Generador de Voz AI webcam 2 v por Fish Audio
Genera la voz webcam 2 v, usada 18 veces con 0 me gusta. Crea discursos Masculino, Mediana Edad, Narración con texto a voz de IA.
Muestras - webcam 2 v
Escucha muestras de generación que muestran la calidad y versatilidad de la voz
Default Sample
Muestra 1
Every quiet town has its shadows, tucked away in the corners of pristine living rooms. You see a smiling face, but the eyes tell a different story. Beneath the floorboards, the past is breathing, just waiting for someone to finally turn on the light.
Default Sample
Every shadow in this room tells a story that the living are too afraid to recount. You think you're safe behind locked doors, but the rot is already inside. By the time you notice the chill, the darkness will have already finished what the whispers started.
Default Sample
Behind every quiet neighborhood lies a darkness that the sunlight can't reach. We ignore the shadows until they grow too long to overlook. Every locked door tells a tale of betrayal, and some stories are better left untold before the cold reality finally sets in.
Sample Transcriptions
Default Sample - Muestra 1
Every quiet town has its shadows, tucked away in the corners of pristine living rooms. You see a smiling face, but the eyes tell a different story. Beneath the floorboards, the past is breathing, just waiting for someone to finally turn on the light.
Default Sample - webcam 2 v
Every shadow in this room tells a story that the living are too afraid to recount. You think you're safe behind locked doors, but the rot is already inside. By the time you notice the chill, the darkness will have already finished what the whispers started.
Default Sample - webcam 2 v
Behind every quiet neighborhood lies a darkness that the sunlight can't reach. We ignore the shadows until they grow too long to overlook. Every locked door tells a tale of betrayal, and some stories are better left untold before the cold reality finally sets in.
Default Sample - webcam 2 v
They thought the silence in that small town was a sign of peace, but it was just a warning. Every locked door holds a story that no one wants to tell. Once the first crack appears, the facade crumbles, leaving only the cold reality of what was lost.
Default Sample - vice
Detective Morrison stumbled upon the abandoned laboratory, his flashlight beam revealing scattered papers and upturned equipment. The acrid smell of chemicals hung in the air, but it was the dark stains on the operating table that made his stomach turn.
Default Sample - Onyx
The first day at my new high school still haunts me. Walking through those heavy double doors, I noticed something wasn't right. The hallways were empty, but I could hear whispers echoing from somewhere. Every classroom door was shut tight, except one. Room 237.
Default Sample - hollow stares
Tonight, we're examining something different. A series of recordings that shouldn't exist. Strange lights appearing in abandoned buildings, unexplained shadows moving against physics itself. Watch carefully. What you're about to see might challenge everything you believe. Real or fake? You decide.
Default Sample - scary
The scratching sound started three nights ago. Always at 3 AM, always from inside the walls. I've pressed my ear against the cold plaster, listening, waiting. Tonight, for the first time, I heard it whisper my name.
Default Sample - M
Let me tell you about the Walker House incident of 1986. A family heard footsteps in their attic every night at 3 AM. When they investigated, they found wet, glowing footprints leading to nowhere. The prints weren't human - they had six toes and seemed to burn the wood beneath.
Default Sample - Horror Crimeee
In 2003, a school counselor started giving students colored stickers based on their emotional states. Green for stable, yellow for troubled, red for concerning. By semester's end, all red-labeled students had vanished. The counselor's office walls, freshly painted, smelled strangely metallic.
Default Sample - Story telling
A woman drives home late at night, noticing headlights following her every turn. Pulling into her garage, she hurries inside, double-checking the locks. The doorbell rings. Through the peephole, she sees her own car's headlights still on. She never turned them off.
Default Sample - Onyx
The first day of summer break, 1992. I was sitting on our front porch when Mr. Peterson's black sedan pulled into his driveway for the last time. Something about his movements seemed different that day - mechanical, almost rehearsed. By morning, his house stood empty.
Default Sample - 444444444444444444
Footsteps echoing through abandoned hallways, shadows dancing on concrete walls. Nobody comes here anymore, not since the whispers started. Security cameras catch glimpses of movement when the building should be empty, figures appearing and vanishing between frames.
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