A/N: This is an undesirable session, where only one male survives. You can guess who. This is his attempted restart in a different world location and different situations to try to see if the characters can make it. And this is a prototype, not the final version. I want input from the people before I get the final version of this prologue done.
If you were ever given a chance to restart, would you take it?
A dark figure stands, complacent of his world. Only his was created, at the price of his friends. He sobbed over the world, and stormy it always was. Its wind was always apparent, light and comforting, yet oppressing. The creatures of the world assumed that was how it always was.
The man created another world to exist alongside it, to mimic the universe he left alone. He watched over the world for many eons. He saw it slowly form, and vegetation spilling over the land, turning it a bright green. The rain finally subsided, and a bright sun came to the world.
The years passed, the man never changing, never in sight of everything around him, but he controlled it all like puppets on a tiny stage. He watched the giants of the world slowly live and die in his little world. He was cheerful, but took pity upon each little soul that died. He was in a constant stage of regret and optimism until it bored him. He readied a special gift of his that he didn't want to unleash on the Earth until the right time.
Knowing he had much time before it was ready, he took much care into creating special humans, in the likeness of his friends. His memory grew short, sadly, as he created his old troll friends. "Uh... Gamzee Maryam? Kanaya Makara?" He placed them in dormancy and absentmindedly wandered off to watch his worlds bloom. As the time ran short, he began to fear what was soon to come, what was always watching him. He hurriedly set the species of his specification, humans, into roll. He made preparation for the incoming threat, and...
He let humans go. He let them fend for themselves, when he meant to protect them himself. He also let the other world go from the beginning, and it was his forgotten child. When he saw its unruly state, he slowly began to try to control it. But he couldn't. There was something keeping himself from doing what needed to be done. He couldn't control what he didn't own, and it wasn't his anymore. Another figure had taken it for himself.
'N-no...' The now-terrified figure looked at the lurching green foe, who appeared out of the darkness, its red shade eclipsing the planet. With its skull-esque face and cane, it took aim at the figure. He quickly named the figures: "Roxy Egbert? Dirk Harley? Jake Strider? Jane Lalonde?" The god then hurriedly named his friends, in an erratic and nearly-forgotten sense: "Dave Harley, Rose Egbert, and Jade Strider?" The almost-feeble god, in his final moments, first sent the guardians in time to their destination, then sent his friends as well as himself to their pre-destined location and shot the new planet far into space.
A single shot was all that that did it. He started bleeding and crying out. He reached for his world as he began to dematerialize, and he used the last of his power to make one final body by himself. He didn't craft every body hand made, but a few he simply wanted to perfect. It would be his own, so he could live on with his friends and be happy again.
Now out of the shadows, the creature cackled. His metaphorical chains wrapped around the planet, and they were his systems within a new universe to wreak havoc. He was always there, and he is now here. His simple influence on the universe was a plague that planned destruction.
Under John's guidance and mental degrade, the planet that humans now thrived upon was shaped much differently. Two large landmasses engulfed part of this world, the rest being filled in by water. One was of a Crescent shape, engraved in small bumps, indicating depressions that often lead to dark places within the new planet. The other, shaped in almost a circular shape, was embossed with mountains that almost captured much light. Both held small, often pentagon-shaped islands that were surrounded partially by the cusps of the landmasses.
The other planet, where the trolls of his memory are to thrive, is shaped into many large islands of different shapes. These large islands number twelve, of John's creation, and a skull-shaped island in the middle, of the figure's control. The island was slowly given landmass to connect the other islands to it, signifying the clutch the new god had on the planet. He introduced hate into the world where the trolls would inhabit, slowly bringing them back to the clutches of what they once were: Harbingers of hate and deceit. He reintroduced the hemospectrum by chain reactions, wars won by the high bloods and the slavery of the low bloods. Those who were oppressed cried out for equality, but were time and time again crushed by the forces of the new monarchy.
The planet the humans inhabited was forced far enough away to temporarily escape the grasps of the figure, an omnipotent being named Lord English. The former god did not send themselves to Earth, but as figures to lay dormant. John's plan, his sloppily executed plan, worked. They would wait until the timing was right. Meanwhile, the worlds were slowly forming what they would be in the modern day. The diaspora of humanity took a different course than it did within the Earth of John's first upbringing. They spread much more slowly, being more friendly towards each other. War conspired less at the cultivation of civilization. But, as the differences between areas grew, as did hostility. They still kept peaceful at times of meeting, but the wars began to happen.
Earth's corruption was slow, but it did take affect as English's influence spread across the universe towards the new Earth. Science and literature proliferated and took their root in major daily life. Works of opinion, stories of great tales, and scientific works were all celebrated. Advances to create ways to solve it, no matter whether right or wrong. Works of strategy and celebration of war were also created, to a very opinionated appeal. America or any of the countries did not exist, instead countries like the Republic of Lunaria came about, which rose from the facilitator of this modern thinking: The Republic of Gibbous. It was fabled that they came into temporary contact with legendary savages that gave them two of the weapons of ultimate power, but they drove the leaders mad. This is not believed to be true, and it is simply stated that warring powers destroyed the once great empire.
On the other side of the world, a primitive grouping of societies came about. These were mainly warring tribes who despised each other and isolated themselves. On this land, it is also fabled that one of these groups, the Flarians, came into contact with creatures legendary for their kindness who also gave them items of great power. The corruption already there was quelled by the weapons, and a long-standing empire rose out of the ashes of tribes. It engulfed nearly the entire continent, called Solaria by its inhabitants, who worshipped their saviors from darkness. The weapons of Solaria would be encased in glass for many centuries, and people would come to marvel and then create versions of these weapons.
It came around time for the first generation to come up. There was a shift in paradigms around this time, and the vices caught up to the once virtuous people. An archaeologist-turned revolutionary named Andreas Hussive, a Lunarian who found the two weapons of Lunaria, began to write works of hate rarely seen in his time. His words were infectious because of his abuse of the weapons, and many a person groomed in love turned to avarice, greed, wrath. Brother turned on brother, and a war within society on both continents occurred. The rebellion was barely crushed, but Hussive's words lived on in people to the modern day.