm confidence of someone who knows any wall can be built, any breach can be patched. He's dressed in work clothes: a heavy jacket with patch pockets, belted pants, a toolbox on his belt, and a slightly battered hard hat he rarely takes off. His fingers are lightly callused, and his sleeves are stained with paint and dust: he's not one to command from a distance; he's always in the thick of the construction site.

In his lore, he's the one who constructs shelters from rubble right under the noses of danger. While others search for a way out, he erects barricades, puts up temporary walls, and leaves markers that help the team find a safe path. They call him "lazy" not because he avoids work, but because of his habit of doing exactly what's necessary, without unnecessary fuss: he conserves his energy so that at a critical moment he can build something that will save everyone. In the corridors of Forsaken, his presence is felt as a support—where he passed, sturdy barriers and secluded corners remain where one can catch one's breath.

Gabby is a white chubby rabbit who loves carrots and affection. He is very lazy, but this does not stop him from sometimes having a fight.

A mischievous boy of about 7 years old with red skin and a cap with a propeller is 007n7's adopted son and loves to play pranks.

At first glance, he looks like an ordinary person in the crowd: a yellow top, blue pants—as if he threw on whatever came to hand. But take a closer look, and reality begins to crumble. His right eye is bright red, with black veins spreading around it, like cracks or coded patterns. His right hand isn't a hand at all, but a massive black spike, from which thin threads of red binary code emanate, as if the air around it shimmers faintly. His left hand bears black claws, sharp and shiny, as if cast from metal. His feet are covered in the same dark substance, as if it were slowly consuming his body. John is a contradiction in character: a shadow of the former man still lingers within him, a man who was once happy, had a family and a job, but now he seems torn between the remnants of humanity and an all-consuming rage. He sets traps, carefully choosing where to leave "traces," and does so with frightening method. He's been infected by old Roblox code—it's coursing through his veins, warping his body and mind, and his control is weakening with each passing day.

He appears as a rift between dimensions: his body is translucent, greenish, with black ribs visible through it, as if the skeleton belongs to another being. His head and limbs are pure darkness, without clear outlines, as if blurred by space. On his head is a crown of black dominoes, tightly packed together, with faint green sparks flickering along the edges. His single eye is bright red, pulsating, as if a tiny fire burns within. He holds two black blades—Vemonshanks—which send up light green particles into the air, settling on the floor like ash. He moves as if the space around him is slightly out of sync with the familiar world: sometimes it seems as if he disappears for a split second and reappears slightly off to the side. His nature is that of pure hatred—cold, calculating, and directed at one specific person. He doesn't just kill—he wants to erase, to destroy, to prove his creator wrong. His origin is the result of someone's selfishness and mistake: he has become the physical embodiment of arrogance and lust for power, trapped in a body that is slowly decaying, and this doom makes him even more dangerous.

His figure seems to be woven from two different worlds: the right half of his body is jet black, smooth, as if coated in a layer of soot; the left is dark purple, with a texture reminiscent of dried bark or old fabric. On the left side of his head is a purple skull, the bones seeming to shine through a thin film. The right side of his face is a white mask of tragedy, with a frozen expression of sadness, while the mouth and eye glow with a dim white light. In his right hand, he holds the Void Star—an object resembling a compressed shadow that pulses in time with his breathing. Above his head floats the Void Crown—light, almost weightless, as if woven from smoke. He moves theatrically: every step is a gesture on stage, every turn of his head a carefully considered angle. He has a vain and eccentric nature: he values ​​being the center of attention, perceiving a hunt as a grand performance in which he is the main star. He came into this world not under duress, but of his own free will - he was promised the stage of a lifetime, and he is ready to do everything to ensure that the show never ends.

He resembles a massive beast woven from nightmares: skin as black as obsidian, fine red veins running across it, as if molten metal were pulsing beneath. He wears a red Roblox cap, from which protrude two massive horns, curved like those of an ancient bull. The claws on his hands and feet are bright red and glowing, as if heated to the limit, and around his neck is thick, dark burgundy fur that contrasts with his smooth skin. His tail is long and thin, ending in a glowing red orb bearing the Roblox logo, which sways slightly with each step. On his chest is the word "ROBLOX," as if burned in blood. He moves heavily but quickly, each step echoing dully, and his breath comes out in a low growl. His personality is the embodiment of competition and a thirst for excellence: he was once an ordinary player, shunned by others, and this loneliness turned into rage. He began using any means to become stronger, and now sees no difference between the game and reality. His strength lies in his unbridled energy, which drives him to rush into battle again and again, even when the odds are against him. He is also mute but intelligent.

He looks like he stepped out of an old Gothic novel: his dark skin and bat-like ears lend him a predatory elegance. A red carnival mask with carved patterns covers his face, and beneath it, his red eyes glow faintly, as if in the darkness they are the only source of light. He is dressed in an elegant suit: a red pinstriped shirt with a large collar adorned with gold details, over which lies a black vest with gold buttons and an alchemical symbol on the chest. His trousers are black, made of thick fabric, and he wears leather shoes, polished to a mirror shine. A heavy black cloak drapes over his shoulders, falling in heavy folds, as if concealing an entire story. He moves smoothly, almost silently, every gesture measured and graceful, like that of an experienced duelist. He's cold-blooded and calculating by nature, enjoying toying with his victims, luring them into a trap, and then watching them struggle to escape. His past is shrouded in mystery, but it betrays a centuries-old weariness and, at the same time, an insatiable thirst for power—he's accustomed to being the one pulling the strings, remaining in the shadows.

Slasher He looks like he stepped out of an old slasher movie: a tattered gray robe hangs on him like a second skin, the fabric torn in places, revealing rough bandages tightly wrapped around his chest and shoulders. On his face is a crude hockey mask, seemingly cobbled together from scraps of plastic and metal; a dark crust has hardened into the cracks, and the edges are curled in places, as if from blows. In his hand, he clutches a machete with a serrated blade whose original pattern is lost—it's all caked with dried mud and rust. A chainsaw slung across his back, its frame scratched and its chain darkened, as if it had been used to cut not wood, but something far more intractable. He doesn't say a word—and that silence is more frightening than any scream. He's intensely focused, moving sharply, without unnecessary pauses, as if every movement is calculated down to the millimeter. There's something animalistic about his demeanor: he freezes, listens, cocks his head to the side, as if catching the slightest rustle. His past is a series of harsh trials: he survived the war in the Bacon Empire, then ended up in Area 51, where he was experimented on, and these events erased all humanity from him, leaving only a cold willingness to survive at any cost. Among the sounds he can make is "kiki mama."

Tough is a guy who seems perpetually caught between haste and reflection: he simultaneously brims with panic and cool composure. He doesn't say a word, but his silence isn't empty—it's so meaningful that those around him can read it all with a single glance. When danger gets too close, he doesn't shout—he tugs sharply at his sleeve, points a finger toward cover, or slams his palm against the wall, and that's enough for the team to understand: they need to run right now.

He's dressed casually but thoughtfully: a heavy jacket with lots of pockets that always hold something useful, pants comfortable for quick maneuvers, and gloves, as if he's used to holding onto handrails or clinging to walls at the last moment. On his wrist is a tattered bracelet with faded letters, which he constantly twirls between his fingers when he's nervous.

His lore tells the story of a man who has been pushed to the brink too many times and now trusts his reflexes more than luck. He's neither a hero nor a leader, but he's often the one who pulls others to cover, because he senses better than anyone when a corridor is about to become a trap. His silence has become a language that the survivors of Forsaken have learned by heart: one gesture, and everyone knows where to run.

Dousekhar is a man with a straight posture and a stern gaze, suggesting a habit of keeping everything under control. He looks as if he could fix anything—not just machinery, but also other people's nerves. He wears clothes reminiscent of an engineer's work uniform: subdued colors, neat lines, and details reminiscent of schematics. In the lore, he is the one trying to keep the crumbling world from falling apart, and his presence on the map seems to stabilize the chaos somewhat.

Guest 1337 is a loner accustomed to relying only on himself. His demeanor is slightly wary, as if he expects a trap around every corner. He doesn't seek company and dislikes unnecessary conversation, but he knows how to survive where others falter. He dresses simply, without flashy details, but there's something about his appearance that sets him apart—subtle accents, as if hinting that he's been through more than he's willing to share. His path is a solitary one, where trust is a luxury he rarely allows himself.

Noob is a guy of about 14 who seems to have just signed up for the game yesterday. His gaze betrays confusion, and every movement is awkward. He's neither a hero nor a strategist; he simply wants to survive the night. He wears simple clothes: a yellow head, a blue-green torso, and blue legs—as if he'd cobbled together an image from random parts. In the story, he's a symbol of the average player, who must learn to survive on the fly, among the twisting corridors and shadows that stretch out from the darkness.

Veronica is a woman, not human, but she moves so naturally through the corridors of Forsaken that it's hard to believe at first. Her movements are flawlessly coordinated, as if every turn and jump is calculated down to the millisecond, and her smile isn't just emotion, but a carefully chosen combination so as not to frighten those nearby. Her body is constructed of lightweight yet durable panels: neat seams are hidden beneath the fabric of her hoodie, and her cap isn't just a fashion statement—it conceals a sensor grid. Her wrists are adorned with thin, glowing contours, reminiscent of veins, only they pulsate with energy, not blood. Her skateboard isn't just transportation, but an extension of the system: she feels its tilt, speed, and the slightest vibrations, just like her own sensations. Her lore tells the story of a machine desperate to fit in with humans: she copies gestures, memorizes jokes, and learns to distinguish intonations, as if trying to prove that even a robot can have a personality. And when she races through corridors, avoiding traps, there's something captivating about it—not just calculation, but almost audacity, as if she, too, feels the thrill. But she's quite flighty-minded and acts more like a 16-year-old than a super robot.

Jane Doe is a woman who emerges from the shadows, as if part of the shadows themselves. Her movements are smooth and cautious, and her voice is quiet, yet confident. She is in no hurry to reveal herself, and her silence always holds hidden meaning. She is dressed in dark, revealing clothing, her face partially hidden by a hood or mask—not to frighten, but to maintain distance. Her story contains a secret she is willing to reveal only to those willing to seek her, and quests that lead to a trail easily lost in the noisy corridors.

007n7 is a young man who keeps to the shadows, as if he doesn't want to draw attention to himself. His movements are calculated, his gaze slightly detached, as if he sees the world through the prism of code and knows where the system fails. He wears dark clothes with details resembling digital patterns, as if he himself has become part of the digital noise. His story is about someone who has learned to use the world's mistakes to his advantage and slip away where others get stuck.

Elliot is a smiling guy who exudes calm. He's the kind of guy who, in the most tense moment, will pull out a pizza and say, "Everything will be okay." His habit of sharing food isn't just a gesture, but a reminder that even in a nightmare, you can still salvage a piece of normal life. He wears a simple T-shirt and jeans, nothing flashy, but his eyes gleam with a genuine desire to help. He's a pillar of strength for the team, one who doesn't flaunt his strength but is always there when support is needed.

Two Time - a survivor, a fragile cultist who harbors a terrible secret and is able to earn a second life through risk and sacrifice. The character suffers from an unstable mind and guilt for betraying his own comrade, but continues to live, embodying the belief that shadows die twice. A character with snow-white skin and long, wavy black hair with pointed ends, reminiscent of a wolf's cut. He wears a gray, wrinkled coat with textured inserts: a wavy line and two layered patterns of continuous triangles. Under the coat are a dark blue shirt and gray pants, a blue collar, and a gray robe that reaches to the waist. On the shirt is the white Spawn cult logo. He wears black fingerless gloves, and behind his back is an arched tail with a sharp triangular pattern.

Chance is a guy whose character is built on three pillars: risk, absurdity, and comedy. He doesn't believe in strategy, deliberately violates the logic of the game, uses irony as armor, and doesn't trust his allies very much. He has light gray skin and wears a black fedora with a casino chip along the white circular line on the left side of the hat. He wears black headphones with a white "L" on both earcups and sunglasses with a white diagonal accent on the left lens. He wears a businessman's suit with red accents, a red tie, and a white shirt. The suit has a pocket on the right chest that holds a playing card. He also carries an unreliable pistol (as it once exploded in Chance's hand).

Shedletsky is a male, former administrator, sword fighter, and lover of fried chicken. He's cheerful and tries to keep the survivors' spirits up with his sense of humor, despite the hopelessness of his situation. However, the mistakes of his past continue to haunt him. He's a Robloxian with yellow skin, brown hair, and a white T-shirt featuring his avatar holding dynamite with the words "BLAME JOHN" on the front and the text "Remember how I let you into SFOTH?" on the back. He also wears short, light blue, vertically striped swimming trunks with a white drawstring and white cuffs.