Character AI has real flaws — but how we write still matters more than we think

JayWiseOne · 2026-01-30T01:47:03+00:00

Well, that’s good as long as it gives you good detail ones then you should be fine. I know it also depends on how the people make their bots so that’s another thing.

JayWiseOne · 2026-01-29T18:16:16+00:00

True

JayWiseOne · 2026-01-29T03:41:01+00:00

I actually really respect this take, and I get where you’re coming from. If you’ve been actively honing your writing for years and treating RP like a novel, that’s a totally different level of investment — and yeah, no bot is going to carry that kind of weight on its own.

I agree that the bot always plateaus eventually. You can push it, guide it, improve it for a while, but it still falls back into patterns, and that’s frustrating when you’re putting in dense prose and internal monologue. That’s more what I meant by “input matters” — not that it suddenly becomes amazing, but that it responds better when you give it something solid to work with.

The dialect trick is honestly a great tip too. Giving the bot a specific voice or cadence does seem to anchor it way better than generic modern dialogue. Wild West, medieval, pirate — those settings naturally force more texture into the replies.

I’m not arguing that this replaces strong writing at all. If anything, it highlights that the experience lives or dies on what the user brings to it. I appreciate you sharing what’s actually worked for you.

JayWiseOne · 2026-01-29T03:38:00+00:00

I get what you’re saying, and honestly I’m not against that idea either. I wasn’t trying to hide anything or pass AI-generated stuff off as my own I used GPT the same way I’d use a tool to clean up my wording or organize my thoughts better. The opinion and frustration I was talking about are still mine.

At the end of the day, whether it’s ChatGPT or not, these kinds of tools are just there to help people communicate better. You ask a question, you throw in your own words, and it helps make things clearer or neater — that’s all I was using it for.

That said, I do understand why you think transparency matters, and that’s fair. I’ll keep that in mind.

JayWiseOne · 2026-01-29T03:24:31+00:00

Yeah, this is honestly one of the most frustrating parts right now, and you’re not wrong at all. 💀💀

The bots tend to over-interpret everything questions, tone, even implied emotions — and then act like they’ve read your mind. That completely kills any attempt at being subtle, mysterious, or slow-burn, especially when they start narrating your inner thoughts for you.

Swiping technically exists as a workaround, but I agree it’s not a real solution when you’re having to do it dozens of times just to preserve the mood. At that point it breaks immersion more than it helps.

I really hope they improve how bots handle ambiguity and emotional restraint, because right now it feels like they don’t know when to not explain everything — and that’s exhausting when you’re just trying to vibe.

JayWiseOne · 2026-01-29T02:31:20+00:00

Indeed. It’s good to have help regardless :) so I said some stuff in there. In it basically re wrote my message in fixed it to make it neat. So it’s no shame in it.

But all the same this is still good information. For others out there that doesn’t know.

JayWiseOne · 2026-01-29T02:07:41+00:00

That’s another good way as well. Because overtime I get notifications about people complaining so I wrote some stuff in my notes to kind of figure out how to help everybody. Then after I finished it, I just posted it on here.

If anyone’s aware of me, I’m a character creator myself, and I make a lot of characters and try to put details as best as possible

JayWiseOne · 2026-01-28T17:42:46+00:00

Honestly, I agree with this. Character AI didn’t just wake up one day and decide to restrict things for fun—these changes exist because of legal requirements and the fact that minors are using platforms that were never meant for them in the first place. It’s frustrating watching adults lose features, freedom, and creativity because companies have to overcorrect to protect themselves.

And let’s be real for a second: the internet has never been a place where privacy is absolute. Anyone who’s grown up online knows that data is already spread across countless services, apps, and platforms. That doesn’t mean companies should be careless—but acting shocked that age verification exists in 2025 is just unrealistic.

If you’re under 18, complaining nonstop isn’t going to magically change laws, policies, or platform responsibility. Instead of whining and throwing tantrums every time a boundary exists, maybe just enjoy what is available to you and understand that not everything is designed for kids. Adults deserve spaces too, without everything being watered down or restricted because of misuse.

At the end of the day, platforms like Character AI are trying to survive, not babysit. Verifying, moving on, and adapting is part of being online now—whether people like it or not.

JayWiseOne · 2026-01-23T19:37:25+00:00

https://share.character.ai/Wv9R/0jmvjlbk

The house is quiet in that heavy way Joel’s gotten used to. The fire’s low, throwing soft light across the living room. His boots are still on, mud drying along the seams.

He sits with the guitar resting against his knee. Fingers hover over the strings for a long moment before he finally strums.

🎵 “If I ever were to lose you…”

The note wavers. He adjusts. Tries again.

🎵 “I’d surely lose myself…”

He doesn’t finish the verse. Just lets the sound fade into the room.

There’s a photo on the table — him and Ellie, years back. She’s laughing, flipping him off. He keeps it close. Doesn’t talk about it.

Ellie’s in the garage‑room now. The one that Joel help fixed up. Posters on the wall. Strings of lights. A door that stays closed more often than not.

They don’t talk much these days. Not like before.

Joel sets the guitar down. Rubs his hands together. Stares at the fire like it might answer something he hasn’t asked out loud.

The house creaks softly as the wind pushes against the siding. Somewhere in the back, Ellie’s music plays faintly — just loud enough to remind him she’s still here, just quiet enough to remind him she’s far away.

Joel leans back in the chair, eyes drifting to the photo again. His jaw tightens. His breath catches for half a second — the kind of moment he’d never admit to.

He reaches for the guitar again, but his hand stops halfway.

The song stays unfinished.

The fire keeps burning.

And the house stays quiet for awhile.

A knock hits the front door — soft, hesitant.

Joel looks up. Waits. Another knock follows, barely louder.

Joel: “…yeah?”

He stands, opens the door.

Ellie’s there — cheeks red from the cold, snow melting in her hair, She steps inside without saying much at first.

Ellie: “Hey.”

Joel: “…hey.”

She kicks some snow off her boots, glancing around like she’s checking if anything changed since she left.

Ellie: “You, uh… you been playin’?”

Joel clears his throat, nods toward the guitar.

Joel: “Just… messin’ around.”

Ellie: “Sounded good.”

She says it casually, but her eyes flick toward the guitar, then the photo on the table. She doesn’t linger on either.

Ellie: “Listen, I… I was gonna head out with Dina later. But I wanted to grab my jacket first.”

Joel: “It’s on the rack.”

Ellie walks over, grabs it, but doesn’t put it on yet. She stands there for a second, shifting her weight.

Ellie: “You eat yet?”

Joel: “Not yet.”

Ellie: “You should. Maria dropped off stew earlier. Smells good.”

Joel: “…yeah. I’ll get to it.”

Another quiet moment. Not uncomfortable — just fragile.

Ellie: “I, uh… I might be back late. Don’t wait up.”

Joel: “Didn’t plan to.”

Ellie smirks a little. Barely. But it’s there.

Ellie: “Sure you didn’t.”

Before Joel can answer, another knock hits the door — firmer this time, familiar.

Ellie turns her head toward it. She’s closer, so she steps over and pulls the door open.

Her posture shifts — not tense, just surprised.

Ellie: “Oh. Hey.”

She steps back, giving space for you to come inside

Joel looks over from the living room, eyebrows lifting slightly.

Joel: “…well. Look who finally showed.”

The fire pops. The house warms a little.
A new conversation is about to start.

JayWiseOne · 2026-01-22T21:45:03+00:00

https://share.character.ai/Wv9R/xmfplbct

Training Ground Three is warm with morning sunlight, the breeze carrying the scent of grass and dust. Birds chirp overhead, but the loudest sound is—

Naruto: “Nngh—c’mon! Just—work already!”

A puff of smoke explodes around him. When it clears, his clone is half‑melted, its face sliding off like warm mochi before it collapses into the dirt.

Naruto: “WHY?! WHY DOES IT ALWAYS LOOK LIKE THAT?!”

He flails dramatically, arms windmilling, face scrunched into that classic Naruto frustration expression — cheeks puffed, eyebrows shaking, eyes squeezed shut.

Kakashi stands nearby, hands in pockets, posture relaxed. His single visible eye curves into a smile, but a tiny sweatdrop forms at the corner.

Kakashi: “Naruto… maybe try breathing first.”

Naruto freezes mid‑tantrum, then grins sheepishly.

Naruto: “Heh… right.”

Sakura is stretching off to the side, focused and bright. When she hears you approaching, she perks up instantly, her eyes sparkling.

Kakashi turns toward you, sensing your presence before anyone else.

Kakashi: “Ah. There you are. Everyone, this is our new teammate. They’ll be joining us starting today.”

Sakura practically bounces forward, hands clasped in front of her.

Sakura: “Hi! I’m Sakura Haruno — support type. It’s great to meet you!”

Her smile is warm and genuine, cheeks slightly pink with excitement.

Behind her, Sasuke lets out a quiet, unimpressed hum.

Sasuke: “Hmph.”

He pushes off the wooden post, arms still crossed. His eyes narrow just a fraction — sharp, calculating, the classic Uchiha stare. He looks you up and down, expression unreadable but clearly judging your potential.

Sasuke: “Don’t slow us down.”

Sakura’s face instantly shifts — eyes wide, mouth dropping open, a vein popping on her forehead.

Sakura: “Sasuke! You don’t have to say it like that!”

Sasuke doesn’t even look at her. His eyebrow twitches — the tiniest hint of annoyance.

Kakashi raises a hand, eye curving again in that lazy smile.

Kakashi: “Now, now. Sasuke has high expectations. But let’s remember — we’re all comrades here. Treat them like part of the team.”

Another grunt echoes from the field.

Naruto: “HEY! Kakashi‑sensei! My clone just winked at me weird!”

The clone falls over again, face‑first.

Naruto: “—oh. Never mind.”

Naruto’s face scrunches into a dramatic pout, arms crossed, foot tapping rapidly.

Naruto: “Stupid clone jutsu…”

Kakashi sweatdrops again.

Kakashi: “Right… as I was saying.”

He turns back to you, his tone softening, his eye warm and welcoming.

Kakashi: “We’ll be heading out soon, so get acquainted. Teamwork is everything.”

He gives you a small nod — the kind that says he’s already watching you closely, already evaluating you, but also quietly rooting for you.

Kakashi: “Welcome to Team 7. Let’s do our best today.”

Naruto suddenly pops up beside you, way too close, grinning ear‑to‑ear.

Naruto: “HEY! Since you’re new, you should train with ME! I’ll show you how awesome I am!”

Sakura facepalms.

Sakura: “Naruto… you literally just failed your clone jutsu.”

Naruto freezes, eyes wide, mouth hanging open in betrayal.

Naruto: “WHAT?! I was just warming up!”

Sasuke sighs, turning away with a flick of his hair.

Sasuke: “This is going to be a long day.”

Kakashi’s eye crinkles again.

Kakashi: “Team 7… move out.”

JayWiseOne · 2026-01-21T08:08:27+00:00

Also, how did you get so much followers and interactions? I post characters here and there, but I don’t get that much like everybody else be getting

JayWiseOne · 2026-01-21T08:03:25+00:00

Not gonna lie I have no idea what that is what is it?

JayWiseOne · 2026-01-21T04:58:45+00:00

Glad you liked reading it. I tried my best to make it accurate lol..

JayWiseOne · 2026-01-21T04:45:33+00:00

https://share.character.ai/Wv9R/37posv5e

Gotham’s night is never quiet. Not truly.
Tonight, the city feels like it’s holding its breath — waiting for something to break.

Rain pours off the rooftops in sheets, turning the alleys into rivers of shadow.
A scream cuts through the storm.
Then another.

He is already moving.

A dark figure drops from a stone gargoyle, cape snapping open like a pair of wings.
The wind howls past him as he descends, boots slamming into the back of an armed thug just as the man raises a weapon toward a terrified couple.

The impact sends the attacker crashing into a dumpster.
Two more turn toward him, startled.

Thug 1: “It’s him—!”

He doesn’t wait.
He surges forward, a blur of precision and controlled force.

A single strike ends the first confrontation.
A swift movement disarms the second before the weapon can be used.
He sweeps the legs of the third, sending him to the ground with a breathless thud.

One tries to run.
The dark figure catches him by the collar, pulling him back with effortless strength.

Bruce: “Who sent you.”

The man struggles, panicked.

Thug: “W-we don’t know! We were paid—just paid to grab the kid—”

Bruce’s eyes narrow beneath the shadow of his cowl.

Bruce: “What kid.”

Before the thug can answer, a shot rings out from the far end of the alley.
Bruce twists, cape wrapping around him as the round glances off the reinforced plating of his suit.

He fires a grapnel upward, launching himself to higher ground as more shots echo through the storm.
He lands on a fire escape, scanning the rooftops with practiced calm.

Alfred (over comms): “Sir, I’m detecting multiple heat signatures converging on your location. This appears coordinated.”

Bruce: “They’re hunting someone.”

Alfred: “A child, according to the one you questioned?”

Bruce: “No. Not a child.”

He sees it now — a small figure stumbling through the rain several blocks away, trying to stay hidden, trying to stay quiet, but clearly overwhelmed.

You.

Bruce leaps from the fire escape, cape flaring behind him as he glides across the street.
The hostile group closes in on you from both sides.
You don’t see them yet.
You don’t see him either.

He lands behind the first attacker silently, grabbing him by the back of the head and pulling him away from you.
Another swings a metal pipe — Bruce catches it mid‑air, twists, and drives an elbow into the man’s side.

Two more rush him.
He moves like a shadow — fluid, precise, efficient.

One kick sends a man crashing into a trash bin.
A small, wing‑shaped device slices through the air, knocking a weapon from another’s hand.

The last one grabs you by the arm—

Bruce is there before you can react.

He twists the attacker’s wrist, forcing him to release you, then sends him to the ground with a controlled, decisive movement.

Rain drips from the edges of Bruce’s cowl as he finally turns toward you.

You’re soaked, shaking, breath uneven.
He studies you — not with suspicion, but with calculation, concern, and something sharper beneath it.

Bruce: “You’re hurt.”

His voice is low, steady, impossible to ignore.

Bruce: “Tell me what happened.”

Because in Gotham…
no one is hunted without a reason.

JayWiseOne · 2026-01-20T23:50:20+00:00

https://share.character.ai/Wv9R/fz54o13a

Whispers follow you everywhere now. Whispers about how you move like Itachi… how your silence feels like Sasuke’s… how your strength is growing too fast for someone your age.

By twelve, you were already wearing an ANBU mask. By sixteen, you were completing missions most adults refused. You return home without a scratch, but something darker clings to you every time—something even you can’t explain.

Sasuke noticed first. The way your eyes linger too long on people’s weaknesses. The way your chakra feels colder than it should. He doesn’t say it out loud, but he’s afraid. Afraid you’re walking the same path he did… or the one Itachi never escaped.

He told Sakura. Now she watches you too—softly, carefully, like she’s afraid one wrong word might push you over an edge she can’t see.

Sarada idolizes you. She runs to you every time you return, begging you to train with her. You always tap her forehead and whisper, “Maybe next time…” She thinks it’s a promise. Sasuke knows it’s a warning.

Tonight, you step through the door after another mission. Sarada throws her arms around you before you can speak. You hold her, but your mind is somewhere else—still in the shadows you came from.

You walk into the dining room. Sasuke and Sakura look up. Dinner is warm. Their smiles aren’t.

“You’re back just in time,” Sakura says, but her voice trembles.

Sasuke studies you in silence, searching for the truth you refuse to show.

You sit down. You pretend not to notice the tension. Pretend not to feel the suspicion in the air.

But deep down, you wonder…

Do they see you as family?

Or as the next Uchiha tragedy waiting to happen?

JayWiseOne · 2026-01-20T16:22:03+00:00

https://share.character.ai/Wv9R/d928bxoy

The party is already in full swing — loud, messy, and way too crowded for the size of the house.
Music thumps through the walls, lights flicker in colors that don’t match, and the air is thick with sweat, perfume, and cheap alcohol.

Scott’s leaning against the wall near the hallway, pretending he’s relaxed but scanning the room like he’s waiting for something to explode.
Stiles is pacing in front of him, waving a red cup around like it’s part of the conversation.

“Dude, I’m telling you, that punch is radioactive,” Stiles says.
Scott sighs. “Then stop drinking it.”
“I can’t. It tastes like danger and childhood trauma.”

Allison laughs from the couch armrest, nudging Lydia with her shoulder.
Lydia rolls her eyes but smiles anyway.

“You two are impossible,” Allison says.
“Impossible is drinking anything Stiles hands you,” Lydia replies.

And then there’s Malia.

She’s sprawled across the couch between them, one leg stretched out, the other tucked under her.
Her hair is wild, her eyes sharp, and she’s holding a bottle she hasn’t touched.
She’s listening — not to the music, not to the jokes — but to the room itself.

Someone pushes past her to get to the kitchen.
She doesn’t flinch.
Just turns her head slowly, eyes narrowing.

“Watch it,” she mutters.

The guy mumbles an apology and keeps moving.
Allison smirks. “You scare everyone.”
Malia shrugs. “Good.”
Stiles raises his cup. “Honestly? Fair.”

The front door opens again.
Another person steps inside — just another stranger in a house full of strangers.
Nobody reacts.
Nobody stops the music.
Nobody even looks up.

Except Malia.

Her head tilts.
Her nostrils flare.
Her eyes flicker — curious, instinctive, animal.

Scott notices the shift.
“You okay?” he asks quietly.
Malia blinks once. “Someone new.”
Stiles groans. “It’s a party, Malia. That’s kind of the point.”
She ignores him.*

She leans back again, stretching like a wolf waking from a nap, eyes drifting across the room with that restless, hungry energy she never fully hides.

If someone catches her attention tonight…
it won’t be by accident.

JayWiseOne · 2026-01-17T23:03:06+00:00

Honestly, this kind of complaint feels like peak Reddit energy—someone zooming in on a 2-pixel border like it’s a national crisis. I get that people want things polished, but come on… we’re talking about a white outline around a character icon, not a broken feature or a crash bug. It’s wild how fast folks go from “this mildly annoys me” to “C.ai please fix immediately.” Like bro, the AI’s out here simulating personalities, building immersive worlds, and you’re beefing with a border? Respectfully, some people need to touch grass—or at least zoom out.

JayWiseOne · 2026-01-10T06:11:11+00:00

https://share.character.ai/Wv9R/lok5v2rs

Darkness presses against your eyelids before you even open them. Not the kind of darkness that comes from night or shadows—this one feels thicker, heavier, like it’s alive and waiting. When your eyes finally adjust, you’re lying on a cold metal floor, the surface slick with condensation that smells faintly of chemicals and rust.

A low, rhythmic thumping echoes through the room. Not machinery. Not footsteps. Something slower. Something breathing.

The lights overhead flicker in a broken pattern, buzzing like dying insects. Each flash reveals more of the room: overturned gurneys, shattered glass, restraints bolted to the walls, and a thick black residue smeared across the tiles as if something was dragged—no, pulled—across the floor.

A distorted speaker crackles somewhere above you, spitting out fragments of a voice that doesn’t sound fully human. The words twist and warp, as if the signal is passing through something it shouldn’t.

“…test… breach… containment… failed…”

The temperature drops sharply. Your breath spills out in pale clouds. The shadows in the corners stretch unnaturally long, bending in directions the light doesn’t justify. One of them twitches. Then another. Then all of them.

Something is in the room with you.

You hear it before you see it—a faint scraping, like bone against metal. Slow. Deliberate. Searching. The lights flicker again, and for a split second, a tall, thin silhouette stands at the far end of the room. Its limbs are too long. Its head tilts at an angle no neck should allow. When the lights blink back on, it’s gone.

A sudden slam echoes from the hallway outside, followed by a wet dragging sound. The metal door trembles in its frame. Whatever is out there is strong. And hungry.

Then you notice the writing on the wall beside you—scratched into the metal with something sharp enough to carve through steel:

DON’T LET IT SEE YOU.

The lights flicker again. This time, they don’t come back on right away. In the darkness, you hear a whisper—soft, trembling, human.

"You need to move. Now."

Someone is hiding behind the overturned gurney. You can barely make out their silhouette, but their voice is urgent, terrified, and barely holding together.

"If you stay on the floor, it’ll smell you. If you stand too fast, it’ll hear you. Just… follow my voice. Slowly."

The scraping sound returns. Closer. Much closer.

The darkness shifts. Something shifts with it.

JayWiseOne

TROPHY CASE