Supporting Character Generator

Generator Used: Supporting Character Generator

My Roll:

🎲 6 — Protector
🎲 1 — Long time friend or companion
🎲 4 — Bold & Impulsive
🎲 2 — Craves freedom or adventure
🎲 4 — Talented in arts or crafts
🎲 3 — Torn between loyalty and personal goals

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Before we get into it:
Story Lab isn’t where finished stories come to show off. These are creative kickstarts—rolled, written, and shared before I can polish all the weirdness out of them. The point isn’t perfection. It’s to take what the dice give me and see where the hell it goes.

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Here’s what I came up with:

“You’ve got potential, dude.” Riley leafs through my portfolio, pausing to look at a sketch before looking me directly in the eye.

Marla sits beside me, sipping her soda. Her eyes sparkle with excitement. I’m glad I asked her to come to this meeting with me. I didn’t mention the party when I invited her along. From what I know of Marla, she is all work, no parties these days.

“I’ll take your portfolio to Jimbo, have him look it over first thing Monday morning. Cool?”

Riley reaches for a vodka bottle, pouring the clear liquid into the soda in his cup. He holds the bottle out to me in offering. I raise my cup and watch as he pours a healthy guzzle of the clear alcohol into my soda.

Twisting slightly toward Marla, he silently offers her a splash as well.

She declines. “Somebody has to drive tonight.” She smiles indulgently at me.

Marla has always been that way with me. She has my back even when I’m doing something she wouldn’t do herself. I tip the cup back. The sting of alcohol mixed with the sweet soda coats my tongue and burns its way down my throat.

Growing up, I only saw her on the weekends I visited Gran and Pops. Running wild through the trailer park was a special event for me. Nothing like being at home learning how to build cabinets, use power tools, and ensure the future of Wheeler and Sons Woodworking.

Gran and Pops let me be a kid.

Marla was the unofficial nurse for all my daredevil bullshit, cleaning up the inevitable cuts and scrapes while I munched on the snacks she brought in her backpack for us on any and every adventure I dreamed up.

Riley drains his cup and sets it down.

“Well, boys and girls,” he nods at me, then Marla. “Shall we?” He gestures to the door that is between our meeting and the house party beyond it.

“One drink?” Marla begins negotiations with me. It’s cute.

“Two?” I counteroffer.

“Keys.” She holds her hand out expectantly.

I drop the keys into her hand before grabbing the vodka bottle and splashing a little more into my soda.

Riley stands at the open door and smirks when Marla immediately says, “That counts as one.”

“She’s got you there.” He sides with her, teasing me.

The music is loud, the bass thumps almost obnoxiously. Marla tenses up as we make our way down the hallway. Her body stiffens a little more with each step closer to the noisy room.

A line stretches from what must be the bathroom door all the way down the hall. Marla hugs the opposite wall as we pass.

Deliberately, I position myself between her and the line of bodies. I put my hand on her lower back.

I got you.

She knows it.

It’s a tight fit in the packed hallway, but Marla’s body starts loosening, so it’s worth brushing against everyone.

Stepping into a living room packed with enough bodies to give a fire marshal a fucking aneurysm, Marla presses herself tighter to my side.

If I was here to pick up a woman, this would not do. I’m not, and the only woman who matters here tonight is the ride-or-die who’s been my friend since we were ten.

I drain my cup and spot a table set up with alcohol and soda for mixing.

“Hang on, I need a refill.”

“After that, we leave,” Marla reminds me. “I have to be to work at six in the morning.” She explains it like she thinks I might be mad about leaving.

I’m not.

I have to get back home tomorrow so Dad doesn’t know I’ve been out here showing my portfolio to a potential new boss.

Refill accomplished, I place my free hand on Marla’s back to guide her through the crowd. She’s tiny. If I let her go too long, I’d lose her in this crowd.

“You’re not bringing that in the car,” Marla tells me, stopping to lean against the wall. “Open container means I’m getting a charge for being the driver.”

I lean my ass against the wall beside her. She sips her soda, so tense her shoulders are almost parked around her ears.

“So, the offer to crash on your couch is still open?” I ask teasingly.

“Of course.” She rolls her eyes.

I lean in, pitching my voice in my most scandalized tone. “I don’t know about this, Mars. The neighbors will talk. What would Miss Alma think?”

Marla tips back her head and laughs loudly.

“Probably…” Her mouth tips into the lopsided smile I’ve always thought makes her look innocent, but I know something smart-assed is about to come out of her mouth. “About damn time.”

We both laugh.

Mission accomplished. She’s not focused on the partygoers closed in around us anymore.

I drain the cup and put my hand on her lower back.

“Time to go,” I tell her as I guide her through the throng of twisting, bending, dancing bodies.

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Tomorrow we roll for our villain. Come back and meet them with us.

Your turn. Have fun with it!