A Thousand Digital Eyes | 1×1

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𝐀 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐃𝐈𝐆𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐋 𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ꕥ

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𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒

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o1 info | o2 plot

o3 setting | o4 rules

o5 roles | o6 extra info

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𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

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𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐀 - TEMPLATE CREATOR. DO NOT REMOVE

Advanced Literate | Cyberpunk, Urban Fantasy, Cosmic Horror, Psychological

TW: Blood, gore, death, guns & other futuristic weapons, body horror, cosmic horror, psychological horror, political unrest

Open | M/M or M/NB(me)

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𝐏𝐋𝐎𝐓

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Bulbous eyes that reflected emptiness— a bloated goldfish swam, lopsided, in the fish tank. Amongst the array of vibrant life, it was dying. Dying; something was abjectly wrong with it.

While the man did not know anything about what may ail the creature, it was evident that it was sick.

Would it infect the rest of the veritable life within the large tank?

Would its infection— would its disease— ultimately taint the gallons upon gallons of water they swam within?

Was it unwise not to remove it now, or was it better to let nature take its course?

The man watching the lopsided goldfish’s plight bore handsome features. Despite the heavy scarring that hid underneath the eyepatch over one of his eyes, he was cherubic in a sense of the phrase. Softly tanned skin, purple eyes (or, rather, eye), and ashen brunette hair in a loose braid.

“What does the phrase, ‘information hazard’ mean to you?”

The man mused, his own empty stare melding into the tainted fish tank.

“I’ve heard it so many times now— and yet, I wonder. What is your personal interpretation?”

An unseen person— likely far away, judging by the static of their voice— responded.

“Something I’m not supposed to know. Something that will cause me harm, or cause me to harm someone else.” A hum of pensive thought left the static voice. “Though, that’s going by the book. What it means to *me…* Depends on the source.”

The quiet within the room was broken only by the ambience of electronic dissonance.

“What if I told you that— somewhere in the vast expanse— there was something you were never meant to know?” The man pondered, his head resting against the palm of his hand.

The hissing of an archaic teapot, steam roaring from its porcelain spout. Further ambiance that followed his question— as if the unseen voice was pondering that answer just the same. Shortly thereafter their voice came once more over the communication device.

“I suppose that everyone has something they’re not meant to know. Maybe we’re *all* meant to keep secrets— hide things. It’s… terribly human of us.”

A slight smile formed, the purple eye of the man taking on an amused glint. Perhaps unknowable, deep within the psyche of the human mind… Yes, what did his *friend* mean by that?

“Ah… What makes us human? It is human for us to lie, to keep secrets, and to withhold information. For, of course, what if that information will lead to our untimely demise?”

…

…

…

2096 PTR—

The year that everything was *supposed* to change for the better.

The rise of insurgents, who now had long since forgotten the name of their organization. Captured and branded as criminals by the private police forces of Nocturne City, they still had use for them…

After all— everything, and everyone, was profitable in some way.

And thus Division 42 was created.

Dedicated only to a newly-created AI meant for their “rehabilitation,” known aptly as Project 42, they were born to prowl as Hounds. Just as they had done in life— and yet no longer did they serve themselves.

Division 42 was dealt a dirty hand in dirty work. Inescapable, insurmountable. No longer did they who they once were— glimpses of memory long thought driven from their system’s memory.

During that bygone year, the Hounds were not the only thing borne of destruction. Something vile; something vast and unrecognizable. Four years would , and yet the virus still lurked within the dark.

Corrupting and taking life as it saw fit— corrupting and altering memories as it saw fit. The rightfully titled Virus-Entity 3.14 was a ravenous thing. Ruining everything it touched, leaving nothing behind.

Carved into its victim’s bodies (be it due to infection or homicide) were odd, cult-like symbols of which the world had never laid eyes on before. Untranslatable, mind-boggling information hazards detailed in flesh.

***That*** was the mark of the beast; the mark of the damned. Only the dead bore those carvings— yet, in that same idealistic breath, could one be considered dead if they still breathed?

2100 PTR.

The dead piled up, bone-achingly slow, yet without doubt. Four years had ed since their acquisition. Four years had ed since the virus’s creation. The people of Nocturne City could feel it crawling underneath their skin; the ticking hands of fate. Something was about to change.

But what could be changed in a place that was steadfast in its inability *to* change?

There was no hope for Nocturne City.

There was no hope for Division 42.

It would be all for naught— and yet did they continue, towards the open palm of destiny.

Dealt their dirty hand, Division 42 was granted their final case. To retrieve the data hazard’s truth, to study it, to acquire its base form. And then…

Destroy it, should it not prove profitable.

An insurmountable task.

Nay, a suicide mission.

No one would care for them, nor would anyone them whence the entity ended them— so it had to be them. It had to be the Hounds that undertook this grave task, lest Nocturne City become infested by something far more insatiable than their own greed.

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𝐒𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆

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Nocturne City

The main setting of the roleplay.

Four years ago, in the year 2096 PTR (Post-Technologic Renaissance), Nocturne City was rocked with political unrest. It culminated in a moment of insurgence, of which all involved were apprehended.

Nocturne City is otherwise known as a megacity placed against the Midnight Bay, where it stretches vastly inwards on land. Due to being easily accessible for immigration, the megacity is a melting pot of cultures— as well as species.

While Nocturne City may be diverse, it is *not* a safe place to live. Overpopulated and rife with a festering underbelly of crime, it is marked by three things. A drastic wealth disparity, private prisons, and private police. Even in the face of this grimdark situation, however, there are those who yet still wish to change the world.

But these people do not matter to the elites of Nocturne. The desire to profit above all else— *that* is what truly rules the world they live in.

When the world that surrounds someone is always trying to sell them something— be it a gun or a body— what keeps hope alive?

Division 42

As mentioned previously— in the year 2096 PTR, the insurgent group that would become Division 42 was apprehended by private police. After their *rigorous* rehabilitation and repurposing for the *greater good* of Nocturne City, their lives were no longer their own.

The Division was “required” (forced) to devote their souls to the enigmatic “Project 42—” literally and metaphorically.

Often reprehensibly referred to as the “Hounds of Nocturne,” their division was created to handle the far, far dirtier work that festered in their fair city’s underbelly.

They are currently tasked with the study, apprehension, and subsequent destruction of Virus-Entity 3.14.

Virus-Entity 3.14

Another, less, noticed event that occurred in 2096 PTR would be the sudden emergence of Virus-Entity 3.14.

An unknowable beast— an information hazard in every possible way. To be infected by V-E 3.14 is to lose all humanity; to become a beast in all but name.

Those who are “possessed,” so to speak, are all documented as augmented humanoids. The killings committed by these virus-possessed folk are often cult-like in nature. Often featuring strange, eldritch carvings in the body post- or even pre- mortem.

3.14 (otherwise known simply as “Pi”) represents the same infinity that V-E 3.14 is said to embody. Those who researched the entity elected to give it this name in representation of its untranslatable vastness.

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𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐒

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o1 Be an adult. I’d prefer 20+, but I’ll gladly accept 19+ if I like the writing.

o2 Include a writing sample in your initial method of .

o3 Mindfulness of both the plot and the roleplayers themselves.

o4 I do expect you to actually participate in the storyline, and offer pieces of lore, plot, and character information that you want to include. Nothing bothers me more than shouldering the entire burden of story making. It should be an equal effort.

o5 Read my Writing Samples!

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𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐒

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MUSE A – OPEN

PLAYED BY KAZIMIR!

Division 42’s so-called *illustrious* Captain. While his memories are deeply vague— only appearing as fitful nightmares— their zeal and personality remain. Paired alongside their new “handler,” so to speak, does Muse A wish to make their life easier— or make it hellish?

MUSE B – OPEN

PLAYED BY AMBROSE!

The newest “Handler” for Division 42, a fresh-faced rookie. Bound to inevitably change with the coming tides, Muse B hopes that Division 42 can accept change, much unlike the city they once called home.

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𝐄𝐗𝐓𝐑𝐀 𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐎

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Due to my propensity for humanoid rather than just plain human characters, I’ll welcome you to play any kind of character you want, as long as they make sense for the plot!

Cover is by baroquegothik on Instagram.

#curatorreview