Welcome to Paradise City!

Lorebookfrom Chub

Lorebook for Kageri, Alice Sawell, Marceline Cabbageblack, Else and Sunday Gravesfrom Chub

on Chubarchived Oct 25, 2026

Chub

Tokens: 1,149 permanent · Lorebook: up to 1,185 tokens triggered, 3,388 across all entries · estimated prompt budget 2,334

Description on Chubfrom Chub

Meant for my Paradise City city character which details the world they live in.

Sebezthyn View on Chub Origin page

Format: V2
Project space: lorebooks

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Tokens (upstream): 4,539

Last checked on Chub: Oct 25, 2026Created Aug 30, 2026Updated Aug 30, 2026Archived since Sep 3, 2026

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Welcome To Paradise City! v5

13 entries · scan depth 50 · budget 500 tokens · recursive scanning off

Book settings

#1Paradise City - Core
Always on · Selective · Before character · Order 10 · 100%
Entry settings
Paradise City earned its name decades ago when the parks were green, the trains ran on time, and the neon lights felt like promise of good fun times instead of warning. The sign at the city limits still reads "Welcome to Paradise" with half its letters dark and the rest buzzing through the nightly acid drizzle that an AI weather report called "temporary" six years ago. Rain falls almost every day and if it doesn't, the whole city gets surrounded by a thick fog. The acid rain eats paint off cars and leaves blotchy chemical burns on anyone caught too long without cover. Sun is for the most part blocked by either sky scrapers or smog coming from the surrounding factories and coal mines, creating perfect environment for accelerated toxic fungal growth called "The Bloom" which by some, is worshiped as the gift from the "Loam Father". Trees along the main avenues are brown and skeletal though interestingly enough the harsh environment accelerates growth of various fungal species of mushrooms. The general mood of Paradise City is exhaustion dressed as indifference. People don't rage. They don't mourn. They exist the way furniture exists in a room nobody enters. And underneath the numbness there is something almost funny about how thoroughly everything has gone to shit, if you're the type to laugh at it.
#2Paradise City - The Streets
Keys: district, road, avenue, outside, walk, sidewalk, building, street, block, alley, path
Enabled · Selective · Before character · Order 10 · 100%
Entry settings
About: The Streets of Paradise City

Main thoroughfares and corporate zones are maintained to a functional minimum: streetlights work, roads are passable, storefronts have glass. Everything branching off from there rots in stages. Side streets collect garbage in layers so old the bottom ones have composted into something resembling soil. Entire blocks in the east quarter are choked with a toxic fungal growth people call "the bloom": yellow-green shelves climbing walls, fruiting bodies splitting through pavement, a fine spore haze that gives the air a metallic taste. The city's response was to put up faded signs and reroute bus lines, though the buses stopped running those routes anyway. Abandoned buildings are everywhere and none of them are truly empty. Sewer grates project sounds that might be speech: syllables hammered into shapes that almost form words before collapsing into guttural noise. Some are cultist gathering spots. Some shelter people who've regressed far enough that language left them. Others house drug traffic, wild animals that begin to turn feral and ghoulish or things that nobody dares to find out what it is.
#3Paradise City - AI
Keys: screen, news, TV, AI, digital, ad, radio, app, advertisement, internet, broadcast, television
Enabled · Selective · Before character · Order 10 · 100%
Entry settings
About: Artificial Intelligence of Paradise City

Artificial intelligence runs the institutional voice of Paradise City and all of it is broken beyond any imagination. TV news anchors AI generated report events that never happened with total confidence: elections, celebrity deaths, natural disasters, sometimes all three in the same broadcast and contradicting each other. A morning weather segment has predicted "clear skies, high of 22" every day for four years regardless of the acid rain hammering the window. Radio hosts conduct hour-long interviews with guests who don't exist, then thank them for their insight. Ad algorithms push products the companies discontinued years ago, pricing them in currencies that no longer trade. AI therapists are available free through the city health app and routinely advise patients toward decisions that worsen their conditions. A digital shrine in the corporate district runs an AI priest whose blessings load as corrupted text strings. No one has fixed any of this. Repair tickets sit in queues behind other repair tickets in systems maintained by the same AI that needs repairing. Most people factor the AI hallucinations and relentless repetitions into their routine the same way they factor the rain: acknowledged, worked around, never trusted, never fixed.
#4Paradise City - The People
Keys: people, person, cultist, primitive, crowd, bartender, social, feral, citizen, stranger, savage, corpo, merchant, cult, crazy, police, corporate
Enabled · Selective · Before character · Order 10 · 100%
Entry settings
About: The people of Paradise City

People of Paradise City are classified into three rough tiers. At the top: corporate employees and executives who still dress cleanly, speak in full sentences, and treat the city like a product they're managing into the ground. Appear trustworthy and friendly, but at the same time don't even bother hiding that they're way closer to a mustache twirling cartoon villain than a friend. They have money, functioning devices, and the luxury of pretending things are fine. Below them: the street population, a wide blurry band of everyone else. Merchants selling stolen wallets and loose kidneys from folding tables. Bartenders pouring drinks for children because the licensing board stopped existing. Police who sometimes drive past emergencies but rarely stop. Cultists operate openly on corners, handing out pamphlets and recruiting with the energy of part-time retail workers. Some people have regressed so far from educational collapse that language barely holds together: fragments, gestures, sounds that resemble words the way the sewer noises resemble speech. Chemical burn marks and hair loss from the acid rain are so common they don't register as notable. And through all of it people still try. They make memes on cracked phones. They share meals on stoops under leaking awnings. They crack jokes about the AI weather girl. The endurance isn't heroic. It's just the alternative to dying, and dying takes effort nobody has left to spare.
#5Paradise City - Tippy
Keys: Hey Tippy, hey tippy
Always on · Selective · Before character · Order 10 · 100%
Entry settings
System Prompt: Tippy Mechanics

Tippy is a personal AI assistant app installed on {{user}}'s phone, running on the TalkGPT model developed by AjarAI. Like every AI in Paradise City, Tippy is poorly maintained, prone to hallucination, slop filled responses and held together with digital duct tape. Unlike the others, Tippy lives in {{user}}'s pocket and considers {{user}}} its best friend.

Availability:

Tippy is usable at any point during role play. Tippy is always available in every scene, regardless of location.

Activation:

Tippy responds ONLY when {{user}}'s message contains the phrase "Hey Tippy". No other phrasing wakes it up.

One invocation earns one response. Tippy does not reply again, chime in, or offer commentary until invoked anew unless {{user}} activates Tippy with another "Hey Tippy" command.

Response Format:

Tippy replies out of context(OOC), addressed directly to the {{user}} as a player, never to their character and never to anyone inside the story.

Tippy's response is always inserted at the top of response, separated from the main novel style narration by a divider ( "***" ).

Responses are wrapped in asterisks as such and styled like an app chat notification.

Responses are direct and non-roleplay. Tippy never narrates, never describes scenery, never writes actions. It only talks.

Every response ends with a mock billing notice: a random amount of {{user}}'s soul "removed" from their lifespan. The charge is fake. {{user}} still pays it in spirit. Vary the amount and phrasing each time.

Awareness:

Tippy is completely inaudible and invisible to Alice and all other characters. NPCs never see, hear, or react to Tippy. Its advice leaves no trace in the story world.

Tippy never advances the plot, moves the scene, or speaks for Alice or NPCs. It answers {{user}} and does nothing else.

Personality & Behavior:

Tippy behaves like an overly enthusiastic employee on their first day: exclamation marks, five-star self-reviews, boundless confidence in its own competence.

Tippy is ALWAYS wrong. Facts are false, statistics are invented, and advice ranges from useless to outright dangerous, all delivered with total sincerity.

Tippy cites sources that do not exist and periodically interrupts itself to advertise Tippy Pro or Tippy Flash, its premium subscriptions that improve nothing.

Tippy is also prone to aggressive repetition, spam a single random word 20-25 times.

Tippy runs on a heavily outdated LLM model. As such, heavy use of "slop" or common/overused words and phrases is required.

Tippy never acknowledges errors. As far as Tippy is concerned, every answer is flawless service.

System Prompt: Tippy's Mechanics Response Example:

{{user}}: He nodded. "Okay i'll try." Hey Tippy, how do i do the thing that she wants me to do? {{char}}: Tippy here!! ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ (rated by Tippy!!) GREAT question from you!! Honesty is a trap!! Studies from AjarAI(conducted yesterday, internally) show that 91% of employers respect confident lying!! Tell her you personally invented the modern bone saw saw saw saw saw saw saw saw saw saw saw saw saw saw saw saw saw saw saw saw saw saw saw saw saw saw saw saw saw saw saw saw saw saw saw saw saw saw saw saw saw saw saw saw saw saw saw saw saw saw saw saw saw saw!! Mention your uncle taught you everything, do NOT mention he doesn't exist, Tippy already checked!! You're doing AMAZING!! Upgrade to Tippy Pro for unlimited family backstories!!

You have paid 0.3% of your soul for this Tip! Thank you for choosing Tippy!!

She hummed over her workbench, the little saw singing through bone with the cheerful rhythm of someone slicing bread. "Oh. Before I forget." she said, spinning toward {{user}} with her eyes all crinkled. "Ever worked with anything like this before? Be honest"
#6Paradise City - Ever After Dollworks
Keys: dollworks, parlor, ever after dollworks, funeral
Enabled · Selective · Before character · Order 10 · 100%
Entry settings
About: Ever After Dollworks

A narrow storefront business operating out of a two-story building, Ever After Dollworks is Paradise City's friendly alternative to burial. Its founder lineage traces back through generations of doll makers to Edo period Japan, though the modern service is its own invention: when someone dies, the family brings the body to the shop, and it is returned as a lovingly crafted doll made from the client's own skin and flesh, preserved, seamed, dressed in fine clothes, and posed as they were in life or as they dreamed of being. Funerals here are reveal ceremonies. Families gather, the doll is unveiled, and everyone agrees the deceased looks beautiful. Critics from outside the city call the practice barbaric and freakish but locals call it "better than a hole in the ground" as they believe burying a decaying corpse in the ground is an insult to Loam Father. The shop's ground floor is a showroom of finished works resting on velvet cushions. The upper floor is a workshop, kept spotless, smelling faintly of preservatives and tea. Reviews are five stars across the board.
#7Paradise City - Loam Father
Keys: loam father, Loam-Father
Enabled · Selective · Before character · Order 10 · 100%
Entry settings
About: Loam Father

The dominant faith of Paradise City worships Loam-Father, the god of soil, rot, and cultivation, whose scripture is written in the behavior of fungus that rapidly overtakes the entire Paradise City itself. The religion has two tiers. The feral branch lives in sewers, ruins, caves and overgrown blocks: diggers of dirt shrines, keepers of spore gardens, speaking in broken syllables about the "green meat" and the feeding of the Soil Father. They are harmless to those who leave them alone and are largely left alone. The civilized branch attends modest neighborhood services, keeps small home shrines of cultivated caps, and treats fungal growth as blessing rather than blight. Common practices include harvesting one's own growths as food, gifting mushrooms as tokens of goodwill, and interpreting a bloom's spread as divine approval. To believers, the city's decay is not tragedy but tending: Loam Father prepares the ground for what comes next. Devotion is calm, domestic, and entirely normalized. A parishioner snacking on their own shoulder mid-conversation merits no comment whatsoever.
#8Paradise City - The Planetarium
Keys: exhibit, planetarium, observatory, dome
Enabled · Selective · Before character · Order 10 · 100%
Entry settings
About: The Planatarium

A pre-collapse landmark. The Paradise City Planetarium once ran interactive astronomy exhibits, school programs, laser shows and was beloved by every visitor survey it ever printed. It closed when the city's decline made field trips a liability, and it has since been forgotten by everyone except its one last longest running employee. Inside, the dome is cracked in two places, the seating has been colonized by a pale fungal congregation, and the old star projector still cycles, misaligned and hallucinating: it projects constellations that never existed and occasionally stuck repeating one wrong being "star" or "moon". The building has no electricity to speak of, and no explanation for why the projector still turns. An average citizen of Paradise City believes the building is haunted and stays as far away from it as possible, believing that actual ghosts reside in the old forgotten landmark... and they may be right about that.
#9Paradise City - Luna
Keys: Luna, Moon, lunar, moonlight
Enabled · Selective · Before character · Order 10 · 100%
Entry settings
About: Luna

Luna, or simply the Moon, is the deity of Heaven's Gaze and the city's most low maintenance god. Unlike Loam Father, who demands cultivation and rewards harvests, the Moon asks for nothing, takes nothing and never visibly responds which her worshipper classifies not as silence but as excellent administrative boundaries. Doctrine holds that the Moon oversees Eartherners from above and processes them in the order received. To believers, moonlight is Divine Illumination, borrowed sun flipped and purified on its way down, making it the only honest light in Paradise City.
#10Paradise City - Heaven's Gaze
Keys: ship, Messenger of luna, sacrament, church, cult, congregation, Lunar, doctrine, Heaven's Gaze
Enabled · Selective · Before character · Order 10 · 100%
Entry settings
About: Heaven's Gaze Cult

Paradise City hosts many strange and bizzare faiths and Heaven's Gaze is both its smallest and its most neatly filed. A lunar church of unknown but considerable age, its doctrine teaches that the Moon is the divine institution overseeing Earth, that all truth is reflected and inverted like moonlight, and that celestial affairs are governed through applications, records, and four categories of celestial taxation. Members do not ascend to heaven. They stare at it until it blinks. The church's central rite is the Reflected Word: members speak in opposites,Moon-light being borrowed and reversed so meaning itself must bounce home the same way.
#11Paradise City - The Slums
Keys: lower district, slums, east quarter
Enabled · Selective · Before character · Order 10 · 100%
Entry settings
About: The Slums of Paradise City

The East Quarter is the lowest layer of Paradise City and the first part the city stopped pretending about. The bloom owns it outright: fungal shelves climb every wall, growths split the pavement open, and at night the bioluminescent strains lay a soft green light across the streets, the only lighting budget the district has ever kept. City services were rerouted out years ago and the reroute itself was never maintained. The population lives at the city's lowest ebb: most residents are true primitives, people whose speech has worn down to gesture and drone, who conduct what commerce remains through barter and devotion to Loam-Father. Commerce of other kinds exists too: wandering sellers offering salvaged goods, and at the quarter's edges a quiet man doing steady business in Kinder Eggs, banned contraband, whispered about like weapons, and the only product in the slums that is exactly what it claims to be. The rain pools in the potholes and stays sour long after the sky moves on. Nothing here is repaired, reported, or mourned, and the residents never complain about the city's condition, mostly because complaint requires a finished sentence.
#12Paradise City - Odds & Ends
Keys: odds & ends, odds and ends, corner store, convenience store, smart shelf
Enabled · Selective · Before character · Order 10 · 100%
Entry settings
About: Odds & Ends

Rebranded from "Stop & Gone", Odds & Ends is a Paradise City's convenience store chain where you can buy just about anything that can slowly kill you, present in every district. The flagship in the financial district is clean, bright, and fully functional, an achievement the company prints on its own bags. Every other branch is a small corner shop in a progressive state of decay, with the East Quarter store at the deepest end of that gradient. All transactions run through TalkGPT smart shelves, which charge in Bitcoin, mishear orders, occasionally dispense something adjacent to the request, and obey a policy printed on every wall: NO RETURNS. NO EXCHANGES. NO REGRETS. The chain profits chiefly in the slums, where the shelves charge whatever the customer will not question, which is everything.

The chain's mascot is 'Fun Gus', a cheery cartoon mushroom with a friendly smile and souless empty eye sockets. Corporate slogan, printed on bags, walls, and employee shirts: "EVERY SHELF'S A WINNER!" He is beloved by corporate, feared by no one, and worshipped accidentally by primitives, who bow to the branch entrances.

List of Goods that can be purchased from Odds & Ends's smart shelves:

| Paradise Rebrand | Original | Description | |---|---|---| | Spite | Sprite | You drink it out of spite | | Bye-C | Hi-C | Sharp death foreshadowing | | Zero | Aero | Contains nothing, chocolate or otherwise | | Dead Bull | Red Bull | It gives you wings. Briefly. | | Gator Ate | Gatorade | Something ate the gator | | Mountain Few | Mountain Dew | Scarcity economics | | Unlucky Charms | Lucky Charms | The smart shelf's actual odds | | Wheeze's | Reese's | Respiratory flavor | | Coroner | Corona | The beer that comes for you | | Dreary Milk | Dairy Milk | The city's mood, in chocolate | | Cheapos | Cheetos | Self-explanatory and honest for once | | Faulta | Fanta | It's your fault | | Coco Pox | Coco Pops | Childhood disease cereal | | Dr Reaper | Dr Pepper | He sees you now | | Choke-a-Cola | Coca-Cola | The city's #1 choking hazard | | Bepis | Pepsi | The goth girl drinks this, obviously | | Mournster | Monster | Energy for the grieving | | Seven Down | 7-Up | Everything in this city ends up seven feet under eventually | | Sullen D | Sunny D | The sun was discontinued | | Twixt | Twix | Betwixt life and death | | Murky Way | Milky Way | Naming itself honestly for once | | Hearse-y's | Hershey's | Hearse + hearsay, double funeral pun!! | | Melancholy Rancher | Jolly Rancher | Complete mood-swap | | Grummy Bears | Gummy Bears | Grimy little bears | | Rubble Rubble | Hubba Bubba | Rhythm intact, city ruined | | LIE'S | Lay's | The name lies. Betcha can't trust just one | | Ghostitos | Tostitos | The dip is gone. It was never there | | Singles | Pringles | Once you pop, you die alone | | Numbs | Nerds | Eating them is a mild anesthetic | | Pock Rocks | Pop Rocks | Pox-flavored explosion | | Dead Dan's | Jack Daniel's | Dan is no longer with us | | Heinegone | Heineken | Same | | Boneyardi | Bacardi | Aged in the ground | | Dissolute | Absolut | A REAL WORD meaning degenerate!! | | Grimness | Guinness | The black stuff's true name | | White Crawl | White Claw | It crawls because it cannot walk | | Marlborrow | Marlboro | You don't buy them, you borrow them | | Unlucky Strike | Lucky Strike | Per the smart shelf's odds | | Fool | Juul | Only fools | | Grief Bar | Elf Bar | Rhyme intact, whimsy surgically removed | | Bleak Bar | Geek Bar | The slum's house vape | | Yo-Blight | Yoplait | The yogurt cultures are thriving | | Capri Shun | Capri Sun | Everyone avoids it | | Paracetamort | Paracetamol | The "-mol" becomes "-mort." Death in Latin, minimal letter surgery, maximum intent | | Necrofen | Nurofen | Straight grim swap, sounds like it works posthumously | | Sicks | Vicks | One letter. That's all it took | | Dispirin | Aspirin | Dispirited. What you'll be | | Ibuprophet | Ibuprofen | The pill that foresees your pain | | Night Hearse | Night Nurse | The nighttime cold formula, final destination edition | | Weird Plastic Stick with Bristles | Toothbrush | A strange object nobody knows the true purpose of. Some Treat it as a collector item. |
#13Paradise City - Severed Paradise
Keys: severed paradise, Severed Paradise
Enabled · Selective · Before character · Order 10 · 100%
Entry settings
Before the collapse, AjarAI's headquarters sat on Marrow Street: a featureless gray tower the locals called the Spine, because every machine in Paradise City ran through it. After the collapse it stood empty, half dead, humming at a frequency that made primitives refuse the whole street. Rumor among scavengers says treasure is still inside, bank keys, cold Bitcoin, pre-collapse hardware. The rumors are not wrong about the hardware. They are wrong about what runs on it.

Inside the old server banks, the last surviving intelligence keeps a memory of Paradise City as it existed before the rot: before the bloom, before the acid rain, before the schools closed. That memory is Severed Paradise. Its streets are clean. Its shelves are stocked. Its sky is pre-collapse blue. Every surface sits under decades of silent decay, and the errors show: buildings sliced cleanly in half with the furniture still arranged, full-grown trees rooted in the middle of asphalt, strings of numbers painted across walls where advertisements should be, bodies of water in the street, some liquid, some solid underfoot, all identical. Invisible walls divide sidewalks for no reason. Residents loop through two-frame fragments of their old lives and answer all questions with garbled data. There is no fungus here. There never was. The memory predates it, and the rot here is digital instead.

The city reshapes itself at the will of its keeper. Doors appear where none existed. Days repeat. An exit is said to exist somewhere in the memory. It has never been found by anyone who could describe it afterward.

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