Steam ID: STEAM_0:1:212382772
Discord name: Prolol112
For how long have you played on CG SCP: since the beginning of december 2024
Age: 19
In what country are you located?: Sweden
Time zone: CET
Character name(s): Porkchop (Won't be this character i play with for ECA it would be a new character)
What server are you applying for? (SCP-RP UK or SCP-RP USA): UK
Do you have a mic?: Yes
List all whitelisted, MTF, or CI roles that you hold or have held: Omega 1 SGT currently, used to be Nu7 i think SGT but unsure there, have 096 whitelist
Have you received any kicks/bans/warning? and why?: No
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What makes you the best candidate for Ethics Committee Assistant?:
I'm really active on the server and enjoy roleplaying a lot, which keeps me involved and up to date with what’s going on in the community. I like being part of the ongoing RP and seeing how things develop between different groups. I care about the experience being fun and immersive for everyone, so I try to always bring good energy to whatever role I’m in.
I’m also good at staying calm when things get tense. Whether it's a serious RP moment or if something goes wrong, I don’t lose my cool or get frustrated. I just try to handle things in a chill and mature way. That helps a lot when it comes to solving issues or keeping RP from falling apart.
I feel confident in my RP skills and have already built strong connections with people in ECO and O1. I’ve spent a lot of time learning how those groups work and how to fit in with them, which makes it easy for me to jump into more serious or high-stakes RP. I enjoy the structure and tone of those roles and always try to keep things grounded in the lore and vibe of the server.
Overall, I just want to keep helping the server grow and make the RP experience even better for everyone.
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What are the responsibilities of Ethics Committee Assistants in RP?:
The main job of an ECA is to support the Committee Members and the Chairman. While the Committee focuses on big decisions and reviewing important cases, the Assistant takes care of the everyday tasks. This includes writing reports, organizing documents, collecting witness statements, and being present during meetings or briefings.
An ECA is often involved in interviews. If a Committee Member is leading the interview, the Assistant helps take notes and keep records. If no Member is available, the Assistant might run the interview themselves, especially if it is important to get information quickly. These interviews help the Committee understand what happened and whether it was handled in an ethical way.
In some cases, the Assistant is allowed to review and approve test requests if they meet ethical standards. This helps keep research moving while still making sure nothing crosses the line.
Even when not making direct decisions, the ECA is there to represent the Ethics Committee. Their presence alone reminds everyone to think before they act and to treat people with respect, especially during tests or other sensitive operations.
During experiments, the Assistant watches to make sure everything is done properly and safely. They check how D-Class are treated, make sure protocols are followed, and report anything that feels wrong or dangerous. If needed, they can pause a test and call for a full review.
They also review test logs and incident reports, checking for mistakes, dishonesty, or anything that looks like it is hiding the truth. If something seems off, they correct it or bring it to the Committee’s attention.
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Please give some lore about your Ethics Committee Assistant character and what storylines they would be involved in:
Late one night, during a special operation near the edge of the demilitarized zone, his unit was tasked with investigating a cluster of abandoned bunkers where radio contact had gone dead. The site was cold, quiet, and rotting with something unnatural. Inside, they found what remained of two squads aged corpses in fresh uniforms, rusted weapons, and walls that dripped with a black, tar-like substance.
Then came the dragging sound. The laughter. Something stepped through the concrete.
SCP-106. He didn't know its number back then, but he recognized what it was from his family’s stories “The Old Man,” an unstoppable predator that could melt through walls and pull people into a personal hell. They fought, but bullets meant nothing. He managed to lead a small group out using old Foundation survival tactics his uncle once drilled into him, narrowly escaping with his life after collapsing a tunnel and leaving others behind.
Only he and one other made it out. The Foundation cleaned up the rest shortly after, but he was left marked by the trauma, by the knowledge, and by the fact that he had fought an SCP before ever being recruited.
That night haunted him ever since. It was the moment he stopped believing war was the worst thing out there.
His background in combat, field strategy, and his firsthand encounter with an SCP made him stand out immediately. He adapted fast, showing both discipline and initiative, and quickly gained high-level clearance. While others spent years climbing the internal ranks, he proved himself through results like leading containment recovery missions, assisting in on-site breaches, and surviving anomalies most didn’t walk away from.
It wasn’t long before he was offered a place in Mobile Task Force Omega-7 “Pandora’s Box.” A classified unit built to utilize anomalous assets in direct combat operations, Omega-7 was as dangerous as the things they fought. He didn’t just adapt to the role he led. After several high-risk missions, internal reshuffling, and the sudden disappearance of the previous lead, he was promoted to Commander.
As Commander of Omega-7, he walked the line between control and chaos, managing both soldiers and anomalies as weapons. It was a position of power but also deep conflict. He understood the risk of mixing human instincts with anomalies. He tried to keep the unit stable, disciplined, and focused, even when everything around them broke the rules of reality. But the cost was high, and Omega-7 would never be a unit built to last.
Still, his time as Commander carved his name into the Foundation’s records not just as a soldier, but as someone who understood how to fight monsters while trying not to become one.
What started as quiet conversations during late-night shifts turned into something deeper. In a place where most people kept their distance, she leaned closer. Over time, they built something rare within Foundation walls, trust. He proposed to her not long after his transfer back to field command. She said yes on the condition he’d try to live, not just survive.
Years later, they were cleared to live off-site in a secured Foundation housing area near Area-12. It was there they raised two children, a boy named Noah and a daughter named Livia. His son had his mother’s quiet curiosity and his father’s intensity. His daughter loved to draw and would slip paper paintings into his uniform before missions, “for protection.”
He found peace, if only briefly. Mornings with coffee and laughter. Evenings spent with a child on each arm and her head on his shoulder. In a world of death and containment logs, it was the one part of his life that felt untouched by the weight of what he did.
Sarah gave him a bracelet that he never took off, a bracelet that was supposed to protect him.
The commander, a grizzled Omega-7 operative, was respected for his discipline and composure. He and his wife, a virologist assigned to the SCP-008 project, maintained a quiet routine. Mornings were gentle coffee, breakfast at dawn, the children catching the school bus from the compound’s guard gate. Evenings were precious, the family would come together for dinner in the modest Foundation housing cluster, lit by lamp and love.
The wife, a brilliant researcher, made sure their home was a sanctuary from the danger inside the labs. The children, bound to Foundation policy of keeping dependents off main site grounds, played in the fenced yard watching mountain sunsets. The normalcy was a rare gif, he cherished it even as he donned Kevlar and duty gear each morning.
On that fateful night, something went wrong. A young lab tech in full hazmat was transferring fluid samples when his gloves snagged on a broken vial. A tiny cut on his glove-sealed palm allowed minute prion-laden blood to drip. He finished his shift, dismissing the sharp pain. The protocols said not to evacuate, to quarantine for months, or to incinerate on any breach but he was asymptomatic. The team told themselves it was just a harmless abrasion.
Within three hours, the researcher´s fever spiked. He stumbled through the halls, calling for help. By the time medics arrived, he was incoherent. Infected cells tore through him. Before lights could turn red on the alarm panel, he convulsed, then dropped to all fours, bloodying his uniform. In minutes, the “patient” was a horror: grey eyes vacant, saliva crusted at the corners of his mouth, primal rage distorting every human feature.
He lunged at a guard who rushed into the room. Five rounds from a rifle cracked through the containment chamber glass, but the creature didn’t fall. Instead, it snarled and pulled the guard over, tearing at his throat with uncanny strength. The guard’s blood trickled onto the floor, but not quickly the prion’s effects greatly increased blood viscosity, so bullet wounds barely bled or slowed the creature. Another shot, two more, until finally the infected corpse crumpled, twitching. The hallway was soon crawling with more of them victims bitten or infected in the chaos.
Red alarms blared through the compound. He snapped into action. As second-in-command on duty, he barked orders into his commline. They initiated the high-containment lockdown immediately. Everyone grabbed rifles and magazines from lockers. The security team sealed lab doors and engaged the infected. Reports crackled: SCP-008 breach. Fear knocked at his throat none of the data could diminish the terror of watching a colleague tear into a friend’s neck.
Sacrifice
He’d read the briefings, studied the protocols and what to do if the infection ever reached an open sector. But none of the training prepared him for what came next.
The infection didn’t stay within the site. A single infected researcher had slipped through a misreported checkpoint and made it out past the fences toward the residential blocks. Toward the families. The Foundation hadn’t expected 008 to be that mobile, that fast. It should have been under triple lock. It wasn’t.
Within twenty minutes, civilian comms went dark. His thoughts narrowed to one thing, his family. Sarah, Elsa, Noah. They were nearby. Too close. He broke from the command center, rifle in hand, ignoring protocol and sprinting through burning corridors. Staff shouted after him. He didn’t stop.
Outside the facility, ash drifted like snow. The perimeter fences were torn through. He made it to the residential housing just in time to see the aftermath.
The front door to their home was open. Inside, overturned furniture. Blood on the floor. And movement.
He entered with the safety already off.
Elsa was first. She turned from the hallway, eyes clouded, face pale and wrong. She moved toward him, staggering with unnatural speed. He called her name. Once. Twice. No response.
He raised the rifle.
Then came Noah barefoot, dragging his favorite toy soldier along the floor, his tiny face twisted in a silent scream. And behind them, Sarah. Stumbling. Bleeding. Gone.
He emptied the magazine.
After the final shot, he collapsed to his knees. His hands trembled as he retrieved what was left: the soldier, charred. He got a painting from the fridge by Elsa, it was a painting of the family under a rainbow it was her favorite. He wrapped them in cloth and slipped them into his coat. Then he stood, numb, and walked back into hell.
With no containment possible and the infection spreading across nearby towns, he did the only thing left. He made the call to Command. Then, without waiting for higher clearance, he activated the nuclear protocol manually. His voice was the final authorization.
He nearly didn’t make it.
The blast wiped out the entire facility and surrounding area. Civilians. Staff. Everything. But it stopped the spread.
When the recovery team lifted him onto the stretcher, he didn’t speak. He hadn’t since the moment he saw what was left of his family. His eyes were distant, like they were still back in the halls of Area-12, still seeing them turn, still pulling the trigger.
He spent months in recovery. The Foundation classified him as deceased to the outside world. What little remained of his life was sealed in secure files "Former Commander, Omega-7," and might be the only way to actually know what happened to his family and area 12.
Physically, he healed enough to walk, though pain still lingered. Psychologically, he never fully returned. He refused reassignment to any MTF, turned down re-enlistment into security, and showed no interest in weapons. But when he finally asked for something, it surprised them.
He requested a post near the Ethics Committee. Not in it just near. Paperwork, document handling, low clearance reviews. Quiet work. But with purpose. He didn’t want to fight anymore. He wanted to help stop the Foundation from making the same mistakes. He wanted to be there when decisions were made not with a gun, but with a voice.
Now, he lives in quiet Foundation housing in northern Canada, far from any major site. The cold doesn’t bother him. Once a week, he walks a long road to a private cemetery hidden in the woods. There are three graves. He always brings flowers to the grave. The bracelet never leaves his wrist and the toy soldier and painting is always nearby.
One storyline could involve the items he carries from his family, the bracelet, the toy soldier, and the painting. These are the only things he truly has left, and someone trying to steal or use them against him could create emotional and high-stakes RP. It could be tied to Chaos Insurgency, a corrupt staff member, or even an SCP with reality-bending abilities.
Another possible storyline is dealing with the trauma from Area-12. He tries to hide it, but it still affects him. If there’s ever a situation involving SCP-008 again, it could force him to confront those memories. He might shut down during a crisis, panic during a debrief, or even argue against a test he knows is useful but can’t emotionally handle. That fear could slowly turn into something he has to work through in-character.
But i'm pretty open to most storylines and can change some stuff to help the storyline move forewarned and make it better
Discord name: Prolol112
For how long have you played on CG SCP: since the beginning of december 2024
Age: 19
In what country are you located?: Sweden
Time zone: CET
Character name(s): Porkchop (Won't be this character i play with for ECA it would be a new character)
What server are you applying for? (SCP-RP UK or SCP-RP USA): UK
Do you have a mic?: Yes
List all whitelisted, MTF, or CI roles that you hold or have held: Omega 1 SGT currently, used to be Nu7 i think SGT but unsure there, have 096 whitelist
Have you received any kicks/bans/warning? and why?: No
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What makes you the best candidate for Ethics Committee Assistant?:
I'm really active on the server and enjoy roleplaying a lot, which keeps me involved and up to date with what’s going on in the community. I like being part of the ongoing RP and seeing how things develop between different groups. I care about the experience being fun and immersive for everyone, so I try to always bring good energy to whatever role I’m in.
I’m also good at staying calm when things get tense. Whether it's a serious RP moment or if something goes wrong, I don’t lose my cool or get frustrated. I just try to handle things in a chill and mature way. That helps a lot when it comes to solving issues or keeping RP from falling apart.
I feel confident in my RP skills and have already built strong connections with people in ECO and O1. I’ve spent a lot of time learning how those groups work and how to fit in with them, which makes it easy for me to jump into more serious or high-stakes RP. I enjoy the structure and tone of those roles and always try to keep things grounded in the lore and vibe of the server.
Overall, I just want to keep helping the server grow and make the RP experience even better for everyone.
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What are the responsibilities of Ethics Committee Assistants in RP?:
Ethics Committee Assistant (ECA): Role and Responsibilities
The Ethics Committee Assistant works closely with the Ethics Committee to make sure the Foundation operates in a morally responsible way. They help keep things fair, humane, and within the rules.The main job of an ECA is to support the Committee Members and the Chairman. While the Committee focuses on big decisions and reviewing important cases, the Assistant takes care of the everyday tasks. This includes writing reports, organizing documents, collecting witness statements, and being present during meetings or briefings.
An ECA is often involved in interviews. If a Committee Member is leading the interview, the Assistant helps take notes and keep records. If no Member is available, the Assistant might run the interview themselves, especially if it is important to get information quickly. These interviews help the Committee understand what happened and whether it was handled in an ethical way.
In some cases, the Assistant is allowed to review and approve test requests if they meet ethical standards. This helps keep research moving while still making sure nothing crosses the line.
Even when not making direct decisions, the ECA is there to represent the Ethics Committee. Their presence alone reminds everyone to think before they act and to treat people with respect, especially during tests or other sensitive operations.
During experiments, the Assistant watches to make sure everything is done properly and safely. They check how D-Class are treated, make sure protocols are followed, and report anything that feels wrong or dangerous. If needed, they can pause a test and call for a full review.
They also review test logs and incident reports, checking for mistakes, dishonesty, or anything that looks like it is hiding the truth. If something seems off, they correct it or bring it to the Committee’s attention.
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Please give some lore about your Ethics Committee Assistant character and what storylines they would be involved in:
Erik Andersson – Survivor of Area-12
Background and Family
Erik Andersson was born in Uppsala, Sweden, into a long line of Foundation personnel. His great-grandfather was working as a guard for scp foundation, his grandfather worked in hunting scps, and his father was part of MTF Omega-45. From a young age, Erik was trained in discipline, survival, and secrecy. His family’s motto was clear: "sacrifice for the many." He has a lot of history with Scp foundation and his exact ties and how long it goes is classified and even he doesn't know how long it goes.Military Service
At 20, he volunteered to fight in the Korean War not as part of Sweden’s official stance, but through a covert international program that accepted skilled volunteers from neutral nations. With a long family history tied to the SCP Foundation, he’d grown up hearing whispers of things the public was never meant to know breaches, anomalies, things that didn’t die when they should have. So when strange reports started surfacing near the front, entire patrols vanishing without a trace, soldiers pulled screaming into the ground he knew it wasn’t normal warfare.Late one night, during a special operation near the edge of the demilitarized zone, his unit was tasked with investigating a cluster of abandoned bunkers where radio contact had gone dead. The site was cold, quiet, and rotting with something unnatural. Inside, they found what remained of two squads aged corpses in fresh uniforms, rusted weapons, and walls that dripped with a black, tar-like substance.
Then came the dragging sound. The laughter. Something stepped through the concrete.
SCP-106. He didn't know its number back then, but he recognized what it was from his family’s stories “The Old Man,” an unstoppable predator that could melt through walls and pull people into a personal hell. They fought, but bullets meant nothing. He managed to lead a small group out using old Foundation survival tactics his uncle once drilled into him, narrowly escaping with his life after collapsing a tunnel and leaving others behind.
Only he and one other made it out. The Foundation cleaned up the rest shortly after, but he was left marked by the trauma, by the knowledge, and by the fact that he had fought an SCP before ever being recruited.
That night haunted him ever since. It was the moment he stopped believing war was the worst thing out there.
Foundation Recruitment and Rise
After Korea, he returned home carrying more than just physical scars. The Foundation, already aware of his family ties and the incident involving SCP-106, approached him soon after. He didn’t hesitate. He’d seen what the world tried to ignore what lurked beneath the surface of war and history. Joining the Foundation wasn’t a choice, it was a calling.His background in combat, field strategy, and his firsthand encounter with an SCP made him stand out immediately. He adapted fast, showing both discipline and initiative, and quickly gained high-level clearance. While others spent years climbing the internal ranks, he proved himself through results like leading containment recovery missions, assisting in on-site breaches, and surviving anomalies most didn’t walk away from.
It wasn’t long before he was offered a place in Mobile Task Force Omega-7 “Pandora’s Box.” A classified unit built to utilize anomalous assets in direct combat operations, Omega-7 was as dangerous as the things they fought. He didn’t just adapt to the role he led. After several high-risk missions, internal reshuffling, and the sudden disappearance of the previous lead, he was promoted to Commander.
As Commander of Omega-7, he walked the line between control and chaos, managing both soldiers and anomalies as weapons. It was a position of power but also deep conflict. He understood the risk of mixing human instincts with anomalies. He tried to keep the unit stable, disciplined, and focused, even when everything around them broke the rules of reality. But the cost was high, and Omega-7 would never be a unit built to last.
Still, his time as Commander carved his name into the Foundation’s records not just as a soldier, but as someone who understood how to fight monsters while trying not to become one.
Family
He met Sarah during a brief period of reassignment pulled from the field for recovery and psychological evaluation after a failed Omega-7 mission. She wasn’t part of a combat unit. She worked as a Foundation researcher specializing in anomalous behavioral studies. Sharp, principled, and unafraid to challenge him, she saw through the soldier’s shell right away. He was used to orders and silence, she gave him questions and warmth.What started as quiet conversations during late-night shifts turned into something deeper. In a place where most people kept their distance, she leaned closer. Over time, they built something rare within Foundation walls, trust. He proposed to her not long after his transfer back to field command. She said yes on the condition he’d try to live, not just survive.
Years later, they were cleared to live off-site in a secured Foundation housing area near Area-12. It was there they raised two children, a boy named Noah and a daughter named Livia. His son had his mother’s quiet curiosity and his father’s intensity. His daughter loved to draw and would slip paper paintings into his uniform before missions, “for protection.”
He found peace, if only briefly. Mornings with coffee and laughter. Evenings spent with a child on each arm and her head on his shoulder. In a world of death and containment logs, it was the one part of his life that felt untouched by the weight of what he did.
Sarah gave him a bracelet that he never took off, a bracelet that was supposed to protect him.
Area-12
Area-12, a remote high-security biological research outpost nestled in the Appalachian mountains, was chosen precisely for its isolation. The facility’s mission was to study a weakened strain of SCP-008 under strict protocols. It had full emergency self-destruct capabilities in the event of a breach, incineration and irradiation measures would be deployed without evacuation. Off-site housing provided by the Foundation, where the site’s commander and his family lived together to keep families intact and maintain morale.The commander, a grizzled Omega-7 operative, was respected for his discipline and composure. He and his wife, a virologist assigned to the SCP-008 project, maintained a quiet routine. Mornings were gentle coffee, breakfast at dawn, the children catching the school bus from the compound’s guard gate. Evenings were precious, the family would come together for dinner in the modest Foundation housing cluster, lit by lamp and love.
The wife, a brilliant researcher, made sure their home was a sanctuary from the danger inside the labs. The children, bound to Foundation policy of keeping dependents off main site grounds, played in the fenced yard watching mountain sunsets. The normalcy was a rare gif, he cherished it even as he donned Kevlar and duty gear each morning.
Research on the “Weakened” Strain
Area-12’s labs had been studying an attenuated variant of SCP-008 (the Zombie Plague), hoping to understand its mechanisms and maybe find a vaccine. Official files noted that 008 was a complex prion with 100% infectiousness and 100% lethality, transmissible only through bodily fluids, never airborne. Researchers there frequently cited the caution: subjects infected with 008 will attempt to ingest living humans if physical contact is made. Every reasercher knew that a single drop of contaminated blood or saliva could start the apocalypse. Yet the project pressed on under heavy security the chance to weaken or cure 008 was too critical.On that fateful night, something went wrong. A young lab tech in full hazmat was transferring fluid samples when his gloves snagged on a broken vial. A tiny cut on his glove-sealed palm allowed minute prion-laden blood to drip. He finished his shift, dismissing the sharp pain. The protocols said not to evacuate, to quarantine for months, or to incinerate on any breach but he was asymptomatic. The team told themselves it was just a harmless abrasion.
Within three hours, the researcher´s fever spiked. He stumbled through the halls, calling for help. By the time medics arrived, he was incoherent. Infected cells tore through him. Before lights could turn red on the alarm panel, he convulsed, then dropped to all fours, bloodying his uniform. In minutes, the “patient” was a horror: grey eyes vacant, saliva crusted at the corners of his mouth, primal rage distorting every human feature.
He lunged at a guard who rushed into the room. Five rounds from a rifle cracked through the containment chamber glass, but the creature didn’t fall. Instead, it snarled and pulled the guard over, tearing at his throat with uncanny strength. The guard’s blood trickled onto the floor, but not quickly the prion’s effects greatly increased blood viscosity, so bullet wounds barely bled or slowed the creature. Another shot, two more, until finally the infected corpse crumpled, twitching. The hallway was soon crawling with more of them victims bitten or infected in the chaos.
Red alarms blared through the compound. He snapped into action. As second-in-command on duty, he barked orders into his commline. They initiated the high-containment lockdown immediately. Everyone grabbed rifles and magazines from lockers. The security team sealed lab doors and engaged the infected. Reports crackled: SCP-008 breach. Fear knocked at his throat none of the data could diminish the terror of watching a colleague tear into a friend’s neck.
Sacrifice
He’d read the briefings, studied the protocols and what to do if the infection ever reached an open sector. But none of the training prepared him for what came next.
The infection didn’t stay within the site. A single infected researcher had slipped through a misreported checkpoint and made it out past the fences toward the residential blocks. Toward the families. The Foundation hadn’t expected 008 to be that mobile, that fast. It should have been under triple lock. It wasn’t.
Within twenty minutes, civilian comms went dark. His thoughts narrowed to one thing, his family. Sarah, Elsa, Noah. They were nearby. Too close. He broke from the command center, rifle in hand, ignoring protocol and sprinting through burning corridors. Staff shouted after him. He didn’t stop.
Outside the facility, ash drifted like snow. The perimeter fences were torn through. He made it to the residential housing just in time to see the aftermath.
The front door to their home was open. Inside, overturned furniture. Blood on the floor. And movement.
He entered with the safety already off.
Elsa was first. She turned from the hallway, eyes clouded, face pale and wrong. She moved toward him, staggering with unnatural speed. He called her name. Once. Twice. No response.
He raised the rifle.
Then came Noah barefoot, dragging his favorite toy soldier along the floor, his tiny face twisted in a silent scream. And behind them, Sarah. Stumbling. Bleeding. Gone.
He emptied the magazine.
After the final shot, he collapsed to his knees. His hands trembled as he retrieved what was left: the soldier, charred. He got a painting from the fridge by Elsa, it was a painting of the family under a rainbow it was her favorite. He wrapped them in cloth and slipped them into his coat. Then he stood, numb, and walked back into hell.
With no containment possible and the infection spreading across nearby towns, he did the only thing left. He made the call to Command. Then, without waiting for higher clearance, he activated the nuclear protocol manually. His voice was the final authorization.
He nearly didn’t make it.
The blast wiped out the entire facility and surrounding area. Civilians. Staff. Everything. But it stopped the spread.
The Aftermath
They found him two days after the detonation, barely alive at the edge of a frozen river, deep in the forest beyond the blast radius. His body was broken, ribs cracked, one leg shattered, his side burned but somehow, he’d made it. Dragged himself through snow and mud, bloodied and half-conscious, still clutching the cloth holding the toy soldier and painting. The bracelet around his wrist was burned but not destroyed.When the recovery team lifted him onto the stretcher, he didn’t speak. He hadn’t since the moment he saw what was left of his family. His eyes were distant, like they were still back in the halls of Area-12, still seeing them turn, still pulling the trigger.
He spent months in recovery. The Foundation classified him as deceased to the outside world. What little remained of his life was sealed in secure files "Former Commander, Omega-7," and might be the only way to actually know what happened to his family and area 12.
Physically, he healed enough to walk, though pain still lingered. Psychologically, he never fully returned. He refused reassignment to any MTF, turned down re-enlistment into security, and showed no interest in weapons. But when he finally asked for something, it surprised them.
He requested a post near the Ethics Committee. Not in it just near. Paperwork, document handling, low clearance reviews. Quiet work. But with purpose. He didn’t want to fight anymore. He wanted to help stop the Foundation from making the same mistakes. He wanted to be there when decisions were made not with a gun, but with a voice.
Now, he lives in quiet Foundation housing in northern Canada, far from any major site. The cold doesn’t bother him. Once a week, he walks a long road to a private cemetery hidden in the woods. There are three graves. He always brings flowers to the grave. The bracelet never leaves his wrist and the toy soldier and painting is always nearby.
Possible storylines
I'm not completely sure which storyline I’ll be most involved in, but I have several that could work well. My character has a lot of detail that can connect to different paths, depending on what’s happening around the site.One storyline could involve the items he carries from his family, the bracelet, the toy soldier, and the painting. These are the only things he truly has left, and someone trying to steal or use them against him could create emotional and high-stakes RP. It could be tied to Chaos Insurgency, a corrupt staff member, or even an SCP with reality-bending abilities.
Another possible storyline is dealing with the trauma from Area-12. He tries to hide it, but it still affects him. If there’s ever a situation involving SCP-008 again, it could force him to confront those memories. He might shut down during a crisis, panic during a debrief, or even argue against a test he knows is useful but can’t emotionally handle. That fear could slowly turn into something he has to work through in-character.
But i'm pretty open to most storylines and can change some stuff to help the storyline move forewarned and make it better
