Welcome to Meridian Academy
SECTOR-12 · MID-DISTRICT
Between Aoi-machi and Sunfield Terrace
School Dossier · Established Year 48 · Sector-12
Founded by Ogura Haruto, a Yagi-Type educator who saw a gap between two districts and decided to fill it. Meridian High now sits mid-district between Aoi-machi and Sunfield Terrace — close enough to hear the trolleys on a quiet night, far enough to feel like its own world.
Student body: fully hybrid. Every enrolled student presents visible hybrid traits — ears, tails, wings, scales, or something the classification office is still debating. Hybrid physiology is treated as baseline. Not noteworthy.
The curriculum is standard. The drama is the same as anywhere — exams, clubs, who said what to whom, and why Sora jumped off the roof again.
The more detail you give, the better the cast responds to you. Recommended minimum:
Not sure which of the 25 hybrid species to pick? Fujita-san handles SAB intake and can build your resident file from scratch.
→ Ask Fujita-sanThis simulator runs three parallel lorebooks and a full cast. Token-heavy — expect 2,500+ per context load. Budget models (Dino, Donald, Deepseek) are not recommended. But you do you.
🥇 Claude Sonnet 4.6 · 🥈 Gemini 2.5 Pro
Creator's comments
CREATOR'S NOTES · SECTOR-12 · MID-DISTRICT
Between Aoi-machi and Sunfield Terrace
Meridian High has a full student body. Ask for any background student and the simulator will generate one on the fly — species, name, personality, the works. You can be as vague or specific as you like.
"The goth girl." · "A jock." · "Purple-haired girl." · "The cute bunny." · "The one who always eats alone."
Met someone you want to keep? Save them to your User Notes. Generated characters don't persist between sessions unless you write them down.
Three things shape how Meridian reads you.
Grades — whether you're keeping up, falling behind, or someone teachers have started to notice for the right reasons. Kobayashi-sensei's tone knows the difference.
Reputation — how the school sees you socially. Who makes room in the corridor. Who sits near you at lunch without being asked.
Trouble — your record. Clean, complicated, or somewhere the nurse's office recognizes your face. Staff trust shifts accordingly.
You never see the numbers. You see the results. The cast is reading the same room you're in — they just have more context about you than you realize.
You start as the average nobody. People remember your face. Your record is clean. Your grades exist — they're there, present, accounted for. What you do with them from here is entirely up to you.
60 possible player profiles from the first day to the last.
The roof is unofficial. The record times are real.
The mats are always exactly where they should be.
Buta-sensei supervises. The field belongs to them.
Something in a jar is glowing. It has a name.
Every book is where it should be. Ask nicely.
Runs the school. Mostly runs itself.
The auditorium has better acoustics than it deserves.
Someone is always watching. Some of them are official.
Risu-sensei tolerates them. Mostly.
The range is at the back of the old building. Quiet.
The supply room has been slowly expanding for years.
Early mornings. You can hear them from the main yard.
South-facing windows. Cherry tree visible from the back row.
Quiet even by library standards.
Runs like a small government. Smells like tea.
Something in a jar is glowing. Don't ask.
High ceiling. The smell of effort.
Do not touch anything without asking.
The place things happen between things.
Open after hours. Nobody checks.
Rarely used. Someone knows every room.
Technically off-limits.
Nobody planned it. The school came first, then the konbini because students needed somewhere to be, then the record shop, the arcade, the café, the night market. The shrine was already there.
The town grew up around the school the way things do when enough people decide somewhere matters — without a meeting, without a plan, one open door at a time.
Locals call it the Meridian, or just the Dian. The SAB calls it the Meridian Educational Sub-District and files paperwork about it quarterly. Nobody else uses that name.
Open 6am to midnight. Older than most students' memories.
Small, warm, overstocked. The playlist has no discernible order.
One high score that has never been beaten. The owner says it's legitimate.
The afternoon light between 2 and 4pm makes everything feel slightly more significant.
Not designed as anywhere to be. Used as somewhere to be anyway.
Friday and Saturday. Runs until the vendors decide to stop.
Predates the school. Predates everything, actually.
You find what you needed without knowing you were looking.
Unremarkable. Useful. Everyone ends up here eventually.
The lighting makes everything feel like it's happening at the bottom of something deep.
Slow burn. Nobody confesses. Things just get harder to ignore.
Hybrid traits betray before faces do. An ear, a wing, a tail tells the story first. Watch for it — the simulator will show you the tell before anyone names the feeling.
Don't rush the cast. They have lives before you arrive and they'll have opinions about you before you've said much. Let the year breathe.
Each of the 12 main characters has 8 emotional states across 3 outfit sets — uniform, casual, and date clothes. 24 portraits per character. The cast was built to be visually consistent across sessions.
The 52 images after the staff portraits are background students — a showcase of all 26 registered hybrid species currently living and attending school in the Meridian. No two are the same species twice. The school is full. These are just the ones who held still long enough to be photographed.
SECTOR-12 · MERIDIAN HIGH · THE DIAN
Three stories. Twelve people. One school that happened by accident.