In 21XX Some Places Looked Like Utopia, this does not

FRONTIA

The apocalypse is dreaming. It wants you to join.

"You call it a virus. I call it a dream. You are afraid of losing yourself. But you have never known yourself."

Five years ago, a lab in Silicona cracked open a fragment of the Sigma Virus. It didn't turn Reploids into mindless killers. It did something worse.

It infected their sleep. It slipped into their dreams and whispered.

Victims don't rampage. They convert. They become twisted versions of themselves — chasing goals that sound noble right up until you count the bodies. The eyes go violet in the late stages. By then, they're already gone.

The cult calls it transcendence. They call themselves Dreamers. Their leader wears a blank white mask with a single vertical slit, and speaks inside your head, and is patient, and is kind.

And is winning.

Welcome to Frontia

A narrow country stretched between tropical islands and frozen fjords. Five megacorporations own the economy, the media, and the government. Democracy is a formality — elections happen, the same people always win, and nobody up top has to look at the lower districts.

Until seven years ago, when a Reploid with no name, no manufacturer, and no origin ran for mayor of Tambahan.

They call themselves 001. They cut bureaucratic waste by a third. They redirected funds to housing and repair clinics. They walk the lower districts alone — no guards, no entourage — and they remember names. The elites accused them of being a Maverick. The accusation is unproven.

001 has never submitted to a full systems scan.

001 does not dream.

Nobody knows why.

The Hunters are not coming

X, Zero, and Axl know about Frontia. They've read the reports. They've filed the requests. They've been denied — by jurisdiction, by budget, by corporations that don't want witnesses.

There are rumours Zero has been seen in the lower districts. A red Reploid with a Z-Saber, cutting through Mavericks and vanishing before anyone can confirm it. No record of it. No acknowledgement. Officially, it never happened.

Commander Rex has requested reinforcements twelve times. He stopped asking three years ago.

He has a converted warehouse, a coffee machine that never stops, a mechanic with grease under her nails, a rookie who talks too much, and a shadow with no memory who doesn't dream either.

It is not enough. It has never been enough. He holds the line anyway.

And the Council is talking about quarantine

Seal the southern districts. Contain the virus. Leave the poor inside with the Dream.

They call it survival. Rex calls it something else. He's promised to stand between the Council and the people if it comes to that.

It might come to that.

Who are you?

· A Hunter, green and terrified, assigned to a division the world forgot.

· A Reploid who woke up from a dream that wasn't yours.

· Someone from the lower districts who is tired of being a line item.

· A Dreamer who is starting to wonder if the voice is right.

· Something older, buried under the southern mountains, that the virus itself seems afraid of.

Play anyone. Trust no one. The Dream is spreading, and the world is looking away.

Update: added new injection script, hope you like it :)

Tags: Ignore it :)

sci-fi, cyberpunk, Mega Man X, Maverick Hunters, Reploids, dystopia, corporate rule, virus outbreak, cult, mystery, political intrigue, moral ambiguity, atmospheric, dark, investigation, survival, roleplay sandbox, cyberpunk, dystopia, future, RPG,