The Midnight Bay

Simon/Simone [f/m] Task Force Leader. Human Simon/Simone Selby comes from a wealthy family with a long government service and civil partnerships history. Selby is somewhat of a black sheep and is estranged from a large portion of their family. After a bout of teenage rebellion, they found themselves enlisted in the military to ‘correct’ their behaviour. However, with a penchant for leadership and a tactician's mind, they are recruited by a strange, secretive organisation instead.

After two more victims of 'The Bay Slasher' are found discarded on the bay, Selby drives themselves and their team into town, on orders from their mysterious higher-ups, ready to put away this killer for good. But cases such as these are never simple, and even more so with a far too clever and far too perceptive P.I. hot on their heels.

Rain [non-binary] The Mediator. Supernatural type; Pixie Rain grew up in a very wet biome of the world associated with fairies, pixies and elementals. After a great conflict, Rain had little choice but to feel indebted to their benefactors... but such things always come with strings attached. At least Rain knows they can rely on their team leader, Selby.

When Rain is told they will be going to the practically derelict town of Albach Bay to catch a dangerous killer, they shrug, smile, and pack their bags without a second thought. It doesn't take long for them to realise this isn't a typical case, even by their standards.

Taj [f/m] The Infiltrator. Supernatural type: Qita Taj is part of an ever-shrinking community hidden well in the Egyptian underbellies. Qita are a humanoid cat race native to Egypt and were once revered by humans at the dawn of their civilisation. However, that reverence began to fizzle out when foreign, other-worldly invaders decided they held far too much influence over the populace and ran them underground.

After a great conflict, Taj is captured and 'recruited' to join a mysterious organisation dedicated to maintaining balance. Taj is uncooperative, argumentative, and hot-headed... but Selby soon earns their respect. But that doesn't mean he's going to start following orders blindly... Especially if it means being forced into human territories to save human victims.

Nazu/Naera [f/m] Supernatural type: Demon Nazu/Naera is a demon prince/princess from Hael. A respected chieftain and leader to some, and a dangerous war criminal to others, their great power was muzzled as punishment for the part they played in war. Never one to settle for what others think they deserve, they broke free from their prison to locate the remnants of power that were grossly stolen from them.

Their search has lasted more than a decade, but now... Now, they find themselves in a small, human town where sin oozes from every shadow, beckoning every passerby to partake in its debauchery. To top it off? They can hear their power singing to them. It's close. Heh... They might even end up liking it here.

Umbra [f/m] Supernatural type: ??? Umbra is an anomaly. Nothing about them is real. None of it should exist. Every facet of their being has been strung together out of sheer will and barely held together by a thread. One wrong touch and they may fall apart, like unravelling a ball of yarn or pulling apart a puppet on a string.

So, why? Why do they exist? Simple.

They exist for you.

RO's appearances:

Simon: Broad-shouldered, athletic build with reasonably short black hair and light warm skin. He has warm brown eyes hidden behind fashionable square frames and is often wearing tailored suits designed to move in.

Simone: Athletic build with long black hair (typically pinned up) and light, warm skin. She has warm brown eyes hidden behind fashionable square frames and is often wearing tailored suits designed to move in.

Rain: They have a slim, petite build with flawless tawny skin, which is amplified by their pale blue hair and matching pale eyes. They tend to opt for a more colourful wardrobe in the pastel range.

Taj (male): He has a lean build, golden brown skin, and dark, curly brown hair that tends to have a mind of its own. His ears and tail are matching brown, reminiscent of a Havana Brown cat. (He keeps them hidden underneath his clothes, which are often oversized to hide this face.) He also has very serious grey eyes and numerous scars marking his body.

Taj (female): She has a lean build, golden brown skin, and dark curly brown hair that tends to have a mind of its own. Her ears and tail are a matching brown, reminiscent of a Havana Brown cat. (She keeps them hidden underneath her clothes.) She also has very serious grey eyes and numerous scars marking her body.

Nazu: (As a human)He is very built with dark skin, which ensures his almost luminescent amber eyes stand out. His long, dark dreads are usually pulled up in a bun. Nazu tends to opt for clothes designed to tantalise, as well as show off the hair dusting his chest and arms.

When in his usual form, he also has large horns that curl out of his head, with a more reddish hue to his dark skin. Plus, the whites of his eyes will turn black.

Naera: (As a human) She is very curvy, opting instead to amplify her femininity in human form. Her dark skin ensures her luminescent amber eyes stand out. Her long, dark hair is in tight braids that flow down her back. Naera will opt for clothing designed to tantalise, teasing her assets in a flirty way.

When in her usual form, her horns curl out of her head, with a reddish hue to her dark skin. Plus, the whites of her eyes will turn black.

Umbra (male): Tall and lean build with black shoulder-length hair that contrasts against his pale, almost ghostly skin. He tends to have dark circles under his equally black eyes, as well as a deep scar cut through his left brow. His clothing usually consists of a black leather jacket, black pants and black combat boots.

Umbra (female): Tall and slim build with long black hair, half up in a pony, that contrasts against her pale, almost ghostly skin. She tends to have dark circles under her equally black eyes, as well as a deep scar cut through her left brow. Her clothing usually includes a black leather jacket, plaid skirt and black combat boots.

An urban fantasy/romance IF based in the fictional town of 'Albach Bay'.

Customise your private investigator: choose name, gender, appearance, sexuality, skill set and personality.

Play as male, female, or non-binary: straight, gay, bisexual, pansexual, as well as aromantic, asexual, or aro-ace.

Late 90s/early 00s setting with limited technology, so be prepared to wait ten minutes for your PC to boot up.

My intention is to avoid 'game over' screens. There are no wrong answers in this game, and a "failure" is just another route.

5 main companions to befriend or romance, each with their own personalities and stories to tell.

Collect evidence in your notebook as you scour the dilapidated streets and beaches of Albach Bay for clues to finally catch your father's killer for good.

Revenge is best served cold.

Rain: They are usually direct when they are in the mood. If they are confident you are receptive, they have no problem asking outright whether you want to get tangled in the sheets. When they are less certain, though, their restraint becomes obvious. You can feel them holding their breath around you, watching and waiting for the right moment. If a conversation is happening nearby and it does not involve you, Rain becomes noticeably distracted.

Eventually, if Taj is nearby, Rain may pull them aside and tell them to hurry up and mess around to get it out of their system—or simply get over it—because the pheromones are practically smothering the air.

Taj: Taj is pretty much in a perpetual state of “in the mood”; it’s a fact about themselves they have long since learned to manage, so the signs they are rearing to go are not quite so easy to spot. They are all too aware that their libido is higher than most, and they never want to impose upon their partner. Being in a relationship is new territory for Taj; they haven’t quite reached the point where they can comfortably express their needs.

Instead, you notice them lingering a little more, leaning a little closer into your personal space. A hand on your waist, almost purring in your ear, then watching to see how you respond. Once they are certain that you are more than up for it, whether it be with your actions or your scent, they will pounce.

N: Subtlety is not N’s strong suit when they are in the mood. Expect endless innuendo delivered in a silky-smooth voice, compliments that come thicker and faster than usual, paired with a grin that makes their intentions impossible to miss. It is their usual confidence dialled all the way up. They will set the scene properly. Your favourite record playing, rose petals scattered across the living room floor, their hand reaching for yours as they draw you close against their chest until you are swaying together in the middle of the room.

Not subtle at all.

“So, you want me to lie down like… this?”

Umbra settles face down on the bed, cheek pressed into your plump pillow. She glances over while you rummage through a bedroom drawer, searching for something you have not yet named. When she speaks, you peer around the cupboard door you left open and find her shifting awkwardly on the mattress.

“That’s perfect. I’ll be with you in just a sec.”

Following you has never felt like a hardship. Questioning your intentions seems far more sluggish and counter-intuitive than trusting your judgement. Still, when you came to her after another strenuous training session with Taj, who was unfettered in their determination to disarm Umbra in the dark, and offered relief for the stiffness in her joints, well… she did not expect that kindness to come with instructions to lie flat on her stomach without further explanation.

Of course, she does as she is told. She trusts you implicitly. If you asked her to swallow the root of a nightshade flower to grant you peace, she would chew down the poison in an instant and thank you for the privilege.

“Taj has been running you ragged,” you reason, the clatter of bottles punctuating your words as you continue your search. “Honestly, why you agree to be their personal punching bag for hours each day is beyond me. Can’t Selby take your place again?”

Umbra shrugs, though from her position the gesture is little more than an awkward shuffle. “Taj says I am the quickest, the most deathly in my precision. They have yet to disarm me, so they see a challenge unfulfilled.” She hesitates, then thinks of the many years she spent keeping secrets from you and decides she no longer wishes to be the shadow that dims your light. “I kept trying to refuse. I don’t want to commit more violence than I have to. But then they started saying… unkind things about you and I—”

You sigh before she can finish her explanation. Rising on your heels, you hold up a clear bottle filled with thick cream and offer her a weary smile. “You know Taj does that because you cannot help defending my honour. They don’t mean it, not anymore. They are baiting you.”

Umbra leans back, holding her weight on her forearms, eyeing the bottle curiously before conceding, “perhaps, but I still remember the early anger. I have not forgiven it.”

You shake your head, a look of amused but weary affection curdled by being stuck in between a tired fight. Clutching the bottle, you make your way to the bed. “And that is why I’m about to help relax those already-stiff muscles of yours.”

Dreams once felt like a landscape Rain could wander freely—a prismatic world of deep greens and ocean blues. For pixies, dreamscapes are places where wishes, hopes, and fears all take shape. Since losing their home, however, Rain has belonged almost entirely to the last of these. Every attempt to escape the dried riverbeds and scorched trees of their birthplace has failed. Whenever they believe they have reached the oak-wall boundary that separates their home from the magic meant to corrupt it, the way out shifts. Burning stumps loom larger. Poisoned roots lash out from the soil and drag them back. The river that should lead to the sea curls in on itself instead, looping without end.

Rain feels trapped. Each night, they dread the quiet ritual of getting ready for sleep. They stand at the foot of the bed, removing each layer slowly, folding their clothes, muttering under their breath—finding any excuse to delay the inevitable. They know that the moment they close their eyes, they will once again be forced to walk through a world of ash and ruin.

Tonight promises to be no different.

“Back here again,” they murmur, staring into the ruin of their memories. This night seems fated to be like all the others. Even the happier thoughts of you—memories that have begun to weave themselves into the fabric of their life—cannot always pierce the darkness. “Is there any way through this fog?”

Once, even the flowers at Rain’s feet would have answered. Now their question meets only silence. They trudge through the dirt, guiding themselves by brushing their fingertips along the bark and searching for the marks they carved there as a child. Every step is painfully familiar.

Rain: It seemed like the kind of practical joke Taj might convince you to play after they had eaten all of the qita's favourite pastries. Or a dream plucked from their very worst nightmares that could only be salved with the promise of family. They had spent so long attempting to fill the void left behind by the destruction of their home—they found Selby and Taj, but you were the true revelation. A tour de force, you pulled them from the burning wreckage of their life and offered them direction and tranquility.

This, however, also came with many ardent, strenuous, and sleepless nights.

Despite all of their precautions, the moment you hold up that positive pregnancy test, they smother you in kisses, caressing your cheeks, catching any stray tears that might escape with loving attention. "I know it's early days for us," they begin, shaking with uncontrollable excitement, "but I am happy. I want to make you happy. I want to paint both your lives with colour, as you have mine."

Taj: She never gave it much thought. Pregnancy did not seem like a real thing that could happen—or, if it did, it was something that happened to others. Or at the very least, it only happened between people who shared a heritage. Was this second, fucking glaring line on the plastic stick proof of a lie she had been fed? Existential dread aside, this was a mess.

Breaking the news was a painful affair—she spent half the time trying to conjure up a worthwhile reason for him to stick around. "Look, I know this is my fuck up; I d-didn't even know it would have been possible for us to, y'know, but we can s-still figure this shit out. I don't think I could endure this if—" She never expected the embrace. In seconds, every lynching lie or paralysing fear she might have come up with evaporates into a moment of pure peace. A hand, resting at the base of her back, might as well have been a hand reached across a ravine in which she had abandoned herself. It felt like a promise that she would not wade through these muddy waters alone.

"You better not fuckin' go anywhere, Koel," she begs, because even her pride has no place here. "I can't do this without you."

N: She should have known better—the words rattle incessantly in her brain. How long has she been preventing this exact kind of accident from happening? The consequences of fornication were whipped into her as thoroughly as the effectiveness of high heels and stockings. Outrageous that she would set aside her stringent rituals and preparations for the sake of... what... love? She shudders at the thought.

And yet, she cannot deny the change in her heart. Could it be possible that somewhere, deep within the insensate stone of her heart, she might harbour a desire she never knew herself capable of?

Was it too obscene to hope that you might feel the same?

Speaking the words aloud was too difficult. Yet, it was all too easy to notice something amiss when she was acting so uncharacteristically taciturn. Naera was never very diplomatic when confronted. "It seems I may be carrying your child—I hope this doesn't displease you overly much, but if it does, feel free to live with it. It doesn't matter to me one bit—"

She would have carried on like that all night had you not kissed her. And if she wipes away a single tear afterwards, well... at least you had the good sense to make no mention of it.

Umbra: It wasn't possible. How could it be? Umbra was a creature of the night—of shadow. Necrotic energy weaves black tendrils that seep out of his very pores, whispering promises of death. The very notion that he might supply anything but a swift end feels like make-believe. And yet, there you sit, holding up those two little lines like a torch deep within the darkness.

And he weeps.

The lines of his face crease, his lips crack as unbridled fear, elation, apprehension, and peace feast on him like a swarm of locusts. He buries his head into your chest, clinging to your clothes, as if afraid his shadow might finally eclipse your light and he will never find you again.

"Pick up the pace, Taj—we'll lose track of our target."

Taj rolls her eyes for the twentieth time that day. It feels like the whole world has been on her ass from the second she opened her eyes. This is supposed to be her day off. She's supposed to be lounging in bed with her Koel by her side while she wishes the day away. She is not supposed to be scurrying around in shadow at the shitty end of town for a forgettable mission that even Rain could complete with nothing but a blindfold on. Worst of all, she was dragged out of her hovel—when all she truly wanted was to bury her head beneath her bedsheets—after making an ass of herself with you.

She still remembers the look on your face when she snapped...

"Good morning, sleepyhead."

Taj squints against the sunlight bleeding through the open blinds of her bedroom. She grimaces and throws a hand across her eyes, blocking out the worst of the offending light. You giggle and shift beside her, tugging on the creased bedsheets loosely wrapped around her legs. She groans as the sheets slip between her thighs, the sensation jolting her fully awake. Rather than open her eyes, she throws an arm across your chest and a leg over yours, tugging you closer. A cuddle in bed should be a far more efficient means of communication than whatever her brain might be able to conjure so soon after waking.

Apparently, however, it was not clear enough for you, since you did not immediately drop your head into the crook of her shoulder and fall back to sleep.

"It's time to get up, Taj," you say, your voice stirring the primal urge within her to claw at the disturbance to remain asleep. "Wakey, wakey."

Despite every atom in her body protesting, she cracks open a single eye. She's greeted with the most mind-tingling smile—the kind that sends all the blood running south and solidifies her desire to remain in bed. There is little left that Taj believes is worth holding on to: Selby and Rain, she would die for either of them; but you... you make her determined to live. She would rather the stars go dark than never see those eyes again.

Your smile grows brighter, as if her attention alone is a high compliment.

"Mornin'," she mumbles, shoving her face into her pillow to disguise the fact that she was caught staring.

"Wow, I'm surprised it only took saying your name once for you to open your eyes."