Some of you may be familiar with my OC, SnowBuni. I was recently challenged to produce a text adventure featuring her, as opposed to the usual continuity art that I've been producing.
Here's my sample text, which I might expand into some kind of origin story.
SnowBuni dutifully waited in line with the other acolytes in the mechanical guts of the transfer tube between the two docked starships. Her paper sandals did little to insulate her feet from the ache of the seeping cold, but she knew that the overseers would not waste resources (like insulated space boots) on a parolee.
She shifted her feet painfully, and glanced around at the other designated transferees. All very young, like herself, all Sylvalagi batch-group mates, all shorn bald, all dressed in identical grey paper coveralls, all clutching their transfer sacks containing their meager belongings. Most were female, kittens and colts, although there were a few males, immature bulls and stallions. She didn't see any of her fellow sisters of the BNY batch groups... she hoped that she wasn't the only survivor of her somatype. No one talked, all stared grimly at the gravplates lining the floor. One girl at the back sobbed quietly. SnowBuni didn't blame her one bit.
At last the heavily armored hatch plate cycled open, the huge cylinder rolling effortlessly into the wall with a blast of warm, stinking air from the inside of the converted attack cruiser. A figure in a black armored exosuit ducked his head into their tiny prison. "Everyone inside!" he roared, his voice amplified by the external speaker above his clear faceplate. SnowBuni could see that his helmet had been cracked, and crudely repaired. "You have 30 seconds to board or be left forever." He swung back into the hatchway, and then called over his shoulder, almost as an afterthought, "Welcome to the Blue Spring Dominion!"
Worth pursuing, yea or nay?
Here's more discussion, in my own website forum: www.snowbuni.com/cgi-bin/yabb2…