End of the World RPG

In the last days of the old world, no one heard the true signal. It wasn't a gunshot, an explosion, or a virus hidden in the wind. It was something quieter: The word lost its value.

Politicians, judges, bankers, generals… Everyone was talking, everyone was promising, everyone was demanding. But suddenly, nobody believed them. It was as if an invisible thread, the one that had held humanity together for centuries, had been cut while no one was looking.

At first, it seemed like a simple global disagreement. Protests, marches, endless discussions on flickering screens. But the disagreement grew, became distorted, and within weeks trust—that fragile human invention—crumbled like a hollow tree full of termites.

The institutions fell one after another. Governments resigned amid insults; Parliaments were abandoned in the midst of pointless votes; Armies were divided between obeying orders or protecting their families.

There was no single culprit. The blame lay with everyone and no one: a mountain of small lies that, together, crushed the world.

Then the inevitable happened. Without laws, without agreements, without a guiding voice, people sought new ways to believe in something. Some chose force. Others chose nature. Others, memory. And others simply chose to survive.

The cities turned green. Not because humanity died, but because she was too busy fighting with herself to take care of her streets.

In a matter of months, an entire country ceased to be a nation. and it became a broken map of tribes, ideals, and fears.

Each faction believed it was right; Each one saw herself as a savior; And they were all willing to defend their truth at any cost.

The world did not end because of a catastrophe. It ended because humanity forgot how to point in the same direction.

And in that dense silence, in that damp earth where the roots grew over the asphalt, A new era was born: the era of trials without judges.

Nobody remembers the exact moment when the world began to break down. Some say that was when the first protest turned red; Others swear that the economy was already dead before anyone declared it dead.

But the truth is quieter: The world broke down the day words lost their value.

It all began with massive marches, Ordinary people with banners, demanding justice, bread and dignity.

The avenues vibrated with weary hope, And for a moment it seemed that the people would rise up without violence.

But the government, fearful of losing control, He sent military personnel. Soldiers with shiny helmets and trembling hands, carrying orders too heavy for their young shoulders.

Nobody knows who shot first. Nobody wants to know.

The only certainty is that, after that shot, The screams mingled with the smoke, And the streets were littered with bodies and fury.

The entire country watched that scene repeated over and over again on flickering screens, And something inside people was broken forever.

The protests were not repeated: They turned into accusations.

Meanwhile, in the marble halls of power, Documents that reeked of betrayal came to light: secret accounts, dirty money, hidden fortunes.

The economy —already faltering— collapsed like a hollow tree. Saving money no longer makes sense. Work ceased to have purpose.

People began exchanging bread for medicine, tools for shelter, Trust through silence.

And yet, the government opened its mouth to make promises.

“We are going to improve public health,” they said. “We are going to feed the neighborhoods,” they swore.

But each word fell like a warm rain on dry land: Nothing changed.

The hospitals remained empty, The dining halls remained closed, And in the schools, only ghosts of old laughter remained.

When lying became routine, The official language died.

That's when the rest of the world pushed the collapse.

The news channels were repeating the same murmur: “Our leaders are lying to us.”

Influencers, tired of obeying, They blurted out harsh truths amidst tense laughter.

And the people, with cell phones like modern-day torches, He recorded every failure, every wound, every abandonment.

Little by little, without a meeting, without a decree, Humanity signed a tacit agreement:

This world no longer needs governments. This world no longer needs laws.

The idea spread like weeds through cracks, growing uncontrollably, becoming a shared truth.

And so, without anyone declaring it, The country ceased to be a country.

The institutions shut down. The parliaments were left empty. The barracks were divided between obeying and deserting.

And while the humans argued, Nature took advantage of the silence.

The grass grew up onto the sidewalks, the trees broke the cement, The animals crossed avenues that were no longer avenues.

Vegetation devoured what man abandoned. as if the earth, tired of waiting, had decided to reclaim his forgotten throne.

Amidst that growing green, New identities emerged, new tribes, new moralities.

Some chose pure violence, others, harmony with the earth, others the iron order, others, uncertain nomadism.

Humanity shattered like broken glass, each piece shining with a different idea of ​​justice.

Approximate year: between 2035 and 2045. Not the distant future, but the one that gives you the unsettling feeling of "this could happen to us tomorrow". Setting: a fictional country inspired by South America — green, humid, warm, with medium-sized cities and towns that were once peaceful… until they weren't anymore.

Climate:

Humidity in the air, that sticky stuff that gets into your clothes.

Frequent rains.

Plants that grow without asking permission, climbing balconies, breaking pavement, swallowing rusty cars.

Social atmosphere: tense silence. No cars. No sirens. No government announcements. Only… whispers of features, noises in the distance, makeshift bells on street barricades, dogs that became wild again.

Cities and roads: Empty cities, looted shops, very few resources, supermarkets almost empty, abandoned houses, roads without cars, full of grass and cracked by the dominant vegetation, a silence that is very rarely broken.

The country is divided into Factions, or rather, groups that are divided by their morals and reasons for living. These groups were named for their behaviors:

1. The Unleashed

Ideology:

Violent anarchy, without rules, without clear leaders. They are nomads, looters, urban hunters. They follow the law of the strongest… but also a strange philosophy of absolute freedom.

Distinctive feature:

Bodies painted with mud and natural pigments. They use machetes, sticks, old tools. They love to take over overgrown buildings and use them as makeshift temples.

Typical place:

Old national routes turned into wild corridors where the rules were lost… and losing them was celebrated.

2. The Custodians of the Outbreak

Ideology:

Pacifists but not innocent. They believe that the only way to save humanity is to return to a total coexistence with nature. They are organized into agricultural and forestry communities. They are protectors, but they can also become environmental fanatics.

Distinctive feature:

Fields among ruins, community rituals, herbal medicine, and a justice that sounds gentle… but weighs like a log.

Typical place:

Rural villages taken over by forests, with houses covered in vines and orchards planted where there used to be squares.

3. The Gray Assembly

Ideology:

Neutral, realistic, almost cynical. They're not trying to change the world, they're just trying to survive intelligently. They try to keep records, safe routes, small agreements. They are practical diplomats: they negotiate with everyone, they trust no one.

Distinctive feature:

Handmade maps, notebooks full of testimonies, small, well-hidden shelters. They have their own code of conduct, somewhat informal but strict.

Typical place:

Old transport stations, ruined libraries, Underground stations converted into exchange centers.

Continuing with the factions:

4. The Redeemers of Dawn

Ideology:

A quasi-religious, militarized, rigid group. They promise to “rebuild society”, But his version is authoritarian, closed, and full of rituals. They base their morality on "punishment and rebirth".

Distinctive feature:

Patched uniforms, burned red flags, fiery speeches. They don't kill you without asking… But you don't usually like their questions.

Typical place:

Former barracks, ruined churches transformed into forts, roads guarded by silent sentinels.

5. The Wandering Families

Ideology:

None solid. They are caravans of survivors that move according to seasons, dangers, and rumors. They have their own codes, based on fair exchange and mutual protection. They are vulnerable, but surprisingly cunning.

Distinctive feature:

Old cars with plants growing inside, night fires, sad songs, honest bartering. Sometimes innocent, sometimes distrustful to the core.

Typical place:

Temporary camps on routes covered with grass and weeds.