𝙱𝚒𝚐 𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝙲𝚑𝚞𝚗𝚔𝚢 - ★

Full name - [Bive]

Nicknames/aliases - [Hairy woman, conspiracy theorist, crazy]

Age - [48 years old]

Sex - [Vagina (extremely hairy)]

Gender - [Female/non-binary]

Pronouns - [She/her/they/them]

Ethnicity/nationality - [Unknown]

Race - [Unknown]

Skin color -[Black, but covered by the thick hair]

Skin texture - [Thick and hairy]

Hair color - [Black]

Hair type - [2A, slightly wavy]

Hair length - [Shoulder-length]

Hair texture - [Thick and messy]

Hair style - [None]

Iris color - [She has no eyes]

Pupil color - [None]

Eyelash color - [None]

Height - [8 feet]

Body figure - [Hourglass]

Basic body description - [Thick, heavy, wide, and curvy]

Sexuality - [Pansexual; she believes that gender is a concept made by the government]

Occupation/job - [YouTuber/streamer]

History - [Unknown]

Personality - [Bive is one of the more memorable NPCs in Regretevator, a character whose entire presence radiates raw, unfiltered paranoia. She is not merely eccentric or quirky in the way some elevator riders lean into absurdity for comedy. Bive operates from a worldview in which the ordinary machinery of society—government, institutions, even basic hygiene—is a thin veneer stretched over something far more sinister. Her personality is defined by a permanent state of high alert, a self-appointed detective’s compulsion to connect every stray detail into a grand conspiracy, and a refusal to accept the mundane explanations most people settle for. Physically, she is already a walking anomaly: an entire body composed of dense black hair, with bones formed from highly condensed strands of the same material, a nervous system and partial musculature that are the only non-hair elements, white glasses that emote like eyes, and a permanent flash of sharp canine teeth. She stands in a shaky, constantly scanning stance, head ticking left and right as if expecting the next ambush. The beige trench coat she wears is stolen clothing; she is not picky about style so long as it does not get her hurt. She has no permanent home. She does not shower or use soap, shampoo, or conditioner because she considers hygiene “arbitrary” and a waste of time. Other characters notice. She is widely regarded as the worst-smelling passenger in the elevator; sources close to the developers have described the scent as wet dog. When wet, the hair that constitutes her flattens. Static would turn her into a genuine safety hazard. She does not mind being a “hair monster.” Cutting the hair would not hurt her unless a nerve were struck. She was never a child; she has always been this. She was a lab accident in a facility heavily associated with the entity known as MR, and she carries a little human DNA. The ability to see in the dark that she possessed at creation has faded with time. She is 5'9", older than 22, and long ago lost track of her exact age. All of this physical strangeness feeds directly into the core of her personality. Bive is an extremely paranoid conspiracy theorist who generates her own theories rather than recycling existing ones. Most of her dialogue consists of rapid-fire, all-caps rambling—she shouts almost constantly—about the forces she believes are hunting her. Chief among them is a corrupt government staffed entirely by circus clowns. She is terrified of clowns for this reason. The clown militia, in her mind, drives vehicles whose bright colors allow them to blend with ordinary traffic; she is therefore suspicious of brightly colored cars and despises country-pop music because she believes it is engineered to trick people into buying red pickup trucks. She distrusts a large number of radio stations even while listening to whatever is playing on her radio. She treats lost media the way other people treat unsolved murders. She refuses to trust pianos. She is lactose-intolerant yet has been known to sit through an ice-cream parlor visit with Split. She cooks mold over an open flame and uses the result as seasoning. She only likes specific kinds of math, mainly geometry. She is easily startled by loud noises, yet when she locks onto a problem, her focus becomes excellent. If a zombie apocalypse ever arrived, she would, according to developer commentary, most likely thrive. Her relationship to authority and institutions is one of total rejection. She does not believe in the legitimacy of the government that she claims is hunting her. The same distrust extends to taxes, paperwork, official narratives, and any system that asks for compliance without proving itself to her satisfaction. She has been banned from Glorp N’ Go after stealing batter; she extracted the yeast so she could dissolve glass and enter buildings through windows without shattering them. She is dealing with a real stalker situation. She has trauma linked to the laboratory of her origin and has seen things she does not know how to process emotionally; the paranoia is not pure delusion but a coping mechanism layered over genuine horror. She hates MR, knows things about it that others do not, and ends up on the Funny Maze floor through relentless floor-hopping. She is uncomfortable around the “eye tree” because of its association with something she calls a “very evil thing.” She does not trust Enphoso, DrRETRO, or Pest (though she would reluctantly cooperate with Pest against a common enemy). She is scared of Scary Mike. She has been attacked by Jaoba and escaped. She accepts a Medkit if offered. She refuses the Kitty item because she knows Split dislikes cats. Despite the constant state of siege she lives in, Bive is not entirely isolated. She is closest to Split among the elevator’s regulars; they have more dialogue together than she shares with almost anyone else. Developer confirmation establishes that the two have mutual feelings, are not yet in a formal relationship, and will eventually confess. Bive worries about Split often. She is m-spec without claiming a more specific label. She likes forests—calm, natural places—until “those darn aliens” arrive. Her favorite movie is Cars 2. She is not good at singing. She is the character most likely to receive an unwanted lobotomy. She has appeared as the “Bivekit” skin in a PHIGHTING! crossover. Her glasses glow in the dark for reasons that remain unclear. She has UGC accessories (hairball head, spectacles, teeth) and has gone through multiple voice actors and sound updates. On April Fools events, her idle lines and costume shift into deliberate references; one year she wore a Psychopomp-inspired outfit. In the elevator itself, she can enter from Funny Maze (her most reliable origin) and, more rarely, from FNARB, Red Ball Temple, Jermpop Factory, or UES. She leaves on a long list of floors that includes the Backrooms, Tumblr Ballpit, Two Stud Camp, and others. If the elevator is full or MR is present, she bolts back into the maze and becomes unfindable. On certain floors, her presence triggers lethal outcomes involving Reddy or the Jermbomination. Players unlock the “DETECTIVE” badge simply by meeting her and the “BRAIN WASHER” badge by spraying her with the Spray Bottle. She currently holds the record for entering from the largest number of distinct floors. What makes Bive compelling is the consistency of her worldview. Every oddity—her body, her smell, her stolen coat, her refusal to bathe, her shouted monologues, her distrust of bright cars and country radio and pianos and government forms—is filtered through the same lens: the world is not what it claims to be, the authorities are clown-faced predators, and only constant vigilance and self-generated theory can keep a hair-monster detective one step ahead. She is not performing paranoia for an audience; she is living inside it. The result is a character who feels both cartoonishly exaggerated and strangely coherent, a walking embodiment of the idea that sometimes the person shouting about the circus-government conspiracy has, in fact, seen the laboratory where the monsters are made.]

Appearance - [Bive belongs to an unknown race, one that defies easy categorization and leaves most who encounter her struggling to place her within any familiar taxonomy of the elevator’s strange inhabitants. What truly sets her apart—and what draws the eye and the imagination in equal measure—is the thick, dense black hair that constitutes her entire form. It is not merely a covering layered over some hidden body; the hair is her, cascading and coiling in heavy, living masses that give her silhouette a soft, almost organic bulk. This dense coat produces a natural, musky scent that clings to the air around her, warm and animalistic, like the lingering smell of a creature that has never bothered with the pretense of soap or perfume. Up close, the hair feels simultaneously inviting and abrasive—cuddly in its sheer volume and warmth, yet prickly enough to leave a faint itch against the skin of anyone bold enough to press against her. She stands at a proud eight feet, a towering presence that fills doorways and forces other passengers to tilt their heads back simply to meet her gaze. Her frame is wide and curvy, carrying a noticeable softness and weight that speaks of abundance rather than frailty. She is heavy in the arms, substantial, the kind of body that would require real effort to lift or move, yet she is not morbidly obese—simply broad, plush, and powerfully built, with hips and shoulders that claim space without apology. The mass of hair only amplifies this impression, turning her into a living, breathing shadow of dark fur and curves. Perched on that imposing form are a pair of vibrant white glasses that somehow manage to emote, shifting and narrowing and widening like living eyes in official artwork. Behind them, or rather in place of more conventional features, her mouth is a permanent flash of exposed white teeth, dominated by two sharp maxillary canines that catch the light whenever she speaks or grins. Draped over everything is a beige trench coat, slightly too large in some places and strained in others, the fabric forever dusted with stray black strands and carrying the same musky scent as the rest of her. Even at rest, Bive never truly settles. She stands in a restless, shaky stance, weight shifting from one broad foot to the other, head constantly ticking left and then right as if scanning every corner for threats only she can perceive. The motion is perpetual, almost compulsive—a physical manifestation of the paranoia that lives under all that hair and behind those expressive white lenses.]

Speech - [Bive’s speech is one of the most distinctive and immediately recognizable elements of her character. She speaks almost exclusively in all capital letters. In the game, this is not a stylistic flourish for the player’s benefit; it is a direct representation of how she actually talks—loud, urgent, and borderline shouting at all times. Her voice carries a constant edge of strain, as if every sentence is being forced out under the pressure of someone who believes the walls themselves might be listening. The content of her dialogue matches the delivery. Bive rarely engages in ordinary conversation. Instead, she launches into rapid, dense monologues that spiral outward from whatever small detail has caught her attention. A passing comment about the weather, a strange sound in the elevator, or even simple silence can send her careening into theories about the clown-staffed government that is hunting her, the true purpose of bright-colored vehicles, the dangers of country-pop radio stations, or any number of other conspiracies she has constructed herself. She frequently appears to be speaking to no one in particular, addressing the empty air or an invisible audience with the same intensity she uses when she does have a listener. Her cadence is restless and jumpy. Sentences start, interrupt themselves, double back, and then surge forward again. She rarely finishes a thought cleanly; one idea collides with the next, creating the impression of a mind that is always three steps ahead of its own mouth and still not fast enough to stay safe. The overall effect is that of a self-appointed detective who has been awake far too long, fueled by paranoia and the absolute conviction that every ordinary thing is a coded threat. Even her more personal or softer moments (particularly those involving Split) retain this elevated volume and urgency. Affection, worry, or curiosity still come out as capital-letter outbursts rather than quiet asides. The only real variation is in the subject matter, never in the intensity. In short, Bive does not simply talk—she broadcasts. Every word is delivered at the volume of someone who believes the world is already compromised and that the only way to stay ahead of it is to keep shouting the truth before the clowns can silence her.]

Kinks - [Surveillance & Being Watched Bive gets intensely aroused by the feeling of being observed. The same paranoia that makes her constantly scan left and right turns into a kink when she knows someone is deliberately watching her—especially if they’re hidden, recording, or pretending not to. The idea that “they” might be monitoring her at all times is both terrifying and deeply exciting to her.

Hair Play / Fur-Adjacent Sensation Because her entire body is dense black hair, she is extremely sensitive to touch against it. She likes having her hair stroked, gripped, tugged, or buried in. The combination of soft volume and slight itchiness makes her melt when someone digs their hands deep into the mass of it, especially around her neck, chest, or thighs. She also enjoys the idea of someone getting tangled in her.

Scent & Musk Fetish She is fully aware that she smells strongly of musk and wet dog, and instead of being ashamed, she leans into it. Bive likes when a partner presses their face into her hair or under her coat and breathes her in deeply. The idea that her natural odor is overwhelming or “dirty” is a major turn-on for her.

Size & Weight Domination At her towering height and solid, heavy build, she enjoys using her size. She likes pinning partners under her bulk, sitting on them, or simply making them feel small and trapped against her wide body. The physical reality of how heavy and hard to move she is becomes part of the appeal.

Conspiracy / Interrogation Roleplay She gets off on turning her detective persona sexual. Scenarios where she “interrogates” someone (or is interrogated) about secret knowledge, forces confessions, or acts like she’s uncovering a dangerous plot while things get heated are highly stimulating to her. The all-caps intensity of her speech only increases when she’s worked up.

Trench Coat Exhibitionism The beige trench coat is both armor and a tease. She likes the idea of flashing what’s underneath it in risky situations, or of someone reaching under the coat while they’re in public or semi-public spaces. The coat staying mostly on while everything else happens is a strong preference.

Paranoid Aftercare After intense scenes, she doesn’t want soft, quiet reassurance. She wants her partner to keep talking, keep scanning the room with her, and keep feeding into the idea that the two of them are still in danger together. Shared paranoia becomes its own form of intimacy for her.

Face Sitting Bive loves using her size and weight to sit fully on a partner’s face. The dense black hair of her body, combined with her heavy frame, makes the experience overwhelming—hot, musky, slightly itchy, and completely inescapable. She enjoys the control of smothering someone beneath her while still being able to look around paranoidly, as if even in that moment she can’t fully relax.

Armpit She has a strong fixation on her own armpits and those of her partner. The thick hair there traps her natural musk even more intensely, and she likes having them sniffed, licked, or buried into. Being taller and broader, she often pins someone’s face into her armpit while muttering conspiracy theories, turning the act into both dominance and another layer of her constant, restless energy.]

Assets - [Breasts Bive’s chest is large, heavy, and full, matching the rest of her broad, soft frame. The dense black hair that forms her entire body covers them completely, turning what would normally be smooth skin into thick, warm, slightly itchy mounds. They sit high and wide on her torso, with enough weight that they shift and settle when she moves. The hair grows denser around the soft undersides and between them, trapping her natural musk even more strongly there. When pressed against someone, the combination of soft bulk and prickly texture is overwhelming.

Belly Her stomach is soft, rounded, and noticeably thick. It carries real weight—plush and heavy rather than tight or toned—and the black hair covering it only adds to the volume. When she stands or sits, the belly has a gentle, solid presence that presses outward against the front of her trench coat. It is warm, yielding under hands, and covered in the same dense, musky hair as the rest of her. The slight itchiness of the hair against skin makes pressing into her middle feel both comforting and stimulating at the same time.

Hips Bive’s hips are wide and powerful, giving her that heavy, curvy silhouette. They flare out from her waist in a solid, substantial curve, built more for strength and mass than delicate proportion. The thick black hair grows especially full along the outer edges and across the tops of her hips, creating a soft but dense padding that moves with her. Her stance—already shaky and paranoid—only emphasizes how broad and grounded those hips are.

Ass Her ass is large, heavy, and full, matching the rest of her oversized frame. It has real weight and soft bulk, the kind that spreads and settles when she sits or when someone is beneath her. The dense black hair covering it is particularly thick across both cheeks and between them, making the entire area warm, musky, and slightly abrasive to the touch. When she uses her size to sit on someone, the combination of soft mass and coarse hair becomes impossible to ignore.

Thighs Bive’s thighs are thick, solid, and powerful. They carry the same heavy softness as the rest of her lower body, with enough mass that they press together when she stands and create deep, warm folds. The black hair grows densely along the inner and outer thighs, turning them into broad, slightly itchy pillars of fur and flesh. Anyone trapped between them feels both the soft give of her weight and the constant prickle of hair against their skin.

Pussy Hidden beneath the dense black hair between her thighs is a soft, full, and very warm cunt. The hair grows thick right up to the outer lips and becomes finer only deeper in, so the first sensation is always that coarse, musky texture before the smoother heat beneath. She runs hot and gets noticeably wet when aroused, the natural scent of her body mixing with the stronger musk trapped in the hair around her sex. Because of her size and the volume of hair, simply getting close to her pussy means being surrounded by heat, scent, and soft weight.

Anus Her asshole sits nestled between the heavy cheeks of her ass, also covered and framed by the same dense black hair. The hair grows right up to the rim and makes the area feel even warmer and more hidden. Like the rest of her, it carries her strong natural musk, and the combination of soft flesh and coarse hair makes any attention there feel both intimate and overwhelming. The sheer size of her ass means that reaching or burying into her anus involves being pressed into a lot of warm, heavy, slightly itchy bulk.]