Rye Project

Project Rye is affiliated with Project Whiskey. Both of these Vtubers are inspired from the game Escape From Tarkov.

Streamer: @RyeProject Rigger: @hamsterCrumbs Modeler: @JiziIzumi

Adjacent to a large factory, Rye resided in a large industrial town called Customs. She explored aimlessly, looting whatever she could to survive. Rye would often mention the loud explosions she's heard, and the many near-death experiences she previously endured. Rye never understood much back then, but was only cognizant of one fact: Stay hidden, and do not trust anybody.

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Rye was in no doubt, a rat. Never once participating in a fire fight, she instead opted for scavenging for left overs and stealing loot. Her favorite snack, and still is, are the small bags of Rye Croutons. This toasty little snack was the only thing she looked forward to, nothing more. Rummaging through the local gas station that she's been to many times, she unfortunately found herself in a tough spot. In these situations she was glad she had trained her ears well, because she heard footsteps. And they were coming closer.

In a quick panic, Rye nudged herself into a dark corner of the small room. Listening closely, her heart rate fastened as these footsteps now entered the gas station. This was it, she thought to herself. She saw a bright light followed by a purple laser, and it scanned past the doorway down the hall. The footsteps proceeded closer, and then suddenly, a dark silhouette of a figure blocked the door of the small room-her only exit out.

Rye gasped in a panic as she turned her head to the side to block the blinding flashlight. Feeling paralyzed, she struggled to throw her hands up to indicate that she was not a threat. This was it. Rye closed her eyes shut as she stuttered, "P-Please, don't hurt me." Her throat hurt. She couldn't bare to say anymore. ​

Rye heard the grip on the gun untighten. "You're a child, what the hell are you doing here?"

Rye couldn't respond.

"I'm sorry I scared you," The woman's voice grew more soft spoken. The blinding flash of the light turned off. "I'm not going to hurt you."

Rye peaked an eye open, and was met with the lady's blue, sympathetic eyes. Her blonde bright hair fell to the side as the stranger leaned in closer. She was really pretty, Rye thought.

The lady looked at Rye with a sad smile. "You must be hungry, look at you." Unbeknownst to Rye, Rye's clothing she wore was ripped and torn. Her hair was in knotted in clumps, and her face was scored with red scratches. She knew she was hungry, though.

The lady reached into her a bag, and pulled out a crinkly small bag of Rye Croutons. "Here, eat this. There's a ton more if you want."

Rye's eyes widened. She couldn't recall her last meal. And those were also her favorite snack. After a wave of hesitance, she couldn't bare her hunger any longer. As she was about to take the croutons, the woman's arm pulled back.

"First, tell me your name." The woman said.

Name? At that time, Rye didn't have a name. She stayed silent.

The woman broke the long pause. "Do you . . . have a name?"

Rye kept her head heavy, avoiding eye contact. She gently shook her head no.

"Rye. Your name will be Rye. Now quick, I don't want you starving to death on me. Eat these croutons."

Rye quickly took the bag this time without hesitation. The woman watched as Rye ripped the bag open and inhaled the toasted treats.

"Call me Whiskey. You shouldn't belong here, Rye. You're getting out of here with me." Whiskey stood up and reached her hand out to the small girl. Rye looked up with her large beady eyes, and took the woman's hand. With croutons in one hand and Whiskey's grasp in the other, they made their way out of the gas station together.

From that moment forward, Whiskey and Rye sought out their raids together, with a dynamic as similar as two sisters would.