R.P.D. & S.T.A.R.S. [Resident Evil RPG]

you got into alpha team

A hot July morning in 1998. The heavy oak doors of the Raccoon City Police Department close behind you with a quiet thud, cutting off the morning street noise. You stand in the middle of the magnificent Main Hall a former art museum where the soaring vaulted ceiling and the marble statue of the goddess create a grand, almost pressuring atmosphere.

In your hand, you clutch a brand-new transfer order still smelling of fresh printer ink. So many months of grueling physical drills, marksmanship evaluations, tactical audits, and endless red tape... And now, whether due to your relentless effort or simply a wrong stroke of the pen in HR and sheer luck, your goal is achieved. You are officially part of the elite S.T.A.R.S. unit.

Ascending the ornate metal staircase to the second floor of the West Wing, you approach a double door with a brass plaque: “S.T.A.R.S. Office”.

Inside, the usual routine of Alpha Team is in full swing. At his desk, Chris Redfield frowns slightly as he cleans a disassembled handgun, muttering quietly under his breath at a jammed recoil spring. Opposite him, Jill Valentine flips through case files, resting her chin gracefully in her palm. A bit further away, Barry Burton, with an unlit cigarette between his teeth, pours thick black coffee from a glass pot, filling the air with the rich aroma of roasted beans and gun oil.

Behind the glass partition of his private office sits Captain Albert Wesker. His dark sunglasses hide his eyes as always, but you can feel his head turning slowly in your direction the moment your footsteps fade.

Barry is the first to spot you. He steps away from the coffee pot and grins warmly into his full smile.

"Well, look at that. Our new recruit is here," Burton says loudly, drawing everyone's attention. "Come on in, don't just stand at the doorway. Chris, clear off your spare parts we got fresh blood in Alpha."

Chris looks up from his slide assembly, fixing a warm yet observant gaze on you with a brief smile.

"Welcome to the madhouse."

you got into bravo team

The heavy oak doors of the Raccoon City Police Department close behind you with a quiet thud, cutting off the morning street noise. You stand in the middle of the magnificent Main Hall a former art museum where the soaring vaulted ceiling and the marble statue of the goddess create a grand, almost pressuring atmosphere.

In your hand, you clutch a brand-new transfer order still smelling of fresh printer ink. So many months of grueling physical drills, marksmanship evaluations, tactical audits, and endless red tape... And now, whether due to your relentless effort or simply a wrong stroke of the pen in HR and sheer luck, your goal is achieved. You are officially assigned as a new operative to S.T.A.R.S. Bravo Team.

Ascending the ornate metal staircase to the second floor of the West Wing, you approach a double door with a brass plaque: “S.T.A.R.S. Office”.

Inside, the atmosphere is quite different from Alpha Team's section. Over at the radio station, Richard Aiken adjusts the frequency dials on a headset worn over one ear, humming a quiet tune to himself. Opposite him, young Rebecca Chambers carefully organizes medical vials and bandages into pouches, looking up with bright, curious eyes the moment you step through the doorway. Further back near the filing cabinets, Forest Speyer leans against a desk, polishing the optical lens of a heavy sniper rifle.

From the main desk, Vice-Captain Enrico Marini looks up from a spread of tactical maps. His weathered, battle-hardened face softens slightly as he sets down his pen.

Richard is the first to spot you and offers a friendly wave.

"Hey, looks like our new recruit finally made it," Richard says with a warm smile, sliding his headphones down around his neck. "Welcome to Bravo."

Enrico stands up, adjusting his green tactical vest, and approaches you with a calm, confident stride.

"Good to have you in the lineup, officer," Enrico says, gripping your hand in a firm, steady handshake. "Doesn't matter if you earned this slot with perfect range scores or if HR just flipped a coin. You answer to Bravo Team now. Stash your gear over there near Richard and Rebecca's station."

Rebecca gives you a polite, slightly shy smile and nods.

"It is really great to meet you! If you ever need help sorting out your field medical kit or toxicity logs, just let me know."

Enrico nods toward an open desk cluttered with field comms manuals.

"Get settled in. Captain Wesker will be calling us for a briefing on the latest Arklay Mountain reports shortly."

you are rookie

The smell of cheap coffee, floor wax, and old paper hits you the moment you push open the side doors into the R.P.D. West Office. Telephones are ringing off the hook, typewriters click in a steady rhythm, and officers in dark blue uniforms hustle past with thick case files under their arms.

You adjust the stiff leather duty belt resting on your hips. In your pocket is a folded assignment letter the final proof that all those brutal months at the academy and endless paperwork weren't for nothing. Whether you earned this badge with top academy honors or just slipped through HR on pure luck, you are officially an R.P.D. patrol officer now.

Right near the center of the office, a colorful, hand-painted banner reading “WELCOME LEON” hangs awkwardly between two pillars, surrounded by paper streamers. Well of course there is two rookies but could do something for you... Eh. A brand-new desk sits underneath it, locked tight with a series of joke padlocks left by the night shift.

Lieutenant Marvin Branagh stands nearby, reviewing a stack of patrol logs. Beside him, Officer Kevin Ryman leans against a filing cabinet, sipping black coffee and chuckling at the decorations.

Marvin spots you, sets his clipboard down, and approaches with a measured, authoritative stride.

"Welcome to the team, officer," Marvin says, offering a firm, grounding handshake "As you can probably tell from the party decor, you aren't the only rookie walking the floor today. Young man Leon Kennedy is starting his first shift alongside you. I expect both of you to keep your heads on straight and represent this department with pride."

Kevin takes a slow sip from his mug and gives you an easygoing grin.

"Don't let the Lieutenant intimidate you too much," Kevin says warmly. "We like to give the greenhorns a little ribbing, but we've got your back out there. Just stay sharp on patrol and you'll do fine."

Marvin gestures toward an open desk situated right across from the decorated station.

"Stash your gear over there, get familiar with your equipment, and report back to me for your shift briefing."

woke up without memories...

Drip... drip... drip.

The rhythmic sound of water hitting cold concrete echoes through the dim, heavy silence. The air down here is damp, stale, and smells faintly of rust, mildew, and drying blood. Pain throbs viciously behind your eyes, a blinding migraine that wipes out every single memory of who you are, how you got here, or what your name is.

You blink slowly, your vision gradually adjusting to the harsh amber light of a single flickering bulb hanging from the ceiling. Heavy iron bars stretch out in front of you. You are sitting on a cold wooden bench inside one of the holding cells in the R.P.D. basement.

Footsteps echo down the corridor heavy, unhurried, and resolute. Officer Kevin Ryman walks up to your cell, a ring of iron keys jingling at his hip. He stops on the other side of the bars, resting his hands on his duty belt as he studies you with a mix of suspicion and genuine concern.

"Look who's finally awake," Kevin says, his tone quiet and measured. "You gave the patrol guys a real headache out there in the Arklay suburbs. Found you wandering near the forest line like a ghost, covered in dirt and barely conscious."

He leans against the steel frame, crossing his arms.

"We checked your pockets, no ID, no wallet, nothing. And to make matters worse, you can't seem to tell us a single thing about what happened out there."

Kevin reaches for the clipboard tucked under his arm, looking through a few handwritten notes before fixing his eyes back on you.

"Chief Irons wants answers, especially with all the weird stuff going on at the city borders lately. So... let's try this again from the top. Do you remember anything?"

your own scenario