"I wonder if there's a way to do this in multiplayer," says Bella.
"I don't wanna share my avatar," she says. "Especially not if it confuses my birds. I like my birds." (Her avatar hugs the nearest bird, which tolerates this with good grace.)
Bella has many projects running concurrently in her bird village, since things go roughly in real time. She checks next on the birds who are learning to make paper. They have managed pulpy ragged-edged beige stuff, which Bella nods at approvingly; she doesn't know how to teach them to make anything smoother and it'll do. She's just about to start showing them how to paint when free play over comes up on her screen.
Bella does her classwork; after a few weeks the teachers have more finely distinguished ability from past training and sorted everyone into their semipermanent class levels and the difficulty ramps up. She flies around in the battle room, leveraging her cheater's exoskeleton to dance in the air like she can on a floor, to shoot straight and dodge beams with artful twists of herself. She notebooks about herself, at least half an hour a day even if nothing special happens. And she plays with her birds, and she works out that the antelopes were just threatened by the shovels and will allow river diversion after seeing mock-work done by nonthreatening trowels, and she builds a bridge between the villages.
She laughs; her avatar laughs too, as an afterthought, and she waves. She's not sure if it's him or just the game playing with her, but the reaction's appropriate for either.
(She's got other friends, people who'll dance the battleroom with her, even one boy two years older who'll give her a run for her money in the tunnel table game, but none of them have made it into the fantasy game with her. Suicide Fish can be her fantasy game friend.)
Birds who are not bird-people are not equipped to hug. So Bella just waves again and goes back to what she was doing, which is figuring out how to make crawfish traps.
Her avatar can't talk, but she's been working on fine ingame motor control for a while; it's possible to draw in the dirt if you're fast enough. She's fast enough. After she gets a trap set up that she's confident will work, and nods at the birds (they're the ones who'll eat the crayfish; with this food source they'll be able to share some purple grain with the antelopes, who only eat plants) she writes HI SUICIDE in all caps.
After a minute or so of trying and failing to replicate her readable letters, he hops onto SUICIDE, scratches it out with a sweep of his talon, steps neatly to the end of the word, and draws a crude pictogram of a shield. Then he points his beak at the revised message, points his beak at her, and stands next to it, preening.
There's a laugh-emote. So this is definitely Suicide Watch, not the computer playing tricks on her. Her avatar laughs and nods, and then scratches out all the drawing and crosses the bridge to see how the purple grain mill in the antelope village is coming along.
The mill is doing fine. It's time to take some antelopes up into the mountains to look for a good pass through the range and see what's on the other side. Suicide Bird can come too.
Eventually Bella works out a twisty path that the surefooted antelopes can take without the benefit of arm-wings like the birds. She's already been over the mountains herself, and there weren't any villages within easy flying distance, so she's going to colonize here. (The birds have recently laid a clutch of eggs and almost half the antelopes are pregnant; it's spring.)