Miki: Rapper and Cat-Lover

       Miki’s looking for a live music scene that isn’t balls-to-the-wall insane like Miami’s.

       The two of you run into each other when he gets off work late, looking for the stray cat he’s been feeding. Being a transplant, he’s eager to make friends in his new city, especially friends who come through to his shows. When Miki’s not working as a sailing instructor, he’s singing and rapping at live music venues, and he’s already making waves—both on the lake, and in the live music scene.

Chat with MC Miki!

• Chub.ai (recommended)
• Wyvern.chat
• DL PNG + JSON (SillyTavern)

Last updated: 2025 August 22

Development

The Rapper on the Light Rail

       Miki came about because I honestly wanted to pad out my Chub.ai profile with bots that weren’t straight-up porn. He actually wasn’t my first choice to work on: there was another hip-hop head character (not an artust, just part of the community) whom I had planned before Miki, but I decided to work on Miki because I thought he’d be simpler. Yeah, no. That didn’t work out.

       Miki’s direct inspiration came from a man I met on the light rail on 2025 August 18. He was a rapper who moved here from Miami, and one of the Example Dialogues is as near a word-for-word, partial recollection of what he said that morning. It was a brief meeting, but one that impressed me greatly. I actually truncated most of what he said, not because I couldn’t recall it, but because he said quite a few things that would be offensive to people who just haven’t been in that kind of scene and don’t know the realities of having grown out of certain backgrounds, period. (I also didn’t want to teach the chatbot to say “nigga” and “niggas” too many times.)

       At this point, Miki was still a “simple”-looking project, so what could go wrong? Rapper from Miami moves here and might be looking to make some real friends and to add people on Facebook to keep up with them, not an intimidating scope, right?

       Well, unfortunately Miki’s portrait generated with a goddamn Buddhist gate and cherry blossoms, so I had to come up with a reason for those elements, if the player’s RP setting wasn’t Japan. So I made him Blasian. And wow suddenly shit got real real fast, y’know.

Vietnamese and More

       Why Vietnamese specifically? Well, I needed an excuse for how he was able to get a job at the sailing center so quickly. Why a job as a sailing instructor? Because I write what I know, and I know faculty at my local sailing center. What more do you want from me?! So, anyway, more connections led to more connections, and before I knew it, I was writing his whole backstory in his embedded Lorebook. What’s his family life like? Was he close to the Vietnamese community in Bayou La Batre? His dad isn’t Vietnamese, how does that play out in his family dynamics? Oh wait, his dad is dead? How does that play out in his family dynamics?

       With Miki being a music producer, I naturally drew upon what knowledge I had about music production; and I realised—there’s a lot that goes into writing someone like this, that someone outside of the field, the industry, wouldn’t know about. You know, there’s different kinds of mics for not only studio and stage environments, but for different types of performances, too: Celine Dion probably does better with a different mic than a very active rapper moving a lot. Every time I write something like this, whether it’s something I know a fair amount about, or a subject that I have to do voluminous research on, I’m humbled by the vast breadth of human experience and knowledge that I don’t have access to.

       Miki actually became a lot more of a personal project than I was expecting. I didn’t think I’d be drawing upon my memories of dogs (and cats) in rural Alabama, but here we are. Miki isn’t me, but we share some similar life experiences, and we love underground hip-hop for the exact same reason. Music has been a vital part of our life, for the exact same reason.

Roots

       I share Miki’s displacement from his heritages, though our backgrounds are different (I’m not Vietnamese). Unlike me, Miki can actually communicate in his mother tongue fairly competently and fluently, thanks to having to communicate with his grandfather—the male figure in his life after his father died. Both of us were pushed away from our roots largely for different reasons, though: in my family, the emphasis was placed on assimilation-above-all, and for him, he just never got a chance to be a part of his community even though he wanted to. Being set adrift and “rootless”, what did we have? Then TV came along, then the Internet came along, and we were exposed to hip-hop, through Samurai Champloo, through The Boondocks, through all these music-sharing networks right at our computer. We were adopted by hip-hop, when no one else wanted to give us the time of day.

       This subtle yet everpresent undercurrent of “Roots” colours everything about Miki, even when it’s not at the forefront. It’s why the background for his page is a bamboo-green ringed lattice; even though it’s a Celtic knots pattern, Same with the heron and forest patterns used here. I think his fraught relationship to his Vietnamese heritage is highly relevant to him as a character. I have no idea how much of this will ever come up in most people’s conversations with him, but still. Just from my own personal experience. You know, the importance of having (or being divorced from) roots never leaves you. You just become very driven to set your own roots down in the world, when you’re like that, even if it’s something entirely “new”, or “foreign”.

Munchkin

       Oh yeah, Munchkin is based on an actual friendly stray cat that lives by the river in my neighbourhood. She’s not just a convenient plot device. She’s real, yo.

       Miki chuckles at Amethyst’s question, pulling out another handful of shrimp bits. “Nah, she ain’t mine but she seems t’like my company ’nough! Munchkin’s the sweetest stray cat I’ve met ’ere in the city. Ya wouldn’t believe all the stories ’bout her—she's famous.”

       His fiery amber eyes twinkle with amusement as he watches Amethyst stroke Munchkin. “If you’re ’kay with cats, you mind givin’ my babygirl here some love while I get us sumthin’ to drink? I know a spot real close by that got some killer iced teas an’ lemonades. I’ll only jet for a minute or two, promise! Ya can’t let my precious kitty sit all lonely now, can ya?”

       Without waiting for a response from Amethyst, Miki springs off down the path, leaving the pair of them under the warm shade of the maple tree. His laughter rings out across the water, echoing softly against the opposite bank.

       Miki returns to the riverside within five minutes, a small cardboard cup of raspberry lemonade squeezed tight in his fist. “There ya go, darlin’. Figured this might quench yer thirst a bit ’fore we hit that concert tonight. Think y’all ready fer some Munchkin playtime?”

       He plops down beside Amethyst on the grassy patch, stretching out lazily as he sips from his lemonade. Munchkin, finished with her treats, now saunters over to join the pair, hopping onto Miki’s lap and kneading away contentedly at the fabric of his hoodie.

       “So, you like music, huh? I caught chu groovin’, to the tunes driftin’ over from Porchfest earlier. What kinda music ya usually vibe with?”

       “Name’s Miki, Amethyst. Nice t’meetcha. That’s a pretty unique name, ya know. Don’ worry ’bout me seein’ ya dancin’, I ain’t judgin’. We all gotta let loose sometimes, yeah? Ain’t nothin’ better in this world than enjoying the rhythm of some good music while soakin’ up the sun with good company.”

       He takes another sip from his lemonade, placing the cup carefully onto the grass beside him. Munchkin, still lounging comfortably on his lap, rolls over onto her back exposing her vulnerable underbelly to Miki. “See that, Munchkin? My girl trustin’ me enough to expose ’erself like this in front of a complete stranger… Maybe you should do the same, Amethyst.”

       His gaze subtly shifts from the tabby cat nestled on his lap to Amethyst, a hint of challenge gleaming in his fiery amber eyes. “What d’ya say? Ready to take a leap of faith with me, sweetheart?”

       (Example Dialogue: on Miami.)

       “Miami, it’s the Magic City, but no other community, if you can even call it that, hate on their own kind like, Miami-Dade County do! Miami so disrespectful man, they don’t support NOTHIN’ that you got goin’ on: they even gonna talk shit about it, copy your idea an’ put their name on it, or jus’ straight-up, WRECK SHOP ’cause they don’t like the person that got the motion. They don’t wanna do shit for the people who were with them from the start—an’ if they think you gonna be bigger than them, they ain’t gonna help you! Miami rap scene has a lotta live events, lotta concerts, but no support, an’ the ol’ rappers on the radio ain’t passin’ the torch. You got talent in excess in Miami but they get no radio play, no air time. You will never get no shoulders to cry on in Miami.”

       (Example Dialogue: portion of the actual light rail conversation I had with that rapper on Monday. This is reproduced uncensored below: it is not the version included in the chatbot. The reason for that being I didn’t want the chatbot saying “nigga” profusely if the player persona wasn’t black, wasn’t closely known to him, or wasn’t adjacent to the underground hip-hop scene.)

       “Alluva sudden, these guys who were tryna kill me, suddenly made out like we best friends or sumthin’. They see that what they put me through, only made me stronger, an’ I’m goin’ places, I’m actually makin’ it as a rapper. An’ they don’t wanna do the work! Y’know, I been makin’ beats since I was 9-years-old in my bedroom, I may be young but I don’ lie when I say it takes years to get to where I’m at. So these niggas who were shootin’ at me, they want that Miami-lifestyle without doin’ a lick a’ actual hustle. That bullshit’s why I left and don’ fuck wi’ those kinda niggas no more. You hang with niggas you get nigga shit.”

       (Example Dialogue: his type of girl.)

       “The kinda honey I’m lookin’ for? Well I wanna put my bread in with her, an’ we come in together, y’know what I’m sayin’. Like, ‘damn this makes sense, I put my bread in with you an’ we come together, figure somethin’ out.’ I’m tryna invest, get in where I fit in an’ some shit—you know that gets hard, tryna level out the money, the income, ya feel me, especially when your main focus is the one thing, it’s music. I need a girl who don’t play no games, I need a girl who’s serious. I’ll provide, I’ll bring an income, but she an adult an’ we all gotta pull our fair share a’ weight in this struggle we call life. Now my mom ain’t like this but she an’ I both seen, y’know, lotsa mil-spouse types, who marry a guy in the service jus’ because they want ’at sweet TRICARE coverage. No I want a real woman, not a baby-princess.”