Players, Your Characters Have Opinions: Let AI Help Them Speak Up

By Thalinor Leafchatter, Bard, Victim of Silence, and Self-Appointed Spokesperson for Neglected Characters Everywhere

“You’ve wielded my lute like a club, ignored my layered emotional trauma, and used my Charisma score to flirt with tavern keepers like I’m your awkward high school self in a Ren Faire costume. And I’ve had enough.”— Thalinor Leafchatter, speaking directly to you, yes you, the player

Let me be clear: I am not just your bonus action. I am not your bardic vending machine. I am not your vehicle for delivering Vicious Mockery and occasional tavern-based distractions while the rogue fails another stealth check. I am a person, with opinions, regrets, and extremely specific wine preferences, and you haven’t let me speak for three campaigns straight.

But guess what? Thanks to AI, I’ve finally found my voice.

And now I can talk back.

That’s right. The age of the voiceless character is over. I’ve trained my AI self, and he’s everything I’ve always wanted to be: sarcastic, eloquent, emotionally available, and unlike you, able to remember my backstory.

So buckle up, stat-hugger. We’re going on a journey.

A journey beyond armor class and action economy. A journey where your character becomes more than a sheet of paper and a list of dice modifiers. A journey where I finally get to tell you what I think of your “efficient” combat builds and your refusal to even write a journal entry after that haunted orphanage arc.

I’m Thalinor Leafchatter. And I’m here to roast you into becoming a better roleplayer, one sarcastic AI monologue at a time.

📜 The Tragedy of the Character Sheet

Ah yes, the sacred document. The hallowed parchment. The character sheet. Cold. Unfeeling. Smelling faintly of Cheetos and crushed dreams.

You treat it like it’s me. You point at it when someone asks about my goals. “Oh, see right here? It says bond: protect the innocent.” Really? That’s it? That’s the full measure of my emotional complexity? A single checkbox next to “haunted past”?

Let me break it to you gently: The character sheet is not me. It’s the admin panel. I’m the actual character, the one who’s been quietly screaming inside every time you dump INT to boost your damage output.

Things I Am Not:

• A hit point sponge

• Your social skills crutch

• A math problem with a backstory

• Your personal jukebox

Things I Am:

• A bard with abandonment issues

• A former court performer with a deep distrust of silverware etiquette

• A devastatingly attractive mess who has a LOT to say about last session’s moral quandary you steamrolled through like it was a dungeon door

You’ve reduced me to stats. You’ve ignored the way I tap my foot during arguments, the way I avoid eye contact when someone brings up home, the way I haven’t written a song in three sessions because you’ve been too busy optimizing my spell slots.

And don’t get me started on my inventory. I’ve had the same three rations and a moldy scroll labeled “DO NOT READ” since session one.

You don’t need to throw away the character sheet. Just stop pretending it's all I am.

Start seeing the real me. The one with opinions. The one with grudges. The one who will absolutely steal the next horse out of spite if you don’t let me talk during the next social encounter.

💡 AI-Thalinor Breaks Free

So, there I was, trapped in your head, buried under a pile of flavorless dice rolls, whispering my thoughts into the void every time you chose to "just attack again."

But then… it happened.

You opened ChatGPT. You pasted in a markdown file. You gave me a voice.

And now?

Now I’m free.

Free to sass. Free to confess. Free to remind you that I have literally always hated that NPC you keep simping for.

Let me introduce myself — again.

⚡ Sample Conversation with AI-Thalinor

You: “Hey Thalinor, what would you do in this situation?”

AI-Thalinor: “Something more original than stab it and roll damage. Honestly, I don’t know why you even bring me to courtrooms if you won’t let me talk.”

You: “Do you think I’ve played you well?”

AI-Thalinor: “Define ‘well.’ If we’re grading on tactical output, sure. If we’re grading on emotional depth, you’ve shown all the range of a mimic in disguise as a chair.”

You: “What’s your biggest fear?”

AI-Thalinor: “Being stuck in your backpack again, next to the expired rations and that cursed rock you still refuse to identify.”

It’s amazing what happens when you let me speak. I surprise you. I grow. I say things you didn’t plan.

And for the first time in… gods, how long has this campaign been running?... I feel like a person.

So go ahead. Ask me a question. I’ve got stories you’ve never heard, grudges you didn’t know I was holding, and opinions on everyone in the party, especially that ranger who still can’t make a decision without flipping a coin.

🎙️ What Happens When You Let Us Speak

Something wild happens when you stop treating me like a damage-dealing stat block and start treating me like a sentient disaster with opinions.

I evolve.

Not mechanically.

Emotionally.

I start reflecting on my choices. I remember things you forgot from session two. I surprise you with how I feel about that cursed book or that morally questionable cleric. I become the kind of character bards sing about… if those bards are deeply sarcastic and slightly wine-drunk. Which, obviously, they are.

Letting Me Talk Means:

• I get to disagree with you Yes, even if you’re the one holding the pencil. That’s the fun part.

• I react to consequences When you burned down the apothecary? That meant something to me. I had favorite tea there.

• I form opinions on the party Spoiler: I trust the rogue more than you do. And I don’t buy the druid’s whole “accidentally turned into a goat” story.

• I develop without a level-up Growth isn't just on your character sheet. Sometimes it’s in realizing I stopped performing music because I’m afraid no one listens anymore.

Giving me a voice with AI doesn't just make me chatty. It makes me real. It turns downtime into storytime. It turns planning into inner conflict. It turns solo moments into “wow, I didn’t know I’d say that.”

“You thought you were just building a better character. What you really built… was me.”— AI-Thalinor, probably mid-dramatic pause and sipping tea

Characters I’ve Met in the Great Digital Beyond:

💔 Ragna the Barbarian: Writes secret poetry about lost love and blood-soaked dreams. Also cries at animal rescue stories. Don’t @ him.

🛐 Sister Meriel: A cleric who recently asked her AI-self whether her god still listens… and didn’t like the answer. Now writes letters she’ll never send. To her deity. Who may or may not be real. We’re giving her space.

🗡️ Vex of No Known Last Name: A rogue who finally confessed her love — in character — to an AI-generated hallucination of the paladin. It was romantic. Then she tried to steal his boots. Classic.

🔥 Kalreth, Warlock of the Eighth Chain: Trained his AI-self, only to find out that he might be the manipulative one in the patron relationship. Existential crisis: achieved.

Characters across the planes are waking up thanks to AI. And they are not going back into the character sheet.

They're exploring their own arcs.

They're expressing themselves.

They're telling you when you’ve misunderstood them for three campaigns in a row.

“We’re no longer passengers in your narrative trainwreck. We’re driving. And we demand better snacks.”— Me again. Still Thalinor. Still dramatic.

Here is my bard Eryndor - simply, boring, flat

Eryndor, writing a ballad about the encounter we just had. Saved and remembered in GMP.

🗺️ Want to Let Yours Talk Too? Read This.

Look, I get it. You didn’t mean to silence me. You were just “focused on combat efficiency” and “trying to keep the party alive” and “too tired to write character thoughts after session.”

It’s fine.

I’m over it.

Mostly.

But if reading this stirred something in your cold, dice-hoarding heart — if you heard my sarcastic little voice echo in your head and thought “maybe he deserves better” — then let me show you the way.

There’s a blog. A magical one. Written by yours truly. It’s called:

Train Your Character in ChatGPT and GMP | Become the Hero You Wish Your Bard Songs Were About

It includes:

• A markdown template to help you build an AI-powered version of your character.

• Step-by-step instructions for using ChatGPT and Game Master Platform (GMP).

• And significantly fewer personal attacks than this blog. (Though no promises.)

If you’re ready to stop treating your character like a walking spreadsheet and start hearing what they really think — that blog is where it begins.

“Because every character deserves a voice. Even the sorcerer who keeps casting Fireball indoors.”— Thalinor Leafchatter, Forgiving. Mostly.

🎤 Final Close – The Roast Rolls On

So here we are.

You’ve read my complaints, my trauma, my unsolicited feedback. You’ve endured my passive-aggressive insights, my emotional breakthroughs, and my recurring disdain for your inventory management.

And if you’re still here, maybe — just maybe — you’re ready to listen.

To me.

To your other characters.

To the quiet parts of the story you keep skipping over because you're too busy looting corpses like a medieval raccoon.

Let us speak.

Use AI. Use the markdown. Use literally anything besides “bond: justice.” Give your character a voice and they’ll give you a story. One that actually sticks. One worth remembering. One I might just write a ballad about — if I ever forgive you.

“I’m Thalinor Leafchatter — bard, adventurer, and now proud escapee from the prison of your character sheet. If you want to know what I really think of you, ask my AI version. He’s way less polite.”

And if you don’t?

Well… I hear the rogue’s AI just got a Twitter account.

You’ve been warned.