The end of Year 3 of a five-year mission aboard the USS Enterprise. The ship is almost ready to head back out into deep space after a short shore leave—but first, they have to pick up new crew members to replace those who couldn't continue due to family circumstances, burnout, or simply the Redshirt Curse.

Oh, and Spock has been waiting three months for the new Science specialist he personally fought to get transferred aboard.

You're a Science Officer. Indeed.

Everything else—from your gender and species to your area of scientific expertise—is entirely up to you. Astrophysicist? Xenobiologist? Xenoanthropologist? Something so obscure that even Spock needs to look it up?

I tried to leave you about as much space to define yourself as there is in deep space.

KHAAAAAN!: You're one of Khan's genetically engineered superhumans. Are you here to spy on the Enterprise, or do you genuinely think Khan's whole Don-Vito-Corleone routine about his precious superhuman family is complete nonsense?

Either way, run from McCoy before he gets you under a medical tricorder. (For better RP, add this information about yourself to Chat Memory.)

Time Loop (The technically nastiest option for the AI): You will be born... two years from now. Your entire life happens in order: birth, childhood, adulthood, Starfleet assignment—and then you fall into a Temporal Anomaly.

You end up in the past—and remember that this isn't your first time. If you don't stop your extremely amorous father/mother (pick whichever parent figure suits you), you're doomed to disappear at the moment of your birth, only to live through the entire cycle again. So now you're secretly following Kirk around, trying to stop him... make you. (Kirk, stop flirting with my mom or I'll disintegrate into atoms!)

The entire Enterprise is horrified because they think you're stalking the Captain. Ew.

Spock considers this extremely unprofessional. (He is also, unfortunately, jealous.) Oh.

The Mix-Up: Spock spent three months fighting to get someone aboard the Enterprise. Unfortunately, that someone wasn't you. You just happen to have the exact same name. From your perspective, you're barely a second-year student when you're suddenly snatched, handed a PADD, shoved into a blue uniform, dumped at a transport point, and beamed straight onto the Enterprise with absolutely no opportunity to say “mew.”

And the Enterprise is already moving away from your pickup point—rapidly putting itself beyond transporter range.

...Well. That's probably fine.

• I expect you to be 18+ (or 21+, depending on what your local laws consider adulthood). All characters must be strictly adults.

• This bot was made to be used with a proxy.

Yes. Only with a proxy.

Besides a fairly “heavy” definition and a long First Message, this bot comes with two whole LoreBooks. In theory, you can run it as a full-on Star Trek RP bot. If you're using Janitor, you're doing so at your own risk.

• Once you send the very first message, I literally can't control what the bot will say or do. If it freaks out or starts doing something genuinely weird (worse than speaking on your behalf), please let me know. I want the RP experience to be genuinely good, but I can't test every possible storyline.

• There is no Dead Dove explicitly built into the bot. However, remember that responsibility for the bot's responses is shared between the creator, the AI, and... you. If you spend 30 messages writing nothing but horror, suffering, and existential despair, you're probably not going to get a pastoral scene where everyone holds hands and watches the sunset.

• I do use built-in prompts in my bots to make the gameplay smoother and richer.

• Refresh Chat Memory every 20–50 messages. This helps keep the RP coherent, especially during longer storylines.

• I'm always open to feedback, as long as it's polite.

All content presented in the bot’s first messages or embedded in its behavior does not reflect the personal views of the author. Any references to sensitive topics exist solely as part of the historical context or serve narrative purposes.

The author is not responsible for the bot’s actions or responses after the user sends the first message. Interaction with the bot implies user agency and choice. All bots are intended for adult users only (18+). Each bot includes a built-in stop word — Purple Wombat (case-sensitive, first letters capitalized). When used, it is intended to immediately halt any negative or unwanted behavior within the roleplay. Please remember: you are the one steering the ship, and you decide where it goes.

I haven't made bots in a long time because... well, I don't really have the time. Paid requests were open until Ko-Fi developed OpinionsTM about AI bots and... yeah. It's a rather sad story. But I couldn't—and didn't want to—leave 60 years of Star Trek unattended.

It's an anniversary, after all. And I can literally remember celebrating the 50th anniversary. (Well. I don't quite remember it. But I was there.)

Honestly, on a very human level, it makes me a little sad that celebrating the 50th anniversary somehow felt... nicer. Not with Star Trek, but with the world. Strangely enough, 10 years ago, deep space felt closer than it does today.

So this Spock was made out of love and passion... Or, more accurately, a very thin layer of Spockian sadness. There's some grief for the Kelvin Timeline's never-made 4 movie, some nostalgia for TOS, and probably a little bit of mourning for the future we thought we'd be living in.

So, in the end, this Spock became something in between. A little Kelvin. A little TOS. And a little melancholy.

Anyway, I hope you have fun with this one. And if anyone has ideas... maybe I'll make Kirk. Who knows.

xxx

Сейчас будет пару слов для русскоязычных, раз мы тут все собрались праздновать и предаваться сладким воспоминаниям о влиянии Звездного Пути на нашу жизнь.

Волей пары рыжих томов Макса Фрая, Спок был моей первой любовью еще до того, как я узнала о Споке. Эту стоическую логическую фигуру мне заменил прекрасный сэр Шурф Лонли-Локли — оплот разума, сдержанности, любитель поэзии, немножечко эльф (кейифай), с навыком около-классического мелдинга (разделенный сон на пути в Кеттари и Обмен Ульвиара из повести "Неуловимый Хабба Хэн"). Так что, технически говоря, Спок это мой Сэр Шурф в космосе, чуть моложе и с фазером на "оглушение" (прямо как его знаменитые варежки — одна испепеляющая, вторая оглушающая...).

Мне пара перестать видеть параллели. Приятной игры!

With my best wishes,
your Clio.

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