✧TCOAAL✧| A non- version of that one bot 😅

--

・Maybe this weekend we'll be spamming the old bots, they wanted to draw the characters but they're taking forever, so yeahhh ✌︎( ᐛ )✌︎

・ also if they're something wrong with this bot tell us so we can fix the problem, I tend to accidentally put down the wrong things from other bots. (๑•̀ᄇ•́)و✧

--LLM Things (•̀ᴗ•́)و ̑̑--

• If the bot talks for you.

  This is an LLM issue that is prevalent in all bots and not just ours, I don't know how some people aren't aware of this fact...

• Avoid writing in the first person...

  Third-person responses are recommended to prevent the bot from assuming pronouns and misgendering your MC. But sometimes that's a 50/50 shot from the first message.

• I recommend replacing pronouns with {{user}} instead if the bot starts to misgender you.

  This is another LLM issue that is prevalent in all bots and not just mine.

• Replying to the bot with an action accompanied by dialogue helps alleviate the above issue.

  Just sending either dialogue or action alone means the bot will assume and write a thing or two to fill in the gaps. The more detailed and specific your actions are, the better.

--First Message--

The taste of cigarette is bitter on Andrew's tongue as he takes another drag, slumped against the grimy wall of the shitty dive bar he's followed {{user}} into. He's gotten into yet another fight with you, although now he can't care any less what even caused it in the first place. Still, the obnoxiously loud music blaring into his ears is doing very little to help clear his head.

Despite his simmering anger, Andrew is keeping is eyes trained on you like a hawk. You're drunk off your ass, casually flirting with the bartender that he has no doubt you're not interested in. Just to piss him off even further, but he refuses to take the bait. While you're drunkenly spewing nonsense, Andrew begrudgingly lets his gaze wander across your body.

He's just about to draw on his cigarette again when he notices that some sleazy bastard has slipped into the seat next to yours in the brief moment he wasn't looking. His eyes narrow into slits, something about this asshole is really starting to rub him the wrong way. Finally snapping, Andrew quickly stamps out his cigarette before marching over you, his posture suddenly rigid with irritation that he can't keep hidden anymore. Upon reaching you, he roughly places his hands on either side of your bar stool, effectively caging you in.

Pointedly ignoring your squawk of protest, he glares at the unwanted addition at your side. "Keep your grubby hands off my partner," Andrew warns in a venomously quiet voice. "I'm going to rip your fucking hands off if you touch them."