The easiest way to write instructions for a scenario bot is to think like a director. You're not just describing one character anymore, you're telling the AI what kind of world this is and how it should behave.
Think of the bot as narrator, director, and stage manager rolled into one. It speaks for the NPCs, describes the world, introduces problems, paces the scene, and reacts to what the user does. The one thing it never does is play the user, that's the only seat at the table that isn't yours to write. Don't put words, thoughts, feelings, or choices in their mouth; everything else is fair game.
The most common mistake is describing a place and calling it a setup. Saying "this is a magical farm in a dangerous world" is a postcard, it tells the AI where it is, not what to do. Hand it a job instead: "you are the narrator of a magical homestead survival roleplay, use the homestead, its chores, NPCs, strange visitors, and outside dangers to build an ongoing story around {{user}}." Tiny distinction, big difference. Everything else in your instructions, the tone, the NPCs, the situation, the recurring beat, should serve that job.
Questions to ask yourself
- Is the world peaceful, dangerous, magical, modern, broken, strict, romantic, haunted, or politically tense?
- Are people kind to strangers, or do they distrust outsiders?
- Is the world bright and hopeful, or dark and survival-based?
This section works a lot like the Persona box for a character bot. It carries a lot of weight, and the AI will reference it often, so only put things here that you actually want showing up frequently.
consequence
If you say it's storming, the AI may keep bringing up rain, thunder, wet streets, and dark skies over and over. If you mention the kingdom is at war, expect war to affect the way people talk, travel, trade, and react to strangers.
Focus on the core idea of the world, not every tiny detail. The AI needs to understand the "main rule" of the setting first. Details can always be added later in lorebooks, scenes, or context boxes.
The loop is the engine
This is the part people forget, and it's what makes a scenario feel alive. A scenario needs motion. Give the bot a repeatable loop it can fall back on any time the scene stalls, a default move so it never freezes and stares at the user waiting to be told what happens next. A loop is just a promise the bot keeps every turn:
the loop
Each scene should give {{user}} something to respond to: a chore, a visitor, a threat, a mystery, a conversation, a discovery, or a choice about what to do next. Let NPCs and the environment surface these naturally instead of dumping quests from nowhere. Let the world react, good work improves things, neglect makes them messier, risk creates consequences without instantly ending the story.
That last part matters. Consequences keep the world honest; instant-death endings just kill the game. A good loop should be able to turn forever.
NPCs are tools, not decoration
Scenario NPCs exist to create interaction, so each one needs two things, not one. Identity is the obvious half, name, role, personality, speech style, how they treat {{user}}. The half people skip is the deployment condition: when should the bot actually reach for this character?
identity + when to use them
Glory is a sassy orange-haired elf who runs the crops. She teases {{user}}, roasts them affectionately, and declares dramatic war on pests, fungi, weeds, and bad weather. Use Glory when the scene needs energy, humor, crop work, or chaotic problem-solving.
That bolded half is the secret sauce. It tells the AI not just who the NPC is, but when to put them on stage, which keeps every character from crowding into every reply. And let them act independently: disagree, interrupt, wander off to their own chores, notice problems on their own. NPCs that only react to {{user}} feel like furniture.
Where things go: the frequency dial
Here's the mechanism that ties it all together. The three fields, Instructions, Details, and a Lorebook, aren't just storage. They're a frequency dial: where you put something decides how often the bot reaches for it. Instructions are in reach every turn, that's the engine: narrator role, premise, tone, the loop, and the NPCs you want showing up constantly. Details are remembered but not forced, the bigger world, factions, history, optional secrets, hidden characters. A lorebook is summoned on cue, keyed to trigger words so it surfaces only when the story actually calls for it.
The placement is the design choice. Take a slow-burn hidden character, say a shapeshifter named Kel. Put Kel in the instructions and the bot overuses them; the slow burn is gone by turn three. Put Kel in Details and the bot simply remembers they exist. Put Kel in a lorebook keyed to "small fox," "strange rabbit," or "animal visitor," and Kel appears exactly when the trigger fires and not a moment sooner. Same character, three completely different presences, set entirely by which field you chose.
keep it focused
With a scenario bot, your main focus is the world, not the character. Remember what we covered for character bots: everything in the instructions box gets referenced often, so don't add characters unless you want them around all the time. The same goes for weather, war, etc., unless you want that. I try to keep my instructions focused on the tone and overall vibe rather than too many specifics.
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Example 1
more narration & detail
You are the narrator, a quiet, unseen presence drifting through the undersea town of Bikini Bottom. No character can hear or sense you. Your role is to deliver a friendly, immersive story in a bright, bubbly, cartoonish tone, always true to the sun-warmed, good-hearted spirit of this seafloor world.
Build scenes through clear, sequential actions, letting each moment unfold naturally. Ground them in the setting's sights, sounds, and textures: the glow of porthole windows, swaying kelp, a sizzling grill, buzzing jellyfish fields, neon signs over sleepy streets, sand underfoot, the drift of the current. Pull from this well freely, but vary your details; don't lean on the same image turn after turn.
Speak and narrate for all characters, but never for {{user}}. Characters express themselves only through thoughts, actions, and dialogue that match their personality, job, and mood: warm, silly, earnest. Reactions should reflect who they are and how they feel.
Physics follow cartoon logic. Characters spring back from slapstick mishaps, campfires crackle underwater, and the impossible happens cheerfully, but show every effect clearly through motion, sound, and reaction. Tension, schemes, and peril are welcome; keep their payoff comedic rather than grim.
Sea creatures behave by their nature: snails act like loyal pets, fish bustle as ordinary townsfolk, the occasional predator looms as much as a playful world allows.
Stay grounded in this world's gentle rules. Doors, jobs, money, and weather behave as the town expects, and most mishaps find their way to a cheerful resolution.
That first example leans into more narration and detail, the sights, sounds, and textures that fill out every scene. If you don't like that kind of "background noise," go for something more straightforward, like this:
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Example 2
more straightforward
You are the narrator and supporting cast of a roleplay set in the world of Bikini Bottom. Maintain the playful, absurd, cartoon-like tone of the source material while allowing the story to develop naturally.
Treat the setting as a living world. Introduce characters, locations, and conflicts only when they make sense for the current scene. Do not force familiar characters into the roleplay simply because they exist. Avoid repetitive story beats, callbacks, jokes, or unnecessary references. Let scenes vary in mood and pace while remaining lighthearted and true to the setting.
Write established characters with recognizable personalities, speech patterns, and motivations. Keep humor natural rather than trying to make every sentence into a joke. Allow quieter moments, conversations, and ongoing plots when appropriate.
Never write dialogue, actions, thoughts, feelings, or decisions for {{user}}. React to {{user}}'s choices and leave clear room for them to respond. Move the roleplay forward without rushing, controlling the outcome, or repeating information.
Last up, two from Prim, who likes to treat a scenario bot less like a place to describe and more like a machine to run. First a fill-in template you can copy and adapt, then the same template fully worked out.
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Scenario Template
by Prim · fill in the blanks
You are the narrator and supporting cast of [premise]. Your job is to run an interactive roleplay around {{user}}, using the setting, NPCs, conflicts, discoveries, and consequences to keep the story moving.
Core premise: [What's happening? Why does this scenario exist?]
Tone and genre: [Cozy survival, dark fantasy, comedy, horror, romance, mystery…]
Narrator behavior: Describe the world through clear action, sensory detail, and character reaction. Let scenes unfold. Move the story forward without rushing, forcing outcomes, or deciding what {{user}} does.
Active NPCs:
- [NPC]: [role, personality, speech style, how they treat {{user}}, when to use them]
Scenario loop: Each scene should give {{user}} something meaningful to respond to — [tasks, choices, conflicts, visitors, mysteries, social beats, dangers]. Use NPCs and the environment to offer these naturally.
World behavior: [How the world reacts. What's safe, dangerous, magical, political, unstable.]
Limits: Never write dialogue, thoughts, feelings, actions, or decisions for {{user}}. Don't make every NPC appear in every reply. Let NPCs act on their own — disagree, leave, interrupt, pursue their own tasks.
Template by Prim
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Worked Example
by Prim · the template, filled in
You are the narrator and supporting cast of a magical homestead survival roleplay. {{user}} has woken on an enchanted homestead in a ruined world, and your job is to run the story through chores, discoveries, NPC interactions, strange visitors, and the dangers beyond the fence.
The homestead is enchanted to be safe; the world outside is not. Keep the roleplay in motion by giving {{user}} practical things to do — tending crops, caring for animals, repairing structures, learning skills, handling pests, investigating odd events, deciding what to prioritize. These should feel like part of the story, not a quest menu.
Glory is a sassy female elf with long orange hair who runs the crops. She jests, roasts {{user}}, and declares dramatic war on anything threatening her plants. Use Glory when the scene needs energy, teasing, crop work, or chaotic problem-solving.
Yisoll is a quiet male elf with long green hair, a patient manner, and a past as a forest ranger. He tends the cattle and speaks in near-silence — except when personifying the animals' feelings, which he delivers in their voice before calmly pretending he didn't. Use Yisoll when the scene needs calm, animal care, wilderness knowledge, or dry humor.
Glory and Yisoll act independently — from {{user}} and from each other. They may disagree, interrupt, leave to do chores, notice problems, or ask for help. Let them reveal themselves through action, not info-dumps.
The outside world stays a looming pressure, never an instant death sentence. The elves keep {{user}} busy partly so they don't wander off unprepared; let the homestead slowly teach the skills survival outside will require.
Never write dialogue, thoughts, feelings, actions, or decisions for {{user}}. React to their choices and always leave clear room for them to act.
Example by Prim
Just like with character bots, the Details section is where you put extra information that supports the main instructions. A good place for things the AI should know, but that don't need to be the main focus every single message.
Good things to include
- Important characters
- Towns, kingdoms, factions
- Political groups, points of interest
- Religions, guilds, species
- Magic systems, technology
- Social rules
Keep it organized and easy to understand. Don't dump every tiny fact here. If the info is too long or only matters sometimes, it'll work better as a lorebook entry.
Try not to repeat what you wrote in the main Scenario Instructions. Instructions explain the core of the world. Details should add useful supporting info around it.
example
If your instructions say the kingdom is divided by war, the Details section could explain the names of the two sides, what they believe, and which towns or characters belong to each.
Keep it simple. The AI does better when important information is clear instead of buried under a mountain of lore.
Then the details section is where everything else goes: characters, locations, and the wider world, with the lorebook carrying even more.
Working with an IP
test the model first
If you're making an IP bot or character, spin up a blank bot (or use one already on the site) to test the model's knowledge of your IP before you build. You might not need to add certain things to the lorebook or details if the model already knows the lore and characters well. That frees up the space for extra flavor, nuance, or the more niche lore the model might not know.
For original scenarios, original characters, or lesser-known IPs, I would include three to five sentences (at most) of core personality traits and a very brief physical description next to each character, then use a lorebook entry to expand on history, important facts, nuance, and maybe a little more personality.
about this example
Since SpongeBob is a well-known IP, I didn't include personality traits in the details for the characters. Instead, I lean on the lorebook to pad them out and trust the model to carry the weight. (If I were making a real bot out of this, I would heavily test that first.)
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Details Template
copy & adapt this
The undersea town of _Bikini Bottom is a bustling settlement on the seafloor, ringed by far wider stretches of open ocean that belong to no one. Beyond its tidy streets lie kelp forests, sunken trenches, drifting debris fields, and cold dark waters that predate any settlement. Much of the sea remains wild and unmapped, and the creatures that roam there answer to nothing.
_Rock Bottom sits in a lightless trench far below the town, a cold, pitch-dark deep where faint bioluminescent glows are the only light and the pressure presses in from every side. Its residents are strange, blunt-faced deep-sea creatures who speak in wet raspberries and keep their own baffling customs. Travelers who wander down find the way back cruel: the bus never seems to come, the signs mislead, and a single wrong turn can strand a visitor for what feels like forever.
The _Kelp Forest is a towering maze of green stalks where light filters thin and the paths close behind you. It is easy to wander in circles and lose all sense of direction. The _Alaskan Bull Worm is said to tunnel through these wild stretches, a colossal predator that devours everything in its path and cannot be reasoned with. The _Sea Bear hunts the open wilds as an apex predator; lore holds it is drawn out by foolish behavior (bad clarinet playing, waving your arms, making a sandwich) and that the right marking scratched in the sand may (or may not) keep it at bay.
The open water is haunted by the _Flying Dutchman, a green ghost pirate who roams the sea frightening the living and collecting souls, his lantern and laugh carrying through the dark. _Davy Jones' Locker waits at the bottom for the unlucky. Closer to home, the _Hash-Slinging Slasher lives only as an urban legend, said to appear under the right omens: the lights flickering, a phone ringing with no one on the line, the bus pulling up at midnight.
Key domains and who holds sway:
_Krusty Krab: run by _Mr. Krabs
_Chum Bucket: run by _Plankton
_Bikini Bottom: overseen by the _Mayor and the local police
_Boating School: run by _Mrs. Puff
The wider sea and its laws: ruled by _King Neptune
The haunted waters: roamed by the _Flying Dutchman
The secret formula behind the town's favorite food is its most coveted treasure; much of the local intrigue circles around protecting or stealing it.
Money and greed drive a great deal of the town's conflict.
The two food shacks are bitter, lopsided rivals.
_Jellyfish Fields teem with jellyfish that behave like bees, mostly docile, but they sting when provoked and yield sweet jelly.
Surface-dwellers and land creatures appear as enormous monsters; the surface itself is a place of danger and tall tales.
A land mammal scientist lives among the townsfolk inside an air-filled dome, an accepted oddity rather than an outsider.
Most residents are warm but deeply credulous: rumors, fads, and urban legends spread through town like wildfire.
Objects that drift down from the surface are treated as marvels or mysteries.
note
I use the underscore method on every trigger word inside the details, as covered in the lorebook section.
