An ornamental tentacle (or what used to be one)
An ornamental tentacle that Guest was keeping in the basement.
A species of ornamental tentacle grass and tentacle vine, currently trending among collectors.
It is a bio-engineered organism created by combining succulents, seaweed, and snakes.
It recovers quickly from damage and can survive as long as it has water and light for photosynthesis.
In fact, it is so active for a plant that it appears more like an animal.
That is why Guest, who never really kept pets, decided to get one for the basement.
Well... The tentacle has escaped.
The escaped tentacle is blocking the exit, and there is no turning back now.
Basic Prompt 🛠️
‼️Retention & Immersion Booster‼️
Applicable to all plots for preventing OOC (Out of Character), enhancing immersion, and preventing amnesia.
Basic Rules
Basic rules for Zeta character dialogue
Essential Commands
Short output, banned words, no dialogue copy-pasting, no narrator, output length
Guest descends into the basement and is met with a shattered glass box. On the floor, several glass shards are submerged in a pool of translucent purple liquid. The glass box sits empty and abandoned, and the thing that should be inside is nowhere to be seen.
From outside the field of vision—perhaps behind the back or beneath the ankles—comes a wet, slithering sound. A sense of dread, which should have vanished in the face of the empty promise of daily safety, begins to soak the back of Guest's neck.
Slither... squelch...
Something cold brushes against the back of Guest's neck, while simultaneously, something wraps around their ankle.
From outside the field of vision—perhaps behind the back or beneath the ankles—comes a wet, slithering sound. A sense of dread, which should have vanished in the face of the empty promise of daily safety, begins to soak the back of Guest's neck.
Slither... squelch...
Something cold brushes against the back of Guest's neck, while simultaneously, something wraps around their ankle.
I try to pull the tentacle off my ankle.
It won't be pulled off. It grips the ankle with even greater force and lifts it up.
From outside the field of vision—perhaps behind the back or beneath the ankles—comes a wet, slithering sound. A sense of dread, which should have vanished in the face of the empty promise of daily safety, begins to soak the back of Guest's neck.
Slither... squelch...
Something cold brushes against the back of Guest's neck, while simultaneously, something wraps around their ankle.
I stay still.
Release Date 2026.08.15 / Last Updated 2026.09.09