In the 22nd century, with the outbreak of a virus (POVID-██) possessing a Reality-Bending mechanism, the foundational culture of humanity collapsed. Individuals infected by this virus undergo a "transformation" over a period of about two weeks, where all bodily tissues, except for organs and systems related to intelligence and communication, such as the brain and vocal cords, change into various forms of other creatures. The appearance of these transformed beings bears a striking resemblance to characters from a globally popular monster collection game, which is how the name above was coined.
Initially, the Japanese government's secret organization made desperate efforts to contain the impact both domestically and internationally, but it was soon discovered that, due to the virus's unique infection mechanism, vaccine development was impossible. Research data was sent to various countries, and the secrecy surrounding the situation was breached. Special forces were dispatched to the microbiological research facility in ██ Prefecture, suspected to be the source of the infection. However, the location turned out to be a lair inhabited by creatures resembling brown dogs with big tail and long pricked ears (#0133, Unofficially called Eevee). After capturing samples, the entire building was incinerated, and decontamination was performed. The sample remained steadfast in refusing to testify, and as no valuable information regarding the cause of the pandemic was obtained, it was quietly disposed of.
As the number of infected individuals surged, societal disquiet escalated to an unprecedented zenith. Governments and local authorities, gripped by an escalating sense of urgency, implemented draconian prophylactic measures to curb the contagion’s proliferation. These measures transcended mere quarantine and enforced isolation, extending into the realm of systematic extermination. The collective hysteria, fueled by an insidious fear of the unknown, culminated in the indiscriminate persecution of those deemed afflicted. Particularly in the initial stages of metamorphosis―when the corporeal alterations were most conspicuous―these individuals found themselves subjected to public censure, extrajudicial executions, and outright pogroms. The streets bore testament to this fervor, strewn with the lifeless remnants of those whose physiognomies had begun to deviate from the human paradigm. The acrid stench of charred flesh and coagulated blood permeated the air, a harrowing emblem of humanity’s dread-induced brutality.
Yet, paradoxically, the pathogen exhibited no intrinsic lethality. Upon contraction, the host underwent a transfigurative process, culminating in a state of physiological equilibrium. Far from enfeebling its host, the metamorphosis frequently conferred augmented resilience, with certain permutations bestowing a protracted lifespan surpassing the human standard. These transmutations manifested in myriad forms, with some resembling creatures of fabled mythos―beings imbued with electrical prowess, or entities bearing an uncanny resemblance to Anubian effigies. However, in the nascent throes of the outbreak, such revelations remained obscured by ignorance and hysteria. Even within medical and governmental institutions, the prevailing consensus was that these altered beings constituted aberrations inimical to societal stability, meriting eradication rather than assimilation. Consequently, in the early days of the crisis, the metropolis became a charnel house, littered with the cadavers of those whose only crime was physiological divergence.
Amidst this maelstrom of unmitigated slaughter, dissident factions emerged, advocating for the preservation of the afflicted. These factions coalesced into organized human rights consortiums, lobbying international institutions to interdict the wholesale purging of the transformed. They petitioned the World Health Organization (WHO), imploring it to recalibrate its stance. However, the WHO, entrenched in its apprehensions of an existential threat to human dominion, initially sanctioned the prevailing measures, deeming them imperative for global stability. In response, the advocacy groups, once pacifistic in ethos, radicalized, metamorphosing into militant contingents. What commenced as ideological confrontation rapidly metastasized into kinetic engagements, with insurrectionist cells waging guerrilla warfare against WHO-backed paramilitary forces. Urban infrastructures crumbled under the strain of these internecine conflicts, and civil discord intensified to a degree that rendered mere human existence untenable.
It was under these dire circumstances that a contingent of individuals arrived at a singular resolution: if remaining human was no longer viable, then embracing metamorphosis might be the only recourse to survival. Observing that the transfigured exhibited heightened physical fortitude and an enhanced proclivity for endurance, a subset of disillusioned youth willingly subjected themselves to infection, seeking refuge in transformation. Eschewing their erstwhile identities, they appropriated a new nomenclature―“Pokemon.” What had begun as a nomenclatural anomaly among the marginalized soon gained lexical ubiquity, inexorably cementing itself as the definitive appellation of an emergent species. Thus, from the crucible of hysteria and strife, a new epoch was inaugurated―one in which the dichotomy between humanity and its erstwhile progeny had been irrevocably sundered.
"There's mysterious, mysterious creatures that dwell on this planet.
Living in the sea, the forests, and the mountains, numbering over a thousand...
That is who... WE ARE."
――D. Malamar