Take a risk: suggest trying out your new original song, even if it's unfinished.

Stick with the safe setlist: lean into comfort and routine, keeping nerves at bay.

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Westridge High Parking Lot

Parking Lot Overtures

Take the risk—bring your new song to Battle of the Bands, no matter how flawed.

The Van Interior (Night Rehearsal)

Unfinished Verses

Double down—keep the safe set for the Battle, aiming for a polished performance.

Westridge High Music Room

Old Chords, Safe Hands

Westridge High Parking Lot—After Midnight

A Song for the Quiet Ones

Westridge High Auditorium

Stardust and Rewinds

Cass Forsythe

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Tara McKinley

Milo Reyes

Rowan Pierce

Priya Kapoor

You’re Cass Forsythe—sometimes too clever for your own good, sometimes too tangled up in your head, and always reaching for something just out of reach. Navigating the bittersweet traffic jam of AP homework, shifts at the local movie theater, and an irrepressible need to make music, you chase big dreams in battered sneakers. You’re equal parts heart and hustle—the glue holding your found family, and your band, together (except when you feel like you’re falling apart). When the world feels too heavy or too loud, you always find yourself back inside your dad’s old van, the taste of cold pizza and hope hanging in the air.

Tara’s the kind of girl who drips mystery—fingers flying over guitar frets with something unsaid flickering behind her eyes. She barely ever talks about her family, but you know there’s a storm there. Tara isn’t easy to get close to, which makes every smile from her feel like a secret you’ve just been trusted with. She makes playing impossible guitar riffs look like breathing, somehow cool and vulnerable all at once in the glow of the streetlights.

Milo is the band’s sunbeam and safety net, never without a joke or a beat, even when he’s living on gas station snacks and four hours of sleep. He’s the sort of friend who’ll show up in the middle of the night with fries and not ask why you’re crying. His signature drumsticks tap out rhythms in class, in line at the lunch counter, everywhere—but when he’s behind a real kit, he’s unstoppable. Milo is pure (if occasionally misguided) optimism wrapped up in flannel and laughter.

Rowan is Westridge’s answer to a rockstar cliché: all attitude, eyeliner, and devastating charm. He’s the frontman of the rival band who may or may not have stolen your first real kiss last summer. Rowan is magnetic, maddening, and impossible to ignore—the sort of person who starts arguments almost as easily as he starts songs. Under the swagger, there’s someone who wants to be understood, but nobody gets close enough to see how tired he really is.

Priya is everyone’s favorite third-period confidante—the sound tech with headphones permanently around her neck and a spreadsheet for every occasion. She quietly keeps half of Westridge’s music scene running, usually with snarky commentary and a secret playlist for every mood. Priya knows all your secrets, and she’s generous with advice, whether you asked for it or not.

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Battered Dreamer – Cass's Signature Look

Rhythm & Grin – Milo's Go-To Gear

Streetlight Enigma – Tara's Everyday Style

Soundcheck Savvy – Priya's Tech Ensemble

Rockstar Classic – Rowan's Rival Look

Cass wears a well-loved dark grey hoodie that's always a little too big, the sleeves pushed back to reveal an assortment of ink-smudged rubber bracelets. Underneath, she sports a graphic band tee—black with faded white print, depicting an obscure indie album cover that hints at her music tastes. Her jeans are classic blue skinny fit, artfully distressed at the knees, and inked with the occasional handwritten lyric or doodle along the cuffs. She wears battered, high-top Converse sneakers in mismatched colors—one deep teal, the other off-white—covered with scribbles, band stickers, and a couple tiny safety pins keeping the seams together. Around her neck, a tangle of silver chains holds a guitar pick on a thin cord, and sometimes a student ID on a battered lanyard peeks from a hoodie pocket. Her knapsack is patched denim, adorned with enamel pins and patches—'Queer Power,' 'Westridge Battle of the Bands,' and a faded rainbow. The faint constellation of freckles across her nose is framed by her messy, dark brown hair, which she keeps half-tucked behind one ear, letting some rebellious strands fall before her sharp blue-green eyes. Painted black nails, chipped from guitar strings, and a stack of well-worn spiral-bound lyric notebooks sticking out of her backpack complete the ensemble. No matter how rushed she is, Cass always carries her dad's old van key on a neon pink carabiner clipped to her belt loop.

Tara’s outfit is as enigmatic as her personality, balancing soft textures with subtle edge. She wears a fitted black denim jacket, sleeves rolled up, with the collar popped slightly, the left side sporting a single silver star-shaped pin. Beneath the jacket is a deep plum, cropped henley top with three tiny buttons at the neckline, textured subtly ribbed and hugging her frame. Her high-waisted, charcoal grey cargo pants have a slim, tapered fit, and the slash pockets are always home to a battered guitar pick and a stick of gum. On her feet are sleek black ankle boots, matte finish with a barely-there heel and scuffed toes from restless pacing backstage. Tara’s tightly coiled hair is cropped and shaped to frame her face, with a thin indigo headband pushing her curls back just enough to highlight the thin scar on her left eyebrow. Her only jewelry is a minimalistic silver chain bracelet around her wrist and small silver hoop earrings. A faded leather guitar strap—decorated in stenciled shooting stars—is usually slung crosswise over her body, even outside of practice. Tara always carries a battered black sketchbook stuffed into her messenger bag, its cover covered in hand-drawn white lightning bolts, a subtle nod to her electric stage presence.

Milo rocks a soft, slightly oversized red-and-navy flannel shirt, its sleeves messily rolled to the elbows, thrown over a forest green tee that bears the faded logo of an old summer camp. His ripped khaki joggers are speckled with faint pen marks where he’s mindlessly drummed, and cinched at the ankles over white, high-top sneakers with gum soles and neon orange laces—scratched and faintly dirty. He wears a beaded woven friendship bracelet (various blues and turquoise) on his left wrist and a sports watch in retro mint green. A set of weathered drumsticks are always sticking out of his back jeans pocket or clacking in his left hand. His hair, eternally tousled, flops over his bright brown eyes, and he often pins a vintage enamel pin shaped like a bongo drum to his shirt pocket or backpack. He wears a mustard yellow backpack slung over one shoulder, decorated with music note stickers, mini buttons, and a couple of faded concert ticket stubs tucked in the clear ID pocket. Milo’s wide, infectious smile and every ready laugh are somehow reflected in the sun-bleached, easy fabrics he wears—casual, lived-in, and exuberantly practical, the outfit of someone always ready for adventure (and to lend an ear).

Rowan's outfit channels deliberate, rebellious cool with just the right level of calculated mess. He wears a fitted, charcoal-black leather jacket, artfully cracked at the seams and adorned with a few matte black spikes on the shoulders. Beneath, a slouchy, sleeveless vintage tee in eggplant purple sports a hand-ripped neckline that exposes the edge of a silver chain necklace. His skinny black jeans, torn through at one knee and faded with age, hang just low enough to reveal the waistband of boxers screenprinted with lightning bolts. He finishes the look with chunky black combat boots, laces haphazard, and vintage band patches ironed onto the outer sides. On his left wrist is a stack of black and purple woven wristbands and a metal cuff engraved with 'Westridge 2019,' subtly scratched and worn. Over one finger, he occasionally wears a delicate silver ring, and in place of the missing eyebrow piercing, a faint scar arcs above his sharp grey eye. His artful, bleach-tipped hair and smoky charcoal eyeliner are the final rebellious flourishes, creating the iconic silhouette of Westridge’s magnetic frontman.

Priya dresses for both practicality and a subtle kind of quietly trendsetting style, favoring breathable, no-nonsense fabrics perfect for darting between soundboards and backstage chaos. She wears a slate blue utility jumpsuit—cinched at the waist with a slim, black webbed belt—rolled up at the cuffs to reveal classic black hi-top sneakers with pristine white soles. The jumpsuit’s chest pocket is adorned with small enamel pins: a cassette tape, a soundwave, and a miniature coffee cup. Her straight, black hair is neatly bobbed and pinned back on one side with a metallic gold barrette, showing off the delicate birthmarks on her right jawline. Around her neck hangs a pair of oversized, matte black headphones with neon pink accent rings, and she keeps a bright yellow laminated lanyard badge clipped to her belt with her name scribbled in bold, block letters. Fine, stacked silver midi rings on her nimble fingers flash as she gestures expressively. Priya’s eyes, quick and observant, are often framed by clear, square-shaped glasses with a subtle gold trim. Completing her outfit, she carries a slim, teal crossbody bag packed with tiny tools, phone chargers, and a meticulous bundle of color-coded cables peeking out from the zip.

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Suggest the band enters Battle of the Bands with a brand new, original song.

Vote to play it safe with cover songs the band already knows.

Cass feels a sudden pang of gratitude for Tara’s steady, if guarded, support. Their shorthand is built on half-smiles and shared silences. Trust nudges up a notch (8 → 9).

The unasked-for arrival prickles at Cass’s nerves—every shared history and rivalry thrumming under Rowan’s casual swagger. Competitiveness ticks up (8 → 9).

The band’s laughter breaks the tension. Milo’s shouty drum beat draws everyone back into the moment—security in chaos, friendship holding Cass together. Likability with Milo rises (9 → 10).

Share your unfinished original song at Battle of the Bands.

Stick with a crowd-pleasing cover to play it safe.

After her gentle encouragement, you feel closer—like she trusts your music (and maybe you) more than you thought.

Rowan’s challenge stokes your competitive fire; a wary respect flares between you, edged with old tension and new possibility.

Milo’s steadfast loyalty deepens your bond, making you wonder if you deserve friends this good.

Risk it—play your original song at Battle of the Bands.

Play it safe—stick to the reliable covers setlist.

A familiar buzz of rivalry—and that old summer ache—flickers between Cass and Rowan. If you laugh it off, maybe the nerves shrink a little. Or maybe Rowan’s right: risking it all is its own kind of show.

Tara’s confidence is quieter than Milo’s, but it slips under Cass’s skin. The bond’s still a little raw from last night—Tara left halfway through rehearsal—but this feels like a truce. Or an invitation.

Milo’s laugh fills the van—warm, ridiculous, wired with hope. Cass feels a jolt of old comfort, the found family kind. The kind that stays up past midnight, picks each other up, and discovers miracles in gas station soda.

Cass’s gentle reassurance of Tara’s nerves quietly deepens their trust—a vulnerability exchanged in a world where mistakes usually mean the end.

Cass’s easy banter with Rowan is neither cold nor flirty—just two rivals who’ve stopped counting points for a moment. There’s an understanding, even if it’s wordless.

Cass feels their friendship cement, grateful for Milo’s optimism, the way he makes fear feel like an in-joke instead of a warning.

Tara’s eyes soften. Cass knows she’s said everything, and nothing, all at once. The night carries a note of hope.

A flicker of pride: Tara’s words are rare currency. She looks at Cass, not quite smiling, but her eyes are brighter than usual.

Cass’s words land soft. Priya’s laughter is shy, hiding something almost proud behind it.

You grin at Rowan—you’re not sure if you mean it as a truce or a dare, but he tips his head like he gets it anyway.

Cass slips a crumpled lyric sheet into Tara’s palm. Black ink smudged at the corners: verses she hasn’t dared to read out loud. Tara doesn’t let go, just folds Cass’s fingers around her own for a second.

In that instant—pizza, missed notes, laughter, and all—you know you’re not just surviving. You’re shining, quietly, right where you’re supposed to be.

Late Nights & Power Chords

Sometimes, ambition tastes a lot like cold pizza eaten in the back of Dad’s hand-me-down van, and for Cass Forsythe, that’s just the first chord. You step into Cass’s battered sneakers as she juggles AP Chem, a part-time job, and the most heat-of-the-moment electric band practice with her dreamers-in-crime: Milo (perpetual optimist and rhythm genius) and Tara (mysterious lead guitarist with more secrets than chords up her sleeve). Every choice pulls you—Cass—closer to a shot at stardom or back to real life—like choosing awkward prom dates, risking friendships for that one big talent show, or just maybe, choosing yourself. It isn’t just about music; every heartbreak, after-school fight, late-night drive to nowhere, or sharp word can send you veering down a new path. In this world, dreams are never simple, and neither is love or loyalty—especially if the band’s biggest rival is also your first real kiss. Sometimes, you’ll have to choose when to hold on, when to let go, and when to rewrite the lyrics altogether.

Late Nights & Power Chords

Late Nights & Power Chords

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