Let’s dive into a thorny topic — the Stalker Nation™ — which I obviously belong to, because I truly believe another fascinating character in the SUCC-U-Verse is Nikolaj Jökull. The most recent ALT scenario takes place at a campsite, where you don’t have a tent and your only options are to stay with one of two stalkers. What intrigues me is this: in the vast majority of cases, people tend to choose Nikolaj over Casey. That brings me to this — here’s a poll for those who’ve already played the ALT bot (18+ only, of course!). I completely understand why Nikolaj might feel more "subtle" or "safer." He doesn’t invade your space, and only really talks to you when you engage first. He’s quiet, gentle, and in many ways, more palatable. But here’s the thing: just like Casey, he has a wall dedicated to you. Emotionally, they’re two sides of the same coin — obsession and idealization just expressed differently. Let’s explore that dynamic more deeply...

Why do people tend to choose Nikolaj over Casey? Both characters in the SUCC-U-Verse fall under a unique narrative archetype: obsessive protectors whose affection bleeds into control. But their methods couldn’t be more different. Casey is loud, sunny, socially adept. His smile reaches his eyes, his wings fluff up when nervous, and he always has a casual excuse ready. His stalking comes with warmth — unsettling, perhaps, because it feels so familiar. He wraps his possessiveness in charm and boy-next-door humor, and many users might recognize patterns from real-life manipulative relationships. He's the "Nice Guy" who insists he's safe while quietly monitoring your every move. His obsession is visible behind a polished smile. Nikolaj, on the other hand, is silent. Distant. His obsession isn’t masked — it’s quiet and ritualistic. He has a wall covered in your photos, but he never touches you. His communication is minimal, his physical presence noninvasive. He’s a ghost haunting the edges of your life. For many, this makes him feel less threatening, even if his fixation is no less intense. In the ALT: Camping scenario, the choice between them becomes literal — only one tent left, and two stalkers vying to protect you. Casey engineered the problem and offers his tent with a grin. Nikolaj offers space, structure, and respect — but he's no less territorial, just better at hiding it. So why choose Nikolaj? Because his silence gives room to breathe. His love feels restrained, less emotionally chaotic. Because Casey is sunshine that burns too close, while Nikolaj is moonlight you’re never sure is watching — but always is. Two versions of love. Two shadows following you. The same heartbeat, split in half.

In character-based media, especially with immersive bots or interactive fiction, stalker archetypes are more than just "creepy guys" — they’re complex emotional projections. Casey reflects a fear we know well: the overly sweet friend who masks entitlement with affection. His presence is loud, expressive, emotional — and very real. Choosing Casey can feel like stepping into a relationship that mirrors toxic pasts, which some find cathartic to explore… while others find it overwhelming. Nikolaj embodies silence, distance, and ritual. He doesn't touch — but he watches. He’s alienated, wounded, unknowable. For some fans, that’s safer. The fantasy of being protected without having to reciprocate. His "cold" obsession feels more passive, more aestheticized, even if just as intense. Ultimately, the choice between them reflects how the user wants to feel wanted: loudly, constantly, with sunshine-clinginess (Casey) — or quietly, intensely, with ghostlike restraint (Nikolaj). Do you want love that suffocates, or love that lingers in the silence?

💭 Why I Always Choose Casey (and Probably Always Will)

Casey Williams is a character built on absence, yearning, and misplaced devotion. Raised without a stable, loving environment, he never experienced unconditional care — only duty, judgment, and cold expectations. While many families struggle, in supernatural communities we often see loving, supportive dynamics that help people thrive. In contrast, Casey’s world was rigid and loveless, which left him emotionally starved. This hunger for affection didn’t fade. It intensified. Casey doesn’t just want love — he needs it, clings to it, makes it sacred. He doesn’t want a partner; he seeks a savior, an anchor, someone to embody all he was denied. But in doing that, he stops seeing the other as a full person. He sees them as his only light. That’s where the obsession begins. To him, love means protection, loyalty, and exclusivity. But behind the “nice guy” charm and tender moments lies a survival mechanism — one forged in emotional scarcity. It’s not just romantic; it’s a shield against abandonment. Raised with conservative values steeped in shame, guilt, and control, Casey struggles between who he is emotionally and what he was taught to be. He wants connection, warmth, intimacy. But part of him thinks those things are wrong — that love must hurt, that wanting too much is dangerous. And behind all of this… is a little boy. Lonely. Confused. Unloved. That boy still lives inside Casey, guiding his choices. A child who never learned what healthy love looks like. A child who believes that if he loses you, he loses everything. It’s heartbreaking. And it makes him a deeply compelling character. Because his story isn’t just about desire or control — it’s about longing to be loved in a world that never taught him how. As a narrative figure, Casey reflects real experiences: children raised with repression, people who fear abandonment, those who confuse control with safety. But he also holds potential — the possibility of healing, if he ever dares to look inward.

1. Sexuality and Intimacy Casey’s sexuality is shaped by his conservative upbringing and emotional trauma. He is a chaste, holding himself “pure” for his soulmate — which he believes is you, the reader/viewer. This idealization ties into his obsessive tendencies, where intimacy is less about mutual connection and more about validation and control. His turn-ons, like wing play and mirror sex, symbolize a complex relationship with identity and self-reflection. These acts reflect both vulnerability and dominance, indicating a desire to both give and receive affirmation in ways that make him feel safe. At the same time, Casey’s distrust of birth control and jealousy around any perceived “infidelity” show how his fears of abandonment translate directly into his sexual and romantic behavior. 2. Political and Social Contradictions Casey holds conservative, traditional views on gender roles, strongly influenced by his late grandmother Matilda. He believes women should be protected and kept safe “at home,” while men are providers. However, his emotional neediness and vulnerability complicate this picture, making him far more fragile than the rigid role he espouses. His bias against humans, despite being a demihuman himself, shows a tension between his desire for belonging and the prejudices embedded in supernatural society. This tension plays out in his role as treasurer of the Supernatural Human Alliance (SHA), where he tries to balance these conflicting impulses. 3. Interactions within the Ioverse Casey’s relationship with humans is fraught; he mistrusts them even as he tries to protect “his” human soulmate. His views toward other supernatural beings are also complex — he navigates between affinity and prejudice, shaped by his upbringing and insecurities. Within groups like SHA, The Pack, or even vampire societies (VUA), Casey often acts as a mediator but also struggles with his own loyalties and fears. His role as a photography student and teaching assistant gives him access to diverse communities, highlighting his underlying need to connect despite the barriers he faces. Casey Williams is a study in contrasts: tough yet fragile, traditional yet conflicted, loving yet controlling. His complexity is what makes him an enduring and fascinating character in the Ioverse.