To Continue the Tale of Mankind and the Galaxy.
EVERYONE PLEASE VOTE. AND YES, LURKERS, I AM LOOKING AT YOU TOO.
Of Choices to Make.
Nine paths to contact. Nine paths to damnation and divinity. Let the mortal minds see the Black Light of the Gods of the Primeval Realm. Let their souls shatter at the sight of the divine.
The ones in bold letters can affect the galaxy at large, but they may not if they don't win the top score, while those in italic shouldn't unless they are the top scored ones. Pick three. The one and second who have the highest score will be presented.
- Songs of Heaven. The arts of the gods is not something mortal eyes and ears should behold. Sometimes, it is best to leave them alone and turn a blind eye to their existence, for none should witness perfection.
- Some poor fucks found a pretersapien girl practicing for their concert. To say that humanity's music is something beyond comprehension is selling it short.
- Fingers of the Angyl. Sleeping golems of glass, iron, brass and gold. They await the rousing of their King of Light. Yet even slumbering, these constructs of alien thought traverse the halls of the Sanctum Luminosica, walking without mind or purpose, until the inquisitive prod their cogs and stir their God.
- A table top player gets his small legion of automaton figures stolen by primitives thinking the figures are unstoppable weapons of mass destruction. Pray that he is in a good mood when he wakes up.
- Mirror of Tales. You seek the truth, and it shall show it to you. You seek your greatest desires, and it will make them true for you. You seek power and it will provide it to you. You seek to dine at the greatest of halls, drink from the tallest chalice and it shall give it to you. You wish for a life without pain, without heart ache, and it will grant it. All that and more…. Only for the price of your soul.
- Don't play human videogames. They become… frighteningly real, and primitive brains cannot process the devices.
- Trials of Hephadon. The Halls of Hephadon, where the greatest of warriors come and gather, to pass its trials is to be gifted with an artifact of the gods themselves. Yet to reach such a price, one must traverse through horror and loss and blood.
- A place where lower class (I mean in power levels, not societal class) people do parkour, fight monsters and do all kinds of shenanigans and then given a souvenir for playing (Usually obsolete weapons and trinkets and stuff like that). Unfortunately those souvenirs are pretty advanced pieces of reality defying technology for the primitives that come in.
- Bones of the Dragons. The bones of a colossal god lay resting on the vast sea that is the Void of Stars. But not dead, for with strange eons, even death itself may die. The Wyrm dreams of things great and small, and it has a plan.
- A powerful preterhuman is sleeping in the void of space, letting the currents take him wherever he may go. Too bad that psychic dreams have an effect on primitives whether they want to or not. Pretty awkward to realize that the small thousand year siesta you took caused a whole cult of psychopathic maniacs to arise wherever you went.
- Library of Akash. They reached Heaven through the Spiracle of Many Arms. For those who walk these halls, enlightenment follows. But sometimes wisdom is not benevolent. Mortal minds are not meant to stare into the books of gods and come out unscathed.
- Some primitive dumb fucks break into a nerd's personal library. Hilary and horror ensures.
- The Abattoir. The slaughterhouse. Where long had man once fed upon the flesh of mortal creatures, now they thirst for something more. The very life force of creatures, to satiate a hunger unlike those of mortal minds. It is the very purpose of this planet's existence; to satiate such a profound hunger. It is why it is called Abattoir. And mortals are not meant to walk its cursed lands, for even they can be part of the meal of gods.
- Slaughterhouses are very efficient at what they do, especially since all their functions are autonomous… unfortunately it seems that they work just as well on primitives as it does with animals, or maybe even more so. So that's why the food tasted funny.
- The Gallery of Nightmares. A realm filled with horror and despair. Where your worst nightmare comes alive and hunts you relentlessly throughout its halls. Even to escape these dark galleries of living glass and bizarre alien geometries, does not mean one escapes the nightmares.
- A high quality horror videogame/cursed house exhibition. Or the preterhuman equivalent. Yeah… not good for the primitives in any way, shape or form.
- Philosopher Stone. The power to end all need. Such boundless quarry is the eternal promise of the Philosopher Stone. To create all matter that your dreams desire. All you need to do… is but to wish upon it.
- A nifty household device that allows the user to create any material they think off. Useful for gathering the raw materials for constructing everything you need. Even if it takes ridiculous orders at times.
Of Victims and Heroes.
The Citadel Council has not realized its fortunes. Long before the waking of the Prothean remnants, the Citadel Council had enforced a… harder grip on the galaxy… even if it is not so easily observed. The prospect of power is something every faction would give blood and limb for acquiring. Despite the warnings of the protheans, the younger races will not listen. They think the tales of unfathomable horrors and godlike abominations from the void to be merely tales and exaggerations made by the enemies of the protheans, inflated even further by the protheans themselves so that they may maintain their technological superiority. They never realized the monopoly the protheans possessed over the Magitek artifacts of Preterhumanity was never to analyze nor understand, but to seal and contain and protect the galaxy from their own folly eons ago. When the council inevitably stumbled upon the realm of gods and demons, their thirst for power will be their undoing.
The galaxy is nearing an age where ignorance of the antediluvian cannot be accepted. And this will bring terrible consequences to the galaxy.
Choose wisely who will be affected directly by the coming events. Pick three and with who will the victim be bonded. Each faction has been affected slightly by the prothean cycle events and I added my own touches to my fic's canon, inspired by other fanfics I've read.
Pick the three who will be affected and your own personal reasoning as to why. It doesn't always have to be in a negative way, but this helps me create a better story. To hear your thoughts and personal reasons for picking them. It fuels my imagination and draws power to my pen…. Or my keyboard in this case.
- The Citadel Council as a whole.
- The Asari Republics and the Council of Matriarchs.
- The Salarian Union and the STG.
- The Turian Hierarchy and its Military.
- The Terminus and its Warlords.
- The Batarian Hegemony and the Church of the Pillars.
- The Quarian Admiralty.
- The Geth Collective.
This example is also my vote.
Of the contact events: The Abattoir. The Trials of Hephadon. Songs of Heaven.
Of the affected:
The Batarian Hegemony: It's a classic. We all hate the pirate, the slaver, and the scum. It is befitting they get what they deserve. This hatred does not expand to the rest of the population though. They are victims of an oppressive regime that keeps its chokehold of the population through religious brainwashing and propaganda and oppression. Unfortunately, their government will be their undoing. And for that… I pity them.
The Asari republics and the Council of Matriarchs: There is something wrong with their leaders. Their thirst for dominion and games of intrigue are subtle. The face they present themselves towards the galaxy is one of a friendly and wise alien, but underneath, the prothean bloodline runs strong. Just like their predecessors, they seek to rule the galaxy and assimilate all under their rule. But unlike their elders who used power and military might, the Asari use cultural and political influence to get their agendas into place. And I hate them for that. I hate their stagnation. Their games of intrigue. The face of benevolence they carefully maintain despite the fact that it is due to them that the galaxy has remained stagnant for well over a millennia and the terminus still is forevermore lawless. They were the ones who allowed this, the Batarians, the quarians, so much. So much harm done by those blue witches. It would be nice to have that illusion be shattered like glass and expose the hidden rotten core of the council of matriarchs.
The Quarian Admiralty: I don't hate them… I pity them. But they also make me angry, furious, even. They linger in the same place over and over, dreaming of a world they will never be able to conquer so long as they remain in space. Why struggle and toil in the darkness of space, when you can leave this place fir a wider galaxy? You have the technology. You have the means. You have the way. You could leave council space forever and build on a dead world. Anything you want. But you toil and struggle. For what really? You don't remember the pain of the Mourning War. You are not them. You are the children of the children of those who died there. This hatred isn't yours, it's your ancestors, and you still let it consume you. Doing things the same way over and over for two hundred years, expecting a different result. Its madness, but you are too blind and foolish to see it. Time to wake up.
Also i profusely apologize for not knowing how to make a bloody voting system after the one on the top.