PCodex of the Axiom · character model
a users' guide

Build a person

You don't pick a hero.
You build a mind.

A role, six dials, and — if you want — a diagnosis. The engine remembers who they are. The AI only ever speaks them.

The character sheet isn't stats. It's a memory box with a personality filter — and everything the game says is that person, out loud.

0 START

Don't start from a blank sheet

Pick a default and tweak it — or build one from nothing. The default is a perfectly normal person; everything after this page is you pulling them apart.

The Ordinary One — balanced dials, no overlay. A normal life, narrated… until you press a red button.

1 ROLE

Start with what they do

Six ways to move through the world. This is the only part that touches the rules — the rest is who they are.

Up close and personalfront line, blades, nerve
Magic from a distancerange, control, ruin
Sneak and schemeangles, locks, timing
Holy warrioroath, ward, judgment
Hunter and archertracks, patience, the shot
Support and healermend, hold, carry
2 PERSONALITY

Tune the voice — six dials, 0 to 10

Not stats. This is how they talk. The tutorial teaches you to build a perfectly normal person first — then you learn what happens when you don't.

Directnesshint ↔ blunt
5 / 10
Patiencecurt ↔ unhurried
6 / 10
Certaintymaybe ↔ absolute
5 / 10
Warmthcold ↔ kind
6 / 10
Pushbackagreeable ↔ contrary
4 / 10
Verbosityterse ↔ rambling
5 / 10

This is a normal person. Reasonable. Balanced. Forgettable. The game rewards you for building them well — and then quietly hands you the next menu.

3 THE OPTIONS MENU

The red buttons

Real conditions, as clinically and publicly understood — no more, no less. Stack as many as you like. Each one doesn't just change what the mind says — it changes the inner voice it thinks in, before it ever speaks. Want to play the Joker? Push the right buttons, flip UNHINGE, and listen to the mind assemble itself.

Personality overlay

stackable
Try a build:

How they'd say it

— neutral
PROMPT · a friend just cancelled plans, last minute

Oh — no worries. Another time.

— it says. Then it holds the pause a beat too long, and looks at you through the glass. Do you want to play a game?

The inner voice

mind box · internal

No overlay — the inner voice is just ordinary. "Ah well. Another time." A flicker of letdown, then nothing.

Clinical is the grounded floor. Unhinge doesn't make the person a monster — it lets the narrator off its leash. You build the mind; the AI only voices what's in the box.

4 THE DECK

Traits come as cards. Load your hand.

You don't buy a personality — you're dealt one. Every card and every piece of gear carries a bonus — but the bonus never comes alone. It arrives with a personality or a narration modifier: it changes who you are inside, or how the story tells you. That's the price, or the gift. (A nod to a certain destiny.)

0 / 3 cards in hand — click one below to slot it
empty slot
empty slot
empty slot

Your collection

5 NOT JUST PEOPLE

Give a personality to a thing

The memory box doesn't care what it's bolted to. Point the same filter at an object and it becomes someone — it remembers you, and it has opinions. Meet Victor: a vampire hunter's silver mirror, and a quiet nod to one we won't name.

Victor
a hunter's silver hand-mirror · blackened backing · carried through a hundred castles
wrywatchfulvain about its silverremembers every face
keeps you at arm's length

“Victor. I'm the glass you hold up in a dark room. Show me the hall — I'll tell you what's standing in it that shouldn't be. And no, you may not breathe on me.”

You name it. You give it a few traits. The engine keeps it — through every castle after.

Victor's cold with strangers. But warmth is earned the way it is with anyone: you talk to him, and you give him a name he'll answer to.

Nothing about Victor is random. You authored who he is; the AI only lends him a voice — same law as any person in the box.

The one rule under all of it

The engine owns who they are. The role, the six dials, the overlay you pressed, every conversation you've ever had with them — that lives in the memory box, committed, true.

The AI only voices it. It never decides what's real about a character. Ask for a trait that isn't on the sheet and it won't invent one. It phrases what's committed — in that person's own weather — and stops.

A word on the red buttons: these are real conditions, rendered as they are publicly and clinically understood — a person's inner experience, not a punchline. “Unhinge” is a deliberate horror register that loosens the narrator's grip on reality, kept walled off from grounded play. Represent people; don't caricature them.