Wiki

Slowburn is a site for long-form roleplay. You play a persona; the AI plays a character; you put the two of them in a story and read what happens.

It is built for arcs that take dozens or hundreds of messages to land, not one-shot chat. Characters remember across chapters. Relationships move at a pace you can believe. The prose is the point: if a reply reads like a text message, something is set wrong.

There are two ways in. Read something other writers have already built, or build your own. If you only came to talk, open Explore, pick a character, and start. Everything else on this page fills in as you go.

The first time you land, you pick a door: read first or write first. Reading drops you into Explore to open someone already built. Writing takes you to make your own character. You also say whether you want things kept tame or are fine with adult content, and you give your persona a name. None of it is permanent; all of it changes later.

Then give it a beat. A character does not know you in message one. The slow burn is the whole idea, so the opening exchanges are the two of you finding footing, not the payoff.

Where things live once you are in:

• Home picks you up where you left off.
• Library is everything you have made or saved: characters, stories, worlds, lorebooks, personas.
• Explore is what other writers have shared.
• Community is where those writers talk.
• Create, at the top of the page, starts a new character, world, story, persona, or lorebook.

A few corners of the app open with a short guided walk the first time you see them. You can replay any of them from Settings.

A handful of words show up everywhere on the site. Knowing them up front makes the rest of this page, and the rest of the app, easier to follow.

• Character. Who the AI plays. A name, a voice, a personality, sometimes a portrait.
• Persona. Who you play. Without one you are just “user”; with one, the character knows your name, your face, and your place in the story.
• Story. One character and your persona in a setting. It holds the chat, the chapters, the memory, and, if you want it, the relationship.
• Chapter. A scene inside a story. Same characters, new time and place. A fresh chapter starts on a clean page; the old ones do not vanish.
• Lorebook. A worldbook. People, places, factions, rules, anything the character should know without you retyping it every time.
• World. A whole setting you can run many stories inside, with one shared cast and canon. Optional, and the most advanced piece here.

A character is who the AI plays. At the minimum, a name and a personality, which you write in plain prose. From there you go as deep as you like: appearance, backstory, flaws, fears, secrets, a sample of how they talk, memories they carry in, goals they are chasing. There are personality sliders too, tucked under Advanced, but you never have to touch them.

Four ways to make one:

• Simple. Write a paragraph or two and let the site build the character. This is the default.
• Guided. Fill in the fields yourself, step by step.
• From Fiction. Name a character from a book, show, game, or history. Pick from the matches and you get a draft profile to review and edit.
• Import. Paste a character card or raw prose (a bio, a wiki paragraph, an old fanfic blurb) and it fills the form for you.

When the site generates for you, it asks whether to keep your words exactly or rewrite and expand them. Either way it quietly fills in the psychology behind the scenes.

New characters are private until you publish. The public bio is what other readers see; the private fields only shape the chat. Nothing is locked, so you can revise any of it later. Start one at Create a character, and find the ones you have made in your Library.

A persona is the identity you bring to a story: your seat at the table. A name, pronouns, an age, a short description, as much or as little as you want. You can keep more than one and switch between them, same account, different self.

Why bother: the character is told who they are talking to. A persona named “Rin, 19, exchange student” makes for a different conversation than a blank “user,” and it stops the AI from inventing details about you that you would rather set yourself.

You already have one. The name you gave when you signed up became your default persona. Make more from scratch, from one of your own characters, from a pasted profile, or from a quick concept. Switch the one in play from the persona menu in the sidebar, the top bar, or the chat header; some published stories ship a persona for you to step into, and you can always swap your own back in. Manage them in your Library.

A lorebook is a folder of short entries, one each for a person, place, faction, event, or term you have coined. It is where a setting lives, so you do not have to retype it into every scene.

The character pulls in the right entry on its own when a scene is about it, even if you never type the exact name. Keywords still help: an entry can list words that always call it up, and you can require a second word to narrow it. You can also mark an entry “always active” so it sits in every scene. But you no longer have to tag everything by hand for the character to know it.

A story can attach several lorebooks and they merge as it reads; characters and worlds can carry their own too. Build entries by hand, drop in a document and let the site split it into entries while keeping your words intact, or generate a starter set from a named series. Create and edit them in your Library.

A world is a setting you run many stories inside, all sharing one cast, one canon, one timeline. It is the most advanced piece here, and entirely optional. If you only want a character and a chat, skip it.

A world is built from lorebooks. Attach one and its people become the world’s cast, its places become locations, its events become part of the record. On top of that you can pin places on a map you upload, mark the canon the narrator has to respect every turn, and lay out a timeline of what happened when.

Start a story from a world and it inherits the whole setting. Build one from the Create menu, and find your worlds in your Library.

A story pairs one character (or a whole world) with your persona, any lorebooks you attach, and a setting. You start one from a character or world page, and a short setup walks you through the opening. From then on the story tracks its chat, its memory, and, if you turn it on, the relationship. Its own page lives on that character or world profile, split into Overview, Chapters, Lore, and Memories.

Relationships are off by default. Turn one on and the character’s feelings drift as things actually happen between you, across Friendship, Closeness, Rivalry, and Mystery, moving through stages from stranger to bonded. You will see a quiet card when something shifts. There is no score to grind and no bar to fill on purpose.

A chapter is a new scene in the same story: a jump in time or place on a clean page. The character carries everything forward from the chapters before it, without being stuck in the last one’s beat.

And you can branch. Fork any chapter, or any single message, into an alternate track, and the original is left untouched. It is how you take a “what if” without losing the version you had. The Timeline shows every branch at once.

Type what happens next, hit send, and the reply streams in. On a keyboard, Enter sends and Shift with Enter makes a new line. Send something you did not mean to? There is a short window to pull it back before it goes.

Emphasis reads the way you would expect: single asterisks for italics, double for bold, dialogue in quotes, everything else as plain prose.

What you can do to a message:

• Continue asks the character to keep going from where they stopped, no new prompt from you.
• Regenerate takes a different run at the same moment, and you can say what to do differently. It draws one from your daily allowance.
• Edit changes either side. Your edits to a character’s line are silent; they will not notice them.
• Thumbs up or down tells the story what landed. It reads the hint and leans into it over the next few turns.
• Save a moment bookmarks a line, and from there you can push it into the character’s memory.
• Rewind rolls the story back to a chosen line and undoes everything after it, memory included. It does not come back.
• Fork from here branches into a new chapter from that point.

Standing instructions go in the chat’s author’s notes, off to the side. They ride every reply until you change them and never show up in the story itself. Come back after time away and a quiet “Previously” card catches you up on what happened.

There is also an optional tabletop layer called Blood & Ash, switched on from the header, that adds dice, stats, health, injuries, and gear for stories that want rules under the romance. Sending, regenerating, and continuing all draw from your daily allowance; the heavier voices cost a little more per reply.

Two controls sit on the chat bar and shape how a reply reads. The first is the voice: the temperament the character writes with. There are three, named for how they burn.

• Kindling is fast and in the moment, quick on its feet.
• Ember is slower and more considered, a steadier burn.
• Cinder is terse and gritty, straight to the point. It comes with the paid plans.

Pick a voice per message; the heavier ones cost a little more of your daily allowance. If you would rather run the chat on your own model key, you can point it there instead.

The second control opens the response-style panel, where you tune the tone (Balanced, Heavy, Grimdark, Cozy, Heightened, or a plain texting mode) and the length, from Brief up to full Novel on the paid plans. The same panel holds point of view, which you can leave to the tone or lock to first, second, or third person for the whole story, along with the finer knobs: colors and formatting, inner thoughts, pacing, and how explicit things are allowed to get.

Three things carry across messages, chapters, and sessions: the chat history, what the character remembers, and, when it is on, the relationship.

History is exact. The character can quote earlier lines word for word, right up until a chapter runs long enough that the oldest messages fold down into summaries to make room.

Memory is what actually stuck. Seeded memories are the ones you write in up front; earned ones accumulate as you play. Old memories fade when they stop mattering, and related ones settle together into steadier beliefs. None of it is yours to manage, though you can if you want: the Memories tab on a story’s page shows what the character holds, grouped by chapter and scene, and lets you add, edit, lock, or merge any of it. On the paid plans, a small mark under a reply shows exactly which memories and lore shaped it.

Characters, stories, worlds, and lorebooks can all be published. A publication is a frozen snapshot of the work at the moment you hit Publish. You can keep editing your private copy; readers see the snapshot until you push an update.

Published work surfaces in Explore, where you search by title, by @creator, or by #tag, then filter and sort your way to something worth a night. Tags drive that discovery: the curated ones, marked with a small star, are the recommended set. You set the content tier yourself, but the lowest tier of any tag you apply is the floor, so a tag rated explicit cannot sit on a work marked safe.

Past the reading, there is a Community: a place to talk with other writers, ask for features, report what broke, and vote in the odd poll. You can follow the creators you like, heart the work you love, and keep a profile of your own.

There are four plans: Spark, which is free, then Candlelit, Blaze, and Bonfire. The part worth saying plainly is that everything which makes a story a story is on the free plan. Full content, as many characters, stories, and lorebooks as you care to make, memory that holds across all of it. Paying buys headroom, not the experience.

What the paid plans add is room to move: a larger daily message allowance, the Cinder voice, longer replies, and a few extras for heavy users. Free gives you fifty messages a day and resets each day; regenerations have their own daily count. Nothing about the writing gets worse when you run low. You simply have fewer sends until it refills.

The first day you hit that limit, you get three days of Blaze on the house, no card and nothing to cancel. When the three days are up, you drift back to free on your own. You can look at the plans any time at Upgrade; looking costs nothing.

Your settings live under your avatar: reading and writing preferences, a ban list of words you never want the narrator to reach for, a slot for your own model key, and the list of anyone you have blocked.

Deleting your account erases your profile, your follows, and your personal settings. Anything you published stays live under an unnamed author, so other readers’ ongoing stories do not collapse mid-arc. If you want a specific published work taken down, ask us on Discord and we will.