Psychopath - that's the word used to describe them all. Just who exactly is "them"? Anybody... Humanity, you could say.

Psychopathy is described as an aspect of personality or an outright personality disorder. Whatever the case, the word has become associated with most negative of connotations. The world has become an eerily peaceful place in the year 2265. Crime is almost non-existent and while technology has progressed accordingly, almost none of this technological evolution has been applied to weapons of any kind. It's almost a strange thing to ask how the world is so peaceful in this era. Most won't answer that question or they'll give you a hateful look before scurrying away to finish their errands. For as peaceful as the world is, most consider even the topic of psychopaths a taboo, something that should never be brought up in any conversation. It only ever leads to negative feelings, arguments, and volatile emotions. And when that happens, like some giant circle, it leads back to the label of Psychopath.

That's the word used to describe them all. Those that the ones at the top feel are deserving of that label and, thus, the procedures that follow it.

In these times, it has become possible to pinpoint the origin of any given psychosis. Better said, technology has enabled the government to pinpoint individuals they feel may pose a problem to the general population of society. When an individual like such has been pinpointed, they are captured and subjected to the Erasure process. Erasure involves infiltrating the consciousness of a target individual and stamping out the roots of their impending psychosis... No matter the cost or outcome. In this way, the tendencies that usually develop into outward criminal behavior are subdued long before they even fully form - if they are ever going to form, that is - and society gets to continue to enjoy a world where people don't have any urge to commit crime.

The problem begins after the process however. Those that are subjected to Erasure don't wake up quite the same. A number of negative effects can spring up after the process ranging from mental disorder to even death. While public opinion of this practice is very negative, no one dares speak out against it out loud. Rumors flutter around, saying things like the government doesn't just take people who may be dangerous, they'll take anyone who they deem a personal threat. Others say that it's just a new way for those in power to remain in such status and continue to look down on those under them. Thus, the question arises;

At what point does peace become a silent chaos? At what point have those in power begun to abuse their authority? Who has the right to determine the fate of another?

The EP program was instituted with the goal of ensuring a peace the world of old had never known. The research that led to the creation of the now controversial program suggested that the tendencies in humans which often led to criminality could be pinpointed and nipped in the bud early in development. It was a far fetched theory at the time, but as technology progressed, voices around the scientific realm called for live implementation - or at least an experiment of some kind.

Within ten years, the program had begun to show real results. In conjunction with intelligence bureau's, individuals whose actions would eventually lead to war were stopped far before such an outcome and not only did crime decrease, but international battle between countries began to decrease as the program and technology was set up all over the globe. War was effectively coming to an end, but it wasn't long before the ugly side of Erasure began to reveal itself.

In intricacy, Erasure involves sending a team of agents into the personal subconscious of an unconscious individual. In the world of a person's mental sanctum, real world logic and laws don't exist, so agents are trained to expect just about anything. After entering the subconscious, an Erasure team's goal is to weed out the origins of any given psychosis. This process can involve interacting with and engaging mental illusions or tricks of the target's mind, but the real world result is that chemical and electrical synapses in the brain are destroyed. While this greatly dulls any urge to commit heinous acts in the target, it can also leave them with irrevocable neurological damage. Seemingly normal people go into an Erasure, but only shells of those individuals come out. This fact became public quickly and, at first, outrage ensued. Mysteriously though, the loudest supporters began to be deemed "psychopaths".

Once deemed a Psychopath, an Erasure team would show up and perform the procedure. While the negative opinion never entirely disappeared, the opposing voices died down considerably and, while peace finally had taken hold of a majority of the globe, the growing disdain for those in power only grew more in silence.

Different to most of my RPs, this game features the ability for players to create non-playable characters. However, these won't just be mere throw-aways, rather they will be characters whose minds must be infiltrated by the main cast. Not only thought, but the player who created the NPC will also roleplay said NPC during the duration of the subplot that plays out. This will provide a unique experience as players will be able to play both the main cast and the "antagonists" per se. I, the GM, will still handle the overall narrative, but these player created subplots will allow for the narrative to branch in unexpected ways.

The process is simple. The first subplot will be handled by myself so you guys can get a feel for how Erasure actually works once the cast is within a person's subconscious. After that though, you can PM me or I'll ask in the OOC for people who'd like their NPC to be the subject of the next subplot.

Name
Age[18 and above please]
Appearance[Real, Digital Art, or written description. No anime pictures]
Gender
Personality
Writing Sample[Being on the new forum, I just want to see the writing of those who have interest in this. It doesn't have to be really long, just give me three solid paragraphs of material. As this is the Advanced section, that's the minimum standard anyway.)

And there it was again - the best friend and confidante Elton had known longer than any person in his somewhat limited circle of association. The appearance of his true partner always stirred up a sort of darkened happiness in the older man's gut. When he had a bad day, good day, or just one of those days, his partner had always been there to console him. Even after years of associating with some people due to the nature of his job or events that occurred earlier in his life, Elton couldn't name someone who knew more about him or how comfort him with the delicacy that he come to expect from his beautiful partner. In his eyes, she was the perfect companion and there was not a man or woman in the world who could tell him otherwise. As the bartender set her down on the counter in front of him, Elton's eyes visibly lit up in the rare instance of actual gratification. He nodded a sign of thanks and wasted no time in uncapping his gorgeous mistress, grasping her hourglass figure and reveling in her cold to the touch exterior.

Good alcohol was tough to come across in these times, especially as technology had advanced the world. Most bars were now laser light shows with shiny metal interiors and oddly shaped furnishings and adornments that were called "futuristic" and "edgy" by the masses that popularized such terms amongst the youth of the era. Luckily, the bar that Elton frequented was run by a guy who shared his best customer's sentiment in that some things just shouldn't be modernized because classics are hard to replace. The ugly truth was that the traditional bar, with its brown wood interiors, booth seats, counter, and distinct smell of booze and cigarettes, was a thing of the long gone past. Darryl's joint refused the truth however and was perfectly comfortable living out its deceitful life, fighting entitled buyers left and right who sought the excellent location it was placed in. Elton silently thanked Darryl even more as the warm liquid sauntered down his throat and satisfied his urges. If the technologically advanced world outside was the truth, then Elton was just fine living in the lie.

Setting down the 20 oz bottle after another swig, peripheral vision pinpointed Darryl making his over. Elton's gaze remained on the stained glass designs flushed into the mahogany counter top, arms parallel to each other just near the edge. Darryl stopped in front of his friend, but turned his back to crouch and collect glasses and other bottles of some sort. "So uh.... How was the job today?" He asked quietly, continuing to rummage. Elton sighed audibly - and purposely - at the inquiry.

"We've been through this, Darryl.You ain't s'pose to ask about my job," Elton replied. Darryl stood and placed a bin down on a hidden counter behind the one Elton sat at. His arms folded and Elton rolled his eyes at the action.

"I just want know how it was man. I know you just had one and I just wanna make sure-"

"Make sure of what? I thought we had an understandin',"

"We do,"

"Doesn't seem like you understand very well then,"

"Look man, can't a guy make sure his friend is doing alright? You know, still-"

"Still what? Mentally pacified?" Elton paused for a moment, then slammed his fist on the counter in revelation. "Wait a minute, don't tell me-"

"Wait man, it's not what you think... "

"The hell it ain't! It's Jenny, ain't it?"

"W-what? Now why would Jenny worry about you? Didn't you break up with the girl?"

"Fucking girl is right. I never shoulda dated someone that young,"

"She was in her thirties,"

"My point stands,"

"Look, she just wanted to make sure you're not overwhelmed or nothing. You know how it is these days, if you're labeled a Psychopath-"

"You don't have to remind me, Darryl. I am the guy they call for that shit, remember,"

"I'm sorry man... She was begging me and I promised her I'd at least ask about it,"

"Well, you did,"

"Come on, don't be like that... " Darryl trailed as Elton placed a wad of bills on the counter before standing and walking towards the door. "You even gave me this currency? Oh, that's just fucking mean for no reason man, screw you for that shit!" Elton chucked as he raised a hand and proceeded out the door, the little bell over top ringing to signal his exit. Darryl looked down at the dollar bills with disgust as he counted the crumpled tender. "Fucking bastard still doesn't even carry credit chips... What an asshole."

Elton stopped at the metallic edge, breathing in the air for a moment. His car was still magnetically attached to the streetrail above it and it was still a long way down for anyone drunk enough to slip off the iron sidewalk - prime real estate for a traditional bar. With an exhale, Elton entered his vehicle and electricity crackled on the roof where the gear on the rail was connected to his car's rail-slide. Without hesitation, the black cruiser sped off down the rail and joined the traffic a ways into the journey.as the rail lopped around skyscrapers and other rails with cars going in other directions.

A subtle breeze sweeping through the dust besotting plains of Traxia cooled Yannick’s exposed back. He collected a fair amount of water from the stream with his helmet, pouring it attentively over his head and allowing the rejuvenating properties of the liquid to rest upon his sinuous skin. He breathed a weary sigh, taking a moment to relieve himself from the tensions of battle. Another wave of that same gentle breeze made contact with Yannick’s soaked back, sending an invigorating rush over him. He stood up, taking a long moment to breathe in that chilled air.

He looked up into the twilight sky noticing a billion stars blinking against a blanket of darkness. It was quite impossible to imagine that upon that constellation of shining lights was the place from which he called home. It was one of those existential and often nihilistic moments that Yannick was often found victim to. Earth was just a small ghetto amongst the many backstreets of the Universe. One tragic misstep and you could miss home entirely.

Tracer fire ripped into the evening sky disturbing this fleeting moment of concord. The battle drums of artillery fire and anti-air arms cracked like thunder against that peaceful night, and it was time to take arms. Yannick rushed to strap on his armor, fastening his blinking comm. link into his ear and answering the call.