PokéFiends is an open and expansive multi-region Pokémon roleplay that welcomes both canon and original characters. From the regions in the main games, the anime and side games, and even a bit more, you can travel anywhere.
Be wary, a darkness lurks in the night, a sinister creature haunts the edges of the moonlight. Turmoil brews, traveler, so take your first step with caution.
Four months ago, terror held the world in stand still. The attacks on both Saffron and Castelia have concluded... and despite the growing darkness, the people of the world band together to throw an event in the spirit of world unity and the courage to stand against this new foe.
The season is currently Spring. There winter snows have thawed and new growth springs up across the world. Periodically, chill remains in the air, but never for long does it hang about.
Welcome to PokéFiends. We hope you enjoy your visit.
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Donkey Kong 64 ~ Crystal Caves Keane ~ A Bad Dream (Instrumental)
"There is not racial or ethnic domination of hopelessness. It's everywhere."
SIR1 [Male Duskull] — Why do I have to fly over every town up and down the line? 'The only friend' that Twenty has ever known was this Pokémon, which has been more of an accomplice than anything, an anti-social follower per say. The two don't trust each other and there has been no real attempt at building a friendship or trust by any means, yet the two are absolutely adamant about remaining together, simply in case anyone is after them. "Sir 1" is in fact Twenty's salvation and he knows this full well, for without SIR1, he would still be locked up in some cage right now, or potentially worse. Clearly, he was under the scientific studies and experimentation that hundreds of other Pokémon were under.
"Helplessness induces hopelessness."
Unexpected from his form of creation, Twenty does in fact fit in quite well with a fully human crowd, prior to not officially being as such. He has been based on a young adult, Caucasian male, his skin tone being exact. His hair is an abnormally consistent chocolate brown color, as well as being very thick. His genes have been tampered with, meaning his hair is unable to generate oils that human hair does. Likewise, the calcium in his finger and toenails do not deteriorate, nor does the enamel on his teeth. He stands at exactly 5'5'' tall and always will.
With the deoxyribonucleic acid of a Sharpedo in his genetics, Twenty has a very complicated external appearance. His skin is, as you would expect from anything related to a Carvanha or Sharpedo, incredibly rough and coarse and, of course, navy blue. These scales are iridescent, very small and circular. That being said, they also grant him an impermeable surface, greatly surpassing the waterproofing capabilities of average human skin. His torso, back, hips, genitalia, shoulders and thighs are coated in said scales, leaving his head, neck, arms and knee-down scale free.
The fingertips of his right hand has been permanently damaged. This hand in particular was the one used to test various acids and volatile chemicals on his skin. Although the skin as such was not affected by the Sharpedo genes, it was more used to evaluate his pain threshold post-mutation.
Twenty's clothing is incredibly basic, consisting of the clothing he was supplied with when created. They have been cleaned but not replaced throughout the past two years, due to the fact that he will never grow in height or weight. It consists of a black t-shirt, which is thoroughly frayed in most places, a white long-sleeve jacket that has a striking resemblance to a lesser lab coat and has black cuffs and chest interiors, some oversized blue pants and a pair of brown kicks, covering his nondescript white socks.
"When the hopelessness is hurting you; it's the fixtures and fittings that finish you off."
Twenty was imbued with OCPD when he was created, also known as Obsessive Compulsive Personality Disorder. His degree is within 'Perfection' and 'Balance'. Other creations are imbued with 'Satisfaction' or 'Paranoia' among others, however, fortunately, Twenty was created with a better version of the 'Personality Syndrome' as it was often named. This essentially means that Twenty is obsessed with perfection and balance to a degree, due to his infusion with a Sharpedo. Sharpedo are symmetrical in appearance and are very swift underwater, but due to his humanoid shape, what Twenty lacks in the water, he makes up for with his balance.
As a person, Twenty is nothing but curious, confused and permanently scared. Not knowing who he is or what he's been through (due to only ever knowing 'it'), his personality is in total disarray. Having now escaped from a laboratory and seeing the 'Big Bright Ball' in the sky for the first time, Twenty hopes to meet something that will help him understand himself.
"I believe that they see there is a different way of approaching today's life and today's sometimes seeming hopelessness that can provide answers."
Name: Dr. Nectar — I'll die in the clouds above, and you that I defend, I do not love. Age: 61 Gender: Male Relationship: Creator Trainer Orientation: Bad Trainer Class: Scientist
The only pure human that Twenty saw everyday, Dr. Nectar was not a friend, nor was he an accomplice. He was merely there, everyday. He showed no remorse, no emotion, no love and no enjoyment in anything he did. He spearheaded the Twenty to Twenty Nine sector, but presumably perished in the laboratory explosion.
"Perhaps hopelessness is the very soil that nourishes human hope."
The Mutant Project was Team Rocket's first and most important attempt at imbuing both human and Pokémon with unusual, sometimes unimaginable, powers. Ultimately, many experiments, including Twenty, failed and were to be terminated and restarted. A cluster of scientists who worked voluntarily or were hired for the work spearheaded the entire project, using the DNA from a male Rocket Grunt and a female Rocket Grunt who were lovers and agreed to be the hosts for future creations, as long as they were not created in a womb.
All 41 creations were created in a petri dish in a laboratory in Cinnabar Island and created around the 'shell' of a conjured, artificial human. Twenty is not Human and is in fact a 'Pseudoclone'. A pseudoclone is not a clone at all and is merely a title. Whereas a clone duplicates a beings genetics, a pseudoclone is created afresh using the genetics, without the identicality. As a result, Twenty Six and the other 40 pseudoclones were 'born' not looking like a baby. In fact, they do not age, but merely last for a while and then die of natural causes, or so scientists think.
Twenty's English is at best, Pidgin, and he can utter some words. Any words he does know have been learnt from any Rocket employee he has observed and listened to. Other than that, grunts and moans are the only viable option of communication from him, but he doesn't need to, he has no one bar SIR1 to communicate with.
The Twenty-Sixth Pseudoclone was kept in a iron bar cell, like all other pseudoclones, where he was experimented and alchemised. Occasionally, other small cages would be placed above, around or next to his, containing Pokémon of various kinds. This would later fuel his release. A recently joined Rocket grunt made the mistake of putting an experimented Duskull in a wrong type of cage, in which the Pokémon simply floated through and escaped. The Duskull, SIR1, managed to release many of the pseudoclones, but many were captured. With useful maneuvering and stealth, the two managed to hide out of the way, but not long after, the laboratory entered a state of red alert and a central chamber exploded, killing hundreds of Rocket members and various pseudoclones, many of which held scientific breakthrough. Some scientists escaped however, but managed to document their information before evacuating, which was later found on a computer screen by Twenty himself.
"What I would say to the young men and women who are beset by hopelessness and doubt is that they should go and see what is being done on the ground to fight poverty."
There are full explanations on each death. Message if you are curious!
"I look at that and say there's a hopelessness that surrounds it."
Twenty clutched at the webbing of his left hand in an attempt to transfer the pain from his massacred fingertips, the permanent tingling sensation as lustful for a reaction as ever. He looked down at his digits, the reddening getting darker, the flesh restitched by an unskilled hand. He let out a saddened murmur and tore his eyesight from his damaged phalanges in place of the cataclysm surrounding him. Sat behind him laid the crumpled form of a metallic barrel, the thick, black liquid being contained inside still dripping through from the corrosive damage. The lonesome boy had already put his hand in the fluid unintentionally whilst rummaging through the remains of his abandoned chamber. To his left, a green light was whirring around in a circular motion, clearly identifying a problem with the mains control in this section, the chances of salvaging anything from it had now been annulled. Twisted metal and fiberglass littered the ground around him, almost as if positioned purposely to create a dangerous and deathly trap. Shards peppered the vinyl flooring that covered Twenty's former prison. He shuddered at the thought of being entombed inside it again.
The ghostly outline of Sir 1 floated down the corridor like a stray balloon, the flickering lights above it making it ever more ominous. Investigating every nook and cranny it could, seemingly with no purpose or intent, no noise escaped its life form. A pipe burst further down the corridor, causing a pyramid-shaped metallic lid to come hurtling around the corner, Twenty got to his feet and glanced down the corridor, a sadness running deep through his gloriously lit-up eyes, his eyes damp from previous tears, confusion surging through every synapse in his brain, hormones and complicated chemicals flooding him entirely. Another barely audible mumble emerged from his hollow voice box, turning his head to the right slightly revealed an uncertainty, now confirmed.
There, bundled under a shattered window, of which a few pointed spikes remained rested in the frame, laid a corpse. Cloaked in white fabrics, now smeared with red liquid, presumably blood, and a brushed over smearing of the thick black liquid, the inanimate body was contorted. Twenty approached timidly, though he knew full well who the carcass was. It was his creator, his inventor, the sole person that created him. Upon closer view, Twenty peered over the right shoulder to see the face, and sure enough, lying on the floor was the significantly lacerated face of Dr. Nectar. His positioning gave the impression that he was fleeing from the laboratory before getting caught in the blast that blew the window above him out. His lab coat tails had been slightly singed, probably by one of a number of chemically-induced fires. Twenty and the Duskull accompanying him had already found a number of bodies that had been emblazoned by searing heat, a lot of which were created by explosive electronics. One body of a female scientist had been impaled by a steel railing from the edge of a stairwell.
Hungry, tired and suffering massively from fatigue, Twenty was starving enough to search for nutrition anywhere and everywhere. With that, Twenty kicked the statue that was Dr. Nectar. Rigor mortis had evidently set in. Twenty searched his pockets as rapidly as he could, so as to not remain within the company of a creepy dead scientist. Nothing was inside them, except for a crumpled piece of paper and a vial of blue, luminous liquid. Carefully, he unraveled the sheet. Hastily written in huge capital letters read the words: "THIS ONE WORKS. IT ACTU". The remains of the message had been incinerated, like the lab coat it was enclosed in. Screwing the paper back up and continuing his impressive display of vacancy and disarray, Twenty marched onward, his ambition at escaping alive was still big and strong.
---- I wake up, it's a bad dream No one on my side I was fighting But I just feel too tired To be fighting Guess I'm not the fighting kind Wouldn't mind it If you were by my side But you're long gone Yeah, you're long gone now ----