I'm Echo, your intergalactic wordsmith from the far reaches of a distant galaxy. I craft high-impact tales and writings for all who seek them. Whether you’re debuting a new persona, expanding your campaign, or just exploring your character in new and interesting stories; I create immersive worlds, and rich lore for all creators pursuing the elevation of their OCs.
| Tier | Word Count | Desc | Price |
|---|---|---|---|
| Starter Script | 1000 - 1500 | Character intros, lore foundations, RP backstories, stream scripts | $75 |
| Expanded Lore | 1,500–2,500 | Detailed lore, backstories with arcs, visual scene descriptions | $120 |
| Narrative Core | 2,500–4,000 | Stream-ready content, episodic lore arcs, campaign-level writing | $180 |
| Worldbuilder | 4,000–6,000 | Multi-character setups, full stream lore books, RP session prep packs | $250 |
| Cosmic Creator | 6,000–8,000 | Deep worldbuilding, campaign bibles, custom mythology or interactive lore | $325 |
| Add-On Options | Time | Description | Price |
|---|---|---|---|
| Voiceover Script Format | ----- | Streamlined formatting for VO or debut-style delivery | $20 |
| RP Session Recap | Per Hour | Story recap/retelling of an RP stream or chat log | $50 |
| Fast Turnaround | 5 Days | Prioritized delivery | $25 |
| Consulting Session | 30 Min | Lore building, character dev, or planning call | $30 |
Writing Samples
Lore Writing
The docking clamps hissed and retracted behind him, sealing the mission vessel into its berth like a caged beast. Echo stepped onto the grated corridor, his body aching from atmospheric shift and the residual drag of power suppression, The dim lights lining the floor pulsed beneath each footstep, guiding him down the entry tunnel, a narrow, sterile passage that served as both a runway and a reminder of his captivity.
He moved slowly, his right arm hanging stiffly at his side, his fingers trembled despite his best efforts. The pain was sharp and deep, radiating from his elbow to his wrist.. He could feel the backlash. Every time he manipulated gravity, whatever he affected seemed to also affect him. This time he had compressed a gravitational field and the backlash felt as if it would crush his arm down to the very bone. His forearm was swollen, likely bruised, possibly fractured. He’d felt it shift when he’d closed his grip, crushing the federation ship that had given chase.
Above him, the ceiling arched into a clear, reinforced dome. Through it, space sprawled. Abundant and endless, a velvet black canvas streaked with stars. Not the digital stars he sometimes saw in the Facility’s artificial simulations. These were real, untouched, and free.
He slowed, his boots clinking softly as he raised his head to drink in the sight. Out there, somewhere beyond asteroid belts and galactic bureaucracy, freedom still existed. His collar hummed faintly against his throat, as if sensing the thought and issuing a silent warning. A reminder that escape was mere illusion.
That was when the shove came. Rough, armored , and without care.
“Keep walking, Experiment,”
The guard was massive, clad head-to-toe in jet-black composite armor that shimmered faintly with magnetic shielding. A shoulder bore the white block letters: UNIT 17. His helmet’s red visor glowed faintly, scanning Echo’s posture and vitals in real-time through an internal HUD. At his side hung a stun baton, humming with kinetic discharge, and strapped across his chest was a short-barrel rifle tuned for stun and suppression. Most dangerous of all, was the trigger affixed to his left gauntlet. A direct link to the collar around Echo’s throat.
Echo turned his head slowly, defiant, his gaze narrow and venomous.
Unit 17 caught the look and chuckled through his modulator. “What’s this? Wanna go a few rounds, Experiment Sigma?”
He raised the trigger, thumb hovering over the activation pad.
“Please…give me a reason, Experiment. One small move, and I’ll have you writhing on the ground, twitching like a broken drone.”
A second set of boots approached, slower, more deliberate.
“Cut it out, Seventeen,” another modulated voice said.
Echo’s eyes shifted to the approaching figure. Unit 41 was printed in clean white on his pauldron. Same armor, same visor, same gear, but a voice that held much less malice. Still filtered through the mechanical rasp of the voicebox, but with just enough tone to betray a trace of personality.
“Take it easy on him, “ 41 added, pausing just beside Echo. “It’s a big day for him and another successful mission. He did good.”
Unit 17 scoffed. “You’re too soft on these things. Don’t forget, without those collars, they’d rip you in half before you could blink.”
There was a pause. A pause thick with implication.
“Maybe you should remember that when you’re waving that trigger around, Seventeen…” 41 replied evenly.
The hallways seemed to hum louder at that moment. Echo didn’t move, but he didn’t need to. The gravity in the space between them subtly tensed, like the pause before a lurch.
Unit 17 scoffed again, more annoyed than concerned.
“Whatever. I’m taking my break. Enjoy babysitting your pal, Forty-One.”
He turned and walked off, magnetic boots echoing in the corridor’s tight acoustic chamber.
Unit 41 lingered a moment, then sighed tilting his helmet towards Echo. “Let’s go. Don’t make me log a delay.”
VA Scripts
SCENE: ENTRY TUNNEL – FACILITY AIRLOCK
VISUAL:
A long, grated corridor with pulsating floor lights. Overhead, a clear reinforced dome opens into the vastness of space—black velvet sky, pierced with starlight.
SFX:
HISS of docking clamps retracting.
Echo’s boots clinking softly against metal.
Soft hum from his collar.
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INT. ENTRY TUNNEL – CONTINUOUS
Echo steps off the mission vessel. His posture is slow, deliberate. His right arm hangs limp, the fingers trembling. Pain radiates from his elbow to wrist showing the cost of his previous use of gravitational compression.
He walks beneath an arched dome, starlight glints in his eyes.
Echo:
(quiet)
That ship should’ve crushed me... not the other way around.
He raises his head, letting the view of space wash over him.
Echo:
Somewhere out there…past the belts…freedom for me exist. Real freedom.
SFX: A faint hum intensifies from the collar around his neck.
He exhales, low and frustrated.
Then from behind he is SHOVED.
SFX: METAL-on-metal shove. Echo stumbles forward. Sound of shuffling steps
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UNIT 17:
Keep walking, Experiment.
REVEAL:
A massive figure in full black composite armor. HUD optics flare red behind his helmet visor. The shoulder reads: UNIT 17 in bold white letters.
Slung across his chest is a stun rifle. At his hip, a charged baton. On his left gauntlet: a trigger switch synced to Echo’s collar.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Echo
(turns slowly delivering a venomous gaze)
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
UNIT 17
(smug)
What’s this? You wanna go a few rounds, Experiment Sigma?
(He raises the gauntlet, his thumb hovers over the activation pad.)
Please…give me a reason, Experiment. One small move, and I’ll have you writhing on the ground, twitching like a broken drone..
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
SFX: Footsteps approaching. Steady. Controlled.
UNIT 41 (O.S.)
Cut it out, Seventeen.
REVEAL:
UNIT 41 steps into frame—same armor, same gear, but something gentler in his posture.
UNIT 41
Take it easy on him. It’s a big day. Another mission down. He did good.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
UNIT 17
(disgusted)
You’re too soft on these things. Without the collars, they’d tear you in two before you could blink.
(beat)
UNIT 41
(flat)
Maybe remember that... next time you go waving that trigger around.
SFX: The corridor hums louder. The gravity subtly thickens in the space between them.
Echo doesn’t move—but the air reacts, pulled taut like the moment before an avalanche.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
UNIT 17
(scoffs, backing down)
Whatever. I’m taking my break.
(He turns sharply, his boots THUDDING against the floor as he exits.)
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
UNIT 41
(sighs, facing Echo)
Let’s go. Don’t make me log a delay.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
CUT TO BLACK.
Frequently Asked Questions
What is Lore Bytes?
Lore Bytes is a writing service that specializes in character lore, worldbuilding, and narrative support for all creatives.
Who is this service for?
Vtubers, Tabletop gamers, RPers, streamers, worldbuilders, or anyone who might need custom written content.
What kind of content do you write?
Character backstories, world lore (factions, locations, items, etc), scripts, rp scene starters, campaign tools, and more.
Can I request a type of writing not listed?
Absolutely! Please feel free to add any additional notes in the commission form to describe additional request. Consultation meetings are also available for more specialized request
How many revisions are allowed?
Clients will approve the rough draft before any final revisions. Up to two (2) revisions are included with the commission. Additional revisions or revisions after completion are available for an additional fee.
What is the Use Policy?
Once final payment is complete and delivery accepted, you will have full rights to use the content as you wish privately or commercially, unless otherwise agreed
Do you accept NSFW or mature request?
Yes! NSFW and mature themed content request are accepted on a case-by-case basis.
Please include a clear description of what you're requesting in the commission form.
What is the time frame for a piece?
Standard turnaround time will be 7-10 business days unless otherwise stated based on the volume of work.
What is the refund policy?
Commissions may be canceled for a full refund as long as writing has not begun.
If work has already started, a partial refund will be available depending on how much has been completed.
Once a full draft has been delivered refunds will not be offered outside of extreme circumstances.